Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (Big Bad Wolf)

by Charlie Adhara

  Cooper trembled and spasmed around his cock, tightening reflexively and prompting Park to curse. “Easy. Be good for me now.” He slapped his ass lightly, then massaged the flesh. “That’s it.”

  Cooper exhaled, sinking back onto Park. Felt a lingering, affectionate kiss pressed behind his ear.

  “Okay?”

  “Yes. Mmm, ready.”

  “Then show me what an experienced slut like you can do. Come on. Earn your fucking.”

  Cooper pushed back, riding Park, enjoying the teasing drag and punch of taking him slow and deep. Park’s big hands roamed his torso gripping his waist, belly and chest, mapping every dip and plane like it was the first time, claiming every inch of skin as his.

  Cooper reached over his own shoulder, elbow up, to pull Park’s head closer to his own and hear his ragged breathing right against his ear. Park’s hand dragged all the way up Cooper’s body to grip his throat, just under the chin, forcing him to look up.

  “You look so pretty spitted on my dick,” he said, and Cooper’s eyes fluttered shut.

  “Please,” he choked. “I need—”

  Park took over and began to thrust, gaining speed and strength, holding Cooper in place with one hand on his throat and the other arm wrapped around his belly. The slapping sounds of flesh on flesh echoed against the tiles. Anyone who wandered past the showers would know exactly what was happening in there, and the thought made Cooper groan.

  “Don’t think I’ll give you back. Rather keep you for myself. My own personal whore.”

  He ran his hands adoringly up Cooper’s outstretched arms, down his chest and lightly covered the scars on his belly, rubbing over them with his thumb.

  “Keep you forever,” he murmured, almost more to himself. “Safe.”

  Cooper laced his fingers through Park’s. “Yes.” He felt Park bury his face against the back of his neck and let out a shuddering sigh. His hand snaked down to grip Cooper’s dick and began to stroke him in time to his thrusts.

  “Cooper,” Park whispered over and over. “K-keep me, too. Please. Say you’ll—”

  “I’ll keep you,” Cooper gasped through his tight throat, eyes stinging. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

  Park dragged his teeth back and forth across Cooper’s skin and jerked him faster now. Cooper curled back compulsively onto Park, every muscle in his body tightening, drawing back as if taking one last inhale before diving. Park pulled Cooper’s bowing body back down hard onto his cock and with an almost pained sigh, pumped his release inside of him deep. This tipped Cooper over the edge and he came over Park’s hand, raising up onto his toes higher than he could imagine going, but riding the crest of orgasm, he was beyond pain’s reach.

  When his muscles suddenly relaxed, Park caught him, supporting him. For a long moment, all Cooper could focus on was the sound of water hitting tile in a soothing shush.

  Eventually he realized his and Park’s hands were still loosely interlaced over Cooper’s belly. He tightened his grip and snuggled back toward Park’s body as best he could without rushing the inevitable disengagement. When Cooper shivered, Park shuffled them both under the hot water, and there they kissed, lazily. Combined with the water, it was a little tricky to breathe.

  Oh well, Cooper thought, brain fuzzy with pleasure. He’d spent thirty-seven years breathing already. Right now, in this moment, he had more important things to do.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cooper tried not to look too guilty as he and Park returned to the spa bright and early the next morning. They’d had a quick breakfast in a near-deserted dining hall. It seemed many of the guests were reluctant to leave their cabins in the storm. The rain was as torrential as the night before, but there was the definite feeling that this was just a short reprieve before it got bad once more. Something about the way sound moved oddly in the air and the sky was still a sickly greenish-gray.

  If they weren’t technically working, Cooper would have opted to stay in the cabin under the covers himself. As it was, he and Park had decided that they needed to talk to Reggie about the missing Llcaj and what exactly had gone down between them and how Kreuger was involved. Even if that meant sitting through another pool trip with De Luca and Terradas, neither of whom Park was particularly keen to interact with again.

