Matched to the Wolves [Werewolf Brides 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Adams

  Zoan set the pace of them moving together, in and out in a steady cadence of rhythm allowing him time to get a grip on his control and begin to create more tension to arouse her up to the next level so her climax would be even better than the one she’d just had.

  Yaro kept with the steady beat of advance and retreat. Slide inside her, pull out of her, only minutely increasing the pace each time. Making it almost impossible for her to tell when they began to move a little faster, to push into her a little harder. Increasing every sensation he could along the way, wanting this to be a pure explosion of release when she finally came.

  She’d stopped speaking but her long fingernails, green today, were scraping over his skin, over Zoan’s skin, her hands never still, always moving. She was making murmuring noises as well, so soft they were right at the very edge of his sharp, werewolf hearing. It was possible she didn’t even realize she was making the noises they were so close to inaudible. They were happy burbles, which he thought was cute. Her scraping fingernails, though, were erotic, not cute but intensely arousing. She seemed to know exactly how much pressure to apply to drive him mad with desire.

  His own dick was desperate to come. He seemed to have been holding on to his need to come forever, but Shakina was enjoying herself so much there was no way he wanted to rush her. Her pleasure was their priority, after all. But finally she gasped and her ass gripped his cock hard. Her body began to shake, first her arms and legs, then her hands and feet, and finally her entire torso was exploding with her release. Yaro relaxed and let his semen flood out of his cock as he came and came until he was sure the condom would be overflowing. He couldn’t ever recall coming for so long before. But it was all Shakina. She was so special. She was all he wanted. His woman.

  * * * *

  Shakina would have been quite happy to collapse on the bed and go to sleep. She’d never come so hard in her life before. She seemed to be saying that a lot lately, but it was true. Every time these men fucked her was a record breaking event. If they kept this up she’d be dead from extreme pleasure inside a month.

  But instead of letting her sleep they hauled her into the bathroom. The shower was over the tub and the tub was a huge, old-fashioned one, the kind of tub she could imagine a woman bathing a whole family of kids in all at the same time. Well, they were a family, or going to be a family or—whatever. She wasn’t going to make any commitments just yet. Shakina sat down at the far end of the tub and rested her head against the wall. “You two can shower. I’ll just sit here and wait. Wake me up when you’re done.”

  “Poor little ’Kina. Did we wear you out?” teased Zoan.

  “Hell yes. Shut up and let me nap.”

  Yaro laughed and sprayed water on her breasts. Determinedly she shut her eyes and ignored them. Hell, she was tired. She could sleep for a week, or even a month. But as she relaxed she thought back to their meal tonight. That Greek food was amazing. She’d like to go back there again another time and try some of the other dishes. But it wasn’t that. It was as if there was something just under the surface. She kept her eyes closed as she thought some more. It wasn’t Yaro, it was Zoan. Yes. He wasn’t as bossy as usual. Almost as if there was something distracting him.

  “Zoan, something happened to you today that you haven’t told us about. What was it?”

  “What the hell?”

  “Dammit, watch out, you big ape.”

  Yaro’s complaint came just a second after Zoan’s exclamation. Shakina opened her eyes to see the bottle of shower gel slip out of Zoan’s hands and land on the tiled bathroom floor with a pffft that sent gel flying in all directions. Yaro staggered sideways, his leg catching on the edge of the tub when he ducked his head and neck to avoid hitting the shower rose. He almost followed the shower gel out of the tub head first, only saving himself by grabbing hold of the curtain, which ripped from the rail and flopped onto the floor. Zoan grabbed his friend’s arm and they both wobbled before regaining their balance. Zoan reached up to turn the water off and Shakina leaned back against the wall and laughed so hard tears were pouring down her face.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t quite the Texas two-step but I’m glad you liked our little dance,” said Zoan huskily.

  She wasn’t sure whether he was trying not to laugh or what, but Shakina was still giggling at the drama she’d just watched. “Very entertaining indeed,” she managed between giggles.

