London's Mates [Stocoma City 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Fel Fern

  Still, from the dark little corner of her mind, a voice reminded her part of London’s appeal stemmed from the danger he posed. They both continued to dance on a very thin sheet of ice—prisoner and captor, enemy and seducer, but they both couldn’t stop.

  “But this isn’t warfare, Charity. You and I are not at war with each other. Our houses are.”

  Charity struggled for words at London’s intense gaze. She suddenly hated those deep and searching eyes. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “No. As I understand it from Aubrey, your father and thus your family, doesn’t have that much of a high opinion of you. That makes you a low-value hostage. Do you want to know what your father said to our demands?”

  Charity looked away. She did know. Her value had been weighed and measured long ago, and Raquel had made it clear she was disposable. To survive all this while, Charity took the side jobs no one wanted. The jobs other lions considered beneath them, or jobs like this one, which were suicidal.

  “Charity, please look at me when I speak to you.”

  Charity glared at him, showing him the defiance in her eyes. “He said to go ahead and kill me, didn’t he? Oh, I know he wanted me gone, so it doesn’t matter what you decide to do to me.”

  “Charity, do you want to die so badly?” London finally asked.

  She flinched back from the words. Her restrained hands curled and uncurled into fists. Protests and excuses hovered on the tip of her tongue, but vehemently denying his accusations when any shifter could smell the truth felt childish. Perhaps some part of her had had enough of living a half existence.

  When London’s large hand closed over one clenched fist, she jerked back, but he did nothing but stroke her skin.

  “W–what are you doing?” Charity whispered.

  London looked annoyed. “When I was twelve, my brothers and I stumbled upon an injured kitten on the roadside. Connor wanted to eat it, Max told me to leave it because caring for it took too much effort, but I kept it. The only way to calm the thing down was pet it.”

  “You’re comparing me to a kitten?” Charity asked, outraged.

  “You remind me very much of that kitten. She was, by all means, small and insignificant, but the defiance she’d shown me while I cared for her taught me strength went beyond physical.” He actually grinned. “I just wanted to see the fire in those emerald eyes again.”

  Charity shook her head, ignoring London’s soothing touch. She couldn’t stop her body from shaking. Fuck. What was this man doing to her? Each of his words struck her as well as any physical blow. The game had gone far enough.

  “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.”

  “Do you now?” London asked.

  “I’d rather you torture me than play fucking mind games with me. You treat all your prisoners like this? Toy with them, make them compliant, then go for the strike?” Charity demanded.

  He growled, baring his teeth suddenly, and the tense lines on his face made Charity draw back, but she had no place to retreat to. Seeing his slightly sharpening canines made her remember she wasn’t just dealing with any dangerous werewolf, but an alpha, and everyone knew an alpha’s temper was volatile.

  “You don’t know me well enough to judge me, kitten. Apologize,” London said, his control returning. His canines slid back, and his eyes were back to human gray again.

  “No.” Charity stared him down, even when he snarled. “I swore never to apologize or cower to any fucking shifter again just because he thinks he owns the world.”

  Charity didn’t see London move. His chair clattered loudly on the bare concrete floor, and suddenly he stood in front of her, tilting her chin upward, so she looked up at the downing fury in his amber eyes. Not fury, she realized a second too late, but darker and complicated emotions.

  “It’s your fault, Charity. Your defiance is what calls to me. It’s what forces me to do the inconceivable,” London said harshly.

  Just the brush of his clothes against her own shouldn’t be enough to call their sleeping beasts, but it did. Her lioness stalked and assessed the frightening large gray beast circling her. Charity wasn’t sure how she knew if their clothes were gone and their flesh kissed, they were both damned.

  “Do the inconceivable?” Charity asked, finally finding her tongue.

  “To do this.”

  London leaned down and kissed her. A man and a dominant wolf like London didn’t do gentle. Unfortunately, Charity had a weakness for such men despite the bravado she always wore in public. His mouth was a vacuum of heat, pulling her toward him. London didn’t kiss. He devoured every inch of her lips, nibbling and sucking, thrusting his tongue between her waiting and half-opened lips.

