Fated for Mikayla [Wolves of River's Bend 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Suzette Rose Cauler

  When she finally arrived in Liz’s neighborhood, after a strikingly boring but thankfully uneventful drive, she spent nearly another hour hunting for a parking garage that both had space and didn’t cost an arm and a leg. By the time she’d secured her car, she was pretty damned proud of herself, only having spent an arm rather than two whole limbs.

  Mikayla asked for directions and walked the last ten blocks to Liz’s apartment building, assaulted every step of the way by the unfamiliar sights and sounds but determined to see her mission through no matter how anxious the big city made her inner wolf.

  She caught a break at the big door of the apartment building. A couple was just leaving, so she was able to walk right in without ringing the doorbell or knocking or whatever she was supposed to do. Unfortunately, the inside of the apartment building was just as smelly as the street, minus the exhaust fumes, and Mikayla had to fight the urge to rush back outdoors. The air inside was almost worse, stale and laced with cigarette smoke, some type of cooking grease, and the stench of some terribly awful vegetable. She kept going despite it all, riding the rickety old elevator to the seventh floor, all the while questioning how Liz could stand living there after enjoying the wide open spaces and fresh air of River’s Bend.

  Getting off that elevator felt like a true treat and Mikayla decided she would take the stairs on her way back down. It felt like a miracle that she’d escaped the contraption with her life. She made it to 703B and lifted her hand to knock on the door, hoping Liz was actually safe inside and just being stubborn about the alphas’ orders.

  Just before her hand met the wood, a scent overwhelmed her, hitting her nose and rushing through her body like a freight train. She froze with her hand poised in midair as the delicious smell attacked her body, weakening her knees and befuddling her brain. Her pussy clenched hard, growing wet with shocking speed and her nipples hardened as if someone had reached out and touched them. My mate, she thought. That was the only logical explanation for the electricity that surged through her from head to toe and the heat that scorched her whole body.

  Mikayla lowered her hand, looking first to the left, then to the right down the long, disgusting hallway. If her mate was there, why was he hiding himself? She struggled to decipher the scents in the hall. The scent of her mate seemed to come from all around her. Then, there was the scent of something else? A panther? Whatever it was, it almost overpowered the scent of the wolf who apparently belonged to her. It fucked with her nose, making it hard to figure out which direction to go in to find Mr. Right.

  A rustling sound caught her attention from inside Liz’s apartment. He must be in there. What the fuck was her mate doing in there with Liz? Calm down, girl. They’re probably just friends or something. But…but what if he was Liz’s mate, too?

  Mikayla lifted her hand to rap hard on the door but never made contact. A rush of wind had her turning around to face an oncoming danger, but she reacted too slowly. A huge hand reached around her and covered her mouth, dragging her backward away from the door.

  “Shhh…I’m not going to hurt you.” The owner of the hand spoke against her ear, his deep voice sending shocks of energy down her spine. That was nothing compared to his touch, though. If she’d felt hot all over moments prior, that was nothing compared to the heat that shot through her as he continued to drag her.

  Her body felt fluid in his arms and she had a nearly overwhelming urge to lick the hand clamped over her mouth. What the actual fuck? She struggled to free herself so she could see him and find out what the hell had possessed him to cover her mouth.

  He tightened his grip on her mouth, yanking on her with an almost painful insistence. This was all wrong. This was her mate? Fate had sent her a kidnapper? Or someone worse? A rapist? Fear mingled with an arousal that threatened to addle her brain. She forced herself to shake it off, so she could defend herself.

  Grabbing his hand, she held it over her mouth, rather than continuing to resist as he probably expected. Then she dropped her weight, going to her knees on the floor, putting him off balance. That worked, and when he let go, she took advantage of the moment to turn, prepared to kick him in the balls, gouge him in the eyes, punch him in the throat, and lunge for the purse she’d dropped and the weapons it held.