  “It wouldn’t have been so funny if I’d landed on my head on the tiles. Shit, Zoan, pay attention to where your elbows are next time.”

  “Sorry,” said Zoan, and this time she knew he was swallowing his laughter.

  “Zoan was surprised when I asked him what happened today. What did happen, Zoan? And please don’t kill Yaro while you tell me.”

  “We can talk about it later. We’ll catch cold if we sit here now.”

  “Zoan Cooper, if you think I’m getting out of this tub when there’s a gallon of slippery bath gel all over the tiles, you’re insane. Close the drain and run some hot water and we’ll be fine. Now tell us. What happened?”

  “Shit, woman, you’re bossy.”

  “Seriously, Zoan, I know something happened. I noticed your behavior as well so quit bellyaching and speak. Did you mess something up big-time or what?”

  Shakina drew her knees up to her chest to make more room for the two men and sat hugging them while Zoan talked about being told to follow Mr. Cooper, waiting for him, seeing the blue minivan, then taking him and another man home.

  “It was going to be another kidnap attempt. This time they were going to kidnap Mr. Cooper direct instead of swapping him for someone else. Was the other man in on it?” Shakina asked thoughtfully.

  “No. He seemed worried, scared. It was Tom Moore, the manager of the BDSM club. I reckon someone’s gained control over him somehow and he’s trying to wiggle out from under them,” said Zoan.

  “I agree. But Cooper will have people digging into the mess by now. Someone might recognize the person you took a photograph of. We could maybe enhance it in Photoshop and get a clearer image for a start,” said Yaro.

  “But Cooper’s the head honcho here. He can’t hide away on the farm for months until everything is sorted out, can he?” asked Shakina.

  “No, he can’t, and I have no idea how we can protect him either,” said Zoan.

  Chapter Six

  Zoan sighed, stretched, and yawned. Damn, he was tired. By the time he’d cleaned up the bathroom floor, rehung the shower curtain, which was now missing a couple of rings, and finally crawled into bed, it was late. To be fair, Yaro had gotten up first this morning and made them all breakfast, and then they’d both escorted Shakina and Tanisha to Shakina’s Styling and checked that the neighborhood seemed to be as normal. Before they left, they’d warned her to be careful.

  “I’m not stupid. I can’t imagine anyone would kidnap me or Tanisha and expect us to be exchanged for Mr. Cooper, but we’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”

  The last thing Zoan had expected was to be called into the office for a council meeting. All the senior werewolves were present and Cooper told them about the potential purchase of the BDSM club.

  “The accountants say the club is making good money and will continue to do so even if we run it as it used to be run. The people I put in as managers might have their own ideas for some new things, but they won’t include drugs or nonconsensual BDSM.”

  “Are there drugs there? Has that been determined?” asked Xola.

  “Yes. The chief of police conducted a raid at midnight last night and picked up half a dozen customers who had been using drugs and also one staff member with a stash in his office. Incidentally, that staff member matched the very poor-quality picture of the man in the blue minivan yesterday. That’s not conclusive, but it is interesting. It’s also not enough to prove someone there is dealing drugs, but it should focus the club staff’s mind on something other than me for a day or two,” said Cooper.

  “Does this mean you anticipate buying the
club?” asked Okapi.

  Zoan thought he was speaking very carefully indeed. Did that mean he wasn’t in favor of the idea? Zoan had a lot of respect for Okapi and his opinions. Did he perhaps know things the rest of them hadn’t been told?

  “The accountants and the lawyers all say it’s a good idea. We do need to diversify. Most werewolf packs are not relying on a single method of providing for their people anymore, in particular not farming. The crops and market are too unreliable. I like the idea of taking over the BDSM club. It’s something wolves relate to and a guaranteed income earner if we do it right.”

  Yeah, it’s all of that and you didn’t actually answer the question.

  “Do you have someone in mind to manage the club?” asked April.

  “I do.”

  Okay, it sounds as though Cooper isn’t going to tell us anything more right now.

