by L. A. Boruff
What else did the Hesling brothers share?
The door slammed shut behind us, and I jumped.
“You need to tell me what you were talking about back there,” I demanded. “You can’t really believe I’m a witch.”
Ace tilted his head to one side as he regarded me. “That’s exactly what you are, Tegan. And we’re wolves.”
My mouth dropped to the floor. “What?”
Jason gave me a lop-sided smile, a far gentler expression in his eyes than I’d seen in his foster brother. “You need us to prove it to you?”
I didn’t know. Did I?
“I… I guess so.”
Dark-haired Draven stepped forward. “I’ll show her.”
My heart contracted, and I sucked in a breath. Show me what?
Draven locked me in his blue gaze, positioning himself directly in front of me. He was still naked from the waist up, and he lifted his hand in front of my face.
“Watch,” Draven commanded.
My breath caught, and I blinked hard. Thick black hairs sprouted from his arm, the back of his hand, and even his fingers and palm. What the hell? I stared in disbelief as his fingers somehow shrank, becoming short and stubby, and his palm widened. What looked to be pads appeared in places that weren’t covered with hair. Finally, his nails thickened and elongated, before curving over the tips of his fingers. No, they weren’t nails any longer. I was looking at claws.
I swallowed hard and staggered back. “What are you?”
“Wolves. Shapeshifters. Werewolves,” Draven said. “Whatever name you might know us by, because I’m sure you do know us.”
Jason nodded. “Everyone does, even if they might believe the lies about us not being real, just like witches aren’t supposed to be real.” He nodded at me deliberately, as though making his point.
Was I hallucinating? Had they spiked my drink? But then I remembered I hadn’t even been drinking.
I opened my mouth to speak, but only a strangled squeak came out.
He pulled his hand back and gave it a shake, as though trying to dislodge something sticky from his fingertips, and within seconds his hand was back to normal again.
“We could do with someone of your… talents on our side.”
“On your side against what?”
Draven pressed his lips together. “We can’t tell you all our secrets, Tegan, not unless you chose to become one of us.”
“What does that even mean?”
He stepped closer. My chest rose and fell with every breath, and suddenly he was right there, in my personal space, all wicked blue eyes and sleek muscle. He reached up and touched the same fingers that had been a paw only moment earlier under my chin. “Join us, Tegan. Let us teach you about what you are.”
I didn’t even get the chance to answer. He leaned in and his lips brushed lightly against mine, as though asking for permission. I answered by pressing myself forward, my breasts crushing against his bare chest. A hunger I didn’t know was lying dormant rose inside me and I opened my mouth to him. His tongue eagerly pushed between my lips to find mine.
I was aware of movement behind me and to one side as the other two brothers moved in. A hand on my thigh, slipping up my already short witches’ dress. Hardness pressed into the small of my back.
Well, that escalated quickly.
A hand swept hair away from my neck and then firm lips nipped and kissed the sensitive skin of my neck. From his position, I figured it was Jason. His tongue left a trail of goose bumps in its wake, and I shivered deliciously as the contact sent electricity zinging between my thighs.
Involuntarily, I let out a groan.
My fear had given way to arousal. Draven continued to kiss me, his tongue sweeping across mine, his teeth gently catching my lower lip. Hands were all over me, mouths on my neck and shoulders. There was no doubt in my mind that I’d completely lost the plot. I should be screaming and running right now, but instead I was turning into a melting pot of goo. A hand was on my ass and I broke away from Draven long enough to glance over my shoulder and catch Ace’s golden gaze. I gave him a surreptitious nod to tell him it was okay, and his fingers slipped beneath the material of my panties. His hand was hot as he traced the valley between my buttocks, across my asshole and dipping down into my wet heat. I groaned, my legs going weak. Only the three bodies of the men surrounding me prevented me from sliding to the floor.
In front of me, Draven pulled the straps of my witch’s dress down my shoulders, taking my bra with it. My nipples tightened to the point of pain and I gasped as he ducked his head and enclosed one point in his mouth. “Oh!”
From behind, Ace added a second finger to my pussy and I writhed and moaned, unsure which sensation to focus on. Draven’s teeth scraped my nipple, biting enough to make me arch into him, and my clit throbbed with the extra blood.
Jason had been kissing my neck, but now he stepped away from me. “Bring her over here.” He nodded toward the couch. “She’ll be more comfortable for it.”
For what?
But I was too far gone to ask the question. I was heady with desire, desperate to reach my peak with these three, strange men—even if they might be more than men. Ace’s fingers slipped from my body and Draven scooped me up, so I wrapped my legs around his hips. His hardness pressed against that sweet spot between my thighs, and I squirmed against him, wanting more.
Jesus Christ. What was wrong with me?
He placed me down upon the couch. All three men stood above me, looking down on me, predatorial. My swollen lips parted as I sucked in a breath, my exposed tits rising and falling as I took in the dark, hungry look in each of their eyes.