  Charity wanted to touch, to eliminate the last barrier between them, but her hands were frustratingly chained. So, when London began exploring her body, she welcomed his touch. Some part of her screaming logic stated one shouldn’t crave the touch of the centuries-old enemy of her family. Another part answered London had been right. Her family’s war didn’t involve her.

  Her father’s message had been clear. Charity was now on her own, free from the chains that bound her all her life to a family who wanted nothing but to get rid of her since her birth. She was now free to make her own decisions.

  London cupped one of her breasts, squeezing one of her nipples through her shirt and bra until it hardened. His mouth parted from her lips and fastened on the tender side of her neck. Charity groaned, on the verge of begging him to bite her, but the still-logical part of her brain told her the perils of that particular route.

  Then his other hand slipped lower, past her ribs, gentle, hungry and seeking, but not intrusive or repulsive. No other man, mortal, and werelion, had ever been able to rouse her body like this, to play it like a familiar instrument.

  Someone cleared her throat, followed by a second angry snarl. They parted hastily like guilty children caught doing something wrong. Charity spied a small black-haired golden-skinned girl trying to contain a large red-haired werewolf and poorly succeeding.

  She knew for a fact the man was one of London’s wolves, probably one of his enforcers from the way she heard him issuing commands to other wolves outside the room. The girl wasn’t a werewolf, but even without claws and teeth, she was the more dangerous one.

  “Ferus, calm down before you do something as foolish as harming my brother’s pet crow,” London said, smoothening his suit.

  Ferus ceased struggling. “I wouldn’t hurt Aubrey.” His words held a note of anger.

  “Let’s try to not give out names freely in front of a Vivaldi prisoner,” the girl said, sounding annoyed.

  Ferus paled a little, but it didn’t stop him from glaring at Charity.

  “Perhaps, we should discuss this outside?” Aubrey asked.

  “No. I’m sorry, Aub.” Ferus placed a hand on her shoulder, telling Charity their relationship was something more than colleagues. “But we’re doing this now.”

  Aubrey sighed, but closed the door to prevent anyone else from overhearing.

  “There is nothing to discuss here. Charity is my prisoner, and I’ll do whatever I please with her,” London pointed out calmly.

  Suddenly pissed, Charity glared at him. Had she been right, and he’d been manipulating her? She took smug satisfaction in the fact that even if that was what London intended it backfired on him horrendously when their beasts and the way their bodies acted off-script.

  “Fucking bastard.”

  Ferus’s face twisted. “Don’t ever talk to my alpha like that.”

  Charity winced as his hands blurred, but London caught his wrist.

  “Ferus, if I ever catch you or anyone else laying a hand on Charity, you will personally deal with me. Only I can touch her. Is that understood?” London warned, his voice a seductive whisper.

  “I think I will leave you three to your business,” Aubrey said quickly, about to head out, but London grabbed her arm.

  “You will stay and monitor the situation, littl
e crow,” London warned. “Ferus and I will speak outside.”

  London and Ferus headed outside the room. Resigned, Aubrey righted the chair on the floor and sat across from Charity. “Hi again.”

  “Hey yourself,” Charity said coolly, trying not to let her apprehension show.

  Aubrey was the reason why her assassination failed in the first place, but given her target obviously seemed like someone she cared about, Charity couldn’t blame her. It was just her luck the girl happened to be a very good spy working for House Scavos.

  Her gaze moved to the sunburst inked into the side of Aubrey’s neck and felt mild revulsion. The sunburst had been House Scavos’s symbol for over two centuries, and the blood bondservants of the higher-ranking wolves wore it to proclaim their loyalty.

  Charity didn’t particularly like this brand of ownership. At least in House Vivaldi, bondservants didn’t need to permanently wear the marks of their masters.