  But it was Maitho who brought up the topic everyone was thinking about, and no one else had been brave enough to mention. “I can’t help wondering if the silent partner in the BDSM club, who no one is prepared to expose, and the person who kidnapped Okapi and might have been about to kidnap you yesterday, is one and the same. The consensus of opinion now is that he’s a local man, and since there’s little crime in Coopersville it’s hard to believe we suddenly have two villains running around simultaneously. What if this whole project is just an attempt to get you somewhere and kidnap you? That way they get all your money and still keep the club as well.”

  Zoan held his breath and waited for Cooper to answer them.

  “That thought had occurred to me, but I refuse to hide away on the farm for the rest of my life just in case it’s correct. If you like, I’d prefer to be bait, out and about the town as I’ve always been, but with a little more backup around me in case that scenario is correct. I refuse to hide under my blankets on the off chance there is a big bad man out there.”

  Because you’re the Big Bad Wolf?

  “So what’s your strategy, sir? What can we do to expose the bad dudes and expedite getting your life back to normal?” asked Okapi.

  “Damn good question. I wish the fuck I knew the answer.”

  * * * *

  Yaro and Gowan had spent untold endless hours following the paper trail of anything they could find to do with the BDSM club, Tom Moore, local wealthy businessmen, Arthur Avery, or Avery’s Awesome Appetizers. Yaro nearly fell off his chair when he opened his e-mails that morning and saw that Arthur Avery had answered one of his e-mails.

  I’ll be in the sports bar at the O’Hare Hilton at noon. I’ll talk to you for ten minutes, no longer.

  “Fuck! It’s after eight already. When’s the next flight to O’Hare, and where the fuck’s the Hilton?”

  “You Google the Hilton. I’ll check the flights,” said Gowan, reading over his shoulder.

  Yaro Googled as ordered and found it was at the airport. He was still trying to find a floor plan to see where the sports bar was when Gowan yelled, “You’re on the nine a.m. flight. Run. Talk to me when you get there and I’ll explain everything to Okapi.”

  “Shit!” Yaro slapped his pockets to check he had his cell phone and wallet, then ran out of the office, down the hallway, and into the barn. He jumped into the first pickup in line without signing it out, and skidded down the driveway. He found a parking space at the airport and didn’t wait for the shuttle bus, preferring to run to the terminal instead. It was less than half a mile and the buses didn’t always come on schedule every five minutes the way they were supposed to. Certainly no bus passed him, although one arrived at the same time he did at the terminal.

  He checked his cell phone for messages and found the barcode to scan himself onto his flight and get his boarding pass. Only when he reached his boarding gate did he text Gowan back to say the pickup wasn’t signed out but it was in H17 in the Coopersville Airport parking lot.

  The flight left on time and on arrival at O’Hare he was one of the first people off the airplane and walking fast through the terminal, following the signs to the airport Hilton. Fortunately it was easy to find and so was the sports bar. He arrived half an hour early, so treated himself to a longneck beer and a plate of munchies.

  By five to noon, however, he was holding his almost empty beer bottle, pretending to watch one of the huge televisions, and actually looking all around for Arthur Avery. None of the websites had pictures of him, so he had no idea what the man might look like. He supposed he’d expected a larger person, seeing his company specialized in food. Instead quite a slender man brushed against him, smiled, and left. On the table in front of him was a piece of paper.

  Wondering if it was an accident but believing it was on purpose, Yaro waited until the man had left the bar, and then opened the note, hoping like hell it wouldn’t tell him to catch a flight to Alaska or something. Instead there was one word printed on the paper. Green.

  Green? What the fuck did that mean? Watch for a man in a green sweater? Hire a green car? Yaro put the note in his wallet and left a tip for the server, then walked back toward the airport. Once there he found a crowded gate lounge, leaned against the wall and typed out a message to Gowan.

  All he said was Green.

  Gowan replied immediately.

  Your flight doesn’t leave until three. Go get lunch then we’ll talk.

