Mountain Pride

The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 1 

Mountain Pride Recently divorced from her high school sweetheart, Chelsea Goebel begrudgingly accompanies her best friend on a work trip to Savage Valley, Colorado. A strange encounter with a mountain lion in the wild leads her to meet Oliver Cash, mayor of Savage Valley, and his brother Roarke. Mountain lion-shifters Oliver and Roarke instantly know Chelsea is their mate, and they want her as soon as possible. But Chelsea convinces herself she wants only a rebound fling with the sexy shifters, and the brothers set out to prove they want more. But a darkness looms over Savage Valley. The conglomerate NormCorp wants to buy up Savage Valley, and a drought and strange animal attacks have the townspeople anxious. Oliver and Roarke need to mate Chelsea to strengthen themselves for a fight. It’s up to Chelsea to get over her past, accept her lion-shifting mates, and help Oliver and Roarke save Savage Valley. Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter Length: 46,123 words

MOUNTAIN PRIDE The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 1

Helena Ray

MENAGE EVERLASTING

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

MOUNTAIN PRIDE Copyright © 2011 by Helena Ray E-book ISBN: 1-61034-747-1 First E-book Publication: August 2011 Cover design by Les Byerley All art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reprome-hrduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Mountain Pride by Helena Ray from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Helena Ray’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Ray’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION To Edith, for all the support, Cheez-Its, laughter, and inspiration. I never expected to find such a great friend on this adventure. Just don’t go getting all Freddy on me.

MOUNTAIN PRIDE The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 1 HELENA RAY Copyright © 2011

Chapter 1 “Chelsea! Come on!” Reluctantly, Chelsea Goebel picked up her bulging backpack and hauled it onto her shoulder. A stray lock of red hair fell in her face and wedged its way between her lips. She attempted to blow it away, but her attempt was futile. Sweat dripped from her neck as she reached up to redo the ponytail holding back her thick hair. I am not cut out for hiking, Chelsea thought to herself as she started her way back up the mountain. “On my way!” she shouted to her best friend Marta. Although due to this whole hiking business, she was seriously reconsidering the whole “best friend” thing. “Well, hurry up! This is supposed to be the shortcut.” After bullying her way through some unruly brush, Chelsea emerged into the clearing where Marta stood with her hands on her hips. “I’m here,” Chelsea panted and tossed her backpack to the ground again. “Can we please take a break, Marta? We’ve been hiking for two hours. The lady at the Woodland Den said it was only a half-hour hike to Adam’s Point.” “That’s if you don’t stop every five minutes, lazy butt.”

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“We just got here!” Chelsea dropped to the ground next to her bags. She looked up at the wide Colorado sky and wondered what exactly she was doing with her life. “What about a deal?” Marta crouched next to Chelsea and put her arm around her shoulders. “What kind of deal?” “You stay here for ten minutes—I swear—and I’ll check out this path.” “You want me to stay alone? In the woods?” Chelsea gulped. “With the animals?” Marta sighed. “A few minutes. And you know what I told you. This town is famous for not having any animal attacks. Like, none at all.” Marta gave Chelsea a quite pathetic puppy-eyed look, and Chelsea decided to cave. “Okay, ten minutes.” Marta leapt to her feet. “Thanks, Chels. Look, I have to do this if I want to write off the trip as work related.” “Go.” Chelsea motioned for Marta to follow the small path up the mountain. She flashed a smile and disappeared behind a grouping of boulders and brush. Chelsea curled up next to her backpack and laid her head on it. The past thirty-six hours had drained any energy she could ever have had. Her divorce from Lewis became final yesterday morning, and Chelsea hoped she was done with him forever. Then Marta had invited her to join her at a singles resort in Colorado, ostensibly part of Marta’s job as a travel writer. Now here she was, in Bumfuck, Colorado, waiting for Marta to come back down the mountain and wondering how her life had become such a mess. Lewis got control of their non-profit environmental organization in the divorce, which was fine with Chelsea, but left her out of a job.

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She closed her eyes and let herself succumb to the exhaustion that had been building over the past six months. Napping here in the wild was fine. They didn’t have animal attacks in Savage Valley, right? Wrong, Chelsea found out as she jarred from her nap. A low growl caused Chelsea’s eyes to snap open, any sign of sleepiness gone. She snapped her head up, and what she saw stopped her heart. Some sort of lion-like creature was crouched on the other side of the clearing, not ten yards away from her. Her mind raced through the Google search on northwestern Colorado’s predators she had done the night before. Always paid to be prepared, after all. Mountain lion! Her brain finally identified the animal and recalled what she was supposed to do. Mountain lions weren’t really that dangerous. Most of the time, they were just curious around humans. She only really needed to worry if the lion was…Oh, crap. The lion was crouching and stalking near her, two telltale signs of aggression. She made the mistake of looking directly in the animal’s eyes, and once she locked gazes with the animal, she couldn’t tear herself away from its stare. Its eyes didn’t look like the cats’ eyes she had seen on the Internet. No, this lion had steely blue eyes, and Chelsea found herself lost in their depths. The cat looked almost human as it moved its long, magnificent body closer to her. Its movements were exquisitely smooth, and its golden coat shimmered with each step it took. It had a distinctive black mark between its eyes, making it look as though it were a human scowling. Chelsea shook her head and remembered what she was supposed to do in the case of a mountain lion encounter. She started waving her arms beside her, and she was certain she must have looked like a complete idiot. Thank god no one could see her. “Marta! Marta, get your ass down here!” she called. All the websites said making oneself as big as possible and shouting would scare away lions, but this one appeared unfazed. Shit. It neared her, within ten feet now, and a low grumble emanated from it. Once more,

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the lion caught her eyes, and once more, she was frozen in place, hypnotized by the uncommonly human pools of grayish blue swirling before her. The animal was nearing her quickly, and Chelsea accepted her fate. This was it. She would be killed by a mountain lion in Colorado. Not a bad way to go out, right? It roared in earnest and bared its teeth, and Chelsea’s body instinctively prepared for the attack. “Hey!” A bellowing male voice sounded just behind her, and the lion stopped its movements. “Out. Now.” Chelsea couldn’t move, but she felt the man move closer. He yelled a long, complex word in what sounded like a Native American language, and the lion turned and scurried away. When Chelsea turned to thank the man for whatever it was he did, his appearance took her breath away. He was tall with a broad, muscular chest that showed through his flimsy cotton T-shirt. She looked up and into warm pools of blue. Similar to the lion’s, she thought to herself, and the thought shocked and confused her. He had high cheekbones and chiseled features, and his messy light brown hair framed them perfectly. He looked down at her and smiled, a warm, comforting expression. “Th–thank you.” Damn it, she sounded like an idiot. “I mean, thanks, thanks so much. I just…I mean…” The trauma of the event was apparently affecting her brain. “Lion?” A deep laugh rumbled from the man’s chest, and he placed a large hand on Chelsea’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s just part of living in Savage Valley.” “You just saved my life.” The man snorted at her comment. “In more ways than you know.” Chelsea couldn’t believe her body’s reaction to him. She felt her nipples harden against the tight fabric of her bra and liquid heat build between her legs. The man had an intoxicating aroma, something woody and spicy and totally masculine. She took a step closer to him,

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and he followed suit. Something that Chelsea couldn’t quite identify flashed across the man’s face, but the look fanned the flames between Chelsea’s legs. His eyes were hypnotizing and held her just as immobile as the lion’s had. “Chels! Chels, where are you?” Chelsea managed to tear her gaze away from the man in the clearing long enough to see Marta striding across the clearing toward her. “There you are. It’s almost night! What on earth have you—” “Marta, this is…” Chelsea turned to introduce her rescuer to Marta, but he had vanished. “What?” Marta was out of breath and appeared put out with Chelsea, but that was the least of her problems. “Hello? Hello?” Chelsea shouted as she turned around, desperately seeking out the handsome stranger who had so captivated her. “Chelsea Goebel, what is your problem?” “There was a lion, and then this man…” Chelsea stopped speaking and realized how ridiculous she must have sounded. Babbling about mountain lions and disappearing strangers was hardly normal behavior for her. “Chels.” Marta’s demeanor turned gentle. “You’ve had a big couple of days, and you probably just had some weird exhaustioninduced lion dream.” She crossed to stand in front of Chelsea and gave her a warm, sisterly hug. “I can’t even begin to imagine all you’ve been through.” “It’s not that big a deal—” “Hush,” Marta said, releasing her. “Finalizing a divorce is a huge deal, and you’ve been really strong. Now what do you say we get back to the lodge and charge an exorbitant amount in room service to my company credit card?” Chelsea smiled weakly and nodded, and Marta gave her another quick hug. The two of them walked out of the clearing with their arms around each other, and Chelsea threw a glance back at where the

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lion’s stare and then the man’s had paralyzed her. Maybe it really was a dream, but nothing had ever felt so real, so visceral, so exciting.

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Chapter 2 Chelsea leaned her forehead against the window of the rental Chevy Impala as Marta wove the car through the winding streets of Savage Valley. As they drove down the mountain, they crossed over a stream and passed a few abandoned industrial buildings. Marta chatted about the town and various landmarks she’d read about, and Chelsea could see why the town was popular with tourists. The scenery was breathtaking, with lush woods on one side of the valley and the Mukua mountain range on the other. The car turned and headed downhill toward a cluster of buildings that made up the town center. She watched as pedestrians milled on the streets, several greeting one another. Marta steered the car into a parking lot next to a small strip of stores with a diner on the end nearest them. Chelsea curled into the fabric upholstery of the car and buried her face there. She let her red hair spill forward, veiling her from the world. “Come on, Chels. You can’t hide from the world forever.” Marta opened the door, and Chelsea begrudgingly left the car. She looked up at the flashing sign above her advertising the “Savage Hunger” diner. She hadn’t had the appetite for her room-service feast last night, but now her stomach rumbled at the suggestion of a hearty meal. They walked around the rounded corner of the diner and through its glass doors. Inside, the diner featured an updated fifties-style décor with large booths arranged along a glass corridor and a long counter filled with burly men devouring their steak and eggs. Chelsea’s mind drifted back to the monotonous suburbs of home, and she decided that this was far better.

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“Hey, honeys.” An older woman clad in a uniform consisting of an orange and black dress and a black apron greeted them. “Y’all ladies want to sit at a table or the counter?” She flashed them a smile, and Chelsea felt herself warming to the woman and the town. “Table?” Marta said, and the waitress led them down the narrow length of the diner to a booth nestled in the corner. “Sorry ’bout putting you in the back, sugars, but the regulars can get real touchy when their booths are gone.” She shrugged her shoulders, turned, and made her way back toward the counter. Chelsea was nestled in the corner next to a large window looking out across the street toward what purported to be the Savage Valley Bank. The mountains rose behind it, making the scene rugged and romantic. The menu at Savage Hunger appeared to feature updated versions of American classics, and Chelsea and Marta both ordered the banana walnut pancakes with vanilla bean agave nectar. A tall, blond man in a loose-fitting T-shirt and jeans sat in the booth catty-corner to theirs, and Marta followed his every movement. “Have you noticed the men in this town?” Well, only the one, and she wasn’t sure if he was real. She decided it best not to respond and laughed as Marta turned in her seat to watch the man’s backside as he stood, grabbed a messenger bag from beneath the table, and leaned over to shuffle through its contents. Chelsea studied him for a moment. Yes, he was attractive, but nothing could distract from the memory of the man in the clearing. His eyes, the way his light brown hair fell across his chiseled features, and his heart-stopping smile all swirled in her mind. It felt more like a memory than a dream. Maybe the stress from the divorce really was getting to her. Just then, the bells hanging from the glass door jangled and two men walked in to prove her wrong. Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the man from the clearing smile and hug the waitress to his chest. Behind him walked a taller man built just like him with the

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same light brown hair, but his was neatly combed. He grasped the waitress’s hands in his, and she directed the two men to a booth directly opposite the entrance. “That’s the dream guy!” Chelsea whispered excitedly to Marta. “It sure is.” Her eyes were still fixed on the man who had been sitting near them. “Not him. With the guys who just walked in. The shorter one is the man I saw in the clearing.” Marta started to lift herself out of her seat and turn toward the entrance. “Don’t look! You’ll give us away!” Chelsea admonished in a harsh whisper. “Lighten up, Chels. You have nothing to worry about. You’re a sexy, single lady. That man would be lucky to have you creepily check him out in a diner.” The object of Marta’s affection approached the men’s table, placed some documents on the table, slapped the stranger from the clearing on the shoulder, and then sauntered out of the diner. Both concentrated on the papers, and Chelsea saw her opportunity. “Now, now! Look!” God, she felt like a sixteen-year-old in the high school cafeteria. Marta turned and looked at the men. When she looked back at Chelsea, a smile spread across her face. “Perfect rebound. Go for it.” “Go for it?” She gulped in nervousness. Even though the Woodland Den was a singles resort, Chelsea hadn’t come to Savage Valley to meet a man. But she couldn’t deny the way her body reacted, and it seemed twice as intense today. Her juices were flowing, and she could swear her panties were wet. She had never felt this way with Lewis, not even when they were teenagers. Every inch of her skin tingled with the desire to be touched. The man that had accompanied the stranger from the clearing then looked over his shoulder, and their eyes met. Instantly, Chelsea’s heartbeat accelerated to an impossible pace. His steely blue eyes were just as arresting as the other man’s. His features, though, were harder,

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his face all flat planes. It gave him the striking appearance of a classic movie hero, accentuated by his carefully combed hair and close shave. She felt her nipples tighten into rock-hard buds underneath her bra, and Chelsea really started to question her sanity. This man was a complete and total stranger. How could one stare cause her body to react this way? “Hey, hey, earth to Chelsea!” The other man looked away as Marta waved her arm in front of Chelsea’s eyes. “Are you gonna go talk to him?” “You mean, approach him first?” The notion scared the shit out of Chelsea. “Look, you don’t have to marry the guy.” Chelsea winced at the word “marry.” Marta reached over her pancakes to take Chelsea’s hand. “Lewis is an idiot. You know that. Not every man is gonna be him.” Chelsea took back her hand and shrugged her shoulders. “I know that. But isn’t it a little soon?” “Soon? You’ve been over him since your marriage soured when you were twenty-one, honey. The divorce just made it legal.” “I know, but—” “Well, hello again.” Chelsea and Marta snapped their heads up to see the man Chelsea had met on the mountain standing beside their table. He put both hands on the table and leaned forward, turning the full force of his captivating blue gaze on Chelsea. “Enjoying your time in Savage Valley?” Oh, god. Chelsea’s heart was racing, and her every nerve ending stood on end. What was happening to her? She had never felt so on fire before, let alone in the presence of a complete stranger. She struggled to form coherent words. “Yes. I mean, we haven’t been here all that long—” “I think I need to go check out that fort-looking building over there.” Marta scooted to the side and pulled herself out of the diner

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booth. “People love stuff like that, you know, old buildings and such.” She turned to the stranger, whose attention was still focused on Chelsea, and extended a hand. “Marta Verner, so nice to meet you.” With a final, furtive glance at Chelsea, he straightened and took Marta’s hand. “Roarke Cash. It’s my pleasure.” Marta flashed a quick grin at him, released his hand, and leaned toward Chelsea. “Stay here, okay? Or, you know, find another way to get home.” Marta winked at Chelsea then jerked her head toward Roarke, and Chelsea felt the blush rising from her chest to stain her cheeks. “Okay,” Chelsea squeaked as Marta turned and disappeared toward the diner exit. “Mind if I join you?” Roarke said as he lowered himself into the booth. “By all means.” Chelsea felt her heart fluttering, and she stuffed a large bite of pancakes in her mouth to avoid making a stupid comment. She had a tendency to babble when nervous. “Well, I don’t know, actually…” He leaned forward, and Chelsea smelled the same woody, spicy aroma that so intoxicated her the day before. “I don’t even know your name.” His voice was smooth and deep, and she felt it at the pit of her stomach. “Miss?” Oh, shit. She still had a mouthful of pancakes. A smile tugged at the corner of Roarke’s lips as she hurried to chew and swallow. “Chelsea,” she said as soon as she swallowed. “I’m Chelsea.” “That’s a nice name. I like it.” Roarke reached across the table to take Chelsea’s hand that still had a death grip on her fork. The fork clattered to the Formica tabletop as he stroked a thumb gently across her knuckles. She struggled for words as his stare intensified. The force of it shattered her inhibitions, and her hand curled around Roarke’s as she was suddenly overtaken by a need to be near him, to be held by him.

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What the fuck was happening to her? **** Goddamn, if she wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Roarke continued stroking her knuckles and smiled as her tight pink mouth opened. She let out a sigh, causing Roarke to feel a bit guilty. He hadn’t intended to release his mating musk, especially not smack dab in the middle of Savage Hunger. But when he saw her sitting in the corner, flames engulfed his senses. He had tried to concentrate on his and Oliver’s business with Clayton, but he couldn’t concentrate knowing his mate was so close. “So what brings you to the Valley?” Chelsea smiled shyly, and the blush on her cheeks intensified. “My friend, Marta, that you just met, you know, um, she’s a travel writer? I think, or wait, I don’t really know who she’s working for right now…” Aw, she was babbling. Roarke found her nervous behavior endearing. He knew it was due partially to the musk, but her reaction was much more dramatic than those of the women he’d seen others intoxicate. “Yes, your friend Marta, go on,” he said, entwining his fingers with hers. Her eyes concentrated on their joined hands as she continued her bumbling conversation. “Well, she’s doing a piece on the Woodland Den, and since I just…” Chelsea suddenly pulled her hand back and became very interested in the view outside. Roarke wondered if he had done something wrong. He had only taken her hand, and that was far less than what some of the lionshifters did when they found their mates. He watched her profile as her expression lost the girlish excitement of a few moments ago. “The Woodland Den, eh? I live ’round those parts. It’s beautiful up there, isn’t it?”

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Finally, Chelsea turned back toward Roarke. Some of the enthusiasm was gone from her deep brown eyes, but she placed her hand gently back on the table, palm up. Roarke took that as a signal to continue. He sighed as he brushed the pads of his fingers lightly over her fingertips. He sure hoped that they could get to the mating part soon. All this gentle touching was doing wonderful yet horrible things to his cock, which was currently begging to be let out of its confinement. “Yeah, it’s nice.” Her voice was as sweet as the blush that had returned to her face. “We’ve only been there since yesterday, but so far it’s great. I mean, we haven’t done any of the singles activities or anything yet. I mean, I’m not here to meet people. I mean, if I did meet someone—” Roarke covered her small, delicate hand with his, and she ceased her rambling. She looked down, a lock of her long, thick red hair falling across the creamy skin of her face. The sun showed off the smattering of freckles across her cheeks, and Roarke was now the one incapable of speech. Instead, he just stared at her, in awe of her beauty. She cleared her throat and made an awkward attempt at conversation. “So, um, Roarke, right?” He smiled at her and nodded. She took a gulp of air and continued. “What do you do here in Savage Valley?” “I’m on the town council. With only three of us on the council, it’s a full-time job.” “But aren’t you a little…You seem a bit…” “Young?” She sighed and nodded, clearly relieved not to have to phrase that politely. “Probably, yeah.” He chuckled at his admission. “But I’ve always been fascinated by politics, and as soon as I could run, I did. Been on the council for five years now.” “And that makes you…” She furrowed her brow as if deep in thought. “Twenty-six. I’m twenty-six.”

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“Wow.” Her eyes widened at the realization. “I work at a nonprofit. Well, at least I used to.” The darkness returned to her expression for a fleeting moment. “All the city councilmen I dealt with were at least forty.” Her astonishment at small-town politics caused him to laugh and shake his head. “God, wait until you meet Oliver.” “Wait. Who’s Oliver?” Everything inside Roarke wanted to tell her then, to tell her that Oliver was her mate and so was he. When Oliver spotted her hiking the day before, he had released just enough musk not to formally mate her, but to mark her as his intended. Roarke felt his brother’s arousal and his urge to act on that arousal. He had to shift and tell him to get the fuck away to stop him from mating her in broad daylight. But when he saw her, he completely understood where his brother was coming from. As if on cue, Roarke heard Oliver’s voice sound behind him. “Roarke, if you’re going to insist on pushing through this ordinance, you’ll have to read through the statements of at least a few local business owners.” Ah, Oliver. Always business. Watching Chelsea’s eyes shoot up to Oliver and her mouth drop, Roarke had some very different things in mind. “Chelsea, if you’ll pardon the rude interruption, this is my big brother and the mayor of Savage Valley, Oliver Cash. Oliver, this is the lovely Chelsea—I didn’t catch your last name earlier.” Chelsea had succumbed to Oliver’s commanding presence. She looked up into his eyes, transfixed on his stare, and Roarke knew he must be musking her as well. “I didn’t throw it,” Chelsea replied, her eyes still trained on Oliver. She extended a hand up to him, and he took it firmly in both of his. “Chelsea Goebel.” “The lovely Chelsea Goebel,” Roarke continued, “is visiting our humble town. She’s staying at the Woodland Den.” That got her

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attention. When she withdrew her hand from Oliver’s and directed her focus toward him, he raised an eyebrow. “You know what that means.” “That is not what that means!” Chelsea couldn’t even feign indignation, a smile breaking across her plump pink lips and a laugh intruding at the end of her words. “Stop it!” She giggled and reached across to give Roarke’s hand a friendly whack. Roarke joined in her laughter. “What? Don’t want my brother knowing how many of those cheesy singles activities you’re participating in right now?” “Oh yeah, I’m all about those little mixer games,” she said sarcastically. “I knew it!” An urge came over Roarke to lean across the table and plant a kiss on her lips. Joking with her just proved to him what Oliver had figured out a little over twelve hours ago. She was their mate. “Joking aside,” Oliver said, his tone somber, “it’s lovely to meet you, Chelsea, but we have business to attend to.” He hesitated and glanced sideways at Roarke, as if asking his permission. Roarke gave a small nod that he hoped Chelsea wouldn’t notice. “Unless you’d like to join us, of course.” Oliver offered his hand to Chelsea, and she placed hers in it then looked back at her food. “But what about—” “Rita!” The white-haired waitress turned to Roarke and tucked her tray under her arm. “Roarke Cash, what did I tell you about hollerin’ at me from across the diner? Don’t make me call your mother.” “Sorry, ma’am,” he said, giving her his most charming smile. “Can you just put this beautiful girl here’s breakfast on our tab?” “Of course, sugar.”

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Oliver pulled Chelsea to her feet, and the three of them started toward what Roarke thought of as the “Cash booth,” a circular booth near the front entrance to the diner. He motioned for Chelsea to go ahead of him and placed his hand at the small of her back. She shuddered under his touch, and Roarke smiled to himself. This was going exceedingly well. **** “So he’s trying to buy up the Woodland Den? What’s so bad about that?” Chelsea sat in a circular booth at the front of the diner with three men whom she quickly ascertained were some of the most important men in Savage Valley. “That’s just what he says he wants to do, honey,” Roarke’s warm voice sounded next to her. He was sitting with his arm resting on the top of the seat behind her. She surprised herself by leaning into his touch. “Adam’s Point is on the Woodland Den property. If he gets his hands on that, he’ll have a real foothold in the Savage Valley ecosystem.” Oliver shook his head as he spoke. The concern on his face complemented his sculpted, hard features. Even with his greyish blue eyes clouded by frustration, they were still completely gorgeous. His jaw tensed, highlighting the strong muscles in his neck, as Oliver looked over the documents in front of him again. “Not that the ecosystem is all that much of a prize right now. With the drought killing off the trees and shrubbery, and animals dying left and right, the Valley’s not in great shape.” He dropped his head to his hands. “Hey, we’ve got more than nature here, buddy,” the third man at the table said to Oliver. “We’ve got us a nice little town here. Gotta make sure NormCorp doesn’t buy it up either.”