“My turn,” Jason growled. He’d looked to be the gentlest of the three, but that had changed now. He dropped between my thighs and roughly yanked my panties down my legs. Then his face was at the juncture of my legs, his tongue tracing the puffy folds of my pussy. I was already wet from Ace’s fingers inside me, and the musky aroma of my cream hit my nostrils. I couldn’t even bring myself to be embarrassed. They’d talked about me being the witch, but it seemed they’d caught me in a spell of their own.
Jason pressed my thighs apart and his tongue speared inside me. My hips lifted, involuntarily meeting each thrust. Ace’s mouth was on my left breast and Draven had circled the couch and was now kneeling on my right. They were making a meal of me, and I tried not to think about what I’d seen and what they’d told me.
As my orgasm built, the tingling low at my core winding tighter, I knew I had no choice but to chase it. Draven’s hand was on my other breast, pulling and tweaking my nipple, while Ace feasted on my other tit.
From beneath my hooded eyelids, I glimpsed a flash of fur, and sharp teeth. A surge of fear and excitement rose inside me. I remembered how wolves mated, how their cocks would swell inside the female, knotting them together for a period of time. How many times would I come if one of them was locked inside me?
The thought heightened my arousal and I cried out, lost to the sensations holding my body a prisoner.
I felt the sharp nip of teeth on my inner thigh. A bite on my breast. A third as Ace sank his teeth into my shoulder. I glanced over at him frantically to find his nose and mouth was now a muzzle. Between my thighs, Jason continued to lap at me, and I thought I caught sight of a tail. My back arched from the couch, a scream of terror, pain, and pleasure pealing from my lips. Rolling waves of my climax made my mind swim, but as the bliss gave way to pain, my mind started to pull in from the edges.
No, this couldn’t be happening. What were standing over me now? Where once there had been three men, now there were wolves.
And everything went dark.
I woke the next morning with no recollection of getting home. Visions of lying on my back while men with muzzles and mouths filled with canines nipped at my skin while I writhed in ecstasy filled my head.
I sat up sharp and pulled away the covers, frantically checking my skin for any signs of bite marks. I was certain my body
would be a mess, though I felt no pain, but my skin was as clear as it had been when I’d left for the party yesterday. I glanced over at the chair beside my bed to find my witch’s dress folded over the back. I didn’t remember putting it there.
Climbing out of bed, I went to the mirror, planning to check my back for any signs of what had happened. I was dressed in panties and a tank top—which was my normal outfit for sleeping in—so I figured I must have got home and gotten myself ready for bed. I needed to call Ava and Saffy and let them know I was safe. They were probably worried out of their minds, assuming they even remembered anything from the party considering the amount they’d been drinking.
I reached my dressing table and planted both hands on the polished wood. Something was different about my reflection, but I couldn’t quite figure out what. Flickers of fear lit inside me and I leaned closer to the mirror.
In my reflection, my normally hazel eyes glowed yellow.
The Hesling brothers!
What had they done to me?
THE END
Liked what you read? Wolf-fully Theirs will be turned into a full-length novel in 2019! If you’d like to stay informed about the book’s release just sign up to Marissa Farrar’s Reverse Harem newsletter! https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/e2x3e1
About the Author
Marissa Farrar has always been in love with being in love. But since she's been married for numerous years and has three young daughters, she's conducted her love affairs with multiple gorgeous men of the fictional persuasion.
The author of more than thirty novels, she has been a full time author for the last six years. She predominantly writes paranormal romance and urban fantasy, but has branched into contemporary fiction as well.
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Cecilia Randall: Blue’s Treat
This scene occurs after the events of A Blue Star Rising and before Wild is the Blue
Blue tugged at the top of her corset and wondered once again how she’d let Forrest talk her into this.
It all started with a silly comment as they watched Twilight. On a whim she’d insisted everyone should see it for a full education on current Earth culture. Mostly, she’d been in a mood and wanted to put the guys through a little torture.
Then she’d said one thing, one little thing, and now she was the one being tortured.
It’s a fantasy. That’s what she’d said. It’s a fantasy, and not a bad one. She wasn’t sure she’d ever regretted eight little words more than she did those.
Now, she entered a dimly lit and crowded bar, wearing a corset and black leather skirt, with a ridiculously feathered hat pushed low on her head. She was a lady pirate, complete with eye patch and sword.
Forrest had claimed it was his fantasy, and that everyone should get a chance to live their fantasies… Then he’d pulled the birthday card, claiming they’d missed his and insisting this pseudo-Halloween celebration would make up for it.
So here they were, pushing through the crowd at Colci’s—a mercenary bar—and wearing costumes like it was Halloween. She just needed a damned plastic pumpkin bucket for collecting candy and the image would be complete.
Mo’ata, clad in a red and green tartan kilt, his chest bare beneath his cloak, shoved a staring customer out of his way. Her clansman had been alternately amused and annoyed when Forrest presented the Highlander costume to him, though he’d still gone along with this farce. Forrest, wearing elf ears, a green cloak and with a quiver and bow strapped over his shoulder, tugged her hand away from her chest and led her in the clansman’s wake. Levi, his yellow eyes glowing out of the wolf mask he wore, was just behind her, and Felix—complete with black hooded robes and scythe—brought up the rear.
