“The beginning,” she shot back. Even at this serious moment, she made him smile. Her indomitable spirit drew him like a moth to a flame.
“I was born in a bayou of Louisiana thirty-two years ago.”
“Do you live longer than humans or is it the same?” she asked.
Jacque shook his head. “We have twice the lifespan of humans and can live up to two-hundred years.”
“Whoa.” Gwen paled and shook her head. “That’s impossible.”
“No, not impossible. We’re incredibly fast healers. The same genetics that allow us to heal ourselves also keeps our bodies younger for a longer time.”
“That’s crazy.” He froze when she touched his face, tracing her fingers over his strong jaw. He clenched his teeth to keep from taking her mouth with his. His cock throbbed nonstop and he wanted her naked in his bed with him as her only covering. “Will you eventually get wrinkles and gray hair?” She swiveled in his lap and he saw stars when her hip pressed against his erection. “He’s putting me on, isn’t he?” she asked the other men.
Louis shook his head. “No, it’s true. We eventually age, but our appearance won’t change much for the next hundred years or so. Armand and I are both a couple years younger than Jacque. Gator is a few years older, and Cole is the grandfather of us all at forty.”
“Fuck you, LaForge.” Cole scowled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his massive chest.
“So you’ll all live to be two hundred years old?”
“It’s possible.” Jacque wanted there to be nothing between them, so he told her the truth. “That’s if someone doesn’t kill us first. Werewolf culture is a violent one and it’s rare for one of us to actually live that long. Many die young.”
“Holy crap.” Gwen slid out of his lap and he let her. Not only did he need the distance to get control of his unruly body, but he also sensed she needed some space to come to terms with the information she was receiving. She walked back and forth in front of the large picture window that sat alongside the dining table, all four sets of male eyes trained on her slender form.
“It’s true,” Jacque continued. “We’re also stronger and have more acute senses than humans.”
“We’re more good looking too,” Gator quipped. That got a quick smile from Gwen, but it was short-lived.
“How have you survived so long without other people knowing about you? Is your species a separate one or did something happen to create you? Do you work normal jobs? Do your kids go to school?” She fired off one question after another, the writer in her coming to the fore.
Jacque didn’t like feeling as though he was some bug under a microscope. “We’re much like humans, as you well know.” He couldn’t resist the little reminder of their earlier sexual interlude. “We eat, we sleep, we fuck.” He was purposely crude and immediately regretted it when her cheeks turned pink and she turned away.
The men’s silence was damning and he felt their censure. But it was her reaction he was concerned about. “Gwen,” he began, not quite knowing what he was going to say.
The front door slammed open. All the men jumped to their feet, ready to face whatever threat was upon them. Jacque lurched out of his chair, grabbed Gwen and pushed her behind his large frame. Armand stood in the doorway, his eyes blazing. “We’ve got company.”
One minute Gwen was trying to wrap her brain around the idea that the men around her could potentially all live to be about two-hundred years old. Next thing she knew the front door had slammed open and she found herself stuffed in a corner of the room staring at Jacque’s wide back.
“We’ve got company.”
Armand’s words sent a chill down her spine. She was sure it wasn’t the police outside or a rescue team coming to her aid. No, this was something more dangerous. The men around her were all tense and ready to fight.
“Who?” The one word, spoken in a low, lethal voice made her shiver. There was a stillness in Jacque, a dangerous predatory quality, as he waited for an answer that was frightening in its deadly quiet.
“Andre Dubois.” Armand practically spat the word. There was obviously no love lost between them and the intruder.
Gwen put her hands on Jacque’s back and shoved. He didn’t move so she squeezed around him. He caught her and brought her close to his side. Heat radiated from his skin and she longed to rub her nose against his chest and inhale. Instead, she squared her shoulders. “Who is Andre Dubois?” Whoever he was, there was no doubting the men here hated him. Even the affable Gator looked ready to kill someone and Cole’s expression was downright scary, the stuff of nightmares. She squeezed closer to Jacque.