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“You would say that, Sam.” Roarke smirked at another tall, handsome blond man, who Chelsea had just learned was Sam Pope, co-owner and manager of Savage Hunger. “We have to get two-thirds of the residents to vote to pass an ordinance that would prevent Ulysses C. Norman from buying so much land without the town’s assent,” Oliver explained. He then shoved the stack of documents toward Sam and sighed. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I would rather do anything else in the world than talk about this shit for another second.” Oliver’s gaze turned on Chelsea, and he smiled for the first time since they’d met. “I’d much rather hear more about our lovely visitor here. The pancakes at Savage Hunger are pretty damn good, aren’t they?” Chelsea nodded enthusiastically and noted the beaming smile on Sam’s face. Someone shouted his name from the kitchen, and he excused himself from the table. Sam’s departure distracted her, and she almost didn’t notice the hand that landed on her knee and began rubbing. She looked to Roarke, who stared at her with a hunger burning in his eyes. She had never seen a man look at her like that before, and seeing him staring at her with unbridled attraction had her insides liquefying. A second hand landed on her other knee, and she snapped her head to Oliver, who began massaging in earnest. Heat had invaded his icy eyes, giving her the same paralyzed sensation she’d felt when cornered by the mountain lion before. Suddenly, guilt overtook her conscience, and she realized that she was about to drive a wedge between these two brothers. They both wanted her, but they couldn’t both have her. Or could they? Images flashed through her mind of the three of them in bed together, both men attending to her, touching her in places a man’s hand hadn’t been in longer than she liked to consider. She tamped down the vision instantly, years of a passionless marriage having taught her to banish her more base desires.

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The glass door to the diner burst open, sending its small bells into a clanging frenzy, and two large men dressed all in black with crew cuts stormed in. Immediately, they turned to their right and stared at Oliver and Roarke. Chelsea cowered between them, wondering what exactly she had gotten herself into. “Hello, boys.” Oliver sighed and showed none of the fear Chelsea thought was completely appropriate for this situation. “Come, sit, have some pancakes.” His voice was dry and sarcastic. “Which one of you motherfuckers wrote that damn ordinance?” the shorter, plump one demanded. Roarke raised his hand. “That would be me. Compliments may be directed to my secretary.” “Shut up, boy.” “Really, though.” Oliver massaged his temples as he spoke. “Could Mr. Norman just come here himself and talk through this? As the mayor, my door is always open to the fine citizens of Savage Valley, even those who only meet the minimum residency requirements.” The taller, more muscular one thudded a fist on the table in front of Chelsea. His fist was about the size of her head. Damn it, she’d already dodged death once in the past twenty-four hours. She didn’t want to press her luck. “What you saying about my boss?” The shorter one folded his arms and leaned over Oliver. “That he meets the bare minimum requirements for registering to vote in Savage Valley and that he only does so as to be a thorn in my fucking side.” Chelsea had to stifle a giggle at Oliver’s direct, businesslike manner. “Now if you will, I have a drought destroying my ecosystem and a very important public referendum to attend to. I’d appreciate if you left me to it.” He gave them a sarcastic smile. “But do stay, Wilmer. Phil does a marvelous steak and eggs.”

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The tall one put his other fist on the table and leaned forward, his face inches from Chelsea. She coughed as the putrid odor of his breath filled her nostrils. “Yeah, you so busy? What you doing with that pretty little thing right there? Planning to fuck her? Or you gonna leave that to your brother?” Chelsea felt herself shaking as everyone turned their attention on her. This was her worst nightmare. “I was just leaving.” She attempted to scoot out of the booth, but Roarke wrapped a hand around her wrist. Frightened, she nearly scolded him, but the kind look in his eyes halted her. She took her seat again and curled against Roarke. He tightened his arm around her and squeezed her against the hard muscles of his chest. Oliver stood up and faced the shorter man, who Chelsea assumed was called Wilmer. “Please leave my friend Chelsea alone. She is a visitor in this town, sir, and I would like it if she had the most pleasant stay possible. You’re making that very difficult.” Their faces almost touched, and Oliver’s chiseled lips curled into a snarl as he spoke. All of his long muscles were flexed, ready to attack. The larger man leered closer to Chelsea, and she could see the spit glistening on his teeth. “Let’s go, Wally,” Wilmer said, and the other man—Wally— stood up, his eyes still fixed on Chelsea. “But we’ll be back, Cash. You haven’t seen the end of it.” As the two retreated, Oliver waved and called to them. “You’re really missing out on some great steak!” When the two finally hefted themselves through the door, Oliver returned to his seat at the booth. “After that little scene, I’m sure Chelsea will want to extend her stay in Savage Valley,” Oliver said dryly. “Sorry about that. Norman’s cronies are quickly becoming a large part of the Valley. Obviously, we’re all delighted at their presence.” Chelsea laughed but was still shaking. Roarke gave her a quick squeeze.

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“It’s gonna be okay, honey.” Chelsea’s brain told her the term of endearment should worry her, but she didn’t care. Marta was right. She was single now, and that meant she could do whatever she wanted. If that included snuggling with a sexy politician in rural Colorado, then who was she to question her luck? A glance at Oliver reminded her of the downside. He was the prototypical tall, dark, and handsome man, and his dry, sarcastic wit delighted her. Being with Roarke meant not being with Oliver. Shit. She didn’t have to deal with these sorts of dilemmas when she was married. Marta came bursting into the diner, and Chelsea’s stomach involuntarily did a backflip at the sudden action. “Chelsea! This town is amazing. We have to stay a few more days. That’s okay, right?” Marta’s eyes darted to Roarke. “I’m assuming it is.” She waggled an eyebrow, and Chelsea felt the heat in her face again. Oliver turned toward her and stood to introduce himself. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Oliver Cash.” He took her hand in both of his, just as he had with Chelsea. She felt an unfamiliar feeling flash through her. Why was he taking her hand? He was hers. Suddenly she wanted to wrestle her best friend to the ground and make sure she never touched him again. The feeling passed, and the memory of her unexpected possessiveness made her head spin. Why had she just wanted to maul Marta? Little about this trip made sense to Chelsea. When Oliver sat and turned his attention to Chelsea, letting his hand ghost against her thigh, relief washed over her. She thought she should have felt confusion, frustration, but she only felt a need for both Oliver and Roarke. She would sort out the implications of that later. “Chels? Are we okay to go back to the Woodland Den? I really have to check out this singles nature walk thing for my article.”

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Chelsea looked between Oliver and Roarke, reluctant to leave either of them. Roarke stood to let her out of the circular booth, and her body protested the loss of his warmth. “Don’t go just yet.” She turned at Oliver’s request. “You don’t happen to have any plans tonight, do you? Because Roarke and I would love to take you out to dinner.” Questions began swimming in Chelsea’s mind. Both of them? She didn’t understand how that would work. Maybe she’d been out of the game so long that she misinterpreted their actions. Maybe it wasn’t a date. She looked between them, and they both wore plaintive expressions as they waited for her answer. What the hell? Nothing to lose, right? “Okay,” she said quietly. “A girl’s gotta eat, right?” “Fantastic.” Oliver stepped forward, placed a hand lightly on her waist, and brushed a light kiss on her cheek. The skin lit on fire at his touch, and Chelsea found herself nearly panting from the simple gesture. Before she had a chance to recover, Roarke followed suit, doubling the racing speed of her heartbeat. “Pick you up at eight?” Roarke said as his hand ran down her arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. “At the Woodland?” Chelsea nodded, the only action she was capable of, and Marta grabbed her arm and tugged, pulling her out through the door of the diner. As they started toward the rental car, Chelsea turned to see Oliver staring at her through the window of the diner, his steely blue eyes sending a heated shiver throughout her body.

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Chapter 3 After stopping in to speak with Clayton Abbott at the Ninth Time, Savage Valley’s secondhand store, Oliver and Roarke headed back to their home in the wooded area behind the town hall. They walked northwest on Main Street and turned on the dirt path that led behind the large timber, A-framed building that served as the headquarters for the Savage Valley government. Their walk home had been silent. Oliver knew that they couldn’t discuss what they wanted to out in public. Once they were halfway down the road leading to their house, Roarke spoke up. “She’s our mate.” Oliver nodded, still silent, focusing on the road ahead of him. He hadn’t meant to mark her last night. Due to the increase in animal deaths, he’d started patrolling the mountains on certain nights, seeing if he could find some cause besides the drought. Then his lion sensed her. His body had moved against his rational will, desperate to get closer to what it knew was his mate. Instinctively, his body tensed for attack, wanting nothing more than to get his strong jaw around her neck and mark her as his forever. “I fucking know, Roarke.” Oliver studied the ground as he walked, unwilling to look at his infamously charming younger brother. “Every part of me knows. She’s the one we’ve been waiting for.” “Then why did you attempt to mate her without me?” Oliver inwardly cursed the mind link they shared in lion form. While they couldn’t hear each other’s verbal thoughts, they could sense the other’s urges and compulsions. Damn valuable for hunting,

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but it meant that Roarke knew the instant his body felt the magnetic pull toward its mate. And once his lion felt that pull, no natural force could stop him. “You know as well as I do that the lion can’t be controlled when it finds its mate.” Roarke uncrossed his arms. “And you know what will happen if you mate without me.” God, yes, Oliver knew. The guilt that he’d suppressed all morning washed over him. Mating without Roarke meant certain death for any children that came out of the partnership, a fate no lion-shifter wanted for his kitten. “Goddamn it, I know.” Oliver’s voice turned into a roar, and claws began growing from his hand, signaling the upcoming transformation to paws if he didn’t rein in his temper soon. “You think I want to kill off the Cash line? Get the Shoshone on my ass? No, Roarke.” “I didn’t say that’s what you wanted. I said that’s what your careless lack of control over your lion is going to get us. I, for one, am above succumbing to every goddamned urge that comes over me.” The characteristic rumbling in Roarke’s voice revealed how close he was to shifting. Roarke’s words pushed Oliver over the edge, and he felt his muscles lengthening and his claws and teeth extending as he shifted into his mountain lion form. His clothes fell around his paws, and he charged forward. Roarke shifted a moment later, and almost instantly, Oliver’s jaw had closed over Roarke’s throat. Roarke easily threw Oliver off of him and pounced on his back. Human, logical thought was gone, and all Oliver could feel was the desire to relieve his aggression, and fighting with his brother was always the perfect release. Oliver wedged his head between Roarke’s two front legs and, with the strong muscles of his neck, flipped him onto his back. Oliver clenched Roarke’s throat lightly between his jaws, the sign of victory

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in their play fight. Both began their shift back to human form and hurriedly scurried into their clothing before the shift was complete. Panting, Oliver fell onto his back. He tried to keep up the façade of an upstanding model citizen, but sometimes his lion side just needed to run free. Like he did last night with Chelsea. Seeing her today did nothing to dampen his desire. In fact, it just made things worse. His human form reacted just as strongly to her presence. And why wouldn’t he? She was stunning. She was short, surely more than half a foot shorter than his own six-foot stature, with a tight little waist and breasts disproportionately large for her height. They had looked so soft, squished together in that cute little sundress she had worn, and it took everything in Oliver not to drag her behind the diner and bury his face in those twin clouds. And that gorgeous mane of red hair contrasted so perfectly with her milky white skin and added to her appeal. That white skin meant he could see the blush that proved how he affected her. Just the thought of seeing her had caused his cock to harden, and he longed to bury it deep inside of her. He had had several women in his past, true, but they were only tools for satisfying his most base needs. Burying himself in the slick petals of his mate’s pussy would be something entirely different. The sight of Roarke glaring down at him provided a very unwelcome distraction from his reverie. He struggled to his feet and gave his brother a jocular shove as he made his way into the house. What he saw when he opened the door stopped him dead in his tracks. His desk, one of the few pieces of furniture in the humble cabin, had been knocked over, and papers were strewn across every surface of the one-room dwelling. As he picked up his papers, he saw that they were all related to one thing. The ordinance. Fuck, Norman’s cronies must have broken in when they knew he was at Savage Hunger. All the documents with confidential information were kept in the locked cabinets at Town Hall or were

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with Oliver, so their breaking and entering did little to harm the campaign for the ordinance except to rattle Oliver. “Shit.” Roarke joined Oliver at the doorjamb, staring at the disaster that had befallen their one-room cabin. Damn it, Oliver thought to himself. This better not interfere with his date with Chelsea. **** “Wait, wait, this is too good. Explain this to me again. You’re going out with both of them?” Marta’s face lit up as Chelsea told her everything that had gone on at the diner. “Yeah, well, that’s what I think is happening. I just really don’t know anymore.” “Girl, you have no reason to be hesitant,” Marta said in awe. “You just hit the jackpot.” Marta’s enthusiasm confused Chelsea. “Wait, what? Since when is going on an ambiguously defined date hitting the jackpot?” “Since always! They both kissed you on the cheek?” “Yes.” “And they both put their hands on your knee?” This was getting old. “Yes, Marta, yes. But none of that means anything.” “Oh, no. It means a lot. I bet you anything those two share.” A strange mixture of panic and pure desire held her heart in a vise. “Share?” “I’ve seen a couple of ménages out and about here. And my research indicates that it’s actually pretty common here.” Chelsea’s head started to spin. Yes, the images had flashed through her mind of a steamy night in bed with the Cash brothers, but she’d thought that was just a fantasy. Actually going to bed with them

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would be like going from zero to sixty. With Lewis, sex was a quick act that was over as soon as he got off. From what Chelsea understood, he used his several girlfriends for anything else. Chelsea took a deep breath and tangled her hands in her hair. So far, this trip had been nothing like what she expected. “All right!” An enthusiastic voice sounded from the entrance to the Woodland Den lounge, turning Chelsea’s attention behind her and out of her own thoughts. “Singles nature walk. Who’s ready to go?” A tall, blond, handsome man dressed for a rigorous hike strode into the room. “The wonders of the wild await you.” Marta stood up and held out a hand to Chelsea, signaling for her to take it. Even though Marta had prodded Chelsea into signing up for the walk, she still hesitated. Not because of the singles part, but the nature part. “Come on,” Marta said, shaking her hand at Chelsea. “It’ll be fun.” Only one thing came to mind when Chelsea thought about going out around the Woodland Den. “But what about the lion?” Marta rolled her eyes. “But what? Didn’t you see the sign when we drove into town? No animal attacks since 1846! That’s one hundred and fifty years in the clear, Chels. I think the town can make it another afternoon. Besides, that lion didn’t attack you.” “It would have if Roarke hadn’t come along.” “Last call for the nature walk!” the man apparently leading the nature walk called. Marta gave Chelsea one last pleading look, but Chelsea shook her head in response. She couldn’t go back out there just yet. Anyway, she had a date to prepare for. Marta bounded out the door with most of the other occupants of the lounge. Chelsea sank into the leather couch placed at a diagonal to the fire. She let the flames warm her from without to match the heat from within caused by memories of this morning.

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**** Ever since he walked into the cabin and saw the utter disaster there, Roarke’s whole day had been consumed by police reports and phone calls to supporters and an interview with Savage Valley’s weekly paper, the Savage Herald. He and Oliver had spent most of the afternoon at the courthouse at the heart of the town, trying to piece together the events of the day with Joseph and Caleb Kinman, the sheriff and deputy of Savage Valley. Now Roarke shifted from foot to foot, waiting nervously for Chelsea. Why was he nervous? Oliver sat calmly in one of the leather chairs arranged in an alcove in the Woodland’s lounge, flipping through the latest edition of the Denver Post. Roarke should have been doing the same. Both of them knew she was their mate. The pull had been too strong while they were in lion form to deny the connection, and it had been further confirmed by their reactions to her in their human form. Roarke looked down at his plaid flannel shirt and suddenly worried he had dressed too casually, but he owned very little clothing that wasn’t flannel. He knew Chelsea had to be confused about their date. It wasn’t every day that a woman was asked on a date with two men, even one as stunning as Chelsea. “Hi.” Both Roarke and Oliver turned at the soft greeting. Chelsea walked into the lounge from the entrance to the guest rooms beside the fireplace. Roarke’s cock lengthened at the sight of Chelsea’s breasts straining against the buttons of a short, black shirtdress. She walked gingerly toward them, and the heat of the fire caused a blush to light up her chest and cheeks. Damn, how Roarke wanted to see how far down that blush went. “Hello, gorgeous,” Oliver said as he walked up to her and boldly put a hand around her waist and kissed her cheek. Roarke braced to see her reaction, an indicator of how the evening would go. Lucky for

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him, she leaned into his touch and giggled a little as Oliver stepped away. “Hey there.” Roarke brushed a stray lock of her thick hair away from her face, letting his touch linger on the impossibly soft skin of her cheek. Chelsea looked suddenly awkward, nervously shifting her gaze between the two of them. Roarke stepped forward and cautiously rubbed between her shoulder blades. “You ready for one of the best meals of your life?” She smiled and beamed her warm brown eyes up at him. “I’m always ready for a good meal.” Oliver moved opposite Roarke and placed his hand at the small of Chelsea’s back. “Good thing,” Oliver said under his breath, and Roarke was relatively certain there was a double entendre in there. “You remember how delicious your food at Savage Hunger was?” he asked as they stepped out the door to the lodge. Chelsea shivered a little, and Roarke realized that being from Tennessee, she must not be used to the chilly late summer nights in Colorado. That flimsy little dress of hers probably didn’t provide too much protection. He squeezed his arm around her shoulders, bringing her fully into his embrace, and she rested against him. “I definitely do.” “Well, once every two weeks, their chef, Phil Pope, does a meal at the Woodland Kitchen. And you, mademoiselle, are in for a treat.” Roarke sped up his pace a little, hoping to warm Chelsea, but she startled and looked to where Oliver walked behind them. Tension returned to her body, and Roarke let out a laugh as he realized what was going on. Growing up in the pride, he frequently forgot that most kids didn’t have two or three dads. “Don’t worry, honey. Oliver doesn’t mind.” Chelsea took one more look behind them then settled back into Roarke’s embrace. He guessed that her hesitance was natural and vowed to himself to explain it all to her before mating her, although

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his cock begged to differ. Everything about Chelsea wreaked havoc on Roarke’s body. Most of the time, he tried to keep his lion under control. It was his firm belief that he could lead an existence almost completely independent of his lion form, but Chelsea was starting to change his mind. Every time he saw her, touched her, smelled her, he felt the overwhelming urge to claim, to place his canines around her neck and— “You’re kidding me, right?” Roarke looked to his side to see Chelsea staring at the dining room of the Woodland Kitchen, eyebrows raised practically to her hairline. It was a small outbuilding located a five-minute walk from the main lodge. In the summer, the windows were replaced by netting, giving it a Colorado-style veranda feel. Roarke supposed Chelsea’s reaction was due to the cheesiness of it. There were only about ten tables, most nestled into corners and alcoves. Candles melted into wine bottles sat on every table, and a violinist stood in the corner playing romantic tunes. When Roarke looked at it with an outsider’s eye, it did look exactly like the type of restaurant one would expect at a singles resort. Oliver caught up with them and offered his arm to Chelsea. They linked arms, and the three of them all walked in together. They waited only briefly before Phil burst from the kitchen, arms open to embrace his friends. “Roarke! Ol! So glad you guys could come out tonight.” He gave each of them a manly hug, and then his eyes settled on Chelsea. “Guys, you didn’t tell me you’d be bringing such a lovely guest tonight.” Phil took Chelsea’s hand, leaned over, and kissed it, eliciting a small giggle from the redhead. “Phil, this is Chelsea Goebel, amateur wildlife enthusiast.” That remark earned him a playful punch in the arm from Chelsea. “And Chelsea, this is Philip Pope, my best friend since pretty much forever and the finest chef this side of the Continental Divide.”

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“He exaggerates, of course,” Phil said humbly as he winked at Chelsea. He directed them to a table in the far corner of the room, and Chelsea and Oliver made their way toward the table. Roarke attempted to follow him, but Phil grabbed him by the sleeve. “Hey, what are you—” “This way,” Phil said through gritted teeth as he jerked him back outside. Once there, he released Roarke and gave him a very concerned look. “Look, I can tell you like this girl,” he began, “but do you really think taking her out with Oliver tonight is a good idea?” “Why not?” Roarke failed to see a situation in which spending time with Chelsea was anything but an excellent idea. “That’s not one of the floozies from the Woodland, Roarke. She’s not just out to get laid, and I doubt she’s ever been a part of a ménage before. You need to be careful here.” “She’s our mate, Phil.” “You mated her?” he angrily spat out. “No, but we’re going to.” Phil took a deep breath and turned back to the entrance to the Woodland Kitchen. He called over his shoulder to Roarke. “Just be at the still by midnight.” Shit! Roarke had completely forgotten what day it was. He and Oliver had already talked about mating her, but they wouldn’t have time. And Phil was probably right. This wasn’t one of the girls that came to Savage Valley for the singles scene and the skiing right over the Mukuas. If they wanted to mate Chelsea, they’d have to court her first. Roarke placed one hand on the door to the restaurant and took a breath to steady himself. The woman he and his brother were going to spend the rest of their lives with sat waiting for him on the other side of the door. One more deep breath and he entered the dining room. ****

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As Roarke strode toward their table, Chelsea’s breath caught in her chest. His eyes held something she had never seen in another man’s. She knew that she had just met him, but already she felt so much for him. When she was honest with herself, it was more than she’d felt for Lewis. They were sixteen when they started dating, and neither of them knew what to look for in a partner. But her body called out for Roarke, for his open smile and joking manner. She looked to her right and saw Oliver focusing on the candle burning on their table, fingering a droplet of dried wax. His intensity was overwhelming, and her body burned whenever his skin grazed against hers. His close-cut hair framed his chiseled features and prominent chin, reminding her of old Hollywood heartthrobs. Roarke sat next to her and placed his hand on hers without hesitation. The familiar touch surprised and excited Chelsea, but it also worried her. She didn’t really know these men. She only knew her reaction to them. A niggling voice inside her whispered of forever, but she knew better than that. She would only be in Savage Valley as long as Marta’s assignment lasted, and she needed to be alone after her divorce. Right? “Sorry about that. Phil’s a great guy, but odd sometimes.” Roarke dragged his fingertips over the back of her hand as he spoke, the delicate touch sending chills rushing down her spine. At the same time, another hand landed on her opposite thigh. She snapped her head left and saw Oliver looking at her like he was about to devour her. He leaned forward, and she caught a whiff of his scent. Strangely, it was almost identical to Roarke’s, a spicy, pine musk that addled her senses. Oliver’s fingers began massaging as he moved closer. Chelsea could feel his breath on her neck as he whispered. “I know I just met you, but I can already tell that you’re an amazing woman.”

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His words, his touch, and his scent combined into a drug that affected her body and her mind. Roarke’s hand landed on her other thigh, and she flinched at the sudden motion. “Shh,” he whispered, and she could feel the heat of his breath on her neck. “You just let us take care of everything tonight.” Her body was giving her signals she most certainly did not understand. For her, sex had always been attached to love, or at least commitment. Chelsea wasn’t certain what exactly Roarke and Oliver wanted, but it was definitely something outside of her comfort zone. Although from the cream she could feel gathering at her pussy lips, she knew that her body didn’t find the proposition uncomfortable at all. Just as Roarke’s hand crept upward, threatening to push Chelsea over the edge in an all-too-public place, Phil approached the table. He was handsome, with brown hair curling around the edges of his face and the bright blue eyes that seemed common amongst the residents of this town. Roarke’s hand retreated, and Chelsea felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. “So what’ll it be? Something off the menu or chef’s surprise?” Chelsea had been so distracted she hadn’t touched the menu. These two made it very difficult for her to function normally when their attentions were focused on her. “Why doesn’t our lovely date choose?” Oliver said, his voice rough as he dragged his fingers over her kneecap. “Um…” She closed her eyes and tried to gather herself. Feeling this way in a public place was definitely not her customary behavior. She tried her hardest to push the sensations welling in her cunt and her breasts to the back of her mind, a difficult task. She swallowed and opened her eyes, giving what she was sure was a strained smile to Phil.

