Mated by the Pack

by Dizzy Hooper

  How often do they do that? Complete each other's sentences as if they live in the same mind? Have the same thoughts?

  I have a hundred questions. How long have they lived here together? How did they come to be a pack?

  Where are we? And where is their third?

  For now, there are more pressing matters. "I smelled coffee?"

  "Of course." Landen detours to set the pitcher of juice on a dining table set with fresh green linens and white china, then goes to a fancy-looking coffee maker on the counter. He pours me a cup and holds it out.

  When I take it from him, our fingers brush. My skin tingles.

  He allows the contact to linger for a moment, then he's in motion again. He produces sugar and cream, and I've heard of males like this. A fertile female is considered to be a treasure in most packs, and their males dote on them. They show devotion through service.

  But while these men are taking excellent care of me, at no point do they yield their power. Both could dominate me in an instant, and they leave me no room to forget it. I'm ushered to a seat and served a beautiful meal. The bacon is crisp and perfect, the pancakes fluffy. There are eggs, too, and fruit. Their attention makes me dizzy, makes me feel wanted and cherished.

  The heat in their gazes as they sit to either side of me confirms it.

  They're too close—far closer than polite society would allow for people who are practically strangers. Landen's leg brushes mine, and Colt nudges my elbow every time he reaches for something on the table, and each touch thrills me more than the last.

  But there's that same nagging feeling from my dreams last night. Idyllic as this all is, there's something missing.

  Someone.

  I clear my throat. "Will your alpha be joining us?"

  They exchange a glance that speaks volumes, but none of them are spoken to me.

  "Eventually," Colt concedes.

  "Oh." Disappointment weighs on me, more crushing than it has any right to be.

  I can't dwell on it, though.

  Colt touches my hand, unmistakably intentional this time. "He will meet you. I promise."

  "It's fine." I have no right to his presence.

  But I want it all the same. Deep in my bones. In the empty, aching pit inside that longs to be filled, that recognizes the missing note in the air as alpha. That longs to submit and be claimed.

  I swallow hard and set down my fork. My stomach's appetite has been sated, but my sexual appetite is peaking. My season hovers close enough to taste.

  "Thank you," I manage. "Your hospitality has been very generous."

  "All that we have is yours," Landen says, and his voice dips low. It caresses my flesh, promising much more than this delectable spread.

  Reason still holds sway in my head. "You don't even know me."

  "But we want to." Colt grasps my hand more tightly. "Tell us. Everything."

  It's an invitation and a command. My mouth opens.

  And my life comes spilling out. I tell them about growing up with my pack and my father. About my office job in the city that makes me feel independent but which also makes me feel caged.

  But that's as far as I get. Before I can tell them what led me here—about being cast out, about my isolation and betrayal and shame, they stop me.

  The word caged has no sooner left my tongue than Landen drops his fork onto his plate. His eyes gleam.

  "You need to run," he says.

  "Excuse me?"

  "You need to run." His sinful lips curl up, showing the faintest hint of teeth. "When was the last time you let her out?"

  Her?

  Oh. Oh, my wolf.

  God, it has been too long. City life isn't meant for shifters. I have uncommon control over my wolf. She prowls my apartment sometimes, but to give her free reign? It was part of the appeal of returning to my father's estate to wait out my season.

  Deep inside, I feel a stirring, a wild animal testing its bonds. Rattling its cage.

  But could I? Here?

  I look to the windows. The snow still falling from the sky is light and fluffy, but so much fell last night…

  "The snow…"

  Colt's lips draw into a wicked smirk. "Will be all the more fun to roll around in."

  "Have you?" Landen asks. He's eager, his wolfish tongue ready to loll right out of his mouth, for all that he remains in human form. "Felt fresh snow beneath your paws? Dug your muzzle into it? Tasted it on your tongue?"

  My father's estate is on the leeward side of a mountain in more temperate climes. It rarely, if ever, gets snow.

  I shake my head. My heart pounds.