“One of our father’s men.” It was Louis who answered her. “We need to take care of him.” This was addressed to Jacque and Gwen froze, waiting to see how he would respond. They were talking about killing someone.
Jacque caught her by the shoulders and spun her around until she was facing him. “This man is a threat to you. Do you understand?”
No, she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand anything that was happening. They were all a threat to her as far as she was concerned, and Jacque more than most because he tempted her heart and her body.
“You’ll be safe here with Louis.” He rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers. The expression in his eyes frightened her. It was filled with death and determination.
“Jacque.” She didn’t know what she was going to say but felt she should say something. He couldn’t just go outside and kill a man. Could he?
He nodded toward his brother and Louis put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her toward him. Jacque turned without a backward glance and headed toward the door with Armand, Gator and Cole at his heels.
“You can’t do this.” But she was talking to air as the front door closed behind them with a heavy thud. “He can’t do this.” She pulled away from Louis and raced to the front window.
“Gwen,” Louis called, but she wouldn’t be deterred. She had to see what was happening.
She looked out into the morning sunshine, the leaves of the trees and the tall grasses still wet with dew. Jacque stood in front of the cabin with his nose tilted upward. He was sniffing the air, she realized, using his extra senses to track the intruder. It was all so surreal.
Louis crowded in behind her. “You don’t need to see this.”
“Yes, I do.” This was about her. Maybe not all of it, but some of it. The kind of animosity that these men had toward this Andre fellow didn’t happen overnight. It took years to build up this kind of disgust and hatred. But she was the tipping point. “I need to go outside.”
Louis closed his strong arms around her. “No, you don’t. Jacque would kill me if anything happened to you.”
That was no overstatement. Louis truly believed what he was saying. Gwen felt it to the marrow of her bones. “Then let me see.”
His sigh ruffled the hair on top of her head. “Fine, but stay off to the side. Andre prefers to fight with his claws and teeth but the bastard isn’t above carrying a rifle when it suits his purpose.”
Fear grabbed Gwen by the throat. She’d only thought about the repercussions of Jacque killing a man, not about him being in danger. “What is he doing just standing there? Why doesn’t he have a rifle too?” If he came out of this okay she was going to kill him. She knew her thoughts were totally irrational but she didn’t care.
“He’ll be fine, chère. It would take more than Andre Dubois to bring Jacque down. Plus, the others are with him.”
The bond between all the men went deep. Gwen had no doubt that they would all willingly die for one another, but none of them could outrun a bullet. At least she didn’t think they could. What did she really know about werewolves?
Outside, Jacque tilted back his head and howled, the deep, aggressive sound sending a shiver down her spine. It was a warning and a challenge to anyone who would threaten him or his pack. Even Gwen could sense that much. She couldn’t pull her gaze away as he ripped his shir
t over his head, exposing his muscled torso to the cool morning air. Much to her disappointment, he didn’t change. He loped off into the trees, his gait smooth and predatory.
Jacque was on the hunt.
Gwen pressed her fingers against the glass and said a silent prayer to bring him back safe.
Jacque caught a whiff of swamp on the air and he ripped off his shirt, ready to shift and hunt when he sensed Gwen’s eyes on him. She was already leery of him and he didn’t want to add to her fears by morphing into a massive wolf in front of her, so he remained in his human form.
And why was Louis letting her watch any of this?
Gwen had been through enough in the past twenty-four hours. Her life had gone from completely normal to a nightmare in that length of time, starting with Hector’s phone call to her yesterday morning.
He loped off into the woods, putting Gwen out of his head, knowing Louis would take care of her. For now, he had to eliminate the threat to her safety. Killing Andre would accomplish two things. It would remove the immediate threat and it would send a powerful message to his father, letting him know Gwen was under his protection, under the protection of Jacque’s pack.