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“How about the chef’s surprise? I really enjoyed the food at Savage Hunger this—” Roarke’s hand delved downward from the small of her back. “Oh.” Phil raised an eyebrow, shook his head, and laughed. “You three have fun.” He winked at Chelsea then disappeared back into the kitchen. His knowing expression worried Chelsea a little. Did everyone know what was going on? What was she doing, allowing not one, but two virtual strangers paw at her? Even though every rational part of her brain screamed for her to run, something instinctual inside her begged her to stay. Chelsea had spent her whole life listening to the rational voices, and that had only landed her jobless and alone. Maybe it was time to give the other voices a shot. “So, Chelsea.” Oliver’s voice broke into her thoughts. “We know that you’re a beautiful woman with a distaste for hiking, but what else?” She nibbled on her bottom lip, not sure how much of her past to divulge. “Yeah,” Roarke said, taking the pressure off her for at least a moment. “We know you’re staying at the Woodland, but why’d you come here?” Out of her sense of propriety, Chelsea dodged the question. “Marta’s on assignment, and since, you know, I’m not seeing anyone right now, she asked me to come along.” She looked between the two of them. Their expressions held no skepticism, and Chelsea let out a breath in relief. “And I couldn’t say no to an all-expenses-paid trip, so here I am.” “I don’t think that’s true,” Roarke practically purred. Chelsea’s chest constricted. Had he seen through her act? “Oh?” She swallowed the massive lump that had developed at the back of her throat. “I think you’re seeing someone.” He leaned in, and his hot breath brushed against her neck, the warmth causing her to gasp. “I think you’re seeing two someones, in fact.” He moved forward a bit more,

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and his lips grazed across her cheekbones. She felt her nipples harden against the thin fabric of her bra, her body begging for his soft lips in other places. “I’m certainly seeing someone,” Oliver said, his hands moving further up her leg and pushing against the hem of her dress. They stilled there, and she inwardly cursed at herself for how much she wanted them to continue their upward journey. “How about you?” she finally managed to choke out, her back ramrod straight as she tried to ignore Oliver’s ministrations. “How’s running Savage Valley?” How’s running Savage Valley? Was that really the best she could come up with? Luckily, Oliver and Roarke seemed to understand exactly how close to the edge they were pushing her and both sat back in their chairs. The heat of their knees touching hers, though, kept a small flame burning between her legs. Roarke laughed, and the action showed off his brilliant white smile. “It’s never boring, I’ll tell you that.” “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is one strange little town.” Oliver joined in his brother’s laughter, and Chelsea admired the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. His smiles were relatively rare, making them all the more striking. “But it’s home,” Roarke added on, throwing an arm casually around the back of Chelsea’s chair. “Our family’s been here for more than a hundred years. We tend to be sort of insular.” He sighed deeply and continued. “There’re a lot of folks here very stuck in the old way of doing things.” “Roarke’s right. Not much has changed about this place since the pioneer days. When Sam and Phil reopened the diner a few years ago, that was the first big change this town had seen in decades. There’re about ten families that have been here since the nineteenth century.” “As you can see, we’re in desperate need of an update.” Did she hear a soft rumbling come from Oliver’s throat?

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“For my most honored guests.” Phil approached their table along with a waiter carrying three trays. “Fresh buffalo mozzarella and asparagus crepes with béarnaise sauce.” The waiter placed a mouthwatering crepe in front of each of them then retreated to the kitchen, and Chelsea felt suddenly ravenous, having denied her hunger for so long. Both men eyed the crepes with hesitation. “Oh, man up,” Phil said, noticing their wary assessment of the dish. “Do we really need to?” Oliver’s eyebrows rose as he looked at the dish. “Huh, I guess you don’t.” Phil shrugged and left them, throwing a friendly, “Bon appétit!” over his shoulder as he retreated. Chelsea opened her mouth to say something, but after Oliver and Roarke’s easy acceptance of Phil’s remark, she decided not to pursue it any further. Anyway, she’d be done with these two soon. No point in getting too involved in their personal lives. Right? As they ate, Oliver and Roarke entertained her with humorous anecdotes acquired over years of governing Savage Valley, soothing Chelsea’s nerves, Roarke with his intelligence and Oliver with his brooding wit. Her mind, so accustomed to monogamy, couldn’t help but wander to thoughts of a serious relationship with one, or both, of the men. No. They’re a fling, nothing more. This is just a date. They finished their meal, expressed their sincere thanks to Phil, and left the restaurant. As soon as they were outside, Oliver’s arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Instead of following the path, he directed her behind the restaurant to a wooded area with trees hiding the meager moonlight. The attraction between them was palpable. Even in the low light, Chelsea could see the glint in Oliver’s eyes. He used his arm to press her body against his. “Chelsea.” His voice was nearly a growl. “I want to make sure you thoroughly enjoy your time in Savage Valley.” As he spoke, he

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lowered his face toward her and pulled her body closer to him until her whole front was pressed against his muscular chest. Her hips moved without her permission, pressing forward to relieve some of the tension mounting in her pussy. A substantial bulge pressed into her stomach, proving Oliver’s excitement and causing her inner muscles to clench in anticipation. Their faces were inches apart when Chelsea responded, “Well, you could make it a little better.” “By doing this?” Oliver closed his eyes and closed the short distance between their faces. He wrapped his soft lips around hers, stifling the gasp that escaped from Chelsea’s throat. He moved a hand to the small of her back, pressing her against him and pushing his erection closer to her. The feeling of his lips and the evidence of excitement ignited a flame inside her that Chelsea didn’t know existed. She wrapped both her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes and pulling him downward so he could better devour her lips. She darted a tongue along the seam of his lips, and he opened to her intimate caress. She experimentally swiped her tongue over his, savoring the wet heat of his mouth. However, he had other plans for the kiss. Another hand tangled in her mess of red hair, holding her head steady to deepen the kiss, and the hand on her back dropped lower to cup her ass. He bit against her lip and ran his tongue over it to soothe the soft stinging he left. Chelsea widened her legs, allowing one of his thighs to slip between hers. He held her close to him, allowing her the friction she so desperately needed. She had never lost herself like this before, especially with a sexy stranger, but something in him called to her. She broke the kiss and yelped as her hair was swiped to the side and a second set of lips grazed over the back of her head. She turned to see Roarke, his eyes darkened to a deep blue. Oliver’s hands turned her body around to face Roarke, and he followed Oliver’s lead. His kiss was gentle but passionate, his lips wrapping themselves around

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hers as he flicked his tongue back and forth over her sensitive mouth. When she pushed herself against him, she felt another erection pushing into her. The size of the bulge slightly frightened her, especially since Lewis had been notably small. The idea of being filled with such a large organ had a fresh wave of cream pulsing from her pussy. She felt Oliver’s erection against her back, followed quickly by his hands on her breasts. She moaned into Roarke’s mouth as Oliver rubbed them, taking care to tweak her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra. The tension between her legs was getting to be too much to bear, and she wrapped a leg around Roarke’s, reveling in the relief. It was only momentary, though. Oliver’s hand deftly undid the top button of her shirtdress and darted a hand under the fabric. He pushed her bra aside, and two callused fingers grasped her nipple, pinching hard. She had to break her kiss to draw in a breath at the sudden pain that sent waves of pleasure straight to her pussy. Roarke’s hand reached downward to the hem of her dress and lifted it. Chelsea knew she should be wary of these two, but the idea of having a grope in the woods with two sexy strangers excited her beyond measure. Roarke’s hand boldly started up her thigh, and Oliver wrapped his arm around her waist and held her against his chest while his other hand continued massaging her breasts and tweaking her nipples. Roarke’s hand reached the V between her legs and pressed against it, causing Chelsea’s hips to buck involuntarily. He held her gaze as he ran his hand over the crotch of her panties before pulling them aside. He pressed his finger through her slippery folds and grazed her clit, drawing a soft moan from her. Before she could recover, two fingers pushed through her entrance, and she thrust her hips against them. Roarke began finger-fucking her in earnest as Oliver held her against his chest and laved at her neck, leaving a trail of sizzling flesh in the wake of his tongue.

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She couldn’t stand this, not for one more second. She’d never had an orgasm at the hands of a man before, but she was sure that was about to change. Tension coiled in her stomach, and she felt her cunt clench around Roarke’s fingers, drawing them deep inside her. Heedless of where they were, she let out a shout as her liquid release spilled onto Roarke’s hand, and she fell into the bottomless pit of heady pleasure. Oliver tightened his hold on her and kissed the back of her neck as she slowly returned from her orgasmic trip. Roarke removed his hand, covered in her juices, and raised it to his face, sniffing her scent. Chelsea had never seen a man do such a thing, and her insides began to stir again at the sight. Oliver lowered her to the ground, and she rearranged her dress. A strange mixture of anxiety and wantonness came over her, and she didn’t know if she wanted to beg for more or run away in panic. Oliver made the decision for her. “Roarke, it’s eleven-thirty,” he said as he pulled out his cell phone and glanced at the glowing screen. “We can get there by—” A near growl rumbled from Oliver’s throat, silencing Roarke. Roarke turned his attention back to Chelsea. “Honey, we have a prior engagement.” He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and leaned down, lowering his face to hers. “I hate to do this, but we have to run. And quick.” The soft brush of his lips against hers sent butterflies to Chelsea’s stomach, and then lower. Roarke pulled away, and Oliver placed a hand on her cheek and looked into her eyes. He looked as if he were about to say something, but he quickly removed his hand and headed in the direction of the Woodland Den parking lot. Roarke followed him, but he stopped just before disappearing through the trees and turned toward Chelsea. “I’m sorry.” So am I. Chelsea suddenly stood alone amongst the trees, uncertain how she should feel. This was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? Just a quick fling, no strings attached. But she couldn’t help

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missing them when they left. She cursed to herself, realizing that real feelings for the two of them were developing in her heart. Although, due to their quick retreat, she knew the feelings weren’t mutual. Maybe this was the life of a single twenty-five-year-old. A quick romp in the woods and everyone leaves satisfied. God, she wasn’t cut out for this. And what were they doing, leaving her alone in the woods? Apparently, manners were a thing of the past in rural Colorado. She let anger overtake her uneasiness. Who exactly did Oliver and Roarke Cash think they were? Practically running from the wooded area, she found the path that led back to the Woodland Den and slowly began her journey back. Hopefully, Marta would be back by now, and Chelsea could find a shoulder to cry on, or at least someone who could help her with this uncharacteristic anger. Just then, fear seized her heart as a low rumbling sounded behind her. It was the same sound she had heard from the mountain lion on her way to Adam’s Point. She slowly turned, remembering that running away only activated the lion’s instinct to chase, but she saw nothing. The mountain lion was gone. **** “Finally!” A tall man with jet-black hair pushed himself off a tarnished copper still as he spoke. Oliver had pulled open the heavy door to the empty warehouse nestled in the far northwest corner of Savage Valley and strode in alongside Roarke. A group of men stood in complete darkness but still visible to each other. Their night vision, even in human form, had proven immeasurably valuable over the years. “Yeah, yeah, Mel, I know,” Oliver said in exasperation to the man so perturbed by his tardiness. He raked a hand through his hair as he began shedding his clothing.

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“We can’t shift without you tonight, Ol. Stupid-ass rules, relying on the fucking Alpha to—” “I said I heard you.” Oliver’s hard words echoed in the empty space, stirring a few birds from their nests in the rafters. “Fine, fine, just be touchy like that.” As Alpha, Oliver had conflicted feelings about these little bimonthly hunting trips. Part of him reveled in it, savoring the submission of his pride to his will and authority. But the other part loathed how the lunar cycle controlled his life. Each waning and waxing crescent, the whole pride gathered for the ancient ritual, and he loathed it. “You know, we don’t necessarily know what would happen if we—” “Shut it, Roarke,” Sam and Phil Pope said in unison. “Remember when you talked Bryce into trying to avoid the change? He damn near devoured a few shih tzus,” Sam admonished, laughing at the memory. “Hey!” the youngest and smallest of the group protested. “Don’t worry, an insatiable appetite is a good thing,” Oliver said as he finished removing everything but his boxer shorts. He walked to Bryce Sullivan and gave him a punch in the shoulder. “You do your family proud, kid.” Bryce beamed at the praise, and Oliver started to finish his pointed statement directed at the other two members of the Sullivan clan. “Ahem.” Roarke held up his cell phone, the glow casting light in the otherwise pitch-black warehouse. “It’s 11:59, man.” Sighing, Oliver squeezed Bryce’s shoulder and made his way to the center of the group. They now stood in a circle around Oliver, each wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. After doing this once every two weeks since he turned thirty, the ritual had grown old and grating for Oliver. But unlike his brother, he understood its necessity.

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Closing his eyes and focusing on the lion begging for release within, he muttered the ancient Shoshone words that would begin the bimonthly ritual that had befallen the Cash, Pope, Abbott, Yeats, and Sullivan families for over one hundred and fifty years. “Deegai-doyadukubichi’, mukua.” The rest of the pride repeated the words, and all twelve men began their shift to mountain lion form. Oliver felt the familiar feeling of soft fur growing from his skin, his hands roughening into paws, his fingernails extending into claws. Soon he was on all fours along with the rest of the pride, ready for a night on the kill. Verbal language slipped away from Oliver’s consciousness as his own and the pride’s urges and sensations took over. One last rational, human word flashed through his brain before instinctual drive overtook his body. “Chelsea.”

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Chapter 4 “God, this is amazing,” Marta said between bites of Savage Hunger’s famous steak and eggs. “Seriously, you have to try this.” Chelsea rolled the honey almond muffin back and forth on the small white plate as Marta devoured her breakfast. The scene last night had taken away her appetite. She remembered their touch, their hands ghosting over her, the ease with which they took what they wanted. The memories caused heat to stir between her legs. It was silly of her to think that they wanted any more than a quick grope in the woods. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they wanted something more than that, but the way that the two of them had escaped certainly didn’t show any thoughts of permanence. Each time the bells on the door sounded, she snapped her head up, stupidly hoping that she would see them. Marta chatted away about her article on Savage Valley, its history—something about fur trappers and pioneers—and the locals. Chelsea tried to pay attention, but her effort was futile. She picked a few sliced almonds off the top of her muffin, reconciling herself to her fate. The bells jangled, and she slowly dragged her head up then returned her gaze to her muffin. As she studied the pastry, what she had just seen registered in her mind. Oliver! A mixture of emotions toiled in her chest, affection and irritation, delight and disgust at his presence. Hesitation won out, along with a slow heating of her body. Damn it, even when she was angry with the

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Cash brothers, her body still longed for their touch, ready to forgive everything in a heartbeat. Instead of heading straight to his family’s regular booth, Oliver headed toward the narrow aisle of booths and searched the occupants. Chelsea leaned over her muffin and stuffed a few of the almond slices in her mouth, hoping in vain that he wouldn’t notice her. The flamered hair usually guaranteed she couldn’t hide. She heard heavy steps approach the table and saw Marta look up. “Hey there, handsome,” Marta sang as Chelsea tore off the top of the muffin and stuffed it all in her mouth. “Marta.” His words sounded soft. Shit. “I was just wondering if I could steal Chelsea for a moment.” Chelsea lifted her head to give Marta a deathly glare, but her focus was still fixed on Oliver. “Sure thing,” Marta replied. “Marta!” she said through gritted teeth and a bit of muffin as Oliver’s hand landed on her shoulder. She looked up at him and sighed. Why couldn’t she just have a no-strings-attached fling at a singles resort like all the other new divorcées? No, she had to fixate on the two sexiest men she’d ever seen, and despite every rational part of her brain screaming at her, she had to fall for them. He started back toward the Cash booth and motioned for Chelsea to follow. After shooting Marta one last glare, she stood and followed Oliver. He stopped abruptly halfway down the aisle of the diner, and Chelsea ran into his back. He took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her and steady her. After recuperating, she turned her ire on Oliver. “You planned that, didn’t you?” “So what if I did?” Oliver’s expression was dark and seductive, reminding Chelsea of what she had felt at his hand only hours ago. An ache began in her thighs, and she felt a wetness accumulating against her pussy folds. “You haven’t exactly asked me to release you.”

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With that, Oliver moved his hips toward her, and she felt the evidence of his reciprocal excitement. Her heart raced, frustrating Chelsea even further. Why should she care so much? Recovering from the electric shocks that raced through her at his touch, Chelsea realized exactly where they were. “Then will you release me?” she asked, but the look on Oliver’s face tugged at her heartstrings. “Um, just, not here, okay?” She felt a burning on her cheeks as she thought about the feeling of his hard cock pressing against her stomach. With a questioning look, Oliver held out one hand. Chelsea gently placed hers in it, and he enveloped it completely with his rough palm. He guided her toward his family’s customary booth and motioned for her to sit. He followed her into the round booth. “I didn’t mean to be rude just then, but after last night—” Chelsea had apparently hit a nerve. Oliver dropped his face to his hands and began rubbing his temples. “Last night shouldn’t have happened.” Chelsea had to suppress tears at his words. No matter how upset she had been, she was glad it had happened. The Cash brothers had shown her pleasure she never imagined possible. She turned her face away, fearing that she couldn’t hold the tears back a second later. “That’s not what I mean.” Oliver cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. She sniffed, quickly losing the battle against tears and cursing herself for her sensitivity. “What I meant was Roarke and I should never have left you. That was wrong, and it was unfair to leave you without an explanation.” “Then why did you leave?” Chelsea’s voice was remarkably clear, considering the circumstances. Oliver moved his hand to stroke her hair and shook his head. “You can’t know, I’m afraid. At least not yet.” A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “And even if I told you, I am certain you wouldn’t believe me.”

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Chelsea knew she shouldn’t accept that answer and probably should be afraid of these near strangers that had easily seduced her, but feeling Oliver’s touch again had dispelled her unease. She wanted this. She wanted him, no matter how soon she’d leave Savage Valley and no matter how silly that seemed to her right then. He pinned her in place with his icy blue gaze and leaned forward. Chelsea responded in kind, eager to feel his strong tongue parting her lips again, eager to taste— “Ol!” The panic in Roarke’s voice shattered the moment. He burst through the door to the diner, and a few long strides brought him to their table. “Ol, he’s coming.” Roarke was out of breath and panting as he slammed both hands on the table. Oliver was suddenly on alert. “You don’t mean—” “My, my, the Cash brothers. The first family of Savage Valley is deigning to visit the local diner.” A hush fell over Savage Hunger as a bald man dressed in a suit strode into the diner. He looked around him, as if taking in the scene of the diner. “Well, hello, Ulysses.” Oliver gave the man a tight-lipped smile. “I didn’t realize you still deigned to set foot within the city limits. We’re so honored to have the CEO of NormCorp in our humble presence.” NormCorp? Chelsea’s eyes widened as she realized that the archnemesis of the population of Savage Valley had just entered the diner. It seemed to Chelsea that his sudden appearance would initiate a new battle in the war to save the town. He continued to survey the diner, and even the soft country music in the background faded out. The click of the man’s Oxfords on the tile floor echoed through the diner. “Hmm, I believe this will make a nice attraction for my guests. And is Phil still around? Yes? He would make quite the excellent short-order cook for them.” “The populace has yet to vote on the ordinance, Norman. Don’t go shopping for interior decorators just yet.”

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The man gave a haughty laugh as he turned to face Oliver. “Oh, do you think that matters? Your…” He rolled his hand through the air as if searching for the right word. “Your quaint small-town governance is hardly a match for our resources.” “It’s not just the government. It’s the people.” “Oh, I do believe they’ll become disenchanted with Savage Valley soon enough.” Oliver’s features set into a hard glare, and Roarke moved in front of him to address Ulysses Norman. “Hey, don’t go insulting the town, now. You know our family’s been—” “I know.” Disdain dripped from his voice. “All of you plebeian folk believing you have some claim on the land because your ancestors settled here some hundred-odd years ago.” “One hundred fifty years!” a voice called out from the back of the diner, accompanied by several murmurs of assent. “See?” Roarke smiled and leaned against the booth. “The people here love their town just the way it is. They don’t want to see it turned into some fancy-ass five-star mega-resort. They paid for taking this town from the Shoshone, just like you’ll pay for taking it from us.” “All of you and your claims of debt to the Shoshone people. That’s never made any sense, you know.” Ulysses’s comment drew a humph from Oliver, and his attention turned to the elder brother. His stare came to rest on Chelsea, and for the second time in as many days, she felt pinned to the booth with fear. “Well,” he said, “it appears some things never change. Are you perverts still attempting to bed the same woman?” Roarke took a seat in the booth, scooted next to Chelsea, and put a protective arm around her shoulders. She snuggled into the embrace, desperate for some sort of comfort in this situation. Unfortunately, Ulysses only came nearer their table. A sickeningly sweet expression was plastered on his sweet face. “Hello there, sweetheart. Do you live here?” He spoke to her as if she were three years old. His patronizing tone disgusted Chelsea.

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“No,” she said softly. He intimidated her so much she was afraid her voice wouldn’t come out at all. “Well, welcome to my hometown. What’s your name?” She looked between the two men flanking her, but their stares were fixed on Ulysses. “Ch–Chelsea.” “And where are you staying, Chelsea?” “The W–Woodland D–Den?” Her answer came out sounding like a question. Ulysses gave her a smile that revealed rows of obviously whitened teeth. He then pounded the table and walked backward, looking between Oliver and Roarke. “I knew it. You perverts are picking up innocent women at the Woodland now. Thank the Lord my daughter is in Denver. If I ever find the two of you with your paws on Jamie—” “Out.” Oliver’s voice was soft but commanding. “What was that, Cash?” “Out!” “He is touchy, isn’t he, Chelsea?” She gulped and declined to answer. Ulysses took one more look around the diner then back at Oliver. “It appears Sam Pope isn’t here. I’ll have to talk to him about a suitable price for the diner later.” “Please let us eat in peace,” Oliver said with a hint of a plea in his voice. “This is a quiet, friendly town, and I intend to keep it that way.” “I fear there’s little you can do to stop me.” “Well, right now I can call Sheriff Kinman on your ass.” “You don’t own the entire town, Mr. Cash. I have every right to be in this private establishment.” “How about I call Sam Pope and confirm that for you?” Ulysses threw up his hands in mock surrender.

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“That won’t be necessary.” He then turned and walked to the door. He turned back just before exiting. “Your Garden of Eden won’t last forever, boys. It never does.” The instant the glass door closed, the entire diner erupted into conversation. Several of the town’s residents jumped from their seats and began to swarm around the Cash booth. All of the strangers darted looks at Chelsea, and some dared to stare at her outright. As Oliver fielded questions from the populace and Roarke spoke in hushed tones on his phone, Chelsea felt completely overwhelmed. She tapped Roarke’s shoulder, and he only looked at her and indicated for her to hold on for a moment. That wasn’t going to work. As the volume in the diner increased, so did her anxiety and unease. She saw Marta near the glass door, attempting to peek around the crowd and find Chelsea. “Roarke, please,” Chelsea said as she squeezed his upper arm. “Roarke.” He finally turned back to her and, after one look at her, told the caller on the other line that he would talk to them later. “Honey, what’s wrong? Why do you have that look on your face?” Even through the exhaustion clearly painted on his features, Chelsea saw genuine concern. “I need to go.” “Wait just a second, I’ll take you to—” “Roarke. I need to go.” Chelsea tried to muster as much force as possible. He opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it and moved to allow her to exit the booth. Chelsea climbed out as quickly as possible and grabbed hold of Marta’s outstretched arm. She guided Chelsea to the door. Upon hearing Roarke shout her name, part of her desperately wanted to turn back. But the confused part, the part that had no idea how her life had gotten to this place, won out, and she determinedly forced open the glass door to the diner. Stumbling out onto the sidewalk, she gulped lungfuls of fresh air then hugged Marta.

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“Hey, shh,” she said as she patted Chelsea’s back. “You don’t have to worry about any of that right now. This is supposed to be a vacation.” Marta released her and studied Chelsea’s face. “There’s that beauty shop over by Treaty Lane, and you could use a pedicure.” Chelsea chuckled and brightened at the idea of indulging in some creature comforts. All this time outdoors hadn’t set particularly well with her. She nodded and allowed Marta to pull her past the Ninth Time and the Savage Herald offices toward the feminine oasis awaiting them. **** “Ooh, Roarke Cash! He’s always been a charmer!” Susan Pope, the woman seated in the pedicure chair next to Chelsea’s, gesticulated wildly as she enlightened Chelsea on the Cash brothers. “He was in diapers and running around the Savage Valley diner—that’s what we called it before Phil got back from cookin’ school and made it all fancy-like—oh, but Roarke. He was so cute. He ran between all the tables, flirting with the girls even then. Every mother in that place wanted to take him home.” “Well, shit. I certainly wanted to!” Rita Copely, the waitress Chelsea had met at the diner the previous day, sat across from them receiving a manicure from the Haven Salon’s owner, Agnes Bird. “He was the cutest little thing—oh, square tips, if that’s okay, Agnes— looks just like his mother.” “Oh, it’s a shame that she’s off in Hayden right now. You would love her. She’s just the nicest lady,” Agnes chatted as she worked on Rita’s nails. “Then how did Oliver get so…” Chelsea began to ask. “Tough?” “Brooding?” “Sexy?”

