Taken By The Wolf: Collection
Page 1
Table of Contents
Taken By The Wolf Part 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Taken By The Wolf Part 2
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Taken By The Wolf Part 3
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
The Bucklin Wolves Are Not Done
A Note from Jessica
Other Books By Jessica Ryan
Taken By The Wolf: Collection
The Bucklin Wolves
By Jessica Ryan
Copyright © 2014 Jessica Ryan
All Rights Reserved.
Published by Jessica Ryan Books
Cover Art by Yoly Cortez of Cormar Covers
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CONTENT WARNING: This short story contains adult material with explicit sexual situations and language. All sexually active characters in this work are 19 years of age or older.
PLEASE NOTE: This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains sexually explicit scenes, graphic language and may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors
Taken By The Wolf Part 1
Chapter 1
You can do this, Eva thought as she ran a bucket of beer to another table filled with drunken frat boys. This isn’t a hard job, and it pays well. You need it.
It was a typical night at Cowboy’s Landing. The dance floor was filled with a mixture of elderly couples and young people two-stepping to whatever Country Pop crap the DJ decided to put on. Smoke hung heavy in the air, choking anyone who dared to take in a deep breath. This was one of the last bastions of freedom in the no-smoking revolution.
Her day job at the mall just wasn’t doing the trick, she needed an extra source of income, but she was beginning to question her decision to put herself out on the meat market like this. Cowboy’s Landing was a bar that attracted all sorts of people. It was on the outskirts of Cedarville, Oklahoma home of South Central State University. Plenty of frat boys showed up for the quarter beer and seven dollar buckets on the weekends.
She was three hours into her first shift and already she’d had her ass grabbed three times, been complimented on her breasts four times and had a phone number and a crude comment written on the back of a receipt seven times. So far her experience paled in comparison to those of the other waitresses, but she still felt like she was on the auction block. Just a year and a half ago she had been going to class with guys like this, now she was serving them beer and getting whistled at.
Don’t think about that, she thought as she ran an empty bucket back to the bar. You’ll get back there soon, that’s why you’re doing this.
“How’s it going, girl?” Tracy said from beside her. Tracy had been working at the bar the longest of the waitresses, a whopping eight months. The turnover rate should have clued Eva in, but when she’d pocketed her first tip, a cool twenty bucks, she had a renewed sense of vigor.
“Is it always this insane?” Eva asked.
“All weekend,” Tracy answered. “On the weekdays it slows down, but weekends are where the fun is.”
“Fun?” Eva said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know if getting my ass grabbed all night is fun.”
“Loosen up,” Tracy said, grabbing a tray of drinks. “You’ll never make it if you don’t.”
Eva didn’t want to loosen up; she wasn’t a sex toy, at least not on these guys’ terms. It had been six months since she had been with a man and she didn’t have any designs on ending that streak anytime soon.
“You’re doing great,” Tammy said, handing her another tequila sunrise.
Tammy was her boss, the owner of Cowboy’s Landing. She was the very definition of a large country woman with big Texas hair and makeup caked to her face. When Eva noticed her spit cup during the interview she had wondered if this was the place for her, but something about Tammy’s demeanor put her at ease and she’d been the center that calmed Eva during her first busy night.
She grabbed the drink and looked back at the table where its owner resided. He was a greasy biker type, much older than most of the patrons she was serving. Most of the elderly people that came into the bar stuck to the dance floor, just wanting to two-step and reclaim lost youth. The tables she was servicing were filled with drunken frat guys, and one mid-30’s biker.
It bothered her when the frat boys hit on her, but she was willing to let it roll off her back when she left the table. There was something about this man that made her uneasy. When he looked at her it didn’t feel right. He had something dark and animalistic behind his eyes. She felt like she was the prey and he was the predator every time he smiled at her.
As she began to walk to another table she looked up, catching another man looking at her. The light around the bar was low, obscuring most of the customers, but the light illuminated this man like she was meant to see him amongst the drunkards. His rugged charm made her heart flutter and her knees weak. Eva nearly dropped the tray she was carrying as he lifted his drink to perfect, full lips; she could only imagine those lips pressed to hers, not situated on the edge of his glass. She tried to turn away from his big, honey brown eyes, but everywhere she looked something about the man caught her eyes, from his soft, slicked back, dirty blonde hair to the biceps that threatened to tear his black t-shirt apart.
Earlier she had caught him staring; now she was powerless to turn her gaze from him. All she could do was manage a weak smile which was returned with pearly white teeth that broke through the stubble that covered his face. There was something about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on. It looked like he’d been nursing the same Jack and Coke all night, or maybe he was just drinking them fast.