I still can’t believe any of them agreed to go along with this. We’re in a mercenary bar, for god’s sake. We’re going to get our asses kicked.
Another customer, this one larger than the last, failed to move out of their way in time. Mo’ata tapped the man’s shoulder and when he turned, laid him out with one blow. Okay, maybe we’ll be fine. Their path to the rear of the bar cleared after that, and she was soon ushered into a both shrouded in darkness.
“Mo’ata?”
An older man in his late forties approached the end of the table, sprinkles of silver at his temples, with brow raised. He was nearly as tall as Felix, but lean with muscle where her mercenary had bulk.
“Please do not ask,” her clansman replied. “Just… try to keep everyone away for the night. We will come back another time clad more… conventionally, and do proper introductions then. Also, if we could borrow the back corridor?”
“Is this an Earth thing?” the stranger asked.
A sigh. “Yes.” Mo’ata slid a glance at Blue.
“Hey. This was not my idea,” she protested.
Forrest leaned forward. “You’re loving this and you know it.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. He wasn’t wrong, exactly. She still thought they would die before the night was done, but it was amusing.
Forrest’s gaze dropped to her mouth and he shot Mo’ata a look. That was new. Were they planning something?
The stranger looked them over, nodded, and spun on his heel. Mo’ata relaxed. “Not the way I wanted you to meet the boss, but we’ll call this… unofficial, and save proper introductions for later, as I said.”
That was Demil? She’d just met the Big Boss while dressed as a sexy-pirate? Biting her lip, she stared at the broad back as it disappeared into the crowd. She was going to kill someone when this night was over. Or get Garfield to do it.
“Pixie.” Forrest waited until she turned her attention to him. “Trick or treat?”
She snorted. “What, did you bring candy?”
“Trick or treat?”
“Fine. Treat.”
A grin that almost had her hiding under the table spread across his face. “Treat it is.”
Levi’s own grin made an appearance. “I was hoping she’d say treat.”
Great, the looks had turned into a conspiracy of some kind.
Mo’ata signaled to one of the waitresses. “Let’s have a drink first, then we can engage in… treats.”
“Guys?” They all wore matching expressions of heat and mischief, even Felix, and Blue wasn’t so sure she wanted whatever it was this treat was supposed to be. Well, not in a public place. “What are you up to?”
“Oh, you’ll know soon enough, my pirate-pixie.” Forrest crossed his arms over his chest, still wearing that smug grin.
Blue, seated on the outside edge of the booth, scooted out and made it two steps before being pulled back by a large and callused hand on her arm. The grip was gentle, but there was no getting out of it. “Just play along for now, pet. You can call fucktopus at any point if you need to,” Felix whispered.
Her belly tightened. Fucktopus suddenly brought to mind wildly different images than the original intention. She swallowed and allowed Felix to pull her back to the booth. He slid in next to her this time, crowding her against Forrest and effectively blocking her exit.
Silence fell over the table as they waited for their drinks. It was awkward, and unusual for them. Usually, even if noone else was talking, Forrest would find something to say, or Felix. Now, all the men held their words, and it became almost unbearable for Blue sitting smushed and akward between them.
“Soooo…” she started. Their drinks arrived then, and Mo’ata let out an almost audible sigh of relief as he grabbed mugs off the tray and set them in front of everyone except Blue. For her there was a short glass of an amber colored
liquor.
“Whiskey?” Forrest asked.
Mo’ata nodded. “I thought it might suit her tastes better. They keep a good range of drinks here from all the worlds.”
“Even the contraband it seems,” Blue teased, trying to find a way to lighten the mood. What was with everyone?
You know Blue. Stop fooling yourself. They’re planning something they think you may not like. And it was probably something wicked.
She gripped the glass in front of her and, before she could think about it, took a large swallow. Then promptly coughed up her throat as the whiskey burned its way down.
Felix snorted, Forrest laughed right out loud and even Levi grinned that wonderful grin of his. Only Mo’ata remained somber, his hazel eyes fully intent upon her.
“Sip it slowly,” he said when she finally caught her breath.
“Right. Slowly. We’ll do this slowly, just kind of ease into the situation. Whatever the situation is,” she mumbled the last.
Forrest leaned down to her ear. “I already told you,” he whispered. “Tonight is a night for fantasies. And you already picked treat.”
A shiver raced through her. She knew that tone. That was the voice he used when they were alone, and he wanted to practice sexy-times. It was not a voice he should be using in a crowded mercenary bar while dressed as an elf.
Was this why she was in a skirt and not leather pants? She shivered again as she took a cautious sip of her whiskey. Heat, rather than a burn, spread down her throat and settled in her stomach, radiating out from there. It wasn’t that bad, actually. She took another sip as four sets of eyes settled on her.
“Better?” Mo’ata asked. His face was calm, almost blank. He wasn’t her Mo’ata in that moment, but the barbarian she first met in a strange forest. He’d held her close, his arms imprisoning her, keeping her from moving, and at the time she’d feared for her life.