There's Something About Werewolves: Seven Brides for Seven Shifters, Book 1

by Thalia Eames

  The playful glimmer in Nox’s eyes drained away. “I’m gonna be on lockdown soon anyway.” The words caught in his throat. “Don’t start it today.” His grip tightened around Gran’s waist. His face pressed into her tracksuit.

  Garrett made a move. Gran held up a hand to stop him. She stroked Nox’s hair, murmuring comforting words. “What is it, baby boy?”

  “I don’t want to go to Camp Big Bad. No one told me I’d have to go there when I asked Ian if I could be one of them. I just wanted to hangout with Leni for awhile.”

  “Well, of course you did. We Averdeen women are irresistible.” Gran struck a pin-up pose worthy of a World War II fighter plane. “That doesn’t explain why you don’t wanna go to camp.” She dropped the pose and squeezed Nox. “It should be fun.”

  Nox shook his head without showing his face. “The other kids know things I don’t. They’re way ahead of me. They’re stronger and faster.”

  The old lady’s voice cracked. “So?”

  He finally looked up. “I’m scared.”

  A grunt escaped Garrett and a sharp crack sounded. When Lennox looked at him she saw a piece of the marble countertop had broken off in his hand. He dropped it, his pained gaze on her. Another first. She’d never seen Garrett so helpless. Ian’s ruling on Nox’s education had tied his hands. The expression on Garrett’s face told her if he could put an end to this and leave town, he would.

  Heart racing, she rounded one end of the island. “Come here, Nox.” He glanced her way, reaching for her outstretched hand. When she grasped them, Nox’s fingers quaked inside hers. His gaze dropped to the floor. Desperate to get through to him she let go of his hand and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “This is my town. You are my kid. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  He blinked hard.

  “Sometimes you’ll get your feelings hurt.” She caressed his brow, pushing back thick waves of his dark hair. “Other times life will kick you in the shins. That’s just how it is. But, understand this, because it is pure truth, I will never let anyone harm you.”

  She folded him into her arms, squeezing tight enough to leave them both breathless. “My mom abandoned me, and with your mom gone, I want to be there for you. I will be here for you.” He nodded against her collarbone.

  “Nox?” Paolo stepped forward. “I would not like to go to this camp either, but I will be there for you.”

  Confusion split her focus. She looked to Garrett for help.

  “Why don’t you want to go, Paolo? You don’t feel I forced you, do you?” Garrett asked.

  Paolo patted Nox on the head. “No, you didn’t do the forcing. I just don’t want to leave our little family for four weeks. It is too long.” He rubbed the top of his head as though searching for the words. After fidgeting for a bit he continued, his accent thickened by emotion. “In Italia I had a mother and that is all. Now I have big sisters, Leni and Jules. In Italia I had black steam memories of a wolfe—, I mean, a LuPines father. Here I’ve found Garrett and I think to myself, this is what my father must’ve been. A good man. A strong man. A papa.”

  Lennox opened her embrace and Paolo fell into it. Pulling him down, she kissed his forehead. Jules wiped a tear off her face. Closing the space between them, she threw her arms around the trio. The four of them swayed together.

  Paolo hadn’t finished. “With Nox, I think, he is a little brother. I cannot let him go alone.”

  Once again something seemed off but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She’d never been to Camp Big Bad but she knew the kids who went there each summer. They all loved it. And she trusted Ian. What had everyone so worried? “It’s just a summer camp,” she finally said. “You guys are the ones freaking Nox out. He’s going to be fine.”

  “You’re right, Leni,” Garrett said, but for some reason he didn’t seem to believe it. What was going on?

  “Thank you.” Garrett turned his attention back to Paolo. The gratitude-filled gruffness of Garrett’s voice combined with Paolo’s kindness made Lennox forget her questions about everyone’s odd behavior. She wanted to cry. Somehow she held it together.

  A foghorn blared. At least she thought one had, until she realized Gran was blowing her nose into her towel. “Stop all of this right away.” She sniffled. “You’re going to kill me.”

  “Don’t say that, Gran,” Nox scolded.

