Claws and Fangs [Men of Passion, Colorado 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jane Jamison

  “I love your work.” She inhaled and wondered if he’d think she was buttering him up for the interview or if he’d recognize the sincerity of her words. “Really, I do.”

  A soft smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “It’s okay. I believe you.”

  He stepped closer, taking up not only the space but the air around her. Dramatic much? You’re just nervous because he’s so hot.

  Again, the hint of a Southern accent took her back to the era she loved so much. She could easily see him sitting on the veranda of a large white plantation home, a pipe in his mouth and suspenders attached to his cream slacks.

  She forced the image from her thoughts and got down to business. “How would you describe your work?”

  He frowned a little. “How would I describe it? I look at women and see the unique qualities that each possesses. Today’s idea of love is superficial and doesn’t touch the real beauty that lies inside each woman. My work isn’t work. It’s a labor of love.”

  His dark eyes fixed on her at the word “love,” and she would’ve sworn she saw a flash of desire in their depths. Was he coming on to her so she’d write a flattering article? Or was his interest real?

  She nodded, only then thinking to pull her notepad from her purse. She tugged her attention away from the sprinkling of dark hair peeking above the collar of his white T-shirt. Although he was dressed casually, he gave her the impression that he would be just as comfortable in a tuxedo.

  “Why do you photograph only women?”

  “Women or girls. I find the fairer sex to be more interesting than any other subject.”

  The fairer sex? The phrase seemed antiquated, yet it fit him. “But don’t you get bored using women as your subjects? Wouldn’t you like more variety? Maybe men or, I don’t know, landscapes?”

  “Do I get bored? No, not at all.”

  He took her hand, surprising and thrilling her at the same time. The strange sensation whipped into her arm again. He held her hand as he took his time taking her in. Was he waiting for her to say something? Perhaps about the tingle? Once again, she wondered if he felt the same thing.

  “Come here.” He took her to the opposite side of the tent and pointed at a photograph of a young woman with a cleft palate. “Tell me what you see.”

  She stared, trying hard to find the right words, not only because of the photo’s subject but because he was still holding her hand. “She’s a girl with a cleft lip. It’s kind of hard to look at without feeling sorry for her. She must have a difficult time in life. I’m surprised she let you take her picture.”

  He let go of her and drew back, astonishment filling his features. “Why wouldn’t she want her photo taken? Look past her imperfection. She’s beautiful. In fact, I think her imperfection makes her even more appealing. Can you see that?”

  She tried, but all she could see was the poor woman’s defect. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. But try again. Her skin is radiant and her hair flows with the wind. And look into her eyes! Her eyes are incredible. I can see the pain she’s suffered along with the hope for a better tomorrow. It’s all there, if you’ll look with your heart as well as your eyes.”

  She studied the photo again. He was right. The woman’s eyes locked onto her and made her forget about her physical deformity. “I think I understand.”

  He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, jolting her focus to him. “I knew you would. You have a kind heart and perceptive soul.”

  “I do? Why, um, how would you know?”

  “Trust me. I just know.” He cleared his throat and focused her attention back on the photograph. “Her so-called imperfection is what grabs the viewer’s attention first, but it’s her spirit that keeps the viewer interested.”

  He turned her toward him. His gaze latched onto hers, diving inside to take her soul in his hands. Her breathing quickened and she parted her mouth, ready for his kiss.

  * * * *

  She’s beautiful. Not only because of her outward appearance, but because of what lies within.

  He’d felt the strange sensation rush into him with their first touch, and knew she’d experienced it, too. The fact that he’d seen her reaction in her eyes and in the way her heart rate had jumped gave proof that the attraction wasn’t on only his part. The heady swirl of instant connection inside his gut meant so much.

  Werewolf mates connected quickly, both through their physical bodies and their heightened sense of awareness for each other including an indefinable emotional bond, but he’d never expected it to happen to him. Not after all these years. He’d lived longer than any human ever had and even longer than most werewolves. Although not immortal like vampires, the life of a werewolf extended well past humans’ lifetime, sometimes well into the second century of existence, their appearance aging slower.

  She wore jeans and a simple yellow T-shirt, but she could’ve worn the rags of a pauper and he would’ve found her mesmerizing. Her blonde hair was more than simply blonde. Almost white, it held streaks of darkness that served to make the white stand out. Her face was framed with bangs that dropped to the middle of her blue eyes. But her eyes held sparks of silver in them that made them appear brighter even in the shade of his artist’s tent. Her body was toned and tanned, and although her clothes were by no means tight like some women of the day chose to wear them, they showed her womanly curves, the rise of her breasts and the outline of her hips.

  He wanted her, physically, emotionally, in every way a man could want a woman.

  Desire seeped into his abdomen, awakening not only his cock but the yearning in his heart. The years, the decades had taken their toll on him, and he could sense his resistance weakening. Since the fateful day when he’d been attacked and changed forever, he’d not dared to get emotionally attached to any woman. How could he when the beast inside him could roar to life and tear her apart? He’d lost control once before, and he still struggled to keep the vow he and his brother had made. But then he’d never felt the compulsion as he did with her.