  “It’s not as horrible as you think,” Aubrey remarked, noticing what Charity was looking at.

  “Am I so transparent?” Charity asked dryly.

  “Well, you’re not concealing your expressions as well as before, or is that because of London?”

  Charity warily looked at her and reminded herself to be careful. “London mentioned you were his brother’s pet. I don’t see you belonging to Connor Scavos since the man is a brute. So you obviously belong to Max, am I right?”

  Aubrey shrugged, not confirming or denying her observation. Charity continued. “There was also the recent incident about a dark god being set loose in the city. Max Scavos convinced and rallied the leaders of Houses Vivaldi and Perrault to halt the war in order to drive the being out. In some circles they say his primary reason he did so wasn’t because of the three houses losing control of the city, but because of one crow shifter.”

  “Sounds romantic if you put it like that,” Aubrey pointed out, still looking unfazed.

  She knew Charity had been stalling. They both knew weeks after the incident, the Vivaldi took advantage of the incident to send out an assassin to infiltrate the Scavos Manor. Charity had been selected because the defect in her aura was close to a normal human’s, and she wouldn’t be suspected. In theory, the plan had been perfect.

  What Charity failed to anticipate was Aubrey being there. Then again, she couldn’t entirely blame the crow shifter. The task assigned to her was despicable, and she didn’t bother putting her heart to it. Killing openly was one thing, murdering a helpless shifter pregnant with pups was betraying her morals.

  Charity sighed. Aubrey was one opponent she had a feeling she wouldn’t shake. “How did it actually play out?”

  “I’ll tell you some other time. Right now, there are more pressing concerns, and Max isn’t going to be happy to hear what London is about to decide,” Aubrey said, looking tired suddenly.

  “How do you know what London is about to decide? You don’t answer to him, and I know while he might borrow your services, he wouldn’t trust you.”

  “He’s easy to predict.” Aubrey leaned close, and Charity did the same. They almost looked like two high school girls sharing a secret. Charity wished Aubrey wasn’t her enemy, because she had a feeling she’d rather like the crow shifter if she were on Charity’s side.

  “Because infatuated wolves do reckless and unpredictable things.”

  Charity frowned.

  “London doesn’t strike me as reckless,” Charity said.

  “Even werewolf alphas act strange when they chance upon their mate.”

  Charity couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing until her stomach hurt.

  “Oh God, that’s a really good one. Imagine one of House Scavos’s three ruling alphas taking a defective lioness, Raquel Vivaldi’s greatest shame, as a mate. Can’t wait to share that at the dinner table.”

  Aubrey calmly looked at her, her dark gaze piercing. Charity’s laugh took on a hysterical note. Finally, she fell silent, remembering how easily she let her guard down and almost let London bite her.

  Charity’s cheeks flamed. She knew deep down if they weren’t interrupted, she’d let him give her a permanent mating mark, binding them together for life, and she wouldn’t resist at all. Even worse. She’d willingly surrender to him, a complete stranger, her captor, and her enemy.

  While Charity had her share of unsatisfying experiences with men in the pard, none of them came close to making her body react the way it did with London. Reason fled her, but the glaring truth stared back at her.

  “I’m fucked, aren’t I?” Charity whispered.

  Chapter Two

  “I just need to understand why it had to be her,” Ferus asked in a strained voice. They’d dismissed the wolves standing guard so only London and Ferus stood outside the interrogation room.

  “I will be honest with you, Ferus. I don’t understand it myself, but I trust the instincts of my wolf. He’s never failed me, and he’s telling me the woman in there is my mate,” London said calmly.

  He knew his appearance fell at odds with the turmoil brewing in his heart. It took every bit of his self-control to simply stand outside the door and have a logical conversation with one of his loyal wolves.

  Fuck. Infuriating to think only a thin piece of metal separated him from the willing female inside. Charity Vivaldi had done the inconceivable. She’d made him want, and want so badly to the point of being stricken. London had never wanted anyone as badly as he wanted her.