  It was the sensations that washed over her again that caused her to hesitate a split second too long. Everything tingled, from her scalp to the balls of her feet, and her nipples had hardened more, almost painfully.

  The sight of him was almost worse than his touch. He towered over her with stunning hazel eyes and long dark brown hair that had been kissed by the sun in several places. And his mouth. He had some of the most kissable lips she’d ever seen.

  Mikayla actually shook herself in an effort to get it together. There was no way she would let this guy’s attractiveness stop her from defending herself. Unfortunately, though, she did hesitate long enough for him to grab her again, roughly covering her mouth and beginning to half carry, half drag her down the hall.

  Her attacker growled as her elbow found his stomach, and she tried hard to drop to the floor again. He was ready for her this time, though. “Don’t fight me. They’ll hear us.”

  Oh fuck. Who was he talking about? Was he crazy, paranoid, psychotic? What the hell had she done to deserve being fated for a serial killer? She managed to maneuver enough to bite his hand, and he let out an explosive breath but didn’t let go. If anything, he clamped his hand over her mouth harder.

  “I’m trying to help you. Just stop struggling.”

  Right. Like that was going to happen. She had to shift. The guy was huge, with muscles for days, and all shifter, but maybe she could shift, catch him off guard, and haul ass out of there.

  “Don’t. You can’t shift. Not here.”

  He was right. She would risk being seen by humans if she shifted there, but there was no way she was just going to let him drag her off. The decision was made. She fought like hell to free herself, flailing and grunting with effort as she also fought her body’s intense desire to surrender. One second she was simultaneously shifting and trying to fight him off, and the next, something rock-hard clunked her head. She had a moment to wonder what he’d hit her with before everything went black.

  Chapter 2

  Mikayla woke up in a darkened room, wondering two things. One was where the hell she was, because she didn’t think she was in her bed. The other was why her head felt so strange. Then it came back to her. The twinges she felt were because she’d been attacked, and oh shit, she was likely in her attacker’s bed, except she no longer felt like a raging nympho in the grip of a sex-starved heat. That was very clearly because the Prince Charming from hell wasn’t around. The room held only a twin-sized bed, a dresser that looked like it had been around since the dawn of time, and a rickety nightstand. She didn’t see a phone nor her purse, which held her cell phone and her weapons. Mr. Awful must have that as well as her jacket and her shoes, though she remained fully clothed.

  Hearing voices in the distance, she crept out of bed, fighting against the dizziness that threatened to claim her and slowly making her way to the room’s only window. It was barred, so she couldn’t climb out. Mikayla tested the bars. She was stronger than a human woman, but she couldn’t just yank them off. Fitting her hands between the bars, she tried the window and was surprised but gratified to find that she could lift it a few inches. Cold air rushed in and she kneeled down to see if she could spot anyone on the street. Damn. No such luck.

  It was dark outside, but from what she could see, the window either faced the back of the building or the side. The cement construction that served as the room’s view was most likely another building. Screaming would only alert her attacker to the fact that she was up, as it seemed extremely unlikely that anyone would hear her and come to her rescue.

  Mikayla quietly shut the window. She’d have to find another escape. The door to the room had been left slightly open, so she crept toward it to peer out. There was a light on in the hal
l, but she couldn’t see very far, not without opening the door all the way. What she could do was hear people talking, including the one who had attacked her. Her mate.

  Both voices were male, deep, and angry. “Why the fuck did you let her get hurt?”

  Her mate growled. “What else was I supposed to do? Let her scream and bring them all running?”

  “What does she weigh? A buck twenty?” the other voice snarled.

  “Let’s just decide what to do next. Okay? Standing here arguing won’t help.”

  “So what’s your brilliant plan for getting our mate to trust us after you attacked her like that?” the other man asked. “Damn, you’re such a bonehead.”