  He’d already had some food but he was male and a wolf. He could always eat something more. Yaro checked his phone messages, found his flight details, scanned his barcode, and went looking for a restaurant. As he ate he let his subconscious work on the idea of green. He kept thinking about Ireland. Everyone said Ireland personified the color green. But surely that wasn’t supposed to be a clue. He sat and sipped his coffee for a long time, then walked through the terminal, heading toward his gate lounge this time. He stopped at another lounge not too far from his, but one that was very full of people to ensure his privacy, and called Gowan.

  “Hi, Gowan. All I can think of is Ireland. Isn’t that supposed to be green?”

  “I don’t know about that, but Green is one of Rinehart’s people, and it was someone named Green who sent those two men here to spy on us. Remember? It was a while ago. Tedros saw them.”

  “I do remember that. But Green is such a common surname we never found any evidence that would tie those people to Rinehart.”

  “Rinehart is careful to keep himself away from anything questionable, but he has three very expensive ex-wives and it’s well known how grasping they are. The man is filthy rich but even his megabucks aren’t inexhaustible.”

  Even though he was speaking quietly in the middle of a very noisy environment, Yaro was careful not to use the word Rinehart a second time. Once could be coincidence but he didn’t want anyone’s ear to catch it, so he wasn’t going to use that word again. He moved around from the pillar he was leaning against to lean with his back to a wall, but no one seemed to follow him. The crowd was constantly shifting and reforming, but no one who’d been close to him at the pillar had moved. Still if it turned out the trouble was anywhere near such an exceptionally powerful and influential person as Rinehart, they’d need to be very careful indeed.

  Very softly he said, “I’ll see if I can find out anything about the ex-wives. You work on the other two people.”

  “Don’t use up all your battery. Make sure you have some power left in case I need to message you when you get back.”

  “Good point. I’ll do that.” Yaro checked his battery. Damn. It was below fifty percent already. Of course he hadn’t thought he’d be away from his desk and need to charge it. Oh well, he’d be able to do a few searches. He couldn’t even remember the previous wives names so he started with that, bookmarking things he found useful so he didn’t have to write anything down that someone else might read. By the time his flight was called he had a nice pile of data to think about as he flew home. Whether any of it was useful was something else again.

  * * * *

  Shakina was looking out the store window when a car stop
ped to let out a very slender, very expensively dressed woman. She didn’t look at all like their usual clients. This woman looked more like someone who’d have her own personal stylist, rather than someone who’d join ordinary people at the beauty parlor. Nevertheless Shakina set down her coffee cup and welcomed her into the room.

  “I heard you do hair, nails, and foot spas all simultaneously,” said the woman.

  “Yes, ma’am. How may I help you?”

  The woman looked at Shakina’s hair critically, then at Tanisha’s. Tanisha was sorting through the nail-polish bottles. Shakina smiled at her. Tanisha endlessly arranged and rearranged them when the store was quiet. It was as if she just loved touching them even when she had no reason to be using them.

  “I’ll have a foot spa and you can do my toenails. If I’m satisfied with them, you can do my fingernails as well.”

  Shakina went and got the various herbs they used and explained the foot spas. When the woman had chosen what she wanted, she discussed nail polish colors with Tanisha.

  By the time another client arrived and Shakina began to work on her hair, the woman had told them her name was CarolLynne and she and Tanisha were getting on really well. Shakina concentrated on her own client, who had very fine, difficult-to-manage hair, but the session went quickly and when CarolLynne’s chauffeur reappeared to collect her she was perfectly happy, and promised to return.

  The other client paid her account and said to Shakina, “I never thought I’d be that close to such a famous person.”

  “She’s famous?” asked Tanisha breathlessly.

  “Well, she was. She’s the ex-Mrs. Rinehart. Well, one of the ex-Mrs. Rineharts.”

  “Really?”

  “Everyone says his fourth wife won’t last long either. But that was one wife number two. I liked her.”