  “Well, if you don’t want me having one of those geriatric heart attacks, you’ll get started on my breakfast.” She wiped salt-water trails off her face. “I’m going to take a shower.” The old girl wagged a finger at them. “I don’t want to see any more tears when I get back.” She shuffled across the living room with one last loud sniffle. “Bunch of monkeys.”

  From that moment on they had a good time. Jules switched the iPod to the “angry chick” music she and Lennox favored and they went about the business of making peach butter and biscuits.

  Garrett got sent to the liquor cabinet for bourbon. Nox tried to knock him over and steal it to mess with his dad. Paolo joined in. Neither stood a chance. Garrett’s superior reach made him a perennial keep-away winner. Finally Cash sat Paolo and Nox down to explain one shouldn’t attack one’s father for bourbon. You save those antics for when he’s got a really good Scotch.

  When Alanis Morissette started wailing “You Oughta Know” Paolo and Nox declared they’d had enough of the angry chick sessions. They went for the iPod in tandem.

  “Touch it and I’ll filet you where you stand,” Lennox said offhandedly, continuing to knead the biscuit dough.

  Paolo dove for the wooden butcher block of knives. In a victory dance, he tucked the whole set under his arm.

  “Now you don’t have a knife.” Nox added his commentary. He and Paolo slapped high fives.

  “I don’t need a knife. I’ve got lady nails.” She held up her hot pink gel manicure. Nox shuddered. Paolo slowly drew his hand away from the iPod stand.

  “I could take you both out,” she snapped her fingers, “this quick.” Motes of flour burst into the air.

  Nox’s nose crinkled.

  “Oh, shit,” Cash mumbled. He and Garrett leaped over the counter. They landed in a tackle heap. From way down underneath the pile-up of masculinity, Nox sneezed. A woof echoed through the kitchen and Lennox could swear she saw fur.

  Garrett and Cash rose awkwardly, with Nox sandwiched between them.

  “This kid must be catching a cold,” Cash said.

  “Yeah, we don’t want him making any of you sick.” Garrett picked up where his friend left off. “We’ll take him to his room now.”

  They walked, half-shuffling, half-running their way out of the kitchen. Lennox and Jules exchanged suspicious glances. Then they both looked to Paolo. He jumped, his eyes widening. “I better go with them. Um, to help with the cold medicine.” Lennox watched her newly adopted brother hustle out of the kitchen.

  What in the hell? When she finally found out what was going on they’d all be in big trouble. She promised that. The dishtowel flung over her shoulder made wiping her hands easy. That done she tossed the towel and stalked out behind the boys.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The doorbell sounded before Lennox could work up a full head of steam. Muttering in frustration, she diverted to the front door. The courier waiting outside handed her a package and an electronic clipboard. She signed, thanked him, and closed the door.

  Flipping the box over, she found Anderson G. Westlake printed in the receiver area. The space for the sender bore the name Christoff Lalumière, from the Charlotte, NC Showroom.

  Lennox started to tremble. Crouching low, as though a cat burglar on the move, she looked left, then right. No one watched her. Jules was still baking in the kitchen, the boys hadn’t reappeared, and who knew where Gran had gone.

  A maniacal giggle bubbled in her throat as she tiptoed to the couch. Sinking onto the floor, she
used the furniture for cover and ripped the box open. She knew behaving like a shoe fiend wouldn’t look good if she got caught. She didn’t care. The Lalumies, short for Lalumières, kept whispering her name. She didn’t have the strength to ignore their plaintive call. Beautiful shoes should never be neglected.

  Inside the shipping packaging lay a red box with Christoff Lalumière emblazoned on the top in platinum foil. Lennox tossed the cardboard to one side and laid the red box in her lap. Slowly, in order to savor the unveiling, she lifted the lid. A third box—this one wooden—rested inside. The outer shell held a kind of drawer within its sheath. Using the satin tie at one end she slid the drawer out. Glittering light refracted across her vision. So pretty. Velvet lining ensconced a pair of shoes only fairy godmothers and Mr. Christoff Lalumière had the magic to produce. She lifted the shoe out. The strappy stiletto sparkled as it caught the light. The large blue stone set on the arch was drool worthy.

