by Mina Carter
“You did what you needed, and we got her out of there. The docs did what they needed to treat her. So stop worrying. She’s alive, and that’s all that matters. Everything else will sort itself out.”
“Eh, I guess.”
Cam didn’t bother to tell him that his thoughts were more carnal than self-recriminating. Instead, he flitted closer, fascinated by the sight of his big lover being so gentle with the woman in the bed. Now his guard was down, he could see the longing in the Vesuvian’s eyes as he turned Wynter’s hand over and stroked a thumb across her ring finger.
There was no marriage tattoo there. Not the single line Cam knew that she had to have borne at one point, nor the dual bands that would indicate the type of triad marriage common in the region of space Rennick hailed from. The only type of marriage a Vesuvian would…could…enter into.
A smile crossed Cam’s lips as a plan began to form in his mind. He’d known for a long time that while their relationship was good, it wasn’t everything that Rennick needed. The thought of the slender, but tough, little female between them, being pleasured by both of them, or pleasuring one while she was fucked by the other, took his breath away.
It looked like they’d just found the missing piece.
Someone was holding her hand.
Normally that was an event that would freak Wynter right out, especially since the only family she had was her father, whom she hadn’t seen in the flesh for at least four years. If he was here holding her hand, then the shit had not only hit the fan, it had taken out an airborne strike on the damn thing, and there would be machine parts and crap all over the place.
She swam up through the layers of semi-consciousness, cursing at her stupidly weak body all the way. Memory came back in random spurts. A dirt-side op. A building block. Chittering. Fuck, there was always chittering. Kiinarsi then. When was it ever anything else? Fucking bugs.
A deep voice muttered something, and then there was a soft brush at her temple. She paused in her frantic dash for wakefulness. Her father would never do that. Hell, holding her hand when she was at death’s door was likely his limit. Brushing hair back from her face? No, that was not her father.
Thank fuck for that.
She relaxed into the soft embrace of the bed and concentrated on the other clues as she let her body drift back. She was in bed but not a rack in the barracks. The scent of antiseptic was too strong and the mattress too soft. The medical bay then. Not a surprise. She ended up here so often they’d practically given her a loyalty card.
Another deep voice joined the first, concern in the tones, and she frowned. Two men, wasn’t she the lucky little invalid? She didn’t care who they were, as long as the one stroking her hair kept on doing it.
The volume went up in the room, as though someone had just taken a holovid off mute. She must have moved or made a sound, because the hand in her hair stopped. Wynter murmured in protest, turning her head to get more of the wonderful sensation.
“Hey there, little one. Welcome back.”
Out of the cotton-wool-like environment of semi-consciousness, the voice was familiar. She opened her eyes to find herself looking into Rennick’s dark gaze, and was fascinated by the tiny scar at the corner of his eye. He smiled, and any forming thoughts were blown away.
Oh my, he was gorgeous when he smiled.
“It’s sergeant, not little one.”
Her voice was grumpy as she struggled to a sitting position. She needed to regain some semblance of control over the situation, but a large hand on her shoulder put paid to that. She shot Rennick a sharp look as she was pressed back into the embrace of the bed.
“You’re injured. You need to rest. Please?”
A voice to the other side of the bed made Wynter twist to look that way. She gasped as her head swam in response, a stabbing pain warning her not to try the move again. Carefully she adjusted her position, turning her whole body like she’d been taught in her early days in EVA-combat training.
Camden’s worried face came into view. She scowled, even though she was pleased to see him and Rennick. For some reason the two men being here felt right…even if the fact that her hand was still enveloped in Rennick’s was freaking her out. The gentle stroke of his thumb over the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist wasn’t helping either. Despite the fact that her body felt like she’d been run over by a ground tank, the soft touch felt good. Too good.
“What are you two doing here?” She tried to pull her hand away, but Rennick held fast, a stubborn look in his eyes. They struggled for long seconds, but her waning strength was no match for his. Fine, let him hold her hand if he wanted to.