  Pushing to his feet, Landen holds out his hand.

  "Come on then." Mischief and heat dance equally in his gaze. "Let's run."

  Chapter 7

  They were right.

  I'm a backseat driver to my wolf, just barely holding on to the reins as she plows through yet another drift of perfect, pristine snow. It's wet and cold, and a delight on our muzzle.

  It's a relief on our burning insides, on the heat of primal need flowing through our blood.

  We need to be mated—need it with a desperation that frightens me, for all that my wolf is ready to whine and lift her tail into the air, to present herself to be bred.

  The fact that two likely candidates are chasing us through this wintry wonderland makes it so much better and so much worse. My wolf laughs in delight as Landen's big, blond, loping wolf nips at our heels. Colt's huge, black form takes a run at our flank, but we dodge, slipping between trees on the vast acreage of their property.

  The wind ripples through our fur, and everything is sensation and scent and joy. We're free, out in the wild, being courted by two beautiful males, and we have our choice of them.

  We hurtle on, though, eating up the snow covered clearing.

  Until a new scent stops us in our tracks. It's acrid and hungry. Alarm shoots up my spine, and a growl builds in my wolf's throat.

  The other two wolves come up short as well, throwing up snow around us in great, white plumes. We wait in silent stillness. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart and the race of their panting breaths. And then—

  Crack.

  A branch snaps, and we turn as one toward a group of trees to the side.

  And the biggest bear I've ever seen stalks out from behind it. Hunger brightens its eyes. It opens its mouth and roars.

  Terror shoots through me. We're big for wolves, and already we're circling, puffing up. Growls erupt from either side of me. We're not going to be easy prey, but this bear is huge and clearly desperate, and that makes it dangerous.

  It rears up onto its hind legs before crashing back down, sending more puffs of snow flying, obscuring our view, and then it's a blur as it lunges. Colt and Landen are off, flanking it, and my wolf arches her back and bares her teeth.

  Only for an enormous silver wolf to emerge out of nowhere, growling and murderous. It inserts itself between the bear and me and lets out a sound that's deafening in its protective fury.

  Just like that, a wave of safety washes over me. The wolf's cloud of scent is liquid gold and amber and the most delicious, carnally enticing male spice I've ever experienced. My wolf crows, and I want to roll over. I want him to kill our prey and drink its blood and kiss me with the hunt still on its lips, and I want it inside, thrusting deep. I want it to mount me and lock in place and fill me with its seed.

  Its growl goes darker, and it snaps its teeth.

  And the bear may be desperate. But it isn't a fool.

  Dodging the gnashing teeth of the other two wolves at its flanks, it turns tail and runs. Colt and Landen give chase, though there's nothing predatory to their gait. They're driving the threat away.

  My fight or flight response eases.

  Then the new wolf turns around, and my wolf's knees tremble. Her head lowers, we want to bare our throat, to be pushed face first into the snow.

  Every molecule in us screams alpha.

  Mate.

&nbs
p; We whine, high and wanting. Our season has held at bay this long, but it's crashing over us with the arrival of this new, strong, powerful male. I still have my wits about me, but my wolf is done. She's ready.

  The alpha stalks closer. He leans in with his muzzle and scents us, and we shake. He darts back, golden eyes glowing with heat.

  And then he lunges. Nips.

  We dodge, but only half-heartedly.

  He snaps his jaw again, and there's the mating imperative in his gaze, but there's also a challenge.

  Honey gold flows over my bones.

  He wants to play.

  A thrill shoots through me, and me and my wolf are both so on board.

  We dart away and in, trading teasing bites. Each one brings us closer until he's brushing his entire hot flank against ours. We roll, and he follows, tackling us down but allowing us to escape, because we couldn't if he didn't let us. He could pin us, take us, force us.

  But that's not what this is.

  As we roll back up, he gets in our face, tongue sweeping out to lick at the side of our muzzle, and he rubs against us, getting his scent all over us, only our scent covers him as well, and the wolf inside me crows.