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“Rita!” Susan exclaimed. “You watch your mouth. That boy is practically my son.” “I just speak the truth, honey.” Chelsea felt a sense of security flood over her that she hadn’t felt in years. After marrying Lewis, she’d only seen her family once or twice a year. Lewis had insisted they fly to England as often as possible to visit his relatives. Chelsea’s father was career Navy, and a promotion he received when Chelsea was in college meant her parents and younger brother constantly moved from town to town. And as much as the naval air station just outside of Memphis had been a nice place to grow up, the revolving door of residents didn’t give her much of a sense of community. She met Marta while studying at Rhodes College in Memphis, and Lewis had disapproved of her friend’s fiery attitude from the start. One of the best parts of their split had been spending more time with her closest friend. Memories of the previous night in the woods drifted into her mind as she thought of some of the other best parts of splitting with Lewis. “Oliver’s just like his father, sug,” Susan told Chelsea. “He’s certainly harsh, but he’s also fair. That’s why he’s the best mayor this town’s seen since his grandfather.” “His grandfather was mayor, too?” “Oh, of course. We’re definitely small-town kind of people. The diner’s been in my family since the 1940s, and they owned the feed store before that. The Cashes have been running Savage Valley since they traveled here in a covered wagon.” On Chelsea’s opposite side, Marta looked from side to side then made a failed attempted at clandestinely removing her reporter’s notepad. “You take down all you want,” Agnes called from the manicure station. “Half of Colorado knows it already from Susan flapping her gums.”

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“Oh, shush, you. And as long as you talk about how good-looking I am, you can write whatever you want, doll,” Susan said with a giggle, and Chelsea and Marta couldn’t help but join in. “Anyway, back to business, girls. Them Cash brothers are quite a pair. From the time he was born, Oliver was groomed to be the next head honcho here in the Valley. But Roarke threw everyone for a loop. He was the smartest one in his class all the way up at Savage Valley Comprehensive School and was chomping at the bit to get a seat on the town council.” “He certainly seems to have plenty of opinions.” Chelsea smiled at remembering Roarke challenging his brother as they sat around the booth at Savage Hunger. Watching the two of them in heated debate had, shockingly, heated certain parts of her, too. “That he does. You see, we’ve been doing things pretty much the same way in Savage Valley since it was settled in 1846.” “Sug, you know it was settled before that!” Rita tossed up a partially manicured hand, earning herself a reprimand from Agnes. “See, girls, there’s a big debate ’bout whether the town was settled in 1832 or 1846.” Susan leaned in toward Chelsea and whispered dramatically, “It was 1846.” “I heard that!” Rita shouted, this time without a gesticulation. Chelsea looked down and wiggled her partially dried toes. This town certainly was an anomaly. She hadn’t believed such places existed, but Savage Valley was proving to her that small-town hospitality was hardly a thing of the past. That is, if the outside world doesn’t try to stop them. “All done.” Agnes dismissed Rita from her manicure station and turned her attention to the three women in pedicure chairs. “Susan, I’ll be with you next. You two girls can go now.” As Chelsea reluctantly left the chair’s shiatsu massage to gather her things, Agnes approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Oliver and Roarke are good boys.” She paused and laughed to herself. “Although I guess they’re men now. You take care of them.

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Their mother is getting up there in years, and those two really need a feminine influence in their lives.” Guilt settled in Chelsea’s stomach. That little scene in the diner proved she wasn’t in a place where she could take care of anyone besides herself. “Oh, no. I mean, it’s not like—” “Trust me. I saw the way they looked at you in the diner yesterday. Those two are smitten.” Chelsea swallowed to dispel the lump in her throat and nodded. This is only a fling, she repeated to herself. Just a vacation thing. But that niggling voice was there again, ever so softly, telling her she felt more for them. Much more.

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Chapter 5 A knock at Chelsea’s door broke into her dreams. She opened one eye drowsily and took in her surroundings. Although slightly disoriented, she staggered to the door, not bothering to tame her wild red mane. She yawned and stretched as she opened the door. What she saw woke her up quickly. “Hey, beautiful,” Roarke said as he stood at her door clutching a bouquet of irises. Shit! All at once, she attempted to finger-comb her hair, cover her nipples she was positive showed through the flimsy Tshirt, and secure the oversized boxer shorts resting on her hips. Roarke laughed at the sight and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath and steadied herself. There really wasn’t anything she could do about her appearance at the moment. Instead, she focused on the tingling that spread over her body as he raked his eyes over her, lingering on her breasts. Damn it. They’re showing again. She couldn’t help her nipples tightening and her pussy dampening whenever Roarke was around. Her body needed him in every way, and it sent the message to Chelsea’s brain loud and clear. “I was just taking a nap, and Marta and I had lunch, and…” She trailed off as Roarke’s bright smile and warm eyes soothed her. “I brought you these.” He held out the bouquet, and she took it gently into her arms. “They’re irises. They’re the—” “Tennessee state flower,” Chelsea finished, admiring the fine flowers. “Where did you find them? They didn’t have any at the convenience store.” “It’s only an hour to Steamboat Springs, honey.” “You went all the way there just to get me flowers?”

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Roarke smiled and tilted his head. “Something like that. For you, I’d do anything.” Chelsea felt the blush rising from her chest, turned away from Roarke, and sat on her bed. He lingered at the door, and she gestured for him to follow. He closed the door then sat on the bed across from her. “About earlier today, I was just so overwhelmed from everything that went on, and…” “Hey,” Roarke said, placing a hand on her arm. Her nerve endings ignited at the site of the gentle touch. “You had every reason to want to get out of there. Oliver’s spent the whole day trying to make sure nothing like that happens again. Especially with you around.” The now-familiar guilt weighed down on Chelsea. “Roarke, about that.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t know how long I can be around.” “Nonsense.” “I have to go home soon. Marta’s assignment—” “Has been extended.” She stared at him in disbelief. What was he saying? “I ran into her in the lobby. She had just gotten off the phone with her publisher. They want her to do a book on small towns in northwestern Colorado.” He smirked as he continued. “Which means she’ll be extending her stay at the Woodland by at least three weeks.” Well, there went her best excuse for splitting. “But that still doesn’t mean I can stay,” she said uneasily. “I didn’t exactly come from nowhere, you know. I have things to get back to and…” What was she saying? There was nothing waiting for her back in Memphis, and she knew it. “And what, Chelsea?” She took a deep breath. He had backed her into a corner, and she had no choice but to confess the truth she’d hidden from the Cash brothers so far. Even if this was just a fling, they deserved to know the truth.

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“I’m damaged goods.” Her voice was weak as she looked up into Roarke’s warm blue eyes, searching for any sign of disapproval or withdrawal. All she saw was curiosity and a hint of lust hovering just below the surface. “I don’t care about your past. All that matters is who you are right now.” “It might not matter to you, but it affects me.” Chelsea felt tears stinging at the corners of her eyes and turned her face away, afraid to let Roarke see the extent of her pain. “I’m divorced.” “Doesn’t matter,” Roarke said and scooted closer to her on the bed. “I’m newly divorced, though. As in it was just finalized on Wednesday.” She scooted away from him toward the headboard. Roarke’s hesitation caused her heart to skip a beat, and she cursed herself once again for the feelings she knew she was developing for him. After a moment, he spoke again. “Do you still have feelings for him?” “God, no.” Chelsea’s voice was almost a whisper. “Then it doesn’t matter.” He continued his pursuit of her up the bed. “I don’t have a job?” The statement came out as a question as she used up both her final excuse and the last inches of her bed. She was pressed up against the headboard now. “Doesn’t. Matter.” Roarke closed the distance between them with a smooth, sleek crawl up the bed. His gaze caught hers, and she felt any defenses melt away. He leaned his face toward hers, and she eagerly reached around his neck, suddenly desperate for the feel of his lips on hers again. He kissed her gently, not with possession, but with affection. The twisting in her guts continued. She knew she wasn’t ready for this, not yet, but she couldn’t deny her body’s overwhelming response to Roarke and his brother.

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Chelsea daringly licked against the seam of his lips, and he opened his mouth, allowing her access to the hot depths. Emboldened by the knowledge this was only temporary, she stroked his tongue with hers in imitation of what she wanted him to do to another part of her. Her pussy clenched at the thought of the cool sensation of his tongue brushing against her clit, poking into her, and bringing her to the height of ecstasy. Roarke pushed his torso against hers, and she sank from sitting with her back against the headboard to lying on the bed with Roarke’s hard body hovering above her. Her hips bucked of their own volition, pushing the warm heat of her pussy against Roarke’s denim-clad thigh. She wrapped a leg around his thigh and pressed her hips against it in search of the friction she so desperately needed. Their kiss escalated from romantic to passionate to frenzied with desire. Chelsea knotted her fingers through Roarke’s hair, enjoying the feel of his silky brown locks between her fingers as he fucked her mouth with his tongue. Chelsea was so consumed with pushing the wet heat between her legs against the growing bulge in Roarke’s pants that she nearly missed his hand snaking underneath the thin fabric of her T-shirt. He brushed his fingertips upward, lightly tracing a trail along her side. He lingered on the sensitive flesh at her waist, causing Chelsea to break their kiss with her gasp. Roarke’s lips attached to her neck, nibbling and licking against the soft flesh and sending a fresh wave of juices out from her pussy. He so overwhelmed her that she had no room for shame as she felt the liquid evidence of her enjoyment drip down her thighs. Roarke’s hand continued its upward journey, and Chelsea gasped as his hand ghosted over her nipples. He then took one between two of his fingers and squeezed it. The hint of pain that zinged through her at his touch only increased her longing, increased the tempo of her thrusts against him. He fanned his fingers out over her chest, lightly brushing both nipples at the same time, and Chelsea moaned at the sensations that fluttered from her nipples straight to the clenching muscles of her cunt.

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She cried out as Roarke sat up suddenly, withdrawing his lips from her neck and his hands from her tightening nipples. He grasped the hem of her shirt in one hand and ripped it upward and over her head, revealing her completely. She watched as he stared at her body reverently, running his hands over her curves. He leaned over and brushed a gentle kiss on her lips as he massaged one of her breasts. When he lifted his mouth, the affection and desire in his eyes both shocked and delighted Chelsea. “You know that you’re beautiful, right?” Damn, here she was, spread out like a feast underneath him, and it was the compliment that made heat rush over her body, causing a red glow to break out over her pale skin. Roarke let out a deep chuckle. “The way you blush, darlin’,” he whispered before leaning over and taking as much of her breast into his mouth as he could fit. The sudden assault of heat on her breast only fanned the flames of her desire, and she knew he would need to attend to her pussy. Soon. “It gets me going, just watching you heat up when I look at you,” he said as he lifted his head from her breast. He placed his pelvis against hers and thrust forward, letting her feel just how excited he was. The moment was fleeting, though. Roarke began moving down the bed, and he hooked his fingers under the waistband of the boxer shorts she was wearing. He slowly pulled them down, his eyes on Chelsea’s the whole time. While she was desperate to feel his fingers, his mouth, anything against the wetness growing between her legs, the heat of his stare seized her heart with its intensity. Never before had she experienced the all-consuming need that Roarke and his brother seemed to bring out in her whenever they wanted. When Roarke had lowered the shorts over her hips, he slowly dragged his gaze down to where a soft bunch of red curls poked from the waistband. He finished revealing her mound and freed her legs from the shorts. He massaged along her inner thigh, and Chelsea gladly opened her legs for him. Cool air brushed against her clit as

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Roarke leaned over and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. His eyes closed and the corners of his mouth turned up in appreciation. He reached one finger to her dripping pussy and ran it down over the slit. Chelsea’s hips bucked at his touch, and a high-pitched squeal escaped from her throat. She quickly clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sounds, and her action drew a low chuckle from Roarke that sent waves of hot breath dancing over her cunt. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. That’s the advantage of you staying in a singles resort.” He leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on her outer lips, drawing another squeal from Chelsea. “Soundproof walls.” He then lunged forward, separating through her folds with his tongue and laving at her clit. She no longer had any capability to concentrate on rational thoughts. A tooth grazed against her clit, and Chelsea heard herself scream, only vaguely aware that she was the wanton creature Roarke was driving mad at the moment. He opened his mouth, and his tongue darted against her slick entrance. She felt the coil inside of her tighten, and she knew she couldn’t hold on for too long. That same heat she’d felt in the woods last night burst from the soft flesh Roarke was devouring. He reached a hand up and landed it on her breast, kneading it as he tweaked at her nipple. At just that moment, he plunged his tongue deep into her pussy, sending Chelsea shooting over the edge. For the second time this week, a man sent her shooting skyward into the heights of human pleasure. Sparks of heat burst from her clit and ran all over her body, engulfing her and igniting into flames of pleasure. Roarke kept licking, kept sucking, extending her orgasm as long as possible. When her body could take no more and finally drifted back to the earthly plane of existence, Roarke licked softly along her slit, causing shivers in the sensitive flesh that danced along the line between pleasure and pain. She laid back, entirely naked. Normally, she would have tried to cover up, but that didn’t feel necessary with Roarke. The tender

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affection in his eyes let her know that she didn’t need to hide around him. He began to crawl up the bed toward where Chelsea lay panting, but a strange noise that sounded like a roar interrupted them. He rolled to his back and laid his head on Chelsea’s stomach as he took out his phone. The roar sounded again, and Roarke sighed as he opened the phone. “What. Wait, what’s going on? What the fuck? Hey, I’m with Chelsea, so can it—Yeah, yeah, I know, I did say that. Well, what are you going to do about it? Fucking hell, Oliver, now? Fine. Usual place?” He slammed his phone closed and murmured something that sounded remarkably like, “Motherfucker.” “What’s going on?” she asked as she reached down a hand to comb through Roarke’s hair. The gesture seemed to calm him a bit, and he closed his eyes and made a low noise of approval. “Oliver, it’s…” He trailed off as Chelsea continued stroking his hair. “Roarke?” “Hmm? Oh, it’s…Let’s call it town stuff.” He groaned as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He stood, readjusted his clothing, and walked to where Chelsea now sat. He leaned over and captured her lips in a kiss that had her insides reigniting more quickly than she thought possible. He pulled back just a fraction of an inch and leaned his forehead against hers so that his lips brushed hers as he spoke. “Don’t go.” With that, he turned and walked out the door. He gave Chelsea a lingering gaze just before he closed the door. There she sat, naked and confused about so many things. But a small part of her was giddier than a schoolgirl. And she could feel that part of her start to grow.

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Chapter 6 Roarke shifted out of lion form once he reached the pile of clothing he kept stashed outside the warehouse. Thank god it was actually there today. Some of his fellow pride members thought it amusing to hide his clothing from time to time, which became a problem when he lacked human deduction qualities. It got damn difficult to scent one pile amongst eleven others. He hid behind some brush as he dressed himself and prepared for the meeting. Oliver’s voice had been gruff on the phone, and he had demanded Roarke leave Chelsea. Since Oliver shared Roarke’s feelings for their soon-to-be mate, Roarke had immediately sensed the gravity of the mission. Chelsea. His cock stirred at the thought of her laid out in front of him, her ample breasts heaving as he drove her to orgasm. He was half hard again, and he cursed Oliver and the pride once more for forcing him to leave that hesitant, gentle, and hot-as-hell little vixen. He knew that the strength of his desire was so powerful that he needed to mate her as soon as possible. That is, if this damned town would let him rest for one minute. Approaching the warehouse, he hauled the large, sliding door open, and his eyes immediately adjusted to the darkness inside. Only Oliver, Sam and Phil Pope, and Clayton Abbott had arrived. He nodded to each of them and stood next to his brother. “There’s been another series of attacks.” Oliver’s concern lined his face. “No humans?” If an animal attacked a human in Savage Valley, the town’s reputation would be ruined.

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“Not yet.” Sam’s voice was grave, and the tall, blond, normally effusive man slumped his shoulders. “Do we have competition? They’ve only been attacking prey animals,” Clayton, the owner of the Ninth Time, offered. “That’s what Sherriff Kinman thought, but he also pointed out that the animals are only partially maimed. A shifter would devour it whole.” Oliver’s voice was full of confusion. “I don’t know. Kinman and the bears are pretty sloppy.” “Clayton,” Roarke chastised, “you know better than that. If we’re ever going to enter the twenty-first century, we need to learn to live in concert with our fellow shifters.” The door to the warehouse creaked open, and Ira and Bryce Sullivan hurried inside. “Roarke, don’t start on that,” Ira said casually. The tall man with close-cut dark brown hair joined the group. “If it weren’t for squabbles between the bears and the lions, I’d have no client base.” “Typical lawyer.” Clayton huffed and sat on one of the several empty wooden crates strewn about the floor. “That doesn’t matter now.” Oliver’s voice was commanding, the voice of an Alpha addressing his pride. “What matters is our food supply.” He turned to face Ira and Bryce. “Someone or something is maiming the animals around here.” “I know, I know.” The exasperation was audible in Ira’s voice. “But so far the only attacks have been in the forest. I know you and Roarke like to play activist”—Roarke narrowed his eyes at Ira—“but frankly, it’s their problem, not ours.” “Everything is our problem.” Oliver’s voice was half human, half lion and sounded like a strangled roar. “I want to get away from the past as much as anyone,” Roarke said in hopes of neutralizing the situation. “But Oliver’s right. The Shoshone charged us with the task of overseeing all of the Valley, not just our side of the treaty line.”

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“Politics aside,” Oliver said, clearly unaware of the irony of the statement, “this isn’t just the bears’ problem anymore. There were more attacks this morning, dangerously close to Adam’s Point.” “But what are they attacking?” Clayton asked. “Does it really matter if they take out the neighbors’ dogs?” He shot a look at Bryce. “God knows we do enough of that ourselves.” The youngest and smallest of the pride tensed, and Roarke could see his canines extending. Luckily, Sam laid a hand on his shoulder, and the young, skilled hunter calmed down. “It’s not just dogs and rabbits, Clay.” Oliver took a deep breath. “They’re decimating the elk and mule deer population.” “Oh fuck.” Roarke couldn’t help the expletive falling from his lips. Without the mule deer and elk roaming the Mukuas, the mountain lion population of Savage Valley’s future was bleak. “The supply has already dwindled, as you all know,” Oliver continued. “So we need to take action. I’m instating a patrol of the mountains to try and find this predator, whether it’s animal, human, or shifter. Cora Yeats at the Woodland is sympathetic to our cause, of course, so that will serve as our base of operations.” “Cora, huh?” Phil said, with an elbow to Roarke’s side. Roarke gave his best friend a deathly stare, but he only smiled with a glint of amusement in his bright blue eyes. “You sure it doesn’t have more to do with a certain guest staying at the Woodland Den?” “Wait,” Bryce said slowly, realization dawning across his features, “you’ve found your mate, haven’t you? That’s what I was feeling on the hunt last night!” Roarke and Oliver exchanged a meaningful look. “You felt that?” Roarke’s usually confident voice shook as he addressed Bryce. “Man, it was overpowering. All I kept seeing was some redhead, but when I scented some prey it went away.” The implications of Bryce’s statement were enormous. None of their generation of the pride had mated yet, so despite hearing their

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fathers’ accounts of finding their mates, no one yet knew the implication it would have on the pride. Bryce was an extraordinarily gifted hunter—the rest of the pride only rarely remembered what they sensed on the hunt—and his observations meant it was real. Her reaction to the mating musk, the pull Roarke felt in human form when Oliver scented her in the forest, and his own body’s reaction all meant something. Chelsea was, most certainly, their mate. And if Roarke and Oliver didn’t take her soon, they would weaken quickly. Roarke looked to Oliver and saw his eyes shining with the same recognition. They would mate Chelsea soon. “Okay, lovebirds.” Sam’s voice sliced into Roarke’s thoughts. “Good for you, finding your mate and all, but there’s town and pride business to attend to.” Oliver nodded and began to outline the patrol schedule. Roarke’s jaw dropped as Oliver continued on, listing who he had assigned to each of the three daily shifts for the next week. He had Roarke working practically around the clock. Between the patrol duty and the preparations for the ordinance vote in little over a week, he would have no free time. No free time meant no Chelsea. The yearning pulled at his heart and at another part of him. Not only could he not see her, he couldn’t explain his mysterious absence. And Oliver would be just as absent. These patrol shifts meant they could lose Chelsea, their one true mate. It was a perfect instance of what Roarke detested about strict adherence to the ancient laws of the pride. In any other circumstance, he could work with a human being to find some sort of mercy in the schedule. But the Alpha had the power to decree whatever he wanted, and once he did so, it was law. There had to be some other way to run the pack, some way to modernize their politics so they could move forward. But as Oliver’s brother and a member of the pride, he would dutifully patrol the mountains in search of the attacker. Roarke’s only

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solace was his knowledge that this hurt Oliver just as much as it did him. Oliver was strict in his governance of both the town and his pride, but he was always just. Why the fuck did it have to interfere with Roarke getting laid? After the pride elders had dispersed, Oliver approached Roarke. “We’re just going to have to be strong.” Roarke knew exactly what Oliver was talking about. “I’m not worried about that, Ol. I’m worried about her.” “How did it go this afternoon?” Roarke was amused at the anxiety in his normally stoic brother’s voice. “Is she pissed at us?” Roarke felt a smirk crawl across his face. “I think pissed would be the wrong word for it.” “You dog, you.” Oliver gave him a jocular shove, and a rare smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Well, technically, I’m a cat.” “Fuck you, man,” Oliver said on a chuckle. “So what was it like? You know I’d give anything for a taste of that.” Roarke recalled the delicious, sweet taste of Chelsea’s nectar dripping into his mouth from the soft red curls, the soft feel of the velvety folds of her pussy pushing against his lips, the throaty moan that came from her as he licked her to completion. “It’s heaven.” A peacefulness settled over Roarke as his next thought formed in his head. “Our mate is heaven.” Oliver shook his head and rubbed his temples. “We just have to make sure we don’t lose her. She’s a slippery one.” He suddenly dropped his hands, and a smile lit up his face. “There’s a way to explain it to her.” “No there’s not. That’s what I keep telling you about. It’s preposterous that we have to run every last deviation from ancient law past…” Holy shit. Oliver had found the loophole.

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“Yeah, brother.” He embraced his brother. “Our mating affects the pride in a big way. Bryce let us know that today. And since it’s pride business—” “We can bring it to Bohagande.” It was decided. With Bo’s permission, they could tell Chelsea everything and let her make her own decision. Roarke sent a secret prayer to whoever would listen that she would choose to be their mate. It was quickly becoming apparent to him that he couldn’t live without her. **** Roarke didn’t come back. Chelsea tried to console herself, tried to assure herself that he must have had some pressing engagement, but it was useless. She paced back and forth in the lobby of the Woodland Den waiting for Marta to come down for breakfast at the Woodland Kitchen. Chelsea couldn’t stand the idea of going into town and embarrassing herself by fawning over the Cash brothers. The heavy wooden door to the Woodland Den crashed open, and Chelsea whipped around to see what the commotion was. Her heart stopped. Oliver. She had to shake her head, close her eyes, and open them again to believe she wasn’t dreaming. He made a beeline for the reception desk, but stopped in his tracks. Chelsea felt her chest tighten as he slowly turned to face her. Their eyes met, and she swore his were an icier blue than usual. He started toward her with long, purposeful strides, holding her gaze the entire time, and her body heated at the sight of his muscular form nearing hers. As he came closer, she noticed the streaks of dirt on his face and his disheveled hair. Dark circles formed under his eyes, and he looked as though he had been up all night. Chelsea felt an odd jealousy break over her at the thought of him spending the night with

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another woman. She didn’t want anyone besides her tousling his normally carefully combed hair. He approached her and tangled one hand in her hair. She felt her pussy clench from the sudden possessive gesture. He used his grip to tilt her head backwards so he could kiss her passionately. Oliver’s kiss was insistent, a sign of his possession and his building desire. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip and sent shivers of pleasure spreading through Chelsea’s body. Feeling her juices begin to dampen her panties, she reluctantly broke the kiss. “Oliver, we’re in public.” He looked from side to side and seemed to spot the middle-aged woman behind the reception desk. “Damn it.” He closed his eyes then focused the full force of his gaze on Chelsea. The power held her in place and took her breath away. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and as much as she fought it, his quiet, lightly accented voice cut straight into Chelsea’s heart. “You shouldn’t have had to witness what happened in the diner yesterday.” “It’s okay. I just really don’t like crowds and—” “Don’t apologize. It was a highly embarrassing scene for all involved, and I’m ashamed that I didn’t stop it earlier.” “Really, you don’t have to explain it to me. I’m okay. I promise.” Oliver took a deep breath before continuing. “Chelsea, there’s a lot going on right now, more than you’re ready to understand. With the vote coming up next week, Roarke and I are going to be busy for a little while.” He placed a hand on her cheek and brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. She leaned into his hand, unconsciously nuzzling against him. He moved his hand back into her hair, tangling his fingers in her tresses, and started to draw her face toward his. “Oliver! Is it eight o’clock already?” The woman at the desk’s call interrupted Oliver’s descent toward Chelsea’s mouth, and her whole body reacted to the loss.