A grunt of satisfaction on his lips when she gave in, he moved her hand and slid large, strong fingers between hers as she turned to look at Camden. He sat next to the bed, elbows on the arms of his chair, as he watched Rennick. For a moment she saw jealousy there. They were a couple, so what did he have to be jealous of Rennick holding her hand for? For that matter why was Rennick holding her hand?
Her head swam as she tried to work that out, but she was saved from thinking about it when the door opened and a nurse popped her head around it.
“Ahh, you’re awake. Excellent. We can start the discharge procedure.”
Chapter Four
“Corporal Rennick, you put me down now. That’s an order!”
Wynter’s barked command echoed along the corridor, making several of the occupants, all hurrying along to attend to whatever duty they were on next, turn to look at the trio.
Camden strode along beside them as Rennick held her firmly in his arms. Nothing she tried altered his strong grip—not wriggling, arching her back, or even kicking her legs like some damn kid. All she managed to achieve was wearing herself out. With a huff, she leaned against Rennick’s shoulder and ignored the fact that being carried by the big man felt nice. Very nice. Like she was something delicate to be handled carefully, not the battle-hardened soldier she was.
Rennick grinned, the low rumble of amusement transmitted to her through the broad wall of his chest. “You finished, little one?”
“No.”
She glared at him. How the hell had she lost control of the situation so completely? She was the squad’s combat sergeant, superior to both of them, yet somehow she was being treated like she was a bloody invalid. She transferred her glare to Camden. “Tell him to put me down.”
The other weredog just smiled and shook his head. “Uh-uh. Sorry, sarge. We got our orders to make sure you get back to the barracks and rest.”
“Oh…so now you remember I’m in charge here! Thank fucking god,” she quipped as they reached the lift. The door opened in front of them, negating the need to call it, and revealed an empty car.
Rennick stepped into it, ducking his head. She caught her breath. Why hadn’t she realized he was so damn big? Unbidden, the memory of his cock, thick as a flagpole as it jutted up against his toned stomach, filled her mind. Heat flooded her body in an unstoppable wave, making her aware of the thin hospital gown. Even though it covered her from neck to mid-calf, the fabric was paper-thin, as were the matching panties beneath.
Biting her lip, she fought to control her reactions before the sensitive noses of the weredogs picked it up. How fucking embarrassing. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she lust after men who were into women, rather than men who were into other men?
“God? No can do.” Rennick’s lazy drawl brought her head up. Thankfully she’d managed to chase the furious blush off her cheeks, so she could meet his eyes directly. “Fucking? Yeah, I’m… We’re damn good at that.”
Wynter’s brain short-circuited. Her eyes wide, she studied his expression, the darkness in his eyes, and the tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips. Crap, did he mean what she thought he meant by that? Was that a come-on? But he and Camden were in a relationship, and squad scuttlebutt said that neither man liked to share. Rennick had gotten violent just last month when a new guy on one of the other squads had made a m
ove on Camden in the mess. Poor guy had been one of the smaller weredogs, a Chihuahua or something in shifted form, certainly nothing big or mean enough to take on a pissed-off Vesuvian.
The lift reached its destination, the level their barracks were on, before she could frame a reply. Then they were out of the lift and into a corridor teaming with an outgoing squad.
“Shh, little one. We got you.”
Rennick’s grip tightened as she clung to him. She’d been worried about how weak and stupid she looked, having to be carried from the medical bay, but that worry was wiped out by the very real fear that she’d be knocked from his arms.
The way she felt, exhaustion pulling at every cell in her body, she wouldn’t be able to get back to her feet. And wouldn’t that do her badass reputation wonders? It was bad enough that the two men had seen her at her weakest when she’d struggled to cross the room after refusing a hoverchair. Then Rennick had refused to let her walk, and it had all gone downhill from there.