  “I see you’ve already accepted my gift.” A baritone rumble made her jump. “I guess that means you’ve also accepted my invitation. We’re going back to our alma mater tonight.”

  Lennox quickly wiped the corner of her mouth. She actually had been drooling. The red flushing her cheeks couldn’t be helped either.

  “Garrett, these can’t be the Swarovski crystal and blue diamond Christoff Lalumières. They can’t be. They only made two in each size.”

  His brows rose. “But my lovely, Elle, they are the blue diamond Lalumies.” He took the shoe from her.

  No. Don’t take the pretty. I need the pretty.

  Flipping the shoe over, he showed her the scarlet red sole. Beneath the name of the brand the words 2 of 2 had been stamped into the hand-tooled leather.

  “This pair, as you can see, is the second one they made in your size. I wanted number one for you but princesses tend to get their way. You’ll have to make due with top two.”

  “You’re a crown prince of hell, Anderson Garrett Westlake. I know you are.”

  “Why, because you only get to wear these shoes if you come to Steven Spielberg’s event with me tonight? Elle, that’s a perk of knowing me,” he said. “I’d say I’m your guardian angel.”

  “Really? And are your plans for the ‘after party’ of the angelic kind?” She raised a brow at him.

  “Oh, Elle, I don’t think anyone would call my plans for you angelic. But without a doubt you’ll be spending tonight naked as a cherub and giving god the glory.”

  Sexy bastard.

  Six hours later the whirlwind of Anderson G. Westlake’s life swooped her up and took her on a ride. Giddy anticipation made her fingers quiver as Lennox draped herself in a stunning electric-blue Marchesa gown—yet another to-die-for gift from Garrett. When she donned the shoes she swore the angels sang.

  An hour and a half had passed and Garrett met her in the living room. He stole her breath in a 1950s navy-blue tux with contrasting black lapel. The angels stopped singing and whooped with joy.

  Taking her hand, Garrett rushed them from the house to the car to a private airstrip only minutes away.

  Half an hour later Lennox freaked out at the sight of the helicopter they’d ride in to get closer to Coburn Elliott, their alma mater, faster. She sucked in one corner of her bottom lip, squeezed Garrett’s hand, and gave in to the whirlwind.

  At 7:45 p.m. they were escorted out of the helicopter to a waiting chauffeured town car with a privacy partition. Garrett helped Lennox inside, taking an extra moment to enjoy how amazing she looked in dazzling blue. He congratulated himself on calling in the favor to get the dress, but someone called his name before he could tell Lennox about it.

  Dan Hewes’s smile oozed across his face. The entertainment reporter never seemed to be far away. Maybe that was why Garrett disliked him so much. Maybe not. Of course, the reporter was good for business. The movie industry lived and died on publicity. After a few moments of negotiation Garrett invited Dan to sit inside the car with him and Lennox for a few moments before they departed.

  Hewes took the seat opposite them. Introductions were made and Lennox looked at the reporter strangely. “I can’t shake the sense I know you,” she said.

  “I am a fairly popular journalist. Perhaps you’ve seen me in my magazine or on television.”

  Lennox shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it but it’s nice to meet you anyway.”

  Smug satisfaction flashed across Hewes’s face. Garrett’s hackles rose. “Talk to me, Hewes. You wanted an interview.”

  The other man nodded. He took out a small recorder and gestured to it with a nod. Garrett nodded back. Hewes pressed the record button.

  “Let’s start by you reintroducing the lovely lady on your arm. Lennox Averdeen. A new love?”

  “An old friend. Actually we went to college together,” Garrett answered coolly.

  Hewes quirked a brow. “What prompted the reunion?”

  “Me shooting the new Bringing out the Bones movie in her neighborhood. Most people don’t know this but I’m quite the sentimental guy.”

  Lennox smiled. They both knew the truth in that statement.

  “Ah, yes,” Hewes said, in a mocking tone. “The fourth in the Assassin Bones Malone series. That franchise just won’t quit.”