  The wolf in front of me gives two short, sharp barks, and we aren't pack. I don't know his language, but I know this.

  Breathless anticipation boils through me.

  Home.

  I lunge forward one last time and graze my teeth over his ear, and then I'm off.

  The thrill of the chase only barely trumps the steady thrum of need pounding through my veins. The alpha takes off after me, and within seconds, the scent of his pack mates joins in, and this is strange, this is weird. Both males were courting me, and they showed no true sense of competition with each other. But this takes that sense of cooperation to another level. There's no fight for dominance, no implication that they're going to even argue.

  There's just them. This pack. This single entity.

  And the aching, desperate, joyous need singing through me.

  Howling, I put on a fresh burst of speed, glancing over my shoulder at my pursuers. The alpha takes up the center position, while the others take paths that criss and cross behind him. I'm fast in this form, but they're all letting me win, and I exalt in it. More than once, one gets close enough to brush my side or nip at my tail, and I turn into them, reveling at the warm animal pleasure of contact.

  We break through a patch of trees, and the house comes into view.

  And then it's not a game anymore.

  The alpha pounces, easily subduing me. He wrestles my wolf and me both to the ground and we roll and snap our teeth at each other, and oh God, he smells like heaven and sex and need. I rub myself all over him, desire a sharp ache that's starting to impair my senses. My vision blurs, but then he's off me, urging me on. I stagger back to all fours and just manage not to lift my hind end into the air in invitation. I run, and he runs, and the other two circle, protecting our dance. His teeth graze my leg, and his whole side presses to mine, and the back door to the house is wide open in front of us.

  We tumble through it together. His fur is receding, his bones creaking and snout shortening. He growls, and the word, "Shift," is in there somewhere, and I do.

  We're a tangle of desperate limbs and changing bodies, and then where there was fur there's skin. We tumble to the ground as humans, naked and clawing at each other, and he's hard. Huge and hot, his cock presses to my thigh, and the wolf inside me howls while the woman melts into a sexual frenzy.

  "Mate, mate, mine," he groans. His mouth covers mine as he ruts against my leg, smearing hot fluid over my skin as his cock leaks.

  "Yes." I grasp him to me, threading my hands into his hair. I spread my legs, and I've never done this before, it's going to hurt, but I don't care, I need it, I need, I need—

  "No." It's half word and half whine. With what looks like actual pain, he lifts his hips, and oh, that hurts me, too. I want him there, pushing in, driving inside. I thrash, pulling at him, but he grabs my wrists and pins them down. "No," he repeats.

  Something in me dies. "No?"

  "Yes. No." He turns his head to the side and groans. The tendons on his neck stand out like tree trunks, and his vast musculature strains. "Not just mating. Mate. Mate with me." He turns again, and his eyes are gold. Pure. "Be my mate." He swallows hard. "Be ours."

  Chapter 8

  What???

  I stop in my tracks. He might as well have dumped cold water over my head.

  I must have misunderstood. I shake my head. "You want—"

  "To make you our mate," he repeats.

  There are so many things in that sentence I don't understand.

  The mate thing is the first. I won't pretend the idea doesn't make me shake with lust. Isn't it precisely the fantasy I was entertaining this morning? Imagining a bonding bite pressed into my throat makes me wet, the scrape of teeth and the tang of blood.

  But fantasizing about a mating bond is one thing. Entering into one is another.

  I blink rapidly, as if that will clear my vision—or my thoughts.

  Except a little clarity actually makes things worse. It's not as if I'd forgotten that I was spread out naked on a cold tile floor, but the image of it still hits me like a ton of bricks.

  The image of the male hovering over me had might as well give me a concussion.

  Good lord, but he's beautiful. I'd known he would be, both by his scent and by his strong, powerful wolf, but the reality still takes me aback.