He’d left Armand outside the cabin as another line of defense and knew his cousin wasn’t happy about the situation. Armand had more reason to hate Andre than the rest of them, which was precisely why Jacque had left him behind. He wanted Armand focused, not lost in the grief of the past. Jacque loved his cousin and didn’t want to lose him to a moment of unguarded anger. And Andre would taunt Armand with the past, no doubt about it.
Gator was just off to his right and Cole to his left. He couldn’t ask to have better men at his side. All of them were a credit to their race—strong and honorable. They hadn’t fit with his father’s pack any more than he and Louis had. For some unknown reason, they had escaped the madness that seemed to take hold of other men in their former pack.
Jacque couldn’t understand men who wanted to mistreat their mates and children, men content to be assassins for hire. He’d wanted more than that out of life and had finally found the strength to step out from under his father’s dark shadow. Only fear for his mother and younger brother had kept him there for so long. His only regret was his mother wouldn’t leave with them when he and Louis had gone. But she’d given them her blessing and told them to run and never look back. For that reason alone, he would always love her.
His heart ached for her but there wasn’t anything he could do to help her, not while his father still lived. Pack law was strict and biology was even more so. Werewolves mated for life and only death would allow freedom for the still living spouse. As a child, Jacque had prayed for his father’s approval. As he’d grown older, he’d prayed for his father’s death. Then the day had come when he’d stopped praying for anything and found the courage to walk away.
Now everything he had was being threatened. The dark predator within him wouldn’t allow anyone to take what was his, and that now included Gwen.
He stopped by a massive oak tree and shucked his boots, socks and jeans. He never wore underwear, but he had a drawer full of new silk boxers, all given to him by his mother in her effort to civilize him. He kept them because they were from her and presents had been all too few in his life. They were also a reminder to him to be a better man than his father and uncle.
Jacque breathed in the scent of the damp, rich earth. The smell of rotting leaves, the pungent aroma of mushrooms, the sweet flavor of berries all filled his nostrils. He knew there was a family of squirrels in the tree before him, all of them quietly hoping he wouldn’t find them. They sensed his wolf and feared it.
He embraced his other half, throwing himself into the change. His body began to morph and he relished the thickening of bones and muscles, the strength that coursed through his veins. Fur replaced smooth skin, hands and feet became heavy paws tipped with razor-sharp claws. His ears twitched in the wind and his nose scented the wind once again.
A great brown shadow, Jacque padded through the thick undergrowth, the pads of his feet not making a sound as he tracked his prey. Jacque’s human half was still there, but the wolf was now in control. He was the hunter, the predator and the defender. His future mate was in danger and that was unacceptable.
He sensed more than heard Gator move up alongside him. He knew he wouldn’t hear Cole at all. For such a big bastard, he moved like a ghost. They’d hunted together for years in the swamps of Louisiana, warning one another of the many hidden dangers that resided there. They’d learned, planned and left the pack together when the time had come. They were as much his brothers as Louis was.
Andre, on the other hand, was his father’s man through and through. He’d had three mates in his seventy years of living, all of whom had died under mysterious circumstances. Jacque suspected that not one of them had been his true mate, but Andre didn’t care. He took what he wanted, and his position in the pack allowed him to do just that.
They all knew the bastard had killed his mates when he’d tired of them, but no one did anything about it. Pierre LaForge’s word was law among their people and he’d backed his prime killer.
It still made Jacque sick to his stomach to remember the last mate Andre had killed. It had been his cousin Sylvie, Armand’s older sister. Her death had almost driven Armand mad. His Uncle Remy hadn’t seemed to care. After all, Sylvie was only a female.
The five of them had left after Sylvie’s funeral and had settled here on land Jacque had purchased more than five years before in anticipation of the day he would leave Louisiana. He’d always known it was going to happen. He just hadn’t expected it to take so long.