  When she parted her lips, it was as if she’d cracked the shell he’d placed around his heart. He was beast and man, and the part that was man couldn’t fight the need to taste her full, kiss-me lips.

  He leaned closer, putting his lips an inch from hers. Their gazes locked, and he could smell her warm breath as it enticed him to come closer. His inner wolf howled, taking in her scent and recognizing her for what she was. He dropped his attention away from her bright-blue eyes and down to her lips. She peeked the tip of her tongue between her lips, and he was lost.

  Pulling her into his arms, he crushed his mouth to hers. He wanted to take it slower, to savor each second, but he couldn’t have lessened his kiss any more than he could’ve taken the heat out of the sun.

  His tongue swept into her mouth to be welcomed by her tongue. They played a dance with each other, tasting each other’s flavors. She made a soft sound deep in her throat, and he answered with a low growl.

  Keeping her against him, he pushed her back against the tent, urging her to press her already pebbled nipples against his chest. He slid his other hand along her spine and over the sweet curve of her buttocks to fondle her butt cheek.

  He’d known it from their first touch, even from the first moment he’d seen her. She wasn’t a simple conquest, a woman he’d take with no feeling and therefore no fear of losing control. She was the one woman who could threaten his very existence or save his injured heart. He could feel it in the way she responded under his hands, in the powerful electric flare burning its way through his skin and into his soul. He could sense it with every fiber of his being.

  She arched her back as he’d wanted her to do and pressed her hands against his chest. If she pushed against him, wanting him to back off, he doubted he’d be able to bow to her wish. Yet, instead of pushing against him, she locked her fingers behind his neck and held on.

  He slanted his head to renew the kiss and let her slide her tongue into his mouth. She toyed w
ith his tongue, teasing him. He felt her smile into the kiss, and he smiled back.

  His inner beast snarled at him, pushing at his restraint. But to turn the werewolf loose inside him would be to spell disaster. She couldn’t know the truth about him yet. Even though she’d reacted to his touch, had shown that she was aware of their connection, she wasn’t ready. Could she be the one? After all the years, in spite of his skepticism that it would never happen, had he found the mate they would share?

  His thoughts took him to his brother Jude and their friend Riker. Would they feel the same way about her? They enjoyed sharing women, but would they experience what he had? Would they recognize their mate?

  Without thinking, without remembering where they were, he slipped his hand over the side of her waist then down her jeans to cup the heat between her legs. She was hotter than he’d expected, and his cock responded, pushing against the confines of his own jeans. He shifted then moved her backward, toward the rear of the tent, using his hand against her mons to guide her. Using his middle finger, he shoved it against her jeans and found the crevice between her folds.

  She held on, never breaking the kiss until, at last, he had to drag in a breath. She lay her head back as he feathered kisses along her neck and around the edge of her soft shirt.

  “I want you. Here. Now. Wherever you say.” Even as he spoke the truth, he wondered if he dared to have her. Could he trust himself not to hurt her?

  Her panting blew air against his ear and his neck. “This is crazy. I can’t. We just met.”

  “Don’t think. Go with what you’re feeling.”

  He slipped his hand under her shirt, pulling it up, then dipped his head to her breasts. He sucked on the nipple through the thin material of her bra, wetting it so he could nip at the taut bud. He pulled at her bra, thought about ripping it away, and restrained himself. Yet he almost howled when she placed her hand on his growing cock.

  He wanted her more than he could put into words, almost more than he could understand. His needs, both physical as well as emotional, unquenched for so long, tore at him. But this was not simple sexual desire. She was not just any woman. She was special, the one they’d all waited for. The woman who could challenge them mentally, emotionally, and sexually. They would share her, because one man alone wouldn’t be able to satisfy her. And yet, he could sense that she wasn’t experienced. She would be eager, yes, but she would need a gentle hand to help her discover everything they had to offer.

  He freed her breast from her bra then captured her nipple between his teeth. She rubbed her hand against his jeans, and his cock strained at the stiff material.

  “Damon.”

  Simply by saying his name, she brought him to the brink of a climax. No woman had ever done that. But then, no woman had ever been her.

  He answered by pushing her behind a large photograph on a tripod. Hating to let her nipple go, he gave in to his animal scratching to be released and tore her bra away. She gasped but didn’t complain when he buried his face between her breasts.

  He growled, loving the way the sound was smothered. He could smell her arousal and dragged in a breath as he let her breasts go to tug at her jeans.

  “Damon. We can’t.”

  And yet, she made no move to stop him as he yanked her jeans to the ground. Taking hold of the front of her thong, he knelt in front of her, pulled the lacy barrier aside, and thrust his tongue between her folds. Her legs trembled, and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

  Her pussy’s fragrance was as sweet as honey and as sinful as forbidden fruit. He pulled her folds apart and latched on to her clit. She moaned, letting him keep her standing with one arm wrapped around the bottom of her ass.

  He ravished her clit, sucking, licking, nibbling like a man dying of sexual starvation. Widening her folds, he shoved a finger into her pussy and heard her cry out.