The two dogs closed ranks. Camden slid in front of them to stop her being buffeted by the troops swarming past. The harsh growl of warning filled the corridor, startling both her and the armed troops around them. They parted around the trio like water streaming past, leaving her safe in the little cocoon between her men.
Her men? Shit, when had she started to think of them like that? That was dangerous territory.
Relief stole the last of her strength as she relaxed her hands from their death grip on Rennick’s shoulders.
“Thank you, Corporal.” She managed a smile as Camden held the door to their barracks open. Even her human senses could tell that they were unoccupied, the rest of the squad obviously out for training. They were all out on the ranges if she remembered the schedule correctly.
“James,” Rennick said suddenly.
“Excuse me?”
He stopped outside the door to her room and looked down at her. The odd look in his dark eyes set the butterflies in her stomach to racing around and around, like her insides were a wall of death.
“James. My name is James.”
* * *
“And she’s on her own in there?”
Camden cast a furtive glance up and down the corridor as if he were trying to score a baggie of Angel’s Tears—the latest, very illegal high to infiltrate the Nemesis—instead of the perfectly legal seduction he had planned instead.
“Yup, she’s a right Billy no-mates in there.” Perez grinned, an unholy amusement shining in his eyes as they flicked between the two bigger men. With Rennick’s dark gaze on him though, he was sensible enough not to say anything. Instead, he cleared his throat and pushed off the wall.
“The rest of us have tickets for that new holo-film that just came out…you know the one with the chick with tits out here.” He cupped his hands in front of his chest. “Then a couple of beers afterward. We should roll back in the early hours, unless Johnson barfs on security again. In which case, you’ll need to come break us out of the brig in the morning. Anyway…later ‘gators. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
With a jaunty wave, the weredog sauntered off down the corridor and out of the barracks. Cam leaned against the wall, not moving, as he considered his partner. Rennick lounged opposite him, half in darkness, but that didn’t mean Cam couldn’t guess what he was thinking.
They’d been together long enough that he could read the bigger man like a book—could pick up on all the little nuances and clues to his mood. The scent of outright lust leeching from the guy’s pores and filling the corridor was a good indicator that he was more than on board with tonight’s plan. But still…
“James…” He used his partner’s first name, a rare occurrence but the situation warranted it. “Are you good with this?”
Ren stayed where he was, but Cam felt the weight of his gaze. Then Ren shrugged. “You like her, and it’s not like I haven’t fucked a woman before. Or shared one.”
Really? That was news to Cam. His eyebrows snapped together, but he put the thought aside in favor of another. The idea of Wynter just being a casual fuck didn’t sit well with him, even though that’s what they were planning on doing. Fucking her. His cock leapt at the thought, hard in a heartbeat and pressing against the zipper of his fly so insistently he wouldn’t be surprised to find a matching geometric pattern stamped in his skin.
“Yeah, but do you like her?” He pushed off, walked forward until he could see Rennick’s face. “I mean, you’re not doing this just for me, are you?”
Ren dropped his head back for a moment, closing his eyes as a shudder ran the length of his body. Then he looked back at Cam, and the heat in his eyes was enough to boil conduit-plasma.
“No, Drew…I’m not doing this just for you. You want to, I want to. She’s fucking hot as hell, so let’s just hope she wants to as well. Or you and I will both be nursing the biggest case of black-and-blue balls this ship has ever seen.”
James. My name is James.
Wynter leaned her head back against the low back of the easy chair and watched the film on screen in front of her absently. Some kind of chick flick, one she wouldn’t have been able to name even if her life depended on it. No surprise there. According to her father, her taste in films wasn’t very mature. He was right. If it didn’t have any explosions or love scenes with a decent amount of dick, she wasn’t interested.
The scene in front of her did have a decent amount of cock, but not the sort she was interested in right now. Oh, the male lead was a cutie all right. She certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed if he magically appeared there. But he was human, and she was browsing in a different aisle these days.