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He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he lowered both of his hands to her shoulders and muttered an expletive under his breath. He opened his eyes and squeezed Chelsea’s shoulders. “I want to explain all of it to you, but there are a few things I need to do first.” “You’re wasting daylight, Cash!” “I’ll be there,” he called, a low growl in his voice. He turned his attention back to her. “Meet me and Roarke tonight. Come to our cabin behind town hall, and we’ll show you something.” His mysterious request caused an unease to rise in her chest. What did he need to do before he could explain this to her? All the scenarios from the self-defense class she took in college came rushing to mind. They were rapists, or serial killers, or rapist serial killers. Then a force that Chelsea had only come to know over the last few days pushed the thoughts from her mind. She looked up into Oliver’s eyes and swayed toward him, inhaling his distinctive spicy, woody scent. Never before had she been attracted to the smell of a man. For some reason beyond her comprehension, she trusted him and Roarke. Completely and with her life. “Town hall, I’ll be there,” she heard herself say, only vaguely aware of the act of speaking. “Eight?” His voice was distant as he closed the distance between their bodies. “Or why don’t we call it eight-fifteen?” She felt her head nodding as her body crashed against Oliver’s and she buried her face in the hard muscles of his chest. His hands ran down her back, holding her to him, and she reveled in the way each of her senses responded to him. His perfect body, his low, rumbling voice, his hard chest under her hands, the taste of his tongue as it flicked across hers, and that overpowering scent he shared with his brother all collided to delight and titillate every part of Chelsea’s mind and body. He reached one hand up to sweep her hair aside, and he kissed the side of her neck. Chelsea felt her inner muscles convulse and little sparks of arousal start to numb her as he continued kissing backward

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around her neck. When he reached the place where her neck connected with her spine, a wave of desire washed over her more powerful than anything she had ever felt before. She thought she could climax right then and there in the Woodland Den lobby. His teeth grazed again at the spot, and she felt the preorgasmic shudders wrack her pussy. Fuck! She really was going to come right— “Doyadukubichi'maa.” The strange words seemed to halt Oliver’s attack on her senses, and he stumbled backward. As he blinked, Chelsea could swear his eyes transformed from a deep blue back to their normal, steel-blue color. “E–Eight,” he stuttered, far from his normal, composed self. “Uh, I mean, eight fifteen.” He panted and clearly fought to regain composure. Chelsea had certainly been affected by his touch and his kiss, but his reaction was so different than what she expected from the normally stoic Oliver. He brushed a hand through his hair, and Chelsea swore she saw the apples of his cheeks tint a light red. Combined with the heat of moments before, his vulnerability was endearing him to her more by the second. Sam Pope strode toward them and put a steadying hand on Oliver’s shoulder. Chelsea realized that he must have spoken the bizarre string of sounds that shattered Oliver’s resolve. “Hey, Ol, you all right?” Oliver seemed to come to as he nodded to Sam. Sam looked at Chelsea and gave her a kind smile. Very tall and very blond, he really was quite handsome, if not Chelsea’s type. “Hi, Chelsea. I hate to meet like this, but I need to take away your beau for a minute.” Oliver cleared his throat and looked from Sam to Chelsea. “Sam’s right. I’ve got a packed night.” He locked gazes with Chelsea. “But I will see you tonight.” It was a statement, not a question.

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Chelsea could only nod, and Oliver leaned over to give her a soft kiss on her cheek. His proximity and the feel of his lips on her skin ignited her senses again, but only for a moment. He and Sam hurried to the reception area and disappeared into a room behind the desk. Marta came bouncing down the stairs into the lobby area just then and crossed to Chelsea. Once she approached Chelsea, she looked her up and down. “Girl, what just happened to you? You look like you’ve either been crying all night or…” Marta’s jaw dropped. “Have you seen the Cash brothers today?” Chelsea nodded slowly, and if she could have flushed any more, she was sure she would have. Marta gave Chelsea an enthusiastic hug then pulled back, still holding her by the shoulders. “I’m so proud of you. There’s no better way to get over a breakup than finding yourself a sexy mountain man. Or in your case, two!” Marta’s excitement was contagious, and for the first time since Chelsea had been in high school, she felt the anxiety building in her chest that could only come from a new love. Love? She quickly pushed the word to the back of her mind and decided to shelve the topic for now. It was still too soon for such an emotion, but Chelsea sensed the absolute truth at the core of the sentiment. “You can tell me all about it at breakfast,” Marta said as she threw an arm around Chelsea’s shoulder and guided her toward the exit. “Because I definitely want to hear about what’s got you, little miss propriety, looking like you just pulled a When Harry Met Sally.” **** Oliver pulled his Ford F-150 into the dirt clearing in front of Bohagande’s house in southwest Savage Valley. Dust permeated the air from the overly dry dirt caused by the drought. Oliver jumped out of the cab and kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot. Damn this drought. He had enough on his plate with saving the town from

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NormCorp, and now the drought and the dying animals had to crowd his agenda. And it didn’t help that a certain adorable, sexy redhead with blushing cheeks and great tits occupied his every thought. Roarke sprinted up the steps in front of the small, wooden house settled amongst the pine trees and knocked on the door. After a few moments and a few muffled curse words, a middle-aged man wearing a blue T-shirt and jeans answered the door. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail, revealing the striking bone structure of his tanned face. “Roarke Cash! Why ain’t you been out here, boy?” he said as he fist-bumped Roarke. Oliver followed Roarke up the steps and slapped the back of his good friend. “Bo, man, it’s been way too long.” “Yeah, I didn’t want to go all shaman and invoke the treaty on you, but football season’s almost here and I’ve got no one to watch the Broncos with, bro.” Oliver laughed, but his customary solemn expression returned quickly. “We do need to talk treaty business, though.” “Aw, shit. I should have known having two buddies out to talk football was too good to be true. Come on in.” He disappeared into the house, and Oliver and Roarke followed him into the home’s living room. The house was sparsely furnished, obviously the home of a widower. They took seats on the ragged couch opposite the fiftyseven-inch TV as Bo settled himself in his La-Z-Boy recliner. “So what’s going on with the treaty? You guys have some spat with the bears again?” Oliver rolled his eyes. While there was still occasional tension between the two groups of shifters, any open animosity had dissolved years ago. It irked him that his pack members—and apparently, now his shaman—brought it up so frequently. Maybe Roarke’s supposedly visionary ideas really were starting to get to him, he thought with a small chuckle to himself.

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“No, man. It’s big.” He found himself temporarily overwhelmed with emotion and looked to Roarke to explain to Bo the exact nature of their predicament. Roarke took a deep breath before speaking. “We found our mate.” Bo jumped from his chair and leaned over the couch to embrace his two friends. “Holy shit, guys. That’s amazing. Congratulations, I know you’ll be great mates.” He then looked between the two of them with skepticism in his expression. “By our mate, you do mean that you’re both going to mate her, right? Because you know the treaty—” “—requires all siblings with the shifter gene to take the same mate. We know.” Oliver had heard the lecture from his own parents hundreds of times when he was a child. Being one of a handful of kids in school with multiple dads was no picnic. “Because I don’t want no dying kittens. My dead father would come back from the afterlife and chop my head off if I let only one of you take a mate.” Bo settled back into his recliner. “You know how seriously we take the treaty.” Bo eyed Roarke with apprehension. “I know you do, Ol, but your brother tends to react badly to the ancient ways.” Roarke shrugged. “Yes, I probably would have been against it. But I felt Oliver’s reaction to her, even while he was in lion form, and I knew we had found our mate. Then meeting Chelsea…” Oliver could see the tenderness in his brother’s eyes. “I know she’s the one.” He looked to Oliver. “For both of us. And I will do whatever it takes to protect her and our children.” Oliver released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Hearing Roarke’s open acceptance of the ancient mating traditions guaranteed they could mate Chelsea. That is, if she agreed to it. “Great to hear you talk some sense for once.” Bo grinned and continued before Roarke could continue. “So it’s great to see you and all, but what do you need me for? I’m assuming the two of you don’t

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need any help releasing the musk or nothing. I mean, you’re no fourteen-year-old virgins.” Oliver laughed at the absurdity of the notion. “No, we are certainly both capable of the mating process.” Solemnity returned to his tone. “But Chelsea—” “Ooh, good name.” “—is a thoroughly decent person. She’s kind and gentle and—” “Sexy as hell,” Roarke interjected. “Can I finish a sentence here?” Oliver glared at the other men then continued. “I know that our fathers and their fathers and so on just trusted their mates would believe them.” “We’re afraid that if we just tell Chelsea, she’ll split before you can say ‘werewolf wannabe.’” “She’s skittish,” Oliver continued, “and we want to show her the transformation. She deserves to know exactly what she’s getting into.” “I get it now.” Bo nodded and flipped the lever on his La-Z-Boy so he could lean forward toward the brothers. “You wanna shift in front of her.” “It’s the only way she won’t think we’re lunatic serial killers.” Roarke smiled in an apparent attempt to defuse the situation, but neither Oliver nor Bo responded. The situation was far too grave. Bo took a deep breath. “I don’t know, man. Have you musked her yet?” “Yes,” Oliver and Roarke said in unison. “And did she react?” Oliver and Roarke shared a knowing look then turned back to Bo. “Yes.” He sighed, stood from the recliner, and headed toward the small kitchen attached to the living area. “Then I guess I have to let you change.” After a moment he returned from the kitchen carrying two vials containing a murky brown mixture. “Drink up, boys.”

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“That.” Oliver eyed the container with disgust. “You want me to drink…that.” Bo just grinned at the brothers, clearly amused by offering them such an unpleasant-looking beverage. “Bo, you know we love you, but come on,” Roarke said as Bo handed him the vial. “You can’t be serious.” “Hey, if you wanna do something outside the bounds of the treaty, you gotta pay the price.” “And why, exactly, is this the price we have to pay?” Oliver’s stomach twisted as he contemplated drinking the mixture, but the image of Chelsea, so affected by his embrace this morning, bolstered his courage. He had damn near mated her in the lobby of the Woodland. He couldn’t help releasing the full force of the musk on her. He wanted her and needed her as soon as possible. If Sam hadn’t called off his wolf, the feel of his teeth grazing over the soft skin at— “Oliver.” He started at Roarke’s voice breaking into his thoughts. He looked up to see Bo extending the murky mixture toward him. With a deep sigh, he begrudgingly accepted the vial. “Bottoms up,” Roarke said with far too much enthusiasm then downed the mixture in one gulp. Oliver attempted to do the same, but the acrid odor of tea tree oil floated from the vial and stung his nose. With a final dirty look to Bo, he tilted back the vial and let it sting the back of his throat. As soon as the mixture had snaked its way through his esophagus, Oliver’s lion reacted, and he felt the tingling under his nails and in his gums that normally signaled a change. The surge of energy subsided quickly, though, leaving both Oliver and Roarke panting in Bo’s living room. “So I take it you boys felt the lion?” Oliver silently nodded. His hold on his control felt very tenuous. Feeling the mountain lion inside him roar again made him want to transform and finish what he started that morning.

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“Well, much as I’d love to have you over, I gotta get on the road to Denver.” Bo took the empty vials back to his kitchen, and Oliver and Roarke headed toward the door. “Another tribal thing?” “Yeah,” Bo said, running a hand across his slick black hair. “Gotta represent the Shoshone at a meeting with some Native American lobbyist in the morning.” He rolled his eyes, betraying his disenchantment with his position as representative of the Northwestern Colorado Shoshone. They said their goodbyes and promised to visit again soon then headed out to Oliver’s truck. Both men were silent as they climbed up in the truck and started up the small, partially paved road that led from the small Shoshone reservation to the center of Savage Valley. As Oliver turned the truck left onto Treaty Lane, Roarke broke the silence. “You told her you’d show her tonight, didn’t you?” Oliver only nodded as he turned the truck onto Main Street and toward their cabin. “Well, shit. I have patrol tonight.” “I know. I wrote the schedule.” Roarke was silent for a moment as Oliver’s words sank in. “Damn it, Ol. You know mating takes forever. It’s a more complex ceremony than most culture’s bonding rituals and requires—” “We’re not mating her.” Oliver readied himself for the coming explosion. “What do you mean we’re not mating her! We found our mate, and you know that our powers will only increase once we formally claim her. What about the fucking pride, huh? Ever think about that?” Oliver considered interrupting Roarke’s tirade then but decided to let his brother dig himself deeper before he called a stop to his babbling. “This generation doesn’t have a mated lion! When you turned thirty and fucking changed all of us into the dominant pride, we took on a responsibility, not just to our pride, but to the bear-shifters, to the entire population of Savage Valley, to the Shoshone. You know that I

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want to free us from our ancestors as much as anyone, but they were given a task, and we need to honor that task and be the strongest pride we can possibly be. By you fucking refusing to mate the most beautiful woman either of us has ever seen, you put all—all—of that in danger.” Roarke panted, out of breath from his diatribe. “Is that all?” As Oliver pulled up to their house and put the car in park, Roarke stared at him, thankfully at a loss for words. “Yeah, I guess.” “Good.” “Good? Good? What, exactly, about this situation could ever be described as—” “You do realize that your opinion doesn’t matter.” “Of course it matters! When something involves the pride—” “When something involves the pride,” Oliver said over Roarke, “my word is the final word.” Roarke opened and closed his mouth as if trying to think of something to say but remained silent. Oliver turned toward him in the truck. “First, what on earth would make you think that I don’t plan to mate Chelsea? I’ve planned on it since the instant I approached her in the mountains. And second, you think I don’t fucking know about my responsibility? It has weighed on my conscience every second of the past two years. I’m the Alpha, and I’m expected to mate first. And furthermore, we need to give Chelsea a break. It’s been what? Four days since we met her? If we transform on her then mate her right away, she’s gonna crack. Soon. No, Roarke. I don’t want to force her into this any faster than she wants.” Oliver closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he continued. “I’m falling for her, and in a very real way. And I think you’re falling, too. If this is gonna be real, if we’re not gonna just fuck her for another generation of shifters, she has to want this.

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She has to come to us. Otherwise, we’re just setting ourselves up for disaster.” The two men stared at each other in the quietude of the cab. “Wow, Ol. I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once.” Oliver burst into laughter at Roarke’s all-too-true remark. After a moment of studying him quizzically, his brother joined in the hysterics. “Okay, man,” Roarke finally conceded. “Tonight. We shift, and Chelsea makes the call.”

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Chapter 7 The door to the cabin creaked open, and a warm, orange glow spilled out from the cabin, bathing Chelsea in light. “I’m glad you came,” was all Roarke said as he took her hand and led her into the small cabin he shared with Oliver. It was tiny and rustic as could be. Native American afghans covered the floors and the two beds in the cavernous room. She quickly saw the source of the glow that filled the cabin, a large, stone fireplace that crackled in the corner. What really caught her attention, though, was the figure crouched in front of it stoking the embers. As Oliver rose to his full height, Chelsea could swear he moved more gracefully than usual, a quality Roarke seemed to share this evening. The sight of both of them so sleek and graceful, their muscles tensed, sent her body into a frenzy. She moved toward Oliver, desperate for the steaming hot embrace of that morning, but he stepped away, leaving Chelsea confused. She looked back to Roarke, and an uncharacteristically somber look set across his features. His hair was more tousled than usual, and a day’s worth of stubble grew on his normally bare chin. Chelsea crossed to him and reached up to brush the short hairs, but he swiftly caught her hand in his. “You’re going to need to sit for this.” He took her by the hand and guided her to one of the wide beds in the room. She sat down on the faded quilt across the foot of the bed and looked back and forth between the Cash brothers. Oliver was his usual, somber self, but Roarke’s dampened demeanor worried Chelsea. His normally open, effusive affect was absent, and a lump began to grow in her throat at its disappearance.

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“What is it? You can tell me—” “No.” Oliver’s stern voice echoed in the cabin. “We need to tell you this our way.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Roarke, if you would.” Roarke took a seat beside Chelsea and took her hand in his. He brushed his thumb across her knuckles, and the soft, familiar gesture calmed the uneasy feeling growing in her stomach a bit, but only a bit. “Darlin’, what we’re about to tell you will seem completely improbable. It’s true, even if that appears to be an impossibility. We’ll give you proof, but first we need to explain.” The lump in her throat increased in size as Roarke spoke. Whatever they had to tell her couldn’t be good, not judging by the gravity with which they addressed her. Calling up the defenses she had developed through years of a loveless marriage, she braced to receive the blow. “Go ahead.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “You sure?” Roarke locked his bright blue gaze on hers, and she nodded slowly. “I’m sure.” He took a deep breath before he started speaking and looked to Oliver. Oliver gave one solemn nod, and Roarke began. “I guess it all starts with our ancestors. You see, our family arrived in Savage Valley in 1846.” “Like the sign? No animal attacks since 1846?” Chelsea interrupted. Roarke chuckled at her comment. “Yes, darlin’. Just like the sign. Now, our family was traveling west on what came to be known as the Oregon Trail—yes, like the video game,” Roarke clarified before Chelsea could interrupt him again. “The Cashes were travelling along with the Popes—the same family that owns the diner now—the Abbotts, the Yeatses, and the Sullivans. Now, they ran into some wagon trouble, and Mrs. Sullivan came down with a nasty bout of dysentery that ended up taking her life. This was up ’round where the

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Wyoming border is today. They decided to find a place to settle, and eventually they came upon an abandoned fur-trading post nestled just around a creek. Each family moved into one of the five abandoned cabins in the town, and that, darlin’, is how Savage Valley came to be.” While Chelsea appreciated the history lesson, this information was hardly akin to the dark and shadowy secret Roarke and Oliver had hinted at. “That’s all good and well, Roarke, but what does it have to do with you?” He squeezed her hand in his then ran his hand up her arm. “It’ll all become apparent in a second. Just let me finish.” He took her hand again and continued. “The families wanted to make a modern city in the west, and they all took to clearing the land. There were most certainly animal attacks then, and all five families, especially the Yeatses, became excellent hunters. As they started making real progress chopping down trees and shooting wolves, one of the shamans of the Bannock Shoshone tribe approached them. Turns out the Shoshone weren’t too crazy about their ancestral home getting torn up by a bunch of white men. “Cameahwait, the shaman, tried to warn the settlers to stop tearing down the town, but apparently Ol and I’s forefathers weren’t too big on listening.” Oliver huffed. “The trait was passed down.” Roarke ignored Oliver—thus proving his point, Chelsea thought. “Now where was I? Right, Cameahwait. He came up to near where the bank is now—that was the old fur-trading outpost—and tried reasoning with the men, but they would hear nothing of it. Cameahwait warned them that some unnamed tragedy would befall them if they didn’t listen. Here’s the strange part, Chelsea. You promise you won’t laugh?” She considered the option for a moment. Roarke’s tale sounded like the Native American legends she read in high school, not exactly

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a beacon of truth. But what the hell? She’d already begun falling for two different men. Reality already felt like a distant memory. “Okay. No laughing.” “Good. About two weeks after Cameahwait came, something very, very odd occurred. All the men in the town gathered near the mountains, near where the still is today, but no one called them there. Each just had a strange inkling that they should venture out in that direction. But that’s not the strangest part, darlin’. Once they were gathered there, each man felt a tingling. According to legend, they all thought the rapture had come and they were being taken up to heaven. But no such thing happened. Their nails started growing, and their teeth turned into fangs. You see…Well…I don’t know how to—” “Mountain lions,” Oliver interjected. “They all turned into mountain lions.” The crackling of the fire seemed to increase in volume as Chelsea stared in disbelief at the two brothers. What the hell were they saying? That men could turn into lions? Despite the vow she had just made to Roarke, she let go of Roarke’s hand and burst out in hysterical laughter. “Mountain lions? Really?” she gasped between convulsions of hilarity. “You expect me to believe that humans can turn into…” Another howl of laughter escaped, and Roarke and Oliver looked at each other with concern. “Really.” Oliver’s look showed that he found no humor in the situation. As Chelsea came down from her laughing fit, she took Roarke’s hand again and attempted to calm herself. “Okay, okay. Mountain lions.” She had believed stranger things before. How much more of a stretch was this than when she convinced herself Lewis wasn’t cheating on her? She had dug herself in this deep, and she might as well see just how far this rabbit hole could go. “Tell me more.”

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“I don’t know.” Roarke eyed her with skepticism. “After that outburst, I’m starting not to trust you.” “No. Please trust me,” Chelsea said, in awe of the sincerity she felt and conveyed in her tone. “I want to know more.” “Fine.” Roarke still looked uncertain but continued his story. “When the men came to, they were lying naked in the Mukuas in the dead of the night. They only knew what happened since one of them shifted first.” He looked over to Oliver as he spoke. “That was our great-great-great-grandfather Gideon Cash.” Roarke turned back to Chelsea. “After that night, the men of the town went straight to the cave where Cameahwait lived, down south of where Main Street is now. Cameahwait told them that he had warned them of what would happen, and now they suffered the consequences of their actions. He had given them the ability to turn into mountain lions, an animal sacred to the Bannock Shoshone. In tribal legends, the mountain lion was the protector of the land, and he said they were to do the same. “Cameahwait said that every generation of the Cash, Pope, Abbott, Yeats, and Sullivan families would be cursed to stay in Savage Valley forever and watch over the land. They were to create a place where the environment would be sacred and man and beast would live in peace. If they tried to leave, they would find themselves unable to do so. And believe me, many have tried over the years, but there’s always a storm or a stalled-out car or a sudden obligation there to stop them.” A few of Roarke’s words turned the blood running through her veins to ice. “Over the years.” That meant that it had gone on, that it wasn’t just the Savage Valley settlers, that it was… “You’re mountain lions, aren’t you?” She couldn’t believe she uttered the words. Roarke didn’t say anything for a long moment then responded to the most absurd question Chelsea had ever asked. “We’re not mountain lions, per se. We’re humans, with all the normal functions of a human being. We’re just—”

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“Mountain lion-shifters,” Oliver finished. “We have the ability to change form into mountain lions, and we need to change. We’re still human, but the lion has become an integral part of who we are.” This was all too much for Chelsea to take in. She pulled her hand away from Roarke’s and dropped her face to her palms. Only her. This could only happen to her. She found two incredibly sexy men who adored her, and they were freaks who thought they could transform into mountain lions. Or worse, they were freaks who actually could transform into mountain lions. Roarke tried to reach an arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged it off. She looked up at him, and the look on his face tugged at her heart. She rubbed his thigh and tried to give him a conciliatory smile. “Okay,” she said shakily. “Go on.” She gulped to try and dispel the lump in her throat, a futile effort. “I want to know everything.” “Well, back in those days,” Roarke continued, “families were big. Even with the high mortality rate on the Oregon Trail, each of the families that settled in Savage Valley had at least two or three men. Cameahwait realized how easy it would be for families to split apart and neglect their protective duties, so he added another element to the curse. Every set of brothers must take only one mate.” Chelsea felt her jaw drop. “Meaning that every two or three men mated one woman, and she was their woman for life. If the lion-shifters did not do this, the children that resulted from the mating would be weak and die before they reached their third birthday.” “So that’s why you and Oliver, both, you know…” The familiar heat returned to her face. “Yes, Chelsea,” Oliver answered. “We both must mate you in order to create a new generation of baby Cashes.” The idea of being mated by Oliver and Roarke caused her stomach to twist. She still wasn’t certain whether or not she believed in relationships that lasted for life. She had thought her marriage would last, but that was certainly a disaster. However, a strange wave of

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jealousy crested over her when she thought of Oliver and Roarke mating any other woman. Even though she’d known them for such a short period of time, they had somehow burrowed beneath the walls she built around her heart. No, Chelsea did not want any other woman getting anywhere near these two men. Roarke stroked her cheek, and she turned to face him. His eyes held concern and a hint of lust. Competing feelings tore at her heart. She wanted to grab his face and press her lips against his, but she wanted to run and save herself from these two men who were at best lunatics and at worst dangerous predators. Instead she merely held Roarke’s gaze as she felt the hot sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t cry, honey,” Roarke said as he tangled a hand in her hair. “At least let us prove to you that we’re not crazy.” Chelsea gave a dry laugh. “I think that would be quite difficult to do.” “No, it wouldn’t,” Oliver said, and his hands began unbuttoning his shirt. Chelsea felt herself salivate as Oliver revealed the smooth planes of his masculine chest. Roarke stood, joined Oliver, and pulled his shirt over his head. His hard pectoral muscles and six-pack abs had the muscles in Chelsea’s cunt spasming as she remembered the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking her to completion. “What on earth are you—” “Just wait.” Roarke pulled off his belt at the same time Oliver shrugged off his shirt, giving Chelsea a view of the most perfect male chest she had ever seen. Oliver could have been a male model with his Adonis-like, chiseled muscles that looked like they belonged on a statue of a Greek god. Her nipples tightened underneath her bra, and lunatic or not, she wanted to feel his hard chest underneath her hands. She started to rise, but Oliver pulled off his belt and pinned her to the spot with the ferocity of his gaze. “Sit.”