“Are you going to bring my drink?” a voice yelled, snapping her away from the spell the handsome stranger had put on her.
She smiled weakly at the biker, setting the drink on the table. “That’ll be four seventy-five.”
He threw a five down on the table and smiled. “Keep the change, beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she muttered. What a cheapskate. As she turned to walk away she heard him whistle and then felt his hand rise up to slap her on the ass. As it contacted her ass he refused to let go, his hand squeezing and cupping the roundness of her backside.
She spun around, glaring at him as he smiled. “That’s not okay.”
“I’m sorry, beautiful!” he said, pulling his hands back. “I just like wh
at I see.”
“That’s fine,” she said, glaring at him. “Just don’t touch me.”
“How about I make it up to you with dinner?” he said, sneering at her. There was no sincerity behind his invitation; he was still undressing her with his drunken eyes.
“No thank you,” she said firmly.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you a great night. It’ll be the best date you’ve ever had.”
“I don’t date customers,” she said, turning to walk away.
As she walked off she heard him curse and slam his drink on the table, upset at her rejection. She didn’t care; she’d gotten good at rejecting dates over the last year.
“Take a hint, buddy,” she heard one of the frat boys yell.
“Mind your own damn business and go back to sucking your mama’s tit, kid!” the biker responded.
That’s all it took to create a scene. She’d been warned by Tammy that tempers flared sometimes, but she hadn’t expected to see it on her first night. She turned to see one of the frat boys rush forward, trying to take a swing at the biker. The biker quickly ducked, and brought his fist up into the boy’s ribs. The air leaving the boy’s body was audible as his eyes bugged out of his head and he hit the ground in a heap.
Before she knew it the bouncers were in the middle of it all, pepper spray in hand.
Eva yelped and ran back to the bar, afraid she was in trouble for causing this situation. She could feel the tears beginning to well up in her eyes as she saw the stern look on Tammy’s face.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, feeling her own rage bubble beneath the surface. “I didn’t mean to start a fight.”
“Not your fault, dear,” Tammy said, studying Eva’s face which she could feel getting increasingly redder. “Why don’t you go cool off?”
She looked up at Tammy, again feeling like she at least had one person in her corner. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, dear,” Tammy said with a sweet smile. “I’ll cover your tables.”
She walked quickly to the back, her fists clenched the entire way. Normally she would’ve told a guy like that off, but she hadn’t wanted to cause a scene on her first night. Of course she had anyway, but Tammy wasn’t blaming her. When she reached the office that Tammy used to conduct business she slammed the door behind her and collapsed into an office chair. She let out a deep sigh, her hands covering her face.
Her life was a mess and there wasn’t any help on the horizon.
* * *
Rowan took another sip of his Jack and Coke, carefully watching the fight unfold thirty feet away from him. He wasn’t worried: if it rolled closer to him, he could take all of these men out with one fell swoop.
The bouncers finally wrestled the biker to the ground, two of them spraying pepper spray in his eyes. He screamed out in pain and continued to kick and thrash, fighting off all three men that held him down.
They don’t call them Satan’s Angels for no reason, Rowan thought, watching the man fight.
He could smell the stench of his pack on the man; it mixed with the pepper spray and burned his nostrils. Rowan had thought the Satan’s Angels were long gone—the Union Junction pack had negotiated their departure—but rumblings had come about a week ago that some of them had been spotted in Cedarville. Now here he was, watching one of them fight three bouncers.
“Typical biker trash,” he muttered, taking another sip of his Jack and Coke. He’d been told to blend in with the bar flies, but this was too much. The whiskey stung his nostrils and throat just alike; he didn’t know how humans shoveled this crap down their throats. It was impossible for a werewolf to get drunk—their blood metabolized the alcohol too fast—leaving him drinking fire so nobody would be suspicious of the new guy at the bar.
“How’s that drink treating you, stranger?” the large woman running the bar asked.
“Just fine,” he said, taking a swig for show.
“You have a name, big boy?” she asked.
“Bill,” he said, trying to think of the most mundane human name possible.
“I’m Tammy,” she said. “What brings you here tonight?”
“Just passing through. Thought I’d find a place with a good atmosphere,” he said, trying not to make eye contact. People always remembered his eyes; it was a blessing with the ladies and a curse everywhere else. When you were pack enforcer you didn’t want everyone remembering you.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“It’s pretty good,” he said, looking around. “You know, except for the brawl.”
“Tell me about it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Happens more than you think though.”
“Does that guy come in here a lot?” he asked. “The one with the long hair?”