  During their little banter, she’d tore away at all his complicated layers and yanked his true self out. She didn’t run away screaming at what she saw, either. Her gaze told him, dared him, to cross the line, to run with her to the edge. Screw politics. Screw everything else. He had to have her soon, or he’d go insane. Inside, his wolf writhed and restlessly scratched its walls impatiently.

  “I’ve never seen you like this with anyone else. Fuck. It hurts to see you like this. If I had to see you this way, I wanted me to be the cause,” Ferus said softly, finally breaking character and tentatively reaching out to touch his arm.

  London jerked back at those words. He made it a point to know each of the wolves in his pack, and Ferus had been no exception. Ten years ago, London saw a dying young man stabbed in the back alleys of Stocoma City, and decided to change him. Ferus had been loyal to him ever since.

  He thought he had Ferus figured out until a few weeks ago when Ferus broke down in front of him in private and confessed he wanted London ever since. London stated the rules he gave everyone interested in him. No commitments, just sex.

  While some part of him knew Ferus hadn’t been just interested in simply satisfying the needs of the flesh, he hadn’t known until now, just how badly Ferus lied to him about being interested in pursuing something more than casual sex.

  “I don’t know what to say,” London finally said, unnerved by the raw emotions unfolding on Ferus’s face.

  He hadn’t intended on stripping away the professional public mask Ferus kept in place, but he did. Ferus’s attraction hadn’t been one-sided either, but Ferus didn’t know that. How often did London imagine running his hand possessively across his lean and limber body, or closing his mouth over his cock just to see the expression on his face or hear his cries?

  “You don’t have to say anything. Fuck. Why am I acting like some stupid besotted wolf cub?” Ferus asked harshly, letting go of London’s hand. “I just want to know why it had to be her. Why it had to be a Vivaldi lioness? If your choice had been some other Scavos wolf, it’d still hurt, but I’d fucking understand.”

  Fuck. Today had been one chaotic mess. After all his self-control and self-imposed rules, London Scavos wasn’t infallible in the end. Ferus’s question haunted him. Can someone really want two people at the same time?

  “Nothing is ever simple when it comes to picking mates. Just look at my brothers,” London said harshly, struggling to rein back his wolf tightly from wanting to console the hurt wolf in front of him. “Connor took a half-blood wolf
as a mate. Max and his mate Dom took a crow shifter as their third.”

  London realized he’d been stalling, seeking answers and justification to quell the internal conflict threatening to strip away his perfect control. He’d forgotten the basic facts. Passion defied logic.

  “I thought I had the time you know. To prove to you what we had wasn’t just casual,” Ferus said. “Almost believed you felt something, too, but I guess I’ve just been deluding myself.”

  London took a step closer to Ferus and firmly curled his fingers around the base of his neck. The gesture shut the other man up.

  Even though they’d united against a common enemy, he’d always seen his brothers as rivals. Connor, Max, and he had been raised to fight for the position of the Scavos family head, but remembering how both Connor and Max fought for their mates made London associate an emotion he’d never felt toward them before. Respect.

  If he really wanted to know if it were possible to want two people at the same time, then he simply had to find out for himself.

  “You weren’t deluding yourself,” London admitted. Ferus’s eyes widened, but he let London say his piece. “I tried to avoid the inevitable, but meeting Charity changed things, maybe for the better.”

  Ferus’s brows furrowed. “How are things better? You can’t want her and want me at the same time.”

  “Why not? Didn’t Max and his mate end up with their crow in the end?”

  Ferus sucked in a breath. “For fuck’s sake, London. A man can’t be that greedy.”

  London raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t object?”

  “Object?” Ferus blinked. “You mean to Charity?”

  “I’ve already decided to make her mine, even that means facing the consequences of my actions and wading through a shitload of internal and external politics. It would be good to have someone on my side,” London said honestly.

  Ferus studied him for a while and whistled. “You’re fucking serious, aren’t you?”