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Both shirtless and with their jeans settled loosely on their defined hips, they turned to each other, and Oliver closed his eyes and let out a string of unintelligible syllables. “Deegai-doyadukubichi’, mukua.” Before her eyes, she saw Oliver start trembling. At first it looked as though he was having some sort of seizure, but his tremors stilled, and his nails extended into claws. Chelsea watched in awe as his large hands transformed into massive paws. His light brown hair grew and started covering every inch of his body. Soon, he dropped to all fours, his clothing only a pile around his hind legs. The same was happening to Roarke, and Chelsea watched as fangs protruded from his full lips and his broad chest grew a soft layer of fur. When she looked back at Oliver, what she saw knocked the breath from her. His eyes stayed the same steely blue, and there was a distinctive black mark between his eyes. Oliver was the lion she met in the clearing on her hike to Adam’s Point. She shrieked and jumped up and backward, landing flat-footed on the bed. She looked back at Roarke and saw that his eyes hadn’t changed, either. The same warm gaze that she had fallen for looked at her from a lion’s body. Both men…lions…whatever…lowered their shoulders and began stalking toward her, low growls coming from both their chests. She wasn’t sure if that was purring or the noise lions made when they were about to attack. Chelsea stepped backward as the two lions approached her, their each stride more graceful and more predatory than the one before. Her back was nearly flat against the wall of the cabin when Oliver put his paws on the bed and started toward her. That was it. Chelsea knew she was a goner. She had tried just to go on vacation, but now she was going to be eaten by lunatic shape-shifters. Hopefully Marta had her parents’ most recent phone number. They would need to be notified of—

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Chelsea’s plans for her funeral came to a halt as Oliver and Roarke stopped their forward approach. With tremors like those she had seen before they shifted, both men returned from lion form. Skin began to show through the fur, and their claws retracted back to human fingernails. Soon, they were fully shifted and sitting stark naked at the foot of the bed. From Chelsea’s angle, she could see each man’s fully erect cock. Their cocks were nearly identical and enormous. Chelsea had never seen anything like the long, thick protrusions attached to the Cash brothers. She felt the fear coursing through her melt to arousal as she imagined one of those cocks stretching the tight entrance to her body. She returned to her perch on the end of the bed, but before she could move any closer to them, Oliver and Roarke both pulled their jeans on with lightning-fast speed. They both panted as she returned to sit on the bed. So many emotions warred within her—fear, confusion, longing, apprehension, lust. Everything had happened so quickly, and she needed a moment to calm herself. The sight of their erections straining against the denim of their jeans didn’t help matters much. Roarke stood and moved to sit next to Chelsea on the bed, and his proximity made her heat. “I want you so bad right now,” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her and sending spikes of sensation shooting straight to her clit. She leaned toward him, longing to feel his lips make direct contact with her skin. He suddenly sat up straight. “But I’m not going to do that, not now at least.” Oliver stood directly in front of her, and she looked up to find his expression the most open and frank she had ever seen it. He spoke clearly, no hint of the authoritative tone that usually pulled at the edges of his voice. “Chelsea, what we ask of you is significant. You are our mate, make no mistake about that.” Her insides fluttered at Oliver’s candid admission. “But we won’t force you to accept that fact. You need time to think it over and decide whether or not you are

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willing to give that to us.” Oliver knelt before Chelsea and took both of her hands in his. “We want you, and we want you forever. If you still feel that way on Friday, come back to the cabin. We’ll be waiting for you.” Oliver stood and crossed to the door. Chelsea turned to Roarke, and he ran a hand through her hair. “Don’t worry, you’ll still see us. We just have a lot on our plate with both the town and the pride.” “As in the lion pride?” Chelsea would never have believed her words if she hadn’t seen them shift with her own eyes. “Exactly as in the lion pride. We’ll be around, though, and if you still keep eating at Savage Hunger, we’ll see you there.” “Wait. Isn’t Savage Hunger owned by the Popes? They’re not—” “They’re shifters, baby. That’s a big part of the reason we’re always there. Our families have been closer than peas in a pod since the covered wagon days.” Chelsea couldn’t process the amount of information that had just been visited upon her. Her head spun, and she felt the desperate need to lie down. Roarke stood and offered his hand, and Chelsea took it and allowed him to lead her to the door. She stood sandwiched between Roarke and Oliver, and as much as she wanted to, she was too exhausted and overwhelmed to kiss each of them thoroughly. Instead, each left lingering kisses on her forehead and cheeks before she backed away from the door. She was almost at the rental Impala when she heard the door open and close. She turned to see Oliver’s form outlined in the soft, orange glow coming from the cabin. Without words, he strode toward her, tangled his hand in her hair, and gave her a brief but possessive kiss. Dizzy from his attack on her lips and tongue, Chelsea could only sway from side to side when he released her. “Friday,” was all he said before turning and reentering the cabin. Chelsea stumbled a few steps forward and leaned against the car. Holy shit.

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Chapter 8 The bell dangling from a pink ribbon sounded as Chelsea crept through the door of the Haven Salon. Immediately Agnes Bird’s head snapped up from the manicure she was currently giving Rita, and the woman beamed at Chelsea. “Well, hello, sweetie. Your pedicure can’t be flaking already, can it?” “Not yet,” Chelsea replied and scanned the salon. “I was just seeing if…” She felt herself blush a little before she could finish the words. Her chore seemed so ridiculous. “Is Susan here?” “Back here, honey!” Susan’s voice came from a short corridor at the back of the salon. “I’ll be just a—ow!” “Sorry, sorry,” a small voice apologized. “I told you this hurt, Mrs. Pope, but—” “You’re almost done, right?” “One more—” “Ow!” After a scuffling of noises and a few muttered curse words, Susan Pope reappeared, walking with her legs a little spread. “Sorry, sug. Getting a…” She moved closer to Chelsea and said in a dramatic whisper, “Brazilian, if you know what I mean.” Chelsea didn’t know quite how to respond to her admission and went with the standard smile-and-nod response. “Anyway,” Susan continued, saving Chelsea from a very awkward moment, “I knew I might be seeing you sometime soon.” She gingerly made her way to one of the pedicure chairs, sat down, and gestured for Chelsea to do the same.

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“But I really don’t need a—” “Oh, shush. With all those men in my family, this is my only place to relax with the girls. I use it as my living room, don’t I, Agnes?” “Unfortunately,” Agnes answered without looking up from her filing. “So take a seat and use the power massager.” Susan waved the remote attached to the chair. “I recommend the pulsing massage on the lower back. Does wonders for stress.” Susan eyed Chelsea as she hesitantly sat in the chair next to her. “Which it looks like you have quite a lot of. I gather those Cash boys shifted for you.” Panic seized Chelsea’s heart. How could she just bat around those terms? Was this something everyone in the town knew about? Chelsea’s concern must have shown because next thing she knew, Susan was laughing and grasping Chelsea’s hand. “Oh, don’t worry about talking about those things with us. Rita’s son married a Yeats girl, and Agnes’s great aunt was a Sullivan. You come from a big city, sug. You forget that in a town as small as the Valley, everyone knows everyone’s business.” Was what Oliver and Roarke showed her common knowledge? “Just how many mountain lion people…things are there here?” Susan squeezed Chelsea’s hands. “Right now the pride has twelve members. You see, only one generation can shift at a time. When the Alpha of the generation—that’s always the eldest Cash brother—turns thirty, the new generation takes over the pride and their duties.” The eldest Cash brother? That meant— “Oliver’s been Alpha for two years, but he probably told you that already.” Chelsea only shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, well, shit. Hope I didn’t spoil his surprise. Anyway, hon, did Oliver and Roarke change for you?” This conversation seemed so preposterous to one part of Chelsea’s mind, but the other part accepted this as her new reality. Change had

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always scared her in the past, but when change involved Roarke and Oliver, it suddenly didn’t sound so bad. “Yes. They did. Last night.” “Oh, honey, I want to know all about it. I remember the first time Jacob and Adam shifted in front of me. I was so scared, but a little excited, if you know what I mean.” The older woman waggled her brow at Chelsea, eliciting a giggle. “It was…” She had been racking her brain for the words ever since she left the cabin last night. Luckily, Marta was already asleep by the time she got back to the Woodland. She spent most of the night awake and staring out her window, keeping watch for any lions that might be stalking in the night and wondering if she had just had a crazy dream. She had slept in, missing breakfast at Savage Hunger and a chance to see Oliver and Roarke again. She needed time. So many things were running through her head. She didn’t think she’d ever had to make so many decisions so quickly in her life. After waking at ten, she decided a visit to the Haven Salon was in order. Oliver and Roarke had said that the Popes were lion-shifters, too, and Chelsea needed some sort of guidance on how exactly to proceed in her situation. Susan Pope was her only hope. “I know, hon, it’s hard to describe. I remember shivering in nervousness when my men shifted. I thought I had gone totally bonkers. My girlfriends and I had just stopped over for a weekend after a crazy spring break ski trip in Steamboat Springs. Then I met Jacob and Adam when they were running the diner. My heart just stopped, and even though I was only twenty-two years young, I knew they were my soul mates.” Susan’s eyes shined as she told the story of meeting her husbands. Even though Chelsea was more than a little apprehensive, seeing how happy Susan was with her arrangement helped to soothe her nerves a little.

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“But you had just met them, right? People can’t fall in love so quickly. It takes years and fights and awkward weekends with each other’s parents and—” “That’s one kind of love, yes.” She gave Chelsea a knowing smile. “But that’s not all love is. From what you and your friend said the other day, that’s the only kind of love you’ve known. But what I found with the loves of my life is all that and more. It’s instantly knowing they’re the one—or the two, rather. It’s never wanting another woman to have them. Love is a big, scary thing, but when done right, love can make your life so much better.” Chelsea wanted desperately to believe Susan, to buy into the idealistic perspective on romance, but all those years with Lewis had burned her idealism to the ground. Plus, she had several other reservations when it came to a relationship with the Cash brothers. “But they’re shape-shifters. How do you manage a family with five lions?” “Well, there are only three. Only one generation can shift at a time. My husbands are finally calming down enough for me to try and introduce them to Richard Curtis movies. They’re coming around slowly but surely. Not a soul alive who won’t cry during Love Actually.” Chelsea smiled and realized that she wouldn’t mind staying around Savage Valley. This banter, this girl talk, was what she had missed for so many years by living away from her family. She always had Marta, but it wasn’t quite the same. If this female bonding came along with the Cash-brothers package, then the deal just sweetened. Susan cocked her head at Chelsea. “I imagine you would have a tough time. Being mated to an Alpha can’t be easy, but you know what? He has the power to boss the rest of the pride around, but not you. You’re gonna be such a special person in Oliver’s life. Ever since he became Alpha and mayor of the town, he’s been so stressed out. I think he needs someone around he’s not in charge of.” Going to be? “Well, I’m not sure yet—”

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“Yes, you are. If you weren’t sure, you would have run like hell last night when two men cornered you and turned into lions. There’s something in you that already knows you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with these two men.” Susan’s words rang true within the depths of Chelsea’s soul. She was right. There was nothing less than true love that would have made anyone stay after the scene she witnessed last night. Love. The word frightened her, but she couldn’t deny her feelings any longer. Even though she barely knew them, she had fallen head over heels for Oliver and Roarke Cash. Suddenly, the old platitude rang true to her. When you find love, you’ll know. Tears began streaming down Chelsea’s face, and she felt her lips pull into a grin. The weight of her realization pressed on her shoulders even as it delighted her beyond anything she had ever known. “Oh, honey,” Susan said as she took Chelsea into her arms. “I’m so happy for you, and I can’t wait for you to become a part of the big ol’ pride family.” She pulled back from Chelsea and held her by her shoulders. Her look changed from joyous to that of a strict school teacher. “Now, Chelsea. I don’t want you making any sudden decisions.” “What sort of decisions?” Chelsea sniffled and wiped some of her tears away. “There are so many girls that would jump at the chance to mate those two. I’m assuming they’ve made their intentions perfectly clear.” Images flashed through her mind of leaning against Oliver while Roarke’s hand pumped in and out of her, Roarke’s mouth clamped over her pussy, Oliver’s chiseled chest, and the heated look both of them wore whenever she was in their sights. Their intentions were crystal clear. “Yes. They have.” “Then you could march that pretty ass of yours right over to them right now and demand they take you as their mate. And as hot as I’m

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sure that would be, sug, it’s not the best idea. Because when you do this, it’ll be permanent.” She dropped her hands from her shoulders and cocked her head at Chelsea. “I want you to make the right choice for you, sweetie.” Chelsea gulped. Intellectually, the idea of such commitment this soon after her divorce seemed like a terrible misstep. But on a basic, emotional level, nothing had ever felt more natural or more right. In fact, the uneasiness would only settle over her when she thought about not mating the two brothers. “I want to make the right choice for me, too.” “And you will. Make sure to take a few days, though. I can’t wait for you to be in the pride, but it won’t do if you’re too uptight about it.” Susan leaned in for another dramatic whisper. “And we’re anything but uptight.” **** “Hey, Phil!” Chelsea waved at the chef as she entered Savage Hunger, toting a book under her arm. “Hey, you.” He peered through the opening to the kitchen and examined the full counter. “I’d tell you to sit up here so we could chat, but it looks like you’ll have to take a booth.” Rita hurried up to Chelsea and made a shooing motion with her hand toward Phil. “Oh, shush. Chelsea can fend for herself just fine. The usual booth, hon?” She nodded and shrugged at Phil as he sighed then returned to the kitchen. Rita led her to the second booth on the right, nestled against the window. After ordering a honey almond muffin, she settled into the booth and opened her tattered copy of Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. It had been such a long time since she’d had a chance to relax with a muffin and a piece of classic literature, and as Rita brought her cup of piping hot coffee with two creams and a Splenda, life seemed perfect.

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Well, nearly perfect. Chelsea had assumed this week would drag on forever. After she went to see Rita at the Haven Salon, she had gone back to the Woodland and spent a long afternoon rehashing her entire young life with Marta. After many tears were shed and even a few pillow fights had, Marta informed her that she was going to begin traveling to research her book. She had arranged for Chelsea to stay at the Woodland, but the idea of waiting three more days all by herself had damn near broken Chelsea. But the three days hadn’t been that bad. She had settled into a routine that included having breakfast at Savage Hunger each morning. Inevitably, either Roarke or Oliver would show up, and although they always appeared to be in a rush, they always took time to kiss her tenderly and make sure she was okay. Those little moments were the highlights of her day and added to the now-heaping pile of evidence that they were the men for her. Chelsea scooted down on the seat, leaned her head back against the orange vinyl cushion, and opened her book. Her heart twisted as she read of Tess Durbeyfield’s anguish at being apart from her love, Angel Clare, and she thought of her own situation. Her past held her back from giving in to the emotions swirling inside her. Wait a minute. Wasn’t this the exact situation in Tess of the d’Urbervilles that made her want to tear out the pages? When Tess was too caught up in worrying over her past that she could never commit to the future? Wasn’t this— The bells on the door jangled, and Chelsea’s head automatically snapped up, and she saw exactly the person she had hoped to see. Oliver stepped through the glass door, and his attention immediately focused on Chelsea. Her heart beat faster at the sight of him, and with each step he took toward her, she could smell his intoxicating masculine musk more and more. Never breaking eye contact with Chelsea, he walked to her booth and squatted so that he was eye level with her. She swung her legs to the side so that they

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dangled over the bench on the side facing the aisle. Oliver took both her hands in his and kissed the backs of her hands. “It’s Friday.” Oliver’s eyes sparkled as he studied Chelsea. “What? Not even a hello?” “Who can think about greetings on a day like today?” Chelsea decided to have some fun and cocked her head to the side. “Oh? What’s so special about today?” Oliver opened his mouth as if to say something then closed it. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You know what’s so special about today.” Chelsea feigned ignorance and shook her head. “Ol, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” They stared at each other for a second more before Chelsea could no longer restrain herself. A giggle escaped from her, and soon both she and Oliver were laughing riotously in the middle of Savage Hunger. Oliver petted Chelsea’s hair, and she leaned into his touch. He ran his hand down her hair, and it came to rest on her shoulder. She turned to look at it, admiring the way his rough, tanned hand rested on her pale, lightly freckled skin. Slowly, she turned her gaze back to his and realized that she had made a mistake. He held her gaze with a burning lust in his eyes as his hand moved downward and rested on her collarbone. His touch so close to her breasts caused the fire between her legs to start igniting. Instinctively, she leaned forward, and he reciprocated. Their lips met, and much to Chelsea’s delight, Oliver kissed her with a hungry passion. It was such a relief after all the chaste kisses she’d shared with Oliver and Roarke over the preceding days. She opened her mouth to his and wrapped her arms around his neck. He stilled, the passion in his kiss vanishing. He pulled away from Chelsea and took a deep breath. Her body cried out for him. The heat in his embrace had been exactly what Chelsea had been missing all

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week. Her own hands in her darkened room at the Woodland were no match for the rough caresses of the Cash brothers. Oliver stood, cleared his throat, and took one of Chelsea’s hands in his. She didn’t want to meet his stare. She was so embarrassed by her sudden possession by wantonness. “Chelsea.” Oliver squeezed her hand, and she reluctantly dragged her eyes up to him. When she saw his face, a flood of relief and affection came over her. His red lips and the rising and falling of his chest showed her that he was just as affected by their encounter. Yet there was something incredibly tender in his expression. Chelsea knew her minor frustration came from the fact that she so craved the Cash brothers’ touch, but she understood their reticence. It was her decision whether or not to mate with them, and they were going to let her make it. “Yes, Oliver?” “I hope I see you tonight.” Her heart thudded so loudly it drowned out her thoughts. She could only sit dumbly as Oliver gave her hand another squeeze, turned, and made his way out of the diner with a quick wave to Phil in the kitchen. Rita approached Chelsea’s booth carrying a plate with her honey almond muffin and a side of honey butter. She shook her head and whistled as she set the food down in front of Chelsea. “I gotta say, I have never, in all my years, seen Oliver that way with anyone.” Regaining her power of speech, Chelsea looked up at Rita. “What way?” Rita laughed. “Cutie pie, he comes alive when he sees you. He’s always been a take-control kind of guy, but he’s been so confident since you came to these parts.” She leaned down and lowered her voice. “He never woulda walked in here like he owned the place and given someone a smooch like that.” She stood back up and fanned

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herself. “Woo-ee! I tell ya, I’m gonna need a cold shower when I get home. With the burning in her cheeks, Chelsea thought she might have needed one of those, as well. As Rita retreated, Chelsea thought about what she had said. Rita intimated that Chelsea had somehow changed Oliver. If she’d made half the impact on Oliver that he’d made on her, then Chelsea’s decision was already made for her. She would go to the cabin tonight, and she would tell Roarke and Oliver that she wanted them, both of them, for her mates.

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Chapter 9 “Chelsea!” Roarke tried to hide his excitement but failed miserably. As soon as he had sensed her walking up the drive from the town hall, every hair on his body stood on end. The five-minute walk felt like an eternity while he waited for her to wind up the path. The instant he heard her foot land softly on pine needles instead of the hard concrete of the drive, he pounced toward the door, despite Oliver’s protesting growls. “Roarke?” Her voice was distant. Damn it, he’d sprung from the cabin too soon. With his heartbeat racing, he ran toward the sound, and with only a few long, agile strides, he reached her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him. He had waited every second of the past week for Friday night to come around. Neither he nor Oliver had patrol tonight, and Chelsea had shown up. “Hi, Ro—” She attempted to greet him, but his kiss stifled her words. His cock grew rock hard as she responded to his embrace. Her delicate arms wrapped around his neck, and the feel of her ample breasts on his chest made him want to claim her right there and right then. “Come on, you two.” The sound of Oliver’s voice pulled his attention away from the kiss. Oliver must have distracted Chelsea as well, and she broke their kiss. The flush of arousal was stunning on her complexion. The color of her lips deepened to resemble ripe strawberries, contrasting with breathtaking beauty with her milky

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white complexion. Even the freckles that dotted her high cheekbones seemed to glow when she was aroused. Chelsea released Roarke and ran with what looked like glee to Oliver. He captured her and kissed her, too. The sight of his mate writhing against his brother only served to heighten Roarke’s arousal. Her perfect, round ass flexed in her tight jeans, and Roarke thought he was about to explode. He’d waited twenty-six years to find the woman that would complete him and his brother, and he didn’t want to wait a second longer. Oliver came up for air, and Roarke approached the pair. Chelsea released Oliver and wrapped an arm around Roarke. She glanced up at him, a questioning look in her eyes. “I’m glad you came,” Roarke said as he tangled one hand in her hair. “You’re making the right choice.” Some of the apprehension left her expression and her body language, but she still appeared nervous. “I want to be here.” She took a deep breath and looked between Roarke and Oliver. Still holding on to Roarke, she gathered the front of Oliver’s shirt and pulled him closer to her. “This is what I want. I want you.” Hearing the cautious, shy woman that he met a week ago declare her desire so frankly caused Roarke’s heart to rejoice. Her transformation was what his fathers had always told him about. When two lions met their mate and musked her, she would become stronger even before the formal mating took place. And Chelsea had certainly made that change. She was more outgoing, spoke her mind, and radiated a confidence even Roarke hadn’t expected from her. She was becoming the best woman she could be, and the fact that he and his brother had a hand in it gratified Roarke in a way he had never expected. “God, Chelsea. It feels so incredible to hear you say that.” Roarke used his hand in her hair to turn her toward him. “You’re making the right decision. I know this is scary.” He darted his glance to Oliver then back to Chelsea. “Believe me, it’s terrifying for us, too.”