  “Quiet,” he whispered.

  As though his words had broken the spell, she pushed against his shoulders. “No, Damon. I can’t believe we did this. Stop.”

  He closed his eyes, fought against the urge to take her anyway, then stood. He placed a hand on her face and made her look at him. Yet when she opened her ocean-colored eyes, he had to again struggle against shoving her to the ground and plunging his cock deep inside her pussy.

  “We have to stop.” Her whisper was filled with agony.

  Her body told him she ached to do as he wanted, but her eyes showed her confusion and the war raging in her mind. As a good woman, she’d struggle between her hope to act properly and the lust that threatened to set her wilder side free. She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to his mouth.

  “Kelly, do this. You know you want to.”

  He didn’t know if he could withstand the ache if she resisted, but he’d never force himself on her. He wanted her to give herself to him, to them, freely, willingly.

  She opened her mouth to answer, an answer he knew had to be a yes. Suddenly, her gaze drifted over his shoulder, and she gasped then hid herself behind him as she tugged her clothes back on.

  “Sorry. I didn’t think I’d be disturbing anyone. You know, considering we’re in a public place with kids around.”

  Chapter Two

  The beautiful woman hurried away from Damon, keeping her head down as she mumbled something about being embarrassed and edged past Riker. Riker dropped one of the large containers of lemonade he held to take her arm and spin her around. Faster than he’d have believed possible, a wild zip of energy burst outward from his core. He sucked in air, shocked and thrilled by the feeling that had shaken him more than he’d ever admit.

  “Damn.” His whisper was more for himself than for her to hear.

  Bluer-than-blue wide eyes grew even wider as he froze, unable to say anything. She was like a perfect flower in the midst of weeds. Her chest heaved as she stared at him.

  He opened his mouth to say something, anything to her, but nothing came out. It was as though the touch of her skin had erased his ability to speak.

  “Kelly?”

  She jerked away from him and scampered over to another woman. Riker turned to watch her grab the frizzy red-haired girl and pull her away from the tent. Her friend lifted a funnel cake in a gesture of good-bye, but she tugged her arm and kept them moving.

  “Can’t you be more discreet?”

  Riker pivoted to face Damon. “Are you kidding me? You’re making out in your tent, where people could walk by and get an eyeful, and you’re asking me to be more discreet? How do you plan on selling any photographs when you’re driving people away from your sex tent?”

  Damon scowled, but Riker knew he’d struck a nerve. “So who is she? Judging from her appearance as well as how embarrassed she was to get caught with her pants down, I’m assuming she’s not a working girl.”

  He glanced at his hand. The tingling sensation he’d gotten when he’d touched her was only now going away. If he’d been able to keep her with him, he didn’t know what he would’ve done. No, he did know. He’d have taken her into his arms and kissed her breathless.

  He studied his friend. Had Damon had a similar reaction? If so, would Damon tell him? Yet he found he couldn’t make himself tell his friend. At least not yet.

  Damon preoccupied himself with straightening a picture. “What are you doing here, Riker?”

  Riker lifted the other container of lemonade. “I thought you might be getting thirsty, so I picked up a drink for you. Pardon me for being considerate of your needs.”

  Damon’s dark eyes flashed. “Like you were considerate of my needs on the road to Atlanta?”

  Riker’s good mood vanished even as he saw the regret in Damon’s face. “As I’ve said a thousand times and will no doubt say a thousand times more, I’m forever sorry that I’m the one who cursed you.”

  Damon took the drink. His anger was gone, replaced by a remorseful expression. He glanced around at the people beginning to draw closer to his tent and dropped his voice. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why
I brought that up again. I know you were under the vampire’s spell and were only carrying out his command.”

  “It’s all right. I don’t blame you for holding a grudge. What person wouldn’t?” Obviously his friend wasn’t himself, and he knew why. He followed Damon’s gaze in the direction the beautiful woman had gone. She was enough to throw any man for a loop. Still, he wished Damon hadn’t brought up the subject.

  He doubted Damon would ever truly get over what he’d done to him. Yet no matter how long it took, he’d keep trying to make amends.

  Riker could still see the terror in Damon’s eyes the night the vampire Harland D’Lecro ordered him to kill the Southerner returning home from the war. If D’Lecro hadn’t been busy changing Jude into a vampire, he would’ve noticed that Riker hadn’t killed Damon and had instead allowed him to live, thus changing him forever. If D’Lecro had known, Riker would have lain lifeless at his feet along with Jude’s and Damon’s dead bodies.

  “I’m sorry, Riker. You were under D’Lecro’s control. I’m just happy you had enough strength to disobey him and let me live.”

  Riker patted Damon on the back. “You’re a good friend, and I’m glad I found you. Both you and Jude.”

  After D’Lecro’s return to the ground, dealt by another vampire the day after they’d attacked the Darrington men, Riker had found himself a free man, albeit one that was still a werewolf shifter. It took him years, all the money he’d taken from D’Lecro’s vast estate, and a slew of private investigators to locate the brothers. He’d finally found them in the early 1950s, living as two bachelors in New York City and trying to blend in with the human population.