  Mikayla needed to sit down. Our mate? Their mate? Both of them? She was glad they weren’t in scenting range. If they came too close, she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t simply strip for them instead of trying to get away. She’d always fantasized about the day she would meet her fated, and it was an incredible letdown to discover they were criminals. At least they hadn’t taken her clothes off. One of them had knocked her out cold and put her to bed, but he apparently hadn’t wanted to take things that far.

  “Easy for you to criticize. You weren’t the one fighting her. She bit me!”

  “Big deal. The big scary she-wolf bit you. What did you expect? She probably thought you were some maniac planning to take her home and chop her into little pieces or something.”

  “I could have let her scream and blow our whole operation. Maybe you’d rather our mate end up in Ulric’s hands instead. You should be thanking me, dickhead.”

  “Shh… Shut up. I think she’s listening,” dickhead said.

  How did he know? Mikayla was sure she hadn’t made a sound. What should she do? Should she try to run? She had no idea where she was or how to get out of there. And to top that off, she didn’t feel too steady on her feet. No, she’d get back in the bed and wait for her chance to grab a weapon and escape.

  Mikayla had barely made it back to the bed when the door creaked open. She closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. If she was lucky, they’d think Dickhead had been wrong and she hadn’t been up after all. Her breathing, though. She could only hope it didn’t give her away.

  The nearness of her mates immediately threw her body back into overdrive, whether they were criminals or not. Her wolf wanted to present herself to them, and an image of her on the bed with her bare ass pointed toward the ceiling flitted through her mind. She hadn’t even gotten a good look at them, knew nothing about them except that they were probably the worst type of men, yet her clit throbbed so much she had to stop herself from reaching down to touch it.

  Damn fate and biology to twin boiling hells because her body didn’t care what kind of men they were. It only cared that her mates were in the room. One of them inhaled deeply and noisily, and she knew he’d scented her arousal. Holy fucking hell.

  * * * *

  “Hit the light, Jack.” The bright overhead light flicked on, and Hunter saw his mate twitch slightly. Her dark hair was tousled all over the place, her thick lashes a stark contrast to her smooth caramel-colored skin as she tried, badly, to feign sleep. His wolf growled at him to grab her, kiss her, take her immediately, and his cock returned to the state it had been in when he’d first come upon her. It was rock-hard and not interested in exchanging little things like names. Shit. This was going be difficult.

  He looked over at Jack. The man wore a pained expressions that didn’t surprise him. They needed to take her. They needed to claim their mate.

  “We know you’re awake,” Hunter said. “We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to talk.” Well, not quite. More like they just wanted to talk...first.

  Hunter moved to sit down on the edge of the bed. She might decide to claw his eyes out, but he had to be near her. “You felt it, right? We’re your mates.” Sweat broke out on her forehead, either from fear or the arousal he could smell wafting off of her. She wanted them, too, which was usual for mates when they first found each other. He took a huge chance and reached over to caress her cheek. Damn. It was like lightning struck when he touched her, and he pulled back, balling his hands into fists to keep it together.

  Jack walked over and kneeled next to the bed, his nostrils flaring. “You smell so good.” He looked up at Hunter, then back at their mate. “If we’d wanted to hurt you, we would have already. We’re your mates. You can trust us.” She stubbornly ignored him. “Come on, baby, open your eyes. Let me see them for the first time. I promise I won’t let you get hurt again.” Jack shot a pointed look his way, and Hunter gave him the finger.

  A flush crept over her skin everywhere he could see it, which wasn’t much since she was wearing a red turtleneck and dark blue jeans. They’d removed her shoes and jacket before putting her to bed.

  “Shit.” Her eyes fluttered open, a gorgeous, deep brown, and she looked first at him, then at Jack. Her gaze was wary but heated, further evidence that she was in the grip of the same need that held him, not that he needed any proof. This was the way of things when a shifter met his mate.