  But they saw no one as they walked down the hall toward the larger massage room. From the foggy glass, Cooper could tell someone was in the steam room and the massage room door was closed. Presumably Reggie was already teaching another couple the fine art of yanking bones from sockets.

  Cooper and Park entered the dressing room to wait and found it quite cold and the secret door to the basement ominously wide-open.

  “That can’t be good,” Cooper said.

  “Maybe someone’s working on getting the electricity back on?” Park suggested doubtfully.

  They exchanged looks and Cooper grabbed a fluffy white towel and tossed it on the first step so that the door couldn’t blow shut behind them. Carefully they crept downstairs.

  The other exit leading outside was also open and the papers on Kreuger’s desk fluttered angrily in the wind. But no one was there.

  “I don’t like this,” Cooper said, looking around. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  Park was looking around. “Nothing out of place,” he said, then closed the door, cutting off the howling wind and light rain. “What would they need to come back here for?”

  “The map?” Cooper said. Park nodded at him, and together they quickly removed the mess from the desk and checked the leg. The map was still there.

  “Damn. Maybe someone was just passing through,” Cooper said, replacing the papers on the desk. “It’s not like it’s a secret. Not from the staff at least. And Nielsen certainly likes to creep around the back passages.” He hesitated, then reshuffled through the papers on the desk. “You know, I don’t see those bills. The ones for Iaso Supply. Do you?”

  Park flipped through his own piles. “No, me neither. But why would someone take it?”

  “Vanessa covering her tracks?”

  Park hummed in possible agreement. After a minute he said, “Her name was Claymont on that bill. It must be Claymont legally.”

  “Yeah it is, I saw her prescription pad. Why?”

  “Just weird, isn’t it? Her name was probably Nielsen. But now it’s legally Claymont.”

  “Probably,” Cooper said slowly, confused as to where Park was going with this. “Why is it weird that she took his name when they got married?”

  Now it was Park’s turn to look bewildered. “How do you know they’re married?”

  Cooper hesitated. Was he being ridiculously old-fashioned? “I guess I just...assumed. I’m sorry, is that bad?”

  Park shook his head, expression clear again. “No, I understand why you might have thought so, but I doubt they are. It’s a very human ritual, marriage. We don’t go in for it, really.”

  He continued putting papers back on the desk. “We’ve talked about that before, haven’t we? Wolves tend to just take the last name of their pack. But only casually, nothing official. And who adopts what has nothing to do with gender or what have you. When I saw her name was Claymont on the bills legally, I assumed Paul must have been the one to adopt the Claymont name in social situations and that his own legal last name was still something else. But now it seems it was her who made the switch, not just casually—she actually went through the trouble of making a legal change, completely dissociating from the name Nielsen. I wonder why.”

  “I didn’t realize—” Cooper shook his head, heart beating very fast, not yet able to ponder Park’s logic or the reasons Vanessa might have distanced herself from her past. “I feel like I’ve heard you say wife or husband before.”

  “Well, I can hardly go around referring to everyone and their mate, can I?” Park laughed.

  Cooper d
idn’t feel like laughing. “So that’s it. Wolves never marry.”

  Park shrugged. “I wouldn’t say never. My aunt Lorelei and uncle Tim were married and divorced, but you met them. They’re...offbeat. It’s rare, for sure.”

  Cooper turned away from Park and ran a hand over his face. Considering he’d only had the idea to propose less than twenty-four hours ago, it was ridiculous to be getting this upset about it.

  “What’s wrong?” Park asked. “Did—did something happen?”

  He sounded very hesitant, and Cooper realized Park thought this might be related to the PTSD thing. Cooper set aside the surge of annoyance at that. It was hardly Park’s fault.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Anything else here or can we go back upstairs now?”

  “Of course,” Park said gently, still studying him. Cooper wished he wouldn’t. It was well-meaning, but sometimes one just needed the time to freak out in private and then have a mature, adult conversation with their partner.

  They returned to the dressing room, but it was still deserted and the massage room door was still closed. Frustrated with the lack of distraction, Cooper wandered around in a circle, looking everywhere but at Park.