Jacque scented his prey up ahead in a clearing. He and his men knew this land well, having traveled it at length, mapping it in their heads. This was his home turf and Andre’s pack status meant nothing here.
He broke through the tree line and found the bastard casually leaning against a tree, picking his fingernails with an eight-inch blade. His beard was trimmed, his shirt and jeans fitting well on his honed body. His dark eyes were filled with amusement. Yes, this bastard was in need of killing and it was past time someone did it.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Pierre’s whelp.” Andre continued to clean his nails, seemingly unconcerned. That gave Jacque pause and he wondered if the male was alone.
Jacque tilted his head to one side, studying his foe.
Andre chuckled. “Still a stubborn brat. If you’d been mine I’d have knocked some respect into you.”
“But you couldn’t have pups, could you, Dubois?” Gator stepped out from behind a tree, stark naked, his toned muscles rippling in the light that filtered down through the trees. “You blame it on your women, but everyone knows the fault lies with you. You’re not man enough,” he sneered.
With his unerring ability to find an opponent’s weak spot and his willingness to strike, Gator lived up to his namesake. Andre’s entire body jerked before he got it under control, but Jacque saw it and shifted closer.
Andre casually pointed the blade at Jacque. “You know, boy, your père is willing to take you back into the fold. All you have to do is give up the bitch that sniveling weasel Hector Canton talked to. And you don’t need to worry about him anymore. I took care of poor Hector.”
Jacque almost laughed at Andre’s offer. His père would no more take him back into the fold than he would willingly go. The split between him and his father was complete.
Jacque wasn’t surprised Hector was dead, another victim of Andre’s cruelty. He embraced his human form, letting the change take him, and faced Andre as a man. “Hector was harmless enough. He didn’t have to die.”
The older man shrugged. “He certainly wasn’t much of a challenge. Squealed like a girl when I gutted him.”
“Go home, Andre. There is nothing for you here.” He was giving the man a chance to walk away even though he knew it was a stupid idea and Andre would see it as a weakness. He wanted to be able to tell Gwen he’d at least given his
enemy the opportunity to make peace.
“True enough, boy. And I’ll be going as soon as I get the girl.”
His cocky attitude was making the hairs rise on the back of Jacque’s neck. Yes, Gwen was protected. Both Louis and Armand would give their lives for her, but it suddenly wasn’t enough. He needed to be there to make certain nothing or no one hurt her.
“You can’t have her.” Jacque drew the line between his past and his future.
“Now, that’s not neighborly at all. You got no respect in you, boy.”
Jacque ignored Andre’s attempt to anger him by referencing his age. “Not for you, at any rate,” he agreed.
Andre pushed away from the tree and smiled, showing a mouthful of shiny white teeth. “Now you don’t think I came alone, do you?”
Jacque pounced, changing in midair, something only the strongest of them could do. Andre’s eyes widened and Jacque knew the other male had had no idea he could do such a thing. He’d always downplayed his abilities around his father, mostly for his own protection. His father would have had him killed decades ago if he believed for one minute his son might one day be stronger than him.
But Andre had been a killer his entire life and he moved with the swiftness of his kind. He rolled away and came up on two feet. “Come taste my knife. And while you do that my men will take your little human.”
Jacque refused to be baited. He circled slowly, watching for his chance.
Gator charged from the right, fracturing Andre’s concentration and distracting him enough for Jacque to pounce. The knife blade came down in a flash, but Jacque caught Andre’s wrist in his powerful jaws, clamping down hard. Bones crunched beneath his teeth and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He hung on until the knife fell from Andre’s hand and then he released his grip, readying himself to strike at his opponent’s throat.
But Andre was shifting fast. His clothing ripped away from his body as he changed. Jacque was forced to quickly jump back as sharp claws raked at his neck. They stood ten feet apart, both huge wolves with saliva dripping from their deadly fangs. Both killers.
Wolf at the Door: Salvation Pack, Book 1 Page 9