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“But we’ve known,” Oliver continued. “We’ve known since the instant we saw you. And together, we’re going to make quite a team. This town won’t know what hit it.” The smile that crossed Oliver’s face only came out at rare moments. Roarke had only seen it after getting the news that Roarke would be high school valedictorian, when Oliver had been elected mayor, and that first day at Savage Hunger with Chelsea. It was just another piece of evidence that their mating had been destined from the very start. “Come on.” Roarke ran his hand down and massaged the base of her neck. “Let’s go inside.” He pulled her closer to him and whispered, “I don’t think we can wait a second longer.” Her breathing grew faster, and the sweet smell of feminine arousal hit Roarke’s senses. As the three of them headed toward the cabin, Chelsea stumbled a bit, and Roarke knew that the combined power of his and Oliver’s musk must have devastated her senses. Roarke easily bent over and scooped Chelsea into his arms. She squealed at the sudden movement, and when he cradled her against his chest, she inclined her head to ghost her lips over his collarbone. The soft sensation of her lips dancing across his flesh was almost too much for him. He nearly dropped her onto the pine needles and fucked her into the ground, but knowing this was his mating stopped him. This evening had to be special, for Chelsea, for Roarke, for Oliver, and for the pride. They reached the cabin, and Roarke delicately set Chelsea on the ground. The contrast of the heat burning in her eyes from her usual gentle, kind affect shot straight to Roarke’s cock and to his heart. She was the one. Oliver slowly opened the door to the cabin, and Chelsea’s eyes widened at what she saw. ****

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She had never seen anything like it. What had to be hundreds of strands of tiny sparkling lights were strung all over the small cabin. Each tiny white light served to give the cabin a brighter glow than the fire she had seen before. The two beds had been removed, and the largest bed Chelsea had ever seen now dominated the small space. The lights were particularly concentrated around the bed, a few strands even wrapped around its base to encircle it in a sacred light. “We were going to use candles, but Oliver insisted on this instead.” “There’s a drought.” Chelsea turned to see Oliver shrug his shoulders as he entered the space. “Don’t want to set the forest on fire. Anyway,” he said as he took Chelsea’s hand and led her across the threshold and into the space, “these give off more light.” A wicked grin that Chelsea had never seen from him before crossed Oliver’s face. “I can see every inch of your naked body much better this way.” Chelsea was already dizzy with arousal, but Oliver’s words pushed her over the edge. She was relieved that he was still holding her hand because she felt about ready to collapse. Flames burned between her legs, and she needed relief fast. The hungry looks in Oliver’s and Roarke’s eyes told her that they felt the same way. In an uncharacteristically bold move, Chelsea turned and walked backward, leading Oliver by the hand. He and Roarke both eagerly followed her, and just when she was about to grab Roarke’s hand as well, a sudden wave of dizziness and need overtook her. She fell backwards onto the bed, and it smelled just like the Cash brothers. She moved her face against the soft quilt, inhaling the spicy, woody scent that seemed to accompany all of her erotic fantasies these days. The bed dipped beside her, and she felt a pair of hands run over her back. The soft lock of hair that brushed over her skin when kisses landed on her soft flesh told her it was Roarke. He began to massage her back, and she groaned, closed her eyes, and pressed back into his

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kneading hands. He moved his hands in an upward motion and brushed her thick hair out of the way. Roarke breathed hot gasps against her sensitive skin then pressed a fluttering kiss against her neck. She felt a burning that started in her thighs and moved up to her pussy at his soft touch, and she became hungry for much more. Her wish was granted when the bed dipped in front of her, and she opened her eyes to see Oliver’s back facing her. She watched as he shrugged off his shirt and turned toward her. He looked down at Chelsea, and she saw his icy blue eyes glaze over with lust. He moved toward her on the bed until his whole long, hard body was extended next to her. Having his chest so close to her shattered any sense of control, and she ran her hand over his rippling muscles, sending a warm, syrupy sensation straight to her rapidly dampening cunt. He closed his eyes as she continued her exploration of his perfect body, but when she felt Roarke pulling at the hem of her shirt, her attention was diverted. A tingling of excitement and arousal mixed with a hint of nervousness swept over her as Roarke pulled her shirt up and over her head, revealing the nicest lingerie she had brought with her. Roarke placed a hand on her hip and rolled her onto her back then stroked her stomach softly. His hair fell in front of his eyes as he looked down at Chelsea. “You are so beautiful.” The reverence in his tone warmed Chelsea’s heart, and she could see exactly how much he meant it. Even though she had never thought of herself as anything but an awkward redhead with a disproportionately large chest, having Roarke tell her otherwise made her feel like a Hollywood starlet. Oliver sat up and also gazed with admiration at Chelsea. The heat radiating from both of them made her pussy muscles clench in anticipation. It had been a long while since she had last had sex, and she hadn’t particularly minded. But now, with two handsome, strong shape-shifters—unlikely as that may have seemed—apparently eager to claim her, she suddenly felt like a wanton sex goddess, in desperate need of a hard cock buried deep in her pussy.

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Roarke’s soft touch continued upward until his hand caressed her breast through the black silk of her bra. He began massaging it, and warm tendrils radiated from his touch straight to her clit. She crossed her legs in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building within her. She was so engrossed in Roarke’s ministrations that she jumped a little when Oliver joined Roarke and massaged her other breast. Whereas Roarke’s touch was gentle and reverent, Oliver’s was fervent and demanding. He pulled her substantial breast out from her bra and sucked her hardened nipple into his mouth. Chelsea’s hips shot upward of their own volition as she reveled in the warm sensation. Oliver nipped at the hardened nub, and the shock of the sharp pressure drew a highpitched moan from Chelsea. Oliver’s teeth suddenly released their hold on her nipple at the same time that Roarke’s hand left her other breast, and she snapped her head up to see what was the matter. The sight she saw, though, excited her even further. Roarke had just discarded his shirt, and Oliver busied himself with the fastener on his jeans. Once he freed himself from the material, he turned to Chelsea, giving her a view of his exquisite cock. It stood fully erect with a droplet of glistening pre-cum on the tip. She longed to reach for him and taste the fluid, but Oliver had other plans. He climbed on top of her, his erection pressing against the zipper of her jeans, and claimed her mouth in a kiss of utter, undeniable possession. Oliver licked at the entrance to her lips, demanding access, and used his teeth to send deliberate sparks of energy straight to Chelsea’s clit. The kiss didn’t last long, though, since Roarke tangled one of his hands in her hair and pulled her face to his. Oliver climbed off her, and Roarke rolled her back onto her side. His lips never released hers, and Chelsea felt his naked erection pressing against her thigh as Roarke claimed her mouth with his. Oliver cupped her bottom with both hands, massaging her ass cheeks as Roarke ground his hips and his cock against her nowburning flesh. Chelsea hooked a leg over Roarke’s hip so she could

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rub her clit against his tanned skin and relieve some of the sizzling sexual ache that had consumed her. He angled his hips upward, and she felt his cock brush against the dampened curls at her entrance. Just as she thrust her hips toward Roarke to feel his prick near her slick entrance, Oliver ran one finger down the valley between the globes of her ass and teased at her rear entrance. She wrapped her leg tighter around Roarke’s hip and brushed her mound against his pelvis at the sudden pressure in such a forbidden place. Often, Chelsea had dreamed of someone taking her there, pressing his cock into her and filling her completely. She had pushed the fantasy to the back of her mind, but now she knew the real thing was close, and a new erotic vision danced into consciousness. She thought of two cocks taking her, one in her ass and one pounding into her pussy, filling her small body to the brim with pure masculine sexuality. She tore her mouth from Roarke’s to moan her appreciation for Oliver’s touch. Roarke took this as a cue to move down Chelsea, landing a trail of kisses along his descent. Once he was eye level with her now-soaked cunt, he trailed one finger up and down her slit. Chelsea jolted with pleasure at the touch, and he sank his finger deep into her. The penetration lit a fire inside Chelsea that she had never felt before. She pushed her hips forward, humping against Roarke’s finger in the front and Oliver’s finger in the back. As she withdrew from Roarke, he inserted a second finger inside her. “More,” Chelsea panted, needing a little something else to fan the flames of the infernal climax building within her. “Like this?” Roarke’s voice was raspy just before he lowered his head and laved at her clit. The feeling of his hot mouth on her dripping pussy prompted her inner muscles to convulse with preorgasmic shudders. Roarke titled his fingers upward, brushing against the electric button of her G-spot. She felt her clit engorge as she rode Roarke’s digits straight into the scorching void of pure

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ecstasy. She let out a cry of pleasure as the liquid evidence of her release drenched Roarke’s fingers. Finally, when her hips ceased their final thrusts of orgasm, Roarke gently removed his fingers from Chelsea and pulled himself up the bed so that they were face-to-face. Oliver also ceased cupping her ass and teasing her hole. He pressed his strong chest against Chelsea’s back, and she felt his erection slide against her wet upper thighs. As Chelsea lay on her side, Oliver placed his chin upon hers. The small, rough stubble on his recently shaved cheek tickled her, causing her sated pussy to spark to life again. Roarke stroked her stomach lightly, and she could still feel the dampness of her climax on his fingers. “Well,” he said, “that was quite a way to start the evening.” “And there’s much more to come.” Chelsea felt Oliver’s chest rumbling against her back as he spoke. He grasped her hip and pulled her closer to him, brushing his erection against her pussy. “But first,” Roarke said, interrupting Oliver’s advances, “we want to be perfectly clear with you. In order for us to be mated”—his hand ventured lower and brushed against the soft curls on her mound— “you need to know exactly what’s expected of you and formally accept us as your mates.” Chelsea gasped as Roarke pressed against her mons. At the same time, Oliver thrust his hips and made contact with her clit. “And what does that involve?” Chelsea was shocked to hear her voice so breathy and high-pitched, but what could one expect under the circumstances? Oliver backed away from her and used his hold on her hip to lower her to her back. He and Roarke both sat up to hover just over Chelsea. She looked between them, and it finally dawned on her exactly how lucky she had gotten on this vacation. No. Her heart fluttered. Not a vacation. This will be very permanent, very soon. “Well, first, you should know that we expect children. It’s the duty of every generation of Cashes to reproduce and give the pride a

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new Alpha,” Oliver said. “But I don’t think we’ll have any problem with that stipulation.” Chelsea nodded her agreement. She couldn’t wait to start practicing the act of reproduction with her soon-to-be mates. “And you understand this is permanent, right?” Chelsea shifted her focus to Roarke, who threaded his fingers through her hair. “The bond of the pride is strong, and that goes for the pride’s mates, as well. You’ll be a part of not only the Cash family, but all of the pride families as well.” “I can’t wait for that,” she whispered. “Neither can we, baby.” Oliver moved to rest his head on one of his hands while he ran the other up and down Chelsea’s side. “Then I guess we can get started.” Roarke’s voice dropped to a husky tone she had never heard before. “Trust me, this will be completely painless.” Oliver wrapped his arm around her waist and easily lifted her into his arms as he stood from the bed. He set her down delicately on the floor and rested his hands on her shoulders. His eyes pierced hers, nearly paralyzing her under the ferocity of his gaze. He took one step closer, and his scent enveloped her. The smell was everywhere, making her woozy and clouding her vision. With each breath in, her pussy tingled and her nipples hardened. All that she saw through the haze was Oliver’s eyes, those same eyes she saw her first day in Savage Valley. He had pinned her to the spot with his grey-blue, steely gaze even when he was in his lion form. She had thought it was fear at the time, but now she knew it was something greater, something that proved she had always been destined to mate with Oliver and Roarke. Oliver’s grip tightened on her shoulders, and she swore she saw the blue of his eyes flash to black. A tiny pain lanced through her as Oliver’s hold transformed from squeezing to clawing. The pain was short-lived, though, and soon it melted into the same liquid pleasure

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that ran through her veins. Her vision blurred, and she felt herself growing faint. Then Oliver’s voice sounded, and her whole body flared to life. “Chelsea Goebel, my love.” Every nerve ending seemed to quiver as he spoke, and she had never been more aware of anything in her life. Although the rest of the cabin had turned into blobs of light and color, Oliver’s face was in sharp focus. She breathed deeply as his hands ran down her arms, the claws that were once his nails leaving a trail of pain that quickly became radiating pleasure. “I have chosen you as my mate. As such, I will protect you with my entire being, lion and human both. And together, we shall protect the earth on which we live and the beings with which we share it. Do you accept my mating?” Chelsea didn’t know what she expected from Oliver’s mating, but it certainly wasn’t something so ceremonial. Still, hearing his commanding voice speak such words of devotion set off some sort of instinctual response inside her, and she knew she would be with him forever. She could never explain it, but there, with the world only a shiny blur around them, peacefulness settled over her. Her heart thrilled at the promise of the new life she would have with Oliver and Roarke. “Yes. I accept your mating.” The words appeared in her mind, and she had no idea where they came from. All she knew was that the sentiment was exactly what she felt with every cell of her being. Oliver leaned over and brushed his lips over Chelsea’s. With her heightened awareness, the gentle caress of her lips felt like a fiery explosion of passion, and every synapse in her brain fired to set her completely aware. But when Oliver lifted his head, the haze shattered and left Chelsea standing naked. The pause in her physically and mentally aroused state did not last long, however. Just as she swayed, certain she would collapse to the floor, Roarke’s hands fell just where Oliver’s had been. The bizarre

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mixture of haziness and awareness returned, and Roarke’s claws dug into her upper arms just as Oliver’s had. But when Roarke’s extended nails pierced her skin, she felt no pain this time. The holes he left seemed to explode into pleasure instantly, sending an even more powerful swell of the erotic lava of arousal cascading over her. She felt as though she had altogether abandoned the shy, jaded, closed-off woman she had been a few days ago. Now, as Roarke ran his claws down her arms and pulled her against his body, boring into her with shining pools of azure, she felt more herself than she had in years. She cared. She cared about Roarke, she cared about Oliver, she cared about Savage Valley, and for the first time maybe ever, she really cared about living her life to the fullest. “Chelsea Goebel, my love,” Roarke began. Again the words caused a warmth that thrummed through her very soul. “I have chosen you as my mate. As such, I will protect you with my entire being, lion and human both. And together, we shall protect the earth on which we live and the beings with which we share it. Do you accept my mating?” “Yes. I accept your mating.” As soon as Chelsea had spoken the words, Roarke gathered her in his arms and held her against his chest. The awareness she had felt broke through the haziness and extended past Roarke and Oliver to encompass the entire room. Suddenly, Chelsea was aware of every twinkling light strung around the cabin, every breath from her two mates, every splinter of wood on the walls. She looked up into Roarke’s eyes, and the affection she saw there astounded her. “How’re you feeling?” He petted her hair as he spoke. “I’m feeling…” Her normally soft voice boomed in her ears, and the sound overwhelmed her temporarily. She burrowed into Roarke’s chest in search of some reprieve, but that turned out to be the last thing she found there. His scent assaulted her olfactory senses, and the hard feeling of his abs covered in sweat-slickened skin shot straight to her pussy. She could feel his erection jutting against her stomach, but

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he made no move to seduce her. He only held her and whispered words of comfort. “It’s a lot to take in, I’ve heard. Just take deep breaths, honey. The best is yet to come.” As Roarke spoke the final words, Chelsea felt another hard body close in behind her. The stubble of Oliver’s chin scraped across her shoulder, sending a shudder throughout her body. As Oliver straightened, she felt his erection graze across the seam of her ass. “Roarke’s right.” The vibrations of Oliver’s chest on Chelsea’s back sent ripples of sensation flying to her nipples. With her heightened awareness, their pulling and hardening into little nubs nearly pained her but stayed just on the edge of extreme pleasure. “There’s one more thing we need for the mating to be complete, and I believe you’ll find it very much to your liking.” Oliver encircled Chelsea in his arms as he spoke then played lightly with the soft nubs of her nipples. Roarke had been right. As Chelsea breathed, the newly heightened sensations served only to intensify her pleasure. She no longer felt overwhelmed but as if she had been propelled into a void of carnal reward. She closed her eyes and let her most basic, animal desires take the reins of her actions. Tonight her intellect forfeited the tight hold it usually had on her sexuality and allowed Chelsea to run completely on instinct. And every instinct she’d ever had told her that this was right. Oliver ran one hand downward while one stayed tweaking and pinching her nipples. He brushed over the curls covering her pussy, and just the feeling of the hairs moving against her skin sent tingles flying outward. She moaned and leaned back against him, moving her hips forward to coax a deeper caress from Oliver. His low, decadent chuckle rumbled from his chest, and, much to Chelsea’s immediate disappointment, Oliver moved his hands to rest on her shoulders. Roarke stepped backward, leaving Chelsea bereft of the heat and touch her body demanded at that moment. But Oliver

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soon remedied the situation and used his grip on her shoulders to turn her so she faced him. When she looked into his eyes, the mixture of lust, affection, possessiveness, and warmth she saw there drew a gasp from her. Oliver ran his hands down her back and cupped her ass. He leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss across her lips. The juxtaposition of such a soft touch from such a strong creature only served to fan the flames building inside of Chelsea. Oliver’s kiss turned more passionate, though, and he stroked at her lips with his tongue, demanding access. His teeth scraped over her lips and tongue as he devoured her mouth with his. Suddenly, Chelsea no longer felt the floor beneath her as Oliver lifted her by the ass. Still kissing her, he carried her to the large bed, sat down, and lowered her onto his lap. She could feel the hot steel of his cock next to her pussy as she wrapped her legs around Oliver and rubbed against his shaft. The friction on her clit did nothing to relieve the ache but only intensified it. While Chelsea had never been that sex crazed, every inch of her being suddenly longed to feel a cock jammed inside of her, to thrust back as Oliver slammed into her and ultimately spilled the seed of his life. His body must have reciprocated the desires of hers because before Chelsea could tear her mouth away from Oliver’s to voice her want, he had stood once again. He came up for air, gasping as the wet heat of his mouth finally left hers, and placed her on the bed with the most erotic blend of roughness and affection Chelsea had ever felt. He moved on top of her, and his lips went straight to her neck. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and pulled her pelvis toward him. There was no time for foreplay. Chelsea needed Oliver more desperately than she had thought possible. “Oliver,” she gasped as his lips and teeth strayed to the base of her throat. “Please, I need you.” He said nothing, but suddenly, Chelsea felt a hand pulling against her nipple. She turned her head to the right and saw Roarke kneeling

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on the bed beside them. He pulled again on the hardened nub, eliciting a moan from Chelsea. “I can’t wait.” Her voice was only a strained whisper. Her bodily prayers were answered when she felt Oliver’s cock bump against the slickened folds of her all-too-ready cunt. For the first time since he had sprawled her on the bed, Oliver lifted his face from her neck. His icy blue eyes held her against the bed as he gazed at her with pure ferocity in his eyes. He stilled for a moment while he looked at her, and Roarke withdrew his hand. The absence of pressure and friction only served to propel Chelsea’s need higher. Still holding Chelsea’s stare, Oliver pushed his hips forward and sank his long, hard dick into the wet entrance of Chelsea’s pussy in one thrust. The sudden breach and stretching caused Chelsea to emit a scream of pure ecstasy. Oliver ceased to move, and his eyes closed in apparent appreciation of the sensation of Chelsea’s wetness around his shaft. He then began to thrust in earnest, and the force of his attack on her senses pushed Chelsea higher and higher. He pressed his chest to hers as he fucked in and out at a blistering pace. Chelsea’s legs moved of their own volition to wrap around Oliver’s waist and pull him deeper into her sopping cunt. He once more began kissing and biting at her neck, and the alternating stings and bolts of pleasure dragged her higher and higher toward the utopia that awaited her. Although it had seemed impossible to Chelsea, Oliver increased the force and speed of his thrusts as his lips and teeth wound their way around her neck. A hand tangled in her hair, and Chelsea was surprised to look up and see that Roarke had a firm grip on her tresses. Roarke inched closer, and she saw the purple head of his substantial cock hovering near her lips. A droplet of pre-cum had gathered on the tip, and as it moved closer, she craned her neck so she could take the crown into her mouth. She sucked the head into her mouth at the same time she licked over his slit, drawing a sharp hiss from Roarke.

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Oliver’s ministrations with his cock and his lips soon distracted her, and he kissed closer and closer to the base of her neck. One tooth scraped across the sensitive flesh, and Chelsea found herself so close to the edge of orgasm that she had to release Roarke’s cock and gulp in air to continue her plateau of excitement just a little longer. “Now.” Oliver’s roar at the back of her neck had preorgasmic spasms assaulting the muscles of her pussy. Roarke pulled her hair forward, and Oliver’s scraping became a bite, and Chelsea felt fangs pierce through her skin at the base of her neck. But there was no pain and no blood. In fact, what happened was far, far from that gruesome image. Oliver’s bite pushed Chelsea over the edge, and her hips bucked as she moaned out her orgasm. At the same time, she felt the hot seed of life spill from Oliver into the depths of her pussy, marking her as his own. Finally, Roarke released her hair, and her head fell back onto the pillow. When she looked up into Oliver’s eyes, she saw an emotion there, and that small voice she often tried to drown out screamed at her that it could only be one thing. Love. They both panted in the aftermath of their mating, and Oliver leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She could still feel his canines, and the feeling sparked arousal back to life inside her. Oliver pulled out just then, and Chelsea was amazed to find herself so distraught. Her body didn’t just want more, it demanded it. Luckily, Roarke was there to oblige. Only an instant after Oliver climbed off of Chelsea’s prone form, Roarke took his place. The feeling of his hard prick against the base of her abdomen started her juices flowing once again. He petted her hair gently as he hovered above her. “Are you okay?” “God, yes.” Her voice was raspy, a sound she’d never heard from herself before. “I’m so beyond okay.” “You’re not sore?”

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The notion was preposterous to Chelsea. “Of course not. Quite the opposite, in fact.” “Good.” Roarke pushed forward with his hips, driving his erect cock into Chelsea’s stomach. “Because I need you, honey. I’ve needed you ever since I saw you on the mountain. And I’ve only fallen for you since then. You’re beautiful, and you’re smart, and I can’t wait for you to be my mate.” “You, too.” Chelsea whispered. “You made me feel for the first time in so, so long. That day on the trail to Adam’s Point, I thought my life was over.” She looked to her left where she saw Oliver laying on his side, his attention completely focused on her. “But then I met both of you and realized that it hadn’t even started.” Roarke moved down Chelsea’s body, and she felt the tip of his erection press through her wet pussy lips and bump against her clit. Her hips instinctively bucked forward, trying to take him inside of her. Roarke smiled down on her, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with affection and lust. “Oh, honey, I—” “Roarke?” Chelsea couldn’t take the wait a second longer. “What, honey? Anything you need—” “Please fuck me.” Roarke’s mouth opened, closed, and then twisted into a devilish grin. No more words were necessary as their bodies began performing the act for which nature had designed them. Roarke thrust in small little strokes, taking his time filling Chelsea. Finally, when he had penetrated her entirely, he began moving into her in earnest. His strokes were more deliberate than Oliver’s, a measured seduction instead of a heated race. Then he lifted his hips, and the tip of his cock brushed against Chelsea’s G-spot, causing each of her nerve endings to spark to life. He appeared to observe her reaction, his lips twisting into a smile even as he pummeled into her, and he repeated the movement. With Roarke’s assault on that magical button, she knew she would only last a few moments more.

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She felt something in her hair, and she looked up to see Oliver winding his hand into the red strands. Roarke’s thrusts became harder, more frenzied, and Oliver slowly pulled her head toward his cock. It jumped and twitched back to life under her gaze, and she longed to taste him as well. He moved her head toward his cock, and she wrapped her lips around the tip, delighted to feel it hardening in her mouth. The taste of her juices mixed with the salty-sweet aftertaste of his cum only served to drive her closer and closer and closer to the impossible heights of ecstasy that lay waiting for her just on the other side of orgasm. After Roarke thrust once more against her G-spot, Chelsea felt the wave of orgasm begin its crest over her. Just when she felt her cunt clamp like a vise around Roarke’s hard cock, Oliver pulled her head off of his cock and down toward her chest. Roarke leaned over her and pressed his lips against the base of her neck. He thrust again, and hot jets of semen soaked her pussy as she cried out in the sweetest release she’d ever known. At that moment, she felt Roarke’s teeth extend into fangs on her neck and sink into the soft flesh. A blinding flash of white light overtook her senses, and as soon as Roarke’s mouth left her neck and Oliver released his grip on her hair, she crashed, spent, onto the bed. Roarke withdrew his cock from Chelsea then fell to her right. She now saw why they needed such a large bed. The two muscular men stretched out on either side of her could never fit in one bed. And the small twinkling lights now made sense, as well. With her heightened awareness, each tiny bulb provided a warm glow that bathed her in warmth and excitement. Oliver began tracing along her chest with one hand, and she turned to him. He smiled at her, a smile of rare tenderness from him. “Are we mated now?” she asked in a whisper. Oliver laughed and began swirling his finger around her nipple. She gasped at the sensation and was uncertain if her body could take all that much more.