  His skin is a gleaming pale gold, his dark hair tousled. There's just a hint of silver at his temples and in his thick, full beard. His amber eyes pin me in place, as do his muscled arms. I let my gaze wander down his form, over the dusting of hair across his full pecs and eight-pack abs, past the defined creases at the V of his hips.

  To his cock. His huge, hard, dripping cock.

  I lick my lips, clenching deep inside, and he flinches as the scent of my desire hits him. His cock flexes. I force myself to look away, when all I want to do is touch it, find out if the skin is as silky smooth as it looks. Take it in my mouth and in my cunt and anywhere else he'll let me have it…

  I meet his gaze, and his eyes are darker, his mouth wet.

  He wants this. I want it.

  But he wants more.

  While I…

  "I don't even know your name," I blurt out.

  "Grady." His jaw flexes. "Any other questions?"

  So many. They swirl through my lust-addled brain, one after another, too fast to process.

  But then the harumph of a throat clearing pierces my haze.

  I startle, looking up to find Landen and Colt flanking the now-closed door. They stand there naked, and my throat goes dry. They look even better out of their clothes than they did in them, and that's saying something. Their cocks stand at attention, flushed and leaking—nearly as enormous as Grady's, with Landen's maybe a tad longer and Colt's a bit thicker.

  And then it strikes me. They're standing there. Not fighting or tearing into Grady or even slinking away in resentful deference. They're here. Waiting.

  Be ours, Grady had said.

  My gaze darts back to meet his.

  "'Ours'?" I croak.

  Grady flexes his jaw and rises onto his haunches. He shoots a look back at his pack. "How much did you tell her?"

  "Not much," Colt admits.

  Grady gives a growling sigh, and sits up.

  I feel even more exposed without his heat and bulk blanketing me. Covering my breasts with my arms, I struggle to sit as well. The men have no care for their nudity, but they seem to notice my discomfort with mine. Colt crosses the space and retrieves a thick, red plaid blanket from a storage bench set into the entry way and passes it to me. I take it gratefully and wrap it around myself. Grady offers me his hand to help me up. I take it.

  The three glance among themselves. Then Grady nods his head toward the main part of the house.

  "Come on. Clearly we have a lot to talk about."<
br />
  Chapter 9

  Ten minutes later, I find myself seated on a plush couch in a cozy den. My blanket is still wrapped around me, and the men have tugged on jeans or sweats, retrieved from where they left them when they shifted. They haven't seen fit to put on shirts, which is distracting as hell, but I can't find it in me to complain.

  A crackling fire heats the air, and a mug of tea warms my hands. Their presence warms me in deeper places. A part of me wants them to be warming me more literally, with their hands and mouths on my skin, their cocks rubbing all over me and in me, satisfying this ache that I'm struggling so hard to ignore.

  But another part of me needs to do this. I need to know more.

  They take up much the same arrangement they had out in the entryway. Grady sinks to sit beside me, close but not quite touching, while Landen and Colt stand by the door.

  I'm anxious, on edge. But also at peace.

  It's no wonder that something felt missing this morning at breakfast. The combination of their three scents is what makes this house hum. It's Landen's spice and caramel, and Colt's dark cedar. It's the warm amber scent of Grady that flows through it all like liquid gold, and together, they fill me and make me feel safe. Like I can sit here all but naked in their living room, on the cusp of my season, surrounded by three half naked men, and it's all right.

  My head spins with the insanity of it all.

  But then Grady turns those warm, gold-brown eyes of his on me. "What do you want to know first?"

  It's a big question. But considering our present circumstances, it's not difficult to answer. I point first to him and then to his companions. "So, the three of you…"

  "Are a pack," he confirms. "Part of a pack. There's a larger one, but we function as a unit. We do everything together." He arches a brow. "Everything."

  My heart sinks. "Then you've done…this before."

  Stupid of me to feel special. Their invitation made no sense, and I knew it.

  "We've never done this before," Landen growls.

  Colt shoots him a sharp look, but Grady continues as if we hadn't been interrupted at all. "We've…shared a mating before. But it was different."