  It took him a hot second to find his voice again. He’d already known she was a beauty, but when she’d opened her eyes, he was lost. She was nothing short of a goddess. His goddess. He swallowed hard and managed to force the words out. “I’m Hunter, and this is Ja—”

  He didn’t get to finish the introductions. Jack growled harshly and shoved past Hunter, grabbing their mate, pulling her up, and taking her mouth without preamble. A growl rumbled up from deep inside him, echoing Jack’s. Maybe Jack had it right. They could talk later.

  * * * *

  Mikayla hadn’t been able to speak when she’d first opened her eyes and saw the take-me-now hot men fate had sent her. She just stared, trying to unscramble her brains. One minute she was listening to the one called Hunter talk and then next she was crushed up against a hard chest, with a huge hand in her hair, and lips devouring hers. She should be afraid. Very afraid, despite the defiant look she’d tried to put on her face when she’d first opened her eyes. At the very least, she should be pissed, but all she could do was breathe in his scent and hold on, her knees weakening at the touch of his tongue. He took her mouth insistently and she let him. Oh Lord, did she let him, taking fistfuls of his shirt in her hands, clinging to him as if she were drowning. Because she sort of was.

  She couldn’t resist, couldn’t stop herself from responding to his heat. Her nipples were stiff peaks, her pussy impossibly wet again, and she ground the bitch against the thigh he moved to wedge between her legs. He took the hint and grabbed her ass, pulling her closer until she moaned against his mouth.

  All at once, growls filled the room and hands tugged at her clothing. Someone deftly maneuvered her shirt over her head and another pair of hands unfastened her jeans and tugged them down to her thighs. Mikayla was glad she wasn’t standing or she would have stepped right out of them. As it was, she ground her pussy against the hand that rubbed it through her panties.

  Sanity fought to push through the haze of mating heat. “S–Stop.” She didn’t sound serious, even to her own ears, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “I said stop.”

  The brute who’d just made love to her mouth pulled back, breathing heavily, and the hands that had only just found her pussy stopped caressing her. She looked up into an amazing pair of gray bedroom eyes. The man was beyond sexy with short, thick black hair and a biker’s body. As she looked him over, all she could think of was how much she wanted him to rub his stubble all over her breasts.

  “Hello, gorgeous.” He hadn’t let go of her, and honestly she didn’t want him to. “I’m Jack.”

  Obviously, they weren’t going to rape her, so she had a little leeway to ask a very important question. “Why the hell did you kidnap me?” Surrender now, her wolf urged. Talk later. She ignored the randy beast, gathering enough strength to act as if she had a shred of sense. “And, please, let go of me.”

  Jack stepped back and the other on
e shouldered his way past him. “Like I said before Jack lost it, I’m Hunter.”

  Fuck me. The man reminded her of a Viking, or maybe the human equivalent of a lion. He looked rough and ready with long, unruly brown hair and chest for days. He had just enough facial hair to make him look dangerous and a look in his amber eyes that readied her to melt at his fucking feet. Goddamn.

  Hunter reached for her and she called up every shred of willpower she possessed to knee walk out of his reach. “You’re the one who hit me.” Her wolf wanted to fuck him, both of them, more than she’d ever wanted to fuck anyone in her life, but he’d better have one hell of a good explanation for that.

  “I promise you, I’d never hit a woman.” His smile lit yet another flame deep inside her. “I was trying to hold onto you while you tried to tear me apart. I had to stop you from shifting right there, but the tighter I held on, the harder you fought. You fought so hard, you bumped your own head on the corner of the wall.” The deep, sensual timbre of his voice only made matters between her legs that much worse.

  “Must have been a pretty hard bump.” Mikayla retraced those frantic moments of fighting with the long-haired Viking god and had to admit it made sense. She’d thought he’d hit her, but all along he’d kept up his chant about trying to help her. She reached up, feeling for the knot on the back of her head, realizing her hair was sticky with wetness, though the knot was smaller than it had been when she’d first come to. Thank God for fast supernatural healing. She couldn’t help wincing in pain as her fingers pressed down, though. Healing or not, it was still sore.