She sighed as the lead actress moaned and gasped her way through a pounding from behind. Doggy style. Wynter snorted and took a swig from the glass in her hand. The deep, rich whiskey burned all the way down to her gut. She could do with a little doggy style herself. With a few adaptations…
The idea of being sandwiched between Camden and Rennick wormed its way free from the box she’d locked it in and went on a rampage through her mind, taking her imagination for a joyride. God, what she could do with two gorgeous, male bodies built like that. Fucking pity they wouldn’t look twice at her. What decent guy would? She was a combat sergeant through and through. Too ornery and scarred to operate in ‘civilized’ society and, it seemed, too much of a bitch to appeal to even other soldiers.
Wallowing in self-pity, she ignored the door opening and closing behind her. The film was nearly done, so if someone was here for that, then they were shit out of luck. She threw back the rest of the glass and hissed. That was damn good stuff, heating her blood and bones in a way that fed the perpetual horniness she’d been living with since she’d seen the boys in the shower, fucking each other.
“Sorry lads, film’s almost done,” she said, leaning forward to put her glass on the table. As she moved, the seats either side of her were occupied. She sat back to find herself sandwiched between two big, male bodies.
“We’re not interested in the film,” Camden’s low voice whispered over the soft skin of her throat, stirring the tiny hairs there.
She jumped, turning to face him, only to find her back pressed against another solid, male chest.
“We’re more interested in a…live show, shall we say?” Rennick murmured, his hand smoothing along the curve of her waist.
“L-live show?”
Despite her lusty thoughts a moment ago, Wynter couldn’t believe what she was hearing as she looked from one to the other. She had to twist to look at Rennick, his face just inches from her own. On the screen in front of them, the scene had changed but only slightly. Instead of the hero taking the lead actress from behind, she rode him while sucking another actor’s cock.
“Yeah, live show. They say life is just a stage, let’s become the players in our own version…” Rennick leaned in, his lips a whisper from hers, as Camden slid a hand across her stomach, teasing the sliver of skin revealed by her T-shirt. “If you’re interested of c
ourse. Cam saw you watching us the other day.”
Oh fuck, they knew. Heat of a different kind blazed its way across her cheeks, so hot that a decent engineer would have been able to use the output to power a small transport shuttle.
“In the shower.” Rennick’s voice was pure temptation. “Fucking.”
She moaned, the soft sound a mere echo under the loud pants of the woman on screen, but the two men heard it. With an answering groan, Rennick claimed her lips. His kiss was hard and dominating. Practiced and powerful.
She whimpered as he swept all her defenses aside. He probed the seam of her lips with his tongue and made her open to him. As soon as she did, he surged inside, filling her mouth with the thickness of his tongue. He pushed in and retreated in a steady rhythm, seeking her tongue and making her dance to his tune.
Heat swirled through her. Dark desire invaded every cell within her as she gave in to his kiss and followed where he led.
Camden wasn’t idle. The fingertips went from flirting with her waist to sliding under the top. She shivered at the sensation. His hands were large. Warm. Rough. Just the way she liked them. He smoothed them over her stomach and up to cup her breasts. The thin fabric was no barrier for a determined weredog. She gasped into Rennick’s mouth, the sound lost, as Camden pressed the clip between her breasts and released the bra.
Her breasts spilled free under the soft T-shirt. Her nipples puckered, hard and rubbing against the fabric. Camden groaned and cupped them. Rolled the beaded nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Wynter squirmed at the sensation, at the pleasure that rolled through her.
Then he pinched, tweaking the nipples and pulling them lightly. She flinched then moaned deeply, her head dropping back against Rennick’s arm. Liquid heat flooded her veins, heated her cunt, and slipped from her body to soak her panties.
Both men groaned, and the heat across her cheeks intensified. Oh shit, could they smell that? Fuck. Of course they could, they were weredogs. Their sense of smell was way better than hers. Oh, crap. Did that mean they’d been able to smell when she was horny…like all this week?