“He started showing up a couple of weeks ago,” she said. “Always hits on the waitresses, but he’s never that aggressive.”
“I hope that young girl is alright,” he said, trying to sound concerned. It was kind of hard, human affairs didn’t interest him.
“Who, Eva? She’ll be fine. That girl’s tough,” she said, shaking her head. “Plus she’s as sweet as she can be.”
“Seems like it,” Rowan said, hoping she would drop the conversation. The waitress was interesting—human women usually couldn’t get him to half-mast, let alone fully hard. Eva was different, though. She had curves—dangerous curves-the kind that distract you from your duties. Beyond those curves, though, were the bluest eyes he had ever seen, like two sapphires that you could get lost in. They were perfectly framed by chin-length strawberry blonde hair, his favorite hair color.
Finally the bartender wandered off and Eva returned to the floor. He watched her as she served drinks, distracted by the curve of her ass as she bent over each table to pick up drinks. Any other night he would have talked to her, but tonight she was the wrong kind of distraction. Dangerous curves, indeed.
Chapter 2
Eva finally made her way back to the floor, trying to put the ugliness of earlier behind her. It was her first night and already a man had tried to grab her. She wasn’t use to this kind of attention from men, not since Jason—her ex-fiancé.
If Jason had been here, he probably would’ve watched the man grab her and then bitched at her for it later. For some reason she loved him, even though he was everything wrong with men today: insecure, jealous, cowardly, indecisive and lazy. But, he’d been the first guy to show her any kind of kindness beyond trying to get in her pants. Plenty of guys wanted to have sex with her; she knew how to use her curves to her advantage. It was hard for a man to say no when looking at her perky breasts or her round, thick ass. If he was a leg man, she had him covered there, too: she had thick, softball player legs that looked great in a short skirt and a pair of heels. However, she wasn’t the trophy wife type and most men seemed to be looking for that. Too many times she’d had sex with a man only to receive a text the next day that said “I’m just not feeling it.” Jason was different; he wanted to be around her, perhaps a bit too much. In the end. he’d ruined her life.
She sighed deeply, trying to shove the past out of her head as she brought two buckets of beer to a table of older couples. At least they were nice and they all tipped graciously, a departure from the frat boys that just left you the change.
As she walked back across the bar, feeling more confident than ever that she could handle this job, she looked up to see her Greek God staring her down again. She smiled at him and tried to look away, feeling her face flush. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she glanced over her shoulder, finding his eyes still locked on her.
“Tammy,” she asked her boss as she prepared another drink. “Who is that guy?”
“Which one?” Tammy asked, looking around, confused.
“The one at the end of the bar, in the tight black t-shirt,” Eva said, trying not to point. She didn’t want him to know she was talking about him.
“That guy? He said his name is Bill,” Tammy said. “Never seen him before. He said he wa
s passing through.”
“Oh,” Eva said, feeling her heart fall just a bit. She had hoped he was new in town, looking for someone to show him around. There was something about this man, something that drove her wild when she looked at him. Maybe it was the way his honey-brown eyes locked onto their target and didn’t waiver. Maybe it was the confidence behind his smirk each time she caught him looking. But the biggest thing was probably the danger she felt radiating off him.
As Tammy walked away Paige leaned over the bar, looking for his tab. There was something off about him, something different, and she had a suspicion about what that was.
Yup, she thought, reading the tab. Only one drink.
He was surrounded by drunkards who didn’t come to Cowboy’s Landing for the atmosphere. The drinks were cheap, plentiful and they made the clientele look better after you downed a few. Instead this man had only ordered one Jack and Coke. He wasn’t drinking for a reason; he needed to be sharp for something.
What’s your game, Mr. Bill? she thought, eyeing him again. What are you up to?
On cue his head shot up and his eyes narrowed, piercing right into her own. Her face immediately flushed and she looked away, unable to hold his steely gaze. She could feel his eyes burning into her the rest of the night, but she never returned his looks. Getting weak in the knees and acting like a giggly schoolgirl wasn’t a good look for Eva.
The rest of the night went on without a hitch; nobody else grabbed her ass or made a pass at her. One frat boy gave her a particularly lurid smile, but he could’ve burst into flames from the look she shot him. Like a scalded dog he slunk away, afraid of the big bad waitress.
“Two hundred and forty two dollars,” Tammy said, handing Eva her portion of the tip share. “This was a great night. It’s not always going to be that high, especially on weekdays.”
“I understand,” Eva said, about to explode at the extra cash in her hand. She slaved away at Lane Bryant in the mall folding clothes and helping curvy girls pick out bras, all for seven bucks an hour. This was huge and would help her pay all her bills on time this month.