  “I don’t know why it should,” Garrett countered Hewes’s sarcasm by stating the obvious. “An average of four hundred million dollars a pop can’t be ignored.”

  “Not exactly Oscar-worthy filmmaking, though, is it?”

  “I suppose not.” Garrett saw no reason to make excuses for a franchise movie fans couldn’t get enough of.

  “I hear you’re developing the A Theft of Shadows novel and that’s why you’re here to meet Spielberg,” Hewes said.

  Garrett chuckled. “Far be it for me to question the veracity of your hearing.”

  Hewes nodded, another oily smiled claimed his face. “Is there a deal already on the table? I’m thinking Spielberg as producer.”

  “Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Garrett said, offering no further comment. He glanced at his watch.

  Hewes held his hands up. “This interview is over I take it?”

  With a shrug, Garrett opened the town car door to let the man out. “You understand, Hewes. My schedule is insane these days. People to meet. Deals to close.”

  The reporter echoed Garrett with a shrug of his own. He stretched, flopping back onto the seat. Rubbing his neck, he winched. “I must have slept wrong last night. My neck hurts like all hell.”

  A muscle in Garrett’s cheek twitched. He’d run out of patience for the man.

  “Well then. I’ll wish you and the lovely Lennox a good night, Anderson.” Hewes rotated toward the door.

  “Dan,” Lennox called after him. Garrett’s curiosity piqued. “Are you sure we don’t know each other?” she finished.

  Hewes got out but poked his head back inside “How could we?”

  Lennox sighed, apparently letting it go. “Good night,” she said.

  “Good night, Leni,” he answered before closing the door behind him.

  Garrett opened the comm to give the driver the go ahead to roll. They started forward. He felt a gaze scald the side of his face. When he turned, Lennox regarded him with an intense expression. “What is it?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Do the windows,” she waved at the car around them, “have blackout tint?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she called out, “Driver, roll up the partition, please.”

  As the thick black glass ascended, her hand encircled his upper leg. She caressed up his inner thigh and cupped the weight of his cock, rubbing his balls. His reaction filled her hand. She kissed his neck and continued to stroke him through the fabric of his tux. Damn, his cock ached to be free. But the straining length beneath her fingers felt so fucking good. When the vixen side of
Lennox came out to play she turned him on beyond all control.

  Her expression turned positively devious as she shifted her dress and dropped onto the floor between his legs. What was she about to do to him?

  “Unbutton your jacket.” Her smoky voice held an edge of silk and mischief. He rushed to undo his buttons. “Good,” she said, going for his fly. “I want to see what you have for me.”

  A salacious smile lit her face when she unzipped him and his thick, aching erection sprang free of his pants. Her pink tongue licked across the ruby shade of her lipstick. His cock jumped and he nearly lost it. “Fuck, Lennox. Don’t. Not right now.”

  She inclined her head. “Don’t do what?” The heat of her breath puffed across his lower head. Precome crested, embarrassing him. No matter how in control he thought he was she still managed to revert him into a teenage boy.

  “Do you mean don’t do this?” She licked a circle around his swollen tip. He grabbed the top of her head, bucking against her lips. Lennox gripped his hips, holding him in place. “I’m sorry. Lift up a little bit and I’ll fix your pants.”

  He didn’t think about it. He merely complied, unable to take his eyes off her mouth. As soon as he lifted she yanked his pants down around his ankles. “Lennox.” His voice sounded far too pleading to his own ears.

  “What?” she asked. Her eyes rounded innocently. “Maybe you meant don’t do this.” She wrapped a hand around his length and sucked his tip into her hot mouth. From inside, her tongue encircled the sensitive ring of skin around the head of his cock. “Mm,” she murmured.

  Oh, fuck me. Oh, shit. Oh, yes.

  She began to stroke him, her hand making languorous circular movements around him. Sliding her hand down toward his balls while continuing to pump him, she deep throated him all the way.

  Out of his mind with ecstasy, he pumped in and out of her mouth, while he yanked the top of her dress down to play with her nipples. Garrett rolled the peaks between his fingers and Lennox moaned in pleasure. Stroking him faster, she took him deeper inside her throat.