  You didn’t understand what De Luca meant by different expectations. Well, here you go, he reminded himself viciously. Pull it together before you freak him out.

  On his second trip past the steam room, he noticed the timer on the outside hadn’t appeared to have moved. Cooper took a closer look, shoving thoughts of broken engagements that never even really existed deep, deep down and out of sight. He would go full Miss Havisham another time—there was a murderer afoot.

  Cooper cleared his throat. “Check this out,” he said to Park. “Someone’s jammed this timer.” He pointed with his pinky to a pink nub of rubber, like the eraser of a pencil that had been shoved under the plastic knob, preventing it from clicking down.

  “Someone needs more than twenty-five minutes to...steam?”

  Cooper made a face, and Park knocked loudly on the door. “Hello?” he called. “Everyone all right in there?”

  There was no answer. Park knocked again, this time with the side of his fist, making the glass tremble. “Hello!” he yelled. “I’m coming in!”

  Park shook his head at Cooper, then pulled the heavy door open. An intensely thick cloud of steam billowed out, making them both cough and step back. As soon as it was slightly more clear, they stepped forward, waving uselessly at it and coughing.

  Through the haze, Cooper could see a fully dressed figure draped over the center pillar, half kneeling. The light sphere was set to the forest scene and the shadowy images of tree branches and birds covered half the ceiling, while the other half was the round, dark shape of the fallen figure’s head.

  “Hello?” Cooper asked instinctually, foolishly, and rushed closer.

  There was no response. There never would be. The fallen body was Jack Nielsen and he was very much dead.

  Cooper let out a shuddering breath. “Shit,” he whispered. Then said it about ten more times for good measure.

  To be absolutely certain, Cooper checked his pulse, flinching a little at the wet, warm skin. Recently alive or an effect of the steam? Carefully, trying not to move the body too much, Cooper looked for cause of death. There was a gash on the forehead and a corresponding bloodstain on the pillar. Had he slipped on the wet tiles and hit the stone coming down? Very possibly. Except for that damn coincidence thing again.

  “Poor Nielsen,” Park murmured.

  Cooper agreed. Just because Nielsen was in his top running of suspects two minutes ago didn’t mean he couldn’t feel great sadness for the man’s death. Nielsen would never make it out of these mountains after all. How could you adequately capture the monumental unfairness of that? The utter cruelty of it. A whole life spent trapped, cut short on the verge of breaking free. You couldn’t.

  “Monty won’t be happy,” he said instead.

  “No,” Park said. “I guess this means the retreat is safe from her.”

  “And the De Lucas?”

  “On the contrary. Beck died in a storm off property. But I don’t see how they can avoid a criminal investigation this time. It seems Paul’s got a case for handing over control once more.”

  “This time we should ask Mutya to take a look at the body to see if she can determine the cause of death. Head bashed in, but—”

  Behind them came a whoosh and a blast of cold air as the spa door opened once more.

  “What the hell—” Jimmy managed to get out before Lisa beside him, wrapped in a towel, started to scream.

  “He’s dead! Oh my god, he’s dead!” she cried.

  “Fucking hell,” Park muttered.

  From somewhere behind them in the spa hallway, Cooper could hear others, footsteps and concerned voices, drawn by the screams.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Who’s dead?”

  “Who’s in there?”

  Park started to move out of the steam room past the gasping Lisa, but Jimmy snarled and pushed at him. “Don’t you come near her,” he snapped, flashing his teeth.

  Cooper froze, shocked, but Park just stood his ground, calmly. “Then please get out of our way,” he said.

  It might have been a tense moment, but Lisa was already turning and rushing away, practically tripping over herself in her panicked haste. With an angry look, Jimmy hurried after her, freeing the door. Park exited the steam room and Cooper followed, taking a deep, blissful breath of cool air, and wiped inefficiently at the sweat dripping into his eyes before looking around at just how many people Lisa’s screams had summoned.

  It took a moment to adjust to the different light. Jimmy, Lisa and Reggie had clearly just been in the smaller massage room together. The couple was half undressed and their skin—along with Reggie’s hands—was still slick with oil. All three of them now stood at the end of the hall by the dressing room. At the other end was Dr. Joyce, shirt rumpled and half-buttoned like he’d just been starting his morning. Standing beside him was Paul, soaked through and wide-eyed as ever. De Luca and Terradas had pushed themselves to the front—Cooper wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing—and behind them all he could just see three other curious couples. Yvette and Angela were one, along with another two pairs he’d hardly spoken to and whose names he couldn’t remember. Well, they were all certainly going to remember him after this.

  “What’s going on?” Paul asked. “Did she say someone is dead?”

  “Where’s Vanessa?” Cooper asked.

  “Collecting guests from the cabins.” Paul looked confused. His eyes darted to the closed steam room door. “The storm’s going to get worse than we thought. We’re going to shelter here, together today. What’s going on?”

  “I’m afraid there’s been an accident,” Cooper said, and immediately got the sense of déjà vu. “Mr. Nielsen is dead.”

  There were some gasps at that. Paul, though, looked oddly blank. “I need to tell Vee,” he said. “I—she needs to know.”

  “What happened?” De Luca asked sharply.

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” Jimmy said loudly, moving into the center of attention once more. “I heard them talking. Bashed his head in. Murdered. By him!” He pointed at Park.

  The hallway went deathly silent, but Park just rolled his eyes.

  “That’s a serious accusation,” Terradas said quietly.

  “I have proof, sir,” Jimmy said. “Yesterday he fought with that ranger and now he’s dead. Yesterday I heard Paul warning Nielsen to stay away from that human.” He pointed at Cooper. “He said he better not walk in on them fucking again. Now today Nielsen is dead.”

  Cooper choked, outraged. “We were not—”

  But Park just grabbed his hand and shook his head. He didn’t look the least bit concerned or inquisitive, and Cooper relaxed.

&
nbsp; “Again?” De Luca repeated, sounding vaguely delighted. “And to think, you nearly had me with your I don’t have doubts, show me the stars nonsense.”

  Paul cleared his throat. “I didn’t actually say—”

  Terradas cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Just because Andrew quarreled with both men doesn’t mean he killed them.” He sounded bored, again, almost disappointed, and Jimmy’s smug air began to dissipate as he panicked. His body trembled oddly—a vibration that seemed to originate in his shoulder blades and shook the hairs on his head, as if a train was passing overhead.

  “Jimmy, please,” Lisa murmured, looking very much like she would rather slip down the drain than be there anymore. “You’re upsetting yourself. Please, I just want to go back to the cabin.”

  Dr. Joyce stepped forward, stretching out his hand as if to tame a wild animal. “Jimmy, remember what we talked about. Deep breaths.”

  Jimmy ignored both him and Lisa, knocking Joyce’s hand aside. “You don’t believe me. All right. What—what about the fact that they brought a gun?” he said loudly.

  Terradas and De Luca exchanged coded glances, and Cooper felt Park’s hand tighten momentarily around his own. The hesitation seemed to invigorate Jimmy, so obviously desperate not to humiliate himself in front of these wolves who held such influence over his life, so full of resentment for Cooper and Park, who had captured Paul’s fawning and De Luca’s interest from the very first moment.

  “It was you who broke into our cabin?” Cooper realized out loud. “You stole my weapon?”

  Jimmy flushed bright red. “He admits it!” he yelled, pointing at Cooper. His fingernails had darkened and lengthened. Not precisely claws, but certainly not something one wanted coming at their eyes.

  Cooper flinched and stumbled over Park’s foot in his instinctual haste to get away. Park steadied him, squeezing his hand. Cooper inhaled deeply, concentrating on the distinctive smell of chlorine and Park’s familiar scent, the way it reminded him of last night. He felt a creeping shame at his overreaction, but no one seemed to have noticed except Park.