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“We’re close, darling.” His use of an affectionate pet name caused her heart to skip a beat. “But not quite yet.” “Trust us,” Roarke said from behind her. “You’ll be mated soon.” For a moment, none of them spoke. Chelsea reveled in the feel of their hard bodies around her, the soft sound of crickets chirping outside, and the woody smell of her two men combined with the crisp air in the cabin. Funny, she knew it was a cold September night and could feel the bite in the air, but it didn’t register. No, all that her body processed now was what was going on right here in this bed. While she knew the rest of the world carried on, she also knew that this night was one of the most important in her life. She didn’t want to think about anything or anyone else. “So, are you ready?” Roarke’s voice sliced into her thoughts. “There’s still just a bit more before you’re our mate.” Oliver ceased his gentle toying with her nipple and touched her much more passionately. Roarke smoothed a hand down her stomach, and as he crossed the equator of her waist, her pussy flamed back to life. She had no idea where her stamina came from—or theirs, for that matter—but her body demanded another round with the two devilishly handsome brothers. “Ready.” She was shocked to hear her voice come out as a purr. Arousal smoothed Roarke and Oliver’s movements, and their hands and mouths wandered over her neck, back, and breasts in smooth, purposeful strokes. Oliver dug his hands into the soft flesh of her ass, and she felt his claws brush against her skin. She pushed back against his touch when she felt him dip a finger into her moist pussy. He pulled it out slowly and brushed against her clit as he drew his finger out of her cunt, along the sensitive skin of her perineum, and then pressed against the tight entrance of her forbidden hole. The full force of her fantasies rocked her body as Oliver pressed his finger forward, breaching the tight ring of muscles at her entrance. “How does that feel?” His voice was full of darkness and lust as he asked the question with a nip at her ear.

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“God, so good.” She writhed backward, and his finger sank fully into the tight muscles of her ass. Oliver began moving it in and out of her, and each stroke stoked the fire of her arousal. The forbidden sensation of fullness caused Chelsea’s animal urges to go into overdrive. Roarke pushed two fingers through the slick folds of her pussy and began to finger-fuck her in earnest. God, they were going to make her come just like this. Never before had she thought she came easily, but these two brought out the wanton sex goddess that had apparently been lingering just below the surface. Chelsea moaned as Oliver inserted a second finger into her tight hole and began scissoring his fingers. She realized what he was doing, and her pussy clenched around Roarke’s fingers as it dawned on her the thoughts that had swirled around in her mind since that first night outside the Woodland Kitchen were about to come to fruition. “The last thing”—Oliver’s breath was hot against her neck—“we have to do is be inside you.” Oliver withdrew his fingers from her ass with a pop and replaced them with his cock pressing against her back entrance. “Together.” Excitement stole the power of coherent thought from Chelsea as Oliver rolled her onto her back. With quick, steady movements, he mounted her, and his fully erect cock pressed against her pussy. He pressed his chest to hers and whispered against her ear just before he sheathed the full length of his cock in her wetness in one smooth stroke. “I just need a little lube first.” He stroked fast and hard, and he certainly accomplished his purpose. Cream spilled from Chelsea as he pounded into her, bringing her just to the point where she could see the glimmering ring of release in the distance, and then he withdrew, drawing a whimper from Chelsea. Roarke sat up and took Chelsea in his arms then rolled her so that she was on top of him.

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“Last part, honey.” His voice was deep and heavy with lust. “And we saved the best for last.” Roarke gripped her hips and directed her pussy over his cock. He locked gazes with Chelsea then pulled her down so that her cunt consumed his hard and ready dick. Chelsea could only let out intelligible moans of supreme pleasure as he filled her with the length of his cock, giving her a more intense satisfaction than she’d ever found with a cock buried deep in her pussy. He didn’t move, though, and Chelsea began rocking her hips, finding friction against her clit in addition to the delicious fullness of Roarke’s cock. “Bend over, darling.” Chelsea did as Oliver requested and moved so that she held herself on her arms over Roarke’s chest. Roarke reached up, took a nipple in his mouth, and sucked, causing Chelsea to buck her hips again. “You have to stay still for this,” Oliver instructed. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She felt him climb behind her, straddling Roarke’s legs, and place the head of his cock against her widespread entrance. He pushed forward, and his cock, lubricated with Chelsea’s own erotic juices, began to breach the tight muscles of her virgin hole. Unlike when his claws or fangs had pierced her skin that evening, pain radiated outward from the invasion. She squinted her eyes and felt beads of sweat run down the side of her face. “Shh.” Roarke’s voice soothed her. “Just a second more, and then all you’ll feel is pleasure. I promise you.” She tried to concentrate on Roarke’s words as Oliver pressed into her. Suddenly, her pain melted into an impossible pleasure just as Oliver sank his cock fully into her ass. For a moment, they stayed there, and Chelsea knew that the impossible fullness of having two cocks buried inside her was the most intense, most mind-blowing sensation she had ever had the pleasure of feeling. But soon, it wasn’t enough. She needed movement desperately. Oliver and Roarke must have felt the same way because they soon began stroking into her with small, steady strokes. The rhythm felt odd to Chelsea at first, but they quickly found an in-and-out pace that

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had Chelsea constantly filled with cock. Oliver would pull out of her ass just when Roarke would drive forward into her pussy then draw back, leaving her to be filled from behind with Oliver’s massive cock. Over and over and over they pounded into her, and soon she couldn’t take the constant attack on her senses. “I’m–I’m–” “You’re what?” Roarke panted as he pushed into her harder and faster. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” She couldn’t hold off a second longer. “Come for us.” Oliver’s voice pushed her over the edge, and soon she was consumed in a warm glow of ecstatic release. But something changed as she felt Oliver’s balls tighten and his seed spill into her ass quickly followed by Roarke’s release deep into her pussy. The warm glow intensified, holding her completely captive. Even when she rode out the final convulsion of her orgasm, she stayed in the glow’s caress. It was the most tender yet sizzling-hot embrace she had ever known. Slowly, the white began to fade away, and Chelsea realized she was encircled in Oliver and Roarke’s arms. The three of them collapsed onto the bed, unable to speak. Chelsea worried that when they withdrew their cocks from her, the feeling would be gone, but as each pulled out, the feeling stayed. She rolled onto her back with Roarke on her right and Oliver on her left. She stared at the ceiling as she reveled in the comfort and ecstasy she had just found. Finally, she found the breath to speak. “So are we mated now?” Oliver let out a breathy laugh, and Roarke took her hand. “Yes, honey. We’re mated.”

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Chapter 10 Chelsea awoke in the middle of the night to Oliver’s hands kneading her breasts, and the arousal she felt drove her to return his groping. They had both fallen asleep, and when the first rays of dawn peeked through the cloudy window to the cabin, Roarke had stroked the velvety folds of her pussy and brought her to another unbelievably powerful release. Now the two men were awake and busying themselves around the cabin, each stealing into the bathroom for a moment then emerging clean-shaven and fully dressed. “What are you doing?” She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes then tried to tame her unruly mass of hair. “It’s Saturday.” “Shh, honey.” Roarke came to sit next to her on the bed and landed a soft kiss on her cheek. “You stay in bed awhile longer. You had a big night.” “So did you.” She tried to peer over the side of the bed and see where her clothing had gotten to. She was still entirely naked and only had a worn quilt to cover herself. “Looking for these?” Oliver emerged from the bathroom carrying a stack of neatly folded clothes. “Gimme those!” “Not so fast.” Oliver crossed to the bed then held Chelsea’s clothing above his head while grinning down wickedly at her. She tried to get up on her knees and snatch the clothing from his hands but to no avail. The blanket dropped from around her breasts, and Roarke whistled in appreciation.

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“Oh, stop it,” Chelsea said but was unable to hide the smile in her voice. Having two such handsome men openly admiring her body did wonders for her feminine ego. “Now the Cash fluff-and-fold service is not free,” Oliver continued. “I already let you see my boobs.” Chelsea mock pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know, Roarke. Do you think that’s good enough?” “Oh, I certainly do not.” Oliver sat on the bed, and Chelsea took the opportunity to steal the clothes from his hands. She scampered toward the headboard, but Oliver snatched the clothing back and stopped her. He crawled with smooth, seductive movements and soon held his weight on one arm while the other ghosted over her nipples. She gasped at the soft, feathering sensation. He followed that with a more firm massage, and before Chelsea could realize what was going on, Roarke had taken her other breast in his hand. Oliver kissed her slowly, lazily licking back and forth over her lip, and Roarke ran his tongue down her neck then laved at her collarbone. Just as she felt the wetness gathering between her pussy lips again, they both retracted their attentions. “Hey!” she shouted as Oliver stood and left the pile of clothing next to her on the bed. “That’ll do for the Cash fluff-and-fold services. Won’t it, Roarke?” “Yeah, I think so. It’s not like Ol can do his own laundry anyway.” “I resent that.” Oliver gave his brother a harsh look. Roarke merely shrugged his shoulders, gave Chelsea a quick kiss on the cheek, and stood. “We need to be out of here, I’m afraid.” Chelsea had never thought that bantering naked could be so exciting, but everything was a thrill ride when Oliver and Roarke

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were involved. She extended her hand, and Roarke took it and grazed a soft kiss over her knuckles. “Darling, we hate to do this,” Oliver said as he returned to the bed. He sat next to Chelsea and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “But there’s too much going on today. We have to go meet with some of the NormCorp goons.” He took a deep sigh. “And of course there’s pride business to attend to.” “But tonight…” Roarke knelt one knee on the bed, and Chelsea turned her head to look up into his warm gaze. “It’s what we call the Honey Harvest Hoedown. But for those of us who have never ventured any farther than Steamboat Springs, it’s the highlight of our year.” He shot a glance at Oliver, who rolled his eyes as Roarke continued. “Plus, you’ll get to see our own Mayor Cash here introduce the bee dance. It may seem like a silly small-town thing to you, Chelsea, but we would really appreciate it if you came with us.” Chelsea looked between her two mates, who both watched her with what appeared to be nervous anticipation. Did they really think she would object to such a celebration? After spending her entire life in urban settings, the idea of an old-fashioned, homespun festival appealed to her more than they could probably imagine. And even though she knew she had as much time as she wanted with the Cashes now, every moment she could spend with them felt like a gift from some higher power. “Of course. I’d love to.” She flicked her gaze between the two. “Did you really think I’d say anything else?” Oliver let out a breath of air. “We really didn’t know. You forget just how new this is for us, too.” “You’ll have a great time tonight, honey.” Roarke paused, looking as if he had to bolster his courage for his coming remark. “And we really want you to come and meet the rest of the pride. You’ve met Sam and Phil already, and they’re like our brothers.” “But there’s a whole other world, darling.” Oliver ran his hand down her arm and squeezed her hand.

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“There’s also the Sullivans. Ira and Perry are a little off, but you’ll love Bryce.” “And the Yeats twins. They’re a handful.” “Oh, shut it, mayor. They’re harmless. And we’ll have to keep you away from Jack Abbott. All the ladies flock to him.” She laughed at the men detailing the members of their pride. A boyish glee showed on both of their faces as they began admitting her into their world. She was a bit hesitant—Lewis had so delighted in introducing his friends and family as well—but most ecstatic that they wanted her to be that much a part of their life. Their support system was so impressive, and Chelsea just wanted to be there for them and to be one of the things that helped them through their busy, complex lives. “Okay, okay,” she said, laughing. “It sounds great. I can’t wait to meet them.” “You’re gonna love…” Roarke trailed off. “Some of them,” Oliver finished. All three of them continued laughing, but much to Chelsea’s disappointment, the men pulled away. “We could spend all day here, honey, but we really need to get on the road.” “I need to get into the office and start making calls.” Oliver raised his hands to his temples and massaged. “And you need to practice,” Chelsea chimed in. “Practice?” both brothers said in unison. “For your big speech.” The two rolled their eyes, and she shrugged her shoulders, and both men kissed her on the cheek before rising. “Oh, and one more thing.” Oliver fished a hand into his pocket and then held his closed fist out to Chelsea. She opened her hand and watched in awe as Oliver dropped a key into it. “Marta’s publisher won’t pay for you to stay at the Woodland forever.”

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She turned the small bronze key back and forth between her palms. She was struck speechless. Somehow, even after the mating ritual the previous night, having the key to the cabin in her hand made her relationship feel very real. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, and she looked away, slightly embarrassed by the show of emotion. “Thank you.” Her voice was only a whisper. Oliver crossed the room toward her, put one finger underneath her chin, and angled her face to his. “If it’s too much, you don’t have to stay here right now, even though we want you to.” He placed a soft kiss on her nose. “But lock up today, okay?” His soft touch and words served to ease the anxiety building in her chest. “Okay.” With that, Oliver and Roarke padded impossibly quietly out of the cabin and closed the door. She lay back on the bed, completely overwhelmed with emotion. This was real. This was happening. And now she needed to figure out what one wore to a hoedown. **** Damn it, the goons were back. Their black convertible Volkswagen New Beetle blocked the drive leading from the Cashes’ cabin to the town hall. The tall, muscular one lounged against the side of the car while the short, round one paced back and forth across the dirt road. Oliver pulled his truck to a stop and hopped out. Thank god Roarke had gone on foot that morning. The goons, unaware of Oliver’s supernatural capabilities, would assume he was weaker alone. He had waited for years for them to make that mistake. Even though he was honor bound not to shift in front of them, he couldn’t wait until they gave him a reason to invoke the treaty’s self-defense

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clause, and then he could put a good scare in them. Someone needed to teach NormCorp’s dullest cronies a lesson. He leaned against the grill of his truck and examined the two men. Wilmer, the shorter and stubbier of the two, still paced, looking even more nervous now that Oliver was out in the open. Wally still reclined against their humorously feminine vehicle and beat one fist into the other hand. The classic scare tactic didn’t work on Oliver, but an uneasy nervousness still accompanied each of their NormCorpsponsored expeditions to the Valley. “Hello, Wilmer,” Oliver drawled, and the goon came storming in his direction. “You still trying to pass that ordinance, Cash?” “Of course I am, Wilmer. No matter what your employer may believe, America is a free country. The people of Savage Valley have the right to do with it what they see fit.” The volume of Wally’s fist smacking against his palm increased. Oliver felt the lump in his throat that signaled his lion attempting to escape. He wished he could transform into a full mountain lion right then and show these two what he thought of their employer. “Ulysses Norman ain’t tryin’ to take away they’s American rights. He just wants to give the people of Savage Valley a–a—” Smack. “A better way of life.” He smiled, revealing a row of crooked, browning teeth. Oliver had to fight not to wince at the sight. “Better is one word for it,” Oliver grumbled under his breath. “What you say, Cash?” “Nothing, Wilmer.” He turned to Wally, who was still mindlessly smacking away at his palm and likely dooming himself to a nasty case of carpal tunnel. “Why doesn’t Wally opine on this matter?” “Wally don’t feel any different than I do!” Oliver took a deep breath to further prepare himself to deal with the idiocy of these two men. “What does Norman want this time?”

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“He wants you not to pass that ordinance.” This was going nowhere. “What else, Wilmer?” The man was uncharacteristically silent for a moment before he waddled uncomfortably close to Oliver and cast his putrid breath outward as he spoke. “He wants you to know he ain’t jokin’ this time.” He took another step closer, and Oliver had to will his canines not to sharpen. “Put a stop to this now, or else.” Norman’s threats were empty to Oliver. “That’s what he always says. He knows he can’t do anything. He needs public support for his little land deal to go through.” Wilmer suddenly backed off and crossed his arms as his lips pulled into a smug smile. “He can’t do anything. Is that so?” He punctuated the remark with a smirk. A car drove down Main Street from Creek Road behind the two men and their girlish transportation. “Come on, Wally.” Wilmer waddled back to the small vehicle, but his companion stayed his ground and stared down Oliver. The predator that always lingered just beneath the surface yearned to break free and rip out the man’s throat, and Oliver had to struggle to keep the urge tamped down. Finally, the man slowly stomped to the passenger side of the car and hauled his bulk into the small space. The tires screeched as the car pulled out of the drive and onto Main Street, flashing its KILLA Colorado vanity plate. Oliver watched it drive away before returning to his truck. As he headed down the drive and turned left to attend a meeting of the Savage Valley Chamber of Commerce, something Wilmer had said kept replaying through his brain. Is that so? Fuck. Oliver’s heart twisted in his chest. Norman was about to make a move. Oliver had feared as much. It had been the only source

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of hesitance in his courting of Chelsea. As the town meeting drew closer, Oliver knew that Norman could pull some shit at any moment. Just let me have tonight. One night. That was all he asked for. **** The din of the celebration let Chelsea know she had reached the Honey Harvest Hoedown. She had walked in from the Woodland, turning down a ride from Roarke so she could indulge in the leisurely half-hour stroll into town. Funny, she had never thought of herself as a very outdoorsy person, but since she’d arrived in Savage Valley, she felt as though she needed to be outside, to connect with nature. After she passed town hall, the lights and noise of the party reached her. As she walked closer, nervousness started to claw at her insides. This was her first event out on the town as a mated woman. Funny, she had been married for so long, but being mated felt so much more real and intimate. Marriage was a practical, legal bond. Mating was a ritual all about succumbing to natural urges and creating a tie that would last for generations. It didn’t help that Marta was away in Palisade. Throughout Chelsea’s young adult life, Marta had always been at her side, bolstering her spirits and her courage in times like these. Then a wave of comfort broke over Chelsea as she realized that she had someone new in her life to comfort and support her. In fact, she had two new someones. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she thought in wonder about the improbable yet flawless way in which the events of the past two weeks of her life had unfolded. “Why the long face, honey?” “Roarke!” Chelsea ran into the open arms of her mate who had just crossed into a circle of light cast by a streetlamp in front of the bank. He easily gathered her into his arms and spun her in a circle, burying his face in her neck as he embraced her. He held her

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suspended in the air and brushed his lips over hers before setting her back on the sidewalk. Chelsea entwined her arms around her waist and looked up into his warm gaze, which glowed with affection. How could he always make her feel so wanted, so appreciated? So loved. “H–How did you know I was here?” she asked in an effort to clear any hint of how flustered she was by the thought of him loving her. He tapped his nose once. “You forget I’m not all human, Chels. I’ve always been able to scent you from far off, but it’s much more potent since we mated.” His voice turned breathy on the last word. “I couldn’t stop myself from running out to scoop you up into my arms.” He glided a hand down to the small of her back and squeezed her to him. “You can always scoop me up into your arms.” “Oh, can I?” He leaned in for a kiss with closed eyes, but just as their lips were about to touch, a voice interrupted them, causing Chelsea to jump from the caress of Roarke’s lips. “Do I have to pay for this little show, or is it part of the hoedown activities?” Roarke straightened and looked over Chelsea’s head. She followed his gaze and found a tall man with shaggy black hair and the same piercing blue eyes as her two men. “Mel,” Roarke said with a sigh, “so glad you could make it out tonight.” “As am I. I didn’t know if I’d be able to with that little patrol schedule your Alpha brother had to draw up.” Alpha? This sleek, well-groomed man must have been another one of the mountain lionshifters. How many were there out there? “Look, you know I don’t want to police the land, but when there’s a threat, we need to patrol—” “Patrol?” Chelsea looked up to Roarke in hopes of an explanation. “I’ll explain it to you in a minute, honey, but right now—”

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“Oh, no,” Mel interrupted. “Do explain to her. And by the way, you’ve not introduced me to your little friend here.” Roarke took a deep breath and gave Chelsea’s hip a quick squeeze. “Chelsea, my darlin’, this is the infamous Melbourne Pope, Sam and Phil’s little brother.” “Everyone calls me Mel,” he said as he took Chelsea’s hand in his. He reminded her of Oliver with his commanding presence, but something was slightly different. “And really, Roarke. Must you introduce me as Sam and Phil’s little brother? It sounds so diminutive.” “Well, it’s true.” Roarke did not sound amused. “And what are you doing around here anyway? Shouldn’t you be off causing some sort of ruckus?” “Eh, I’m allowed a night off every now and then. Anyway, I wanted to meet the newest member of the extended pride family.” Mel eyed Roarke and Chelsea. “The rumors are true, aren’t they?” Roarke pulled Chelsea to him and nodded. The smile on his face melted Chelsea’s insides. “Yes, Mel, this is indeed Oliver and I’s mate, the gorgeous Chelsea Goebel.” She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks as Mel’s eyes raked up and down her body. “Good job.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Roarke gave him a friendly shove in the shoulder. They said their good-byes, and Roarke led Chelsea to the clearing between the courthouse and the bank where the Honey Harvest Hoedown was in full swing. Roarke and Chelsea strode arm in arm past a row of food stands serving everything from Nadeen’s Nuts and Honey to Phil’s Honeyfried Pheasant at the Savage Hunger booth. Roarke waved to Phil, who was busy dishing out servings to a throng of patrons. Chelsea insisted on stopping to try some of Chip’s Chocolate Honey Butter.

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Roarke dipped a finger into one of the sample cups and smeared a dab of the chocolatey concoction on Chelsea’s nose. She crinkled her face in pretend annoyance, but he merely laughed, leaned down, and licked the small mess off her nose. “Mmm. Chip did a particularly good job this year.” Roarke then planted a kiss on the tip of her nose and whispered, “Or it could just be your skin. Do you have any idea what your taste does to me?” Chelsea’s insides clenched at Roarke’s words, and she began to form an idea of how she might affect him. She stood on her tiptoes to whisper her illicit ideas, but the sound of Oliver clearing his throat distracted her. She looked to her right at the stage set up between the bank and the courthouse. “Hello?” He tapped on the microphone set at the center of the stage, causing a screech of feedback to echo across the hoedown. The entire crowd’s attention settled on him. “Knew that would distract all of you from the delicious food.” Oliver smiled, his entire face lighting with the action. Roarke moved to wrap his arm around Chelsea’s waist. She rested her head on his shoulder and admired Oliver’s easy confidence in front of the town. “Hello, everyone. Welcome to this year’s Honey Harvest Hoedown, celebrating the wonderful local honey we have right here in gorgeous Savage Valley. For those of you not from these parts, I’m Mayor Oliver Cash, and let me be the first to welcome you to our humble town.” Oliver’s tone turned serious. “This festival celebrates the small local businesses that make Savage Valley the very special hamlet we all know and love. And I hope that this festival will remind all of you of exactly how unique and worth preserving that hometown charm is. Not that we don’t appreciate out-of-towners here in the Valley.” Oliver’s eyes scanned the crowd then locked with Chelsea’s even though she was at the back of the crowd. She felt the blush rising up from her chest, and Roarke squeezed her tighter against him. “Newcomers are what made this town great in the pioneer days, and newcomers continue to improve our lives every single day.”

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Chelsea could have sworn she saw a pinkness lighting Oliver’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and continued. “Now, it is time for me to introduce someone who needs no introduction. Savage Valley’s own Bohagande Young, ladies and gentlemen, will now perform the Shoshone bee dance, ushering in another fertile honey season. Let the hoedown begin!” The crowd cheered but was soon silenced by a single drumbeat repeating. It grew louder and louder, joined by other drumbeats, and five men pranced through the crowd and onto the stage. Chelsea turned to Roarke, assuming this was some sort of display for the tourists. “So, what happens now—” “Shh!” Roarke’s attention was focused on the stage. Clearly, he took this very seriously. The five men on stage formed a circle and performed what looked like a ritual dance. An older Native American man joined them, surrounded by a swarm of…It couldn’t be that quiet, and Chelsea’s hearing couldn’t be that good. Chelsea heard the distinct buzzing of bees, and the sound got louder as Bohagande took to the stage. What’s happening to me? She couldn’t contemplate her heightened senses just then, though, because the man’s voice pierced the air. He began chanting in a haunting melody. Others’ voices started in counterpoint to the older man’s, and the bees surrounded him, landing on his chest. Chelsea’s breath caught in her lungs as she watched his stoic expression despite the swarm of insects surrounding him. Just then, she felt something pierce the skin on her shoulder. With a soft squeal of pain, she looked over to see Roarke’s nails partially extended into claws on her shoulder. Something about the Native American ritual must have called out his lion, Chelsea reasoned. Damn, and she thought it was a tourist trap. The ceremony ended, and Roarke released her suddenly, panting in the aftermath of the ceremony. Chelsea was about to question his state when Oliver appeared at her other side. He pulled her into a blistering kiss, his tongue delving into the depths of her mouth.

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Despite being in a very public place, Chelsea felt liquid heat pool between her legs. God, Oliver and Roarke could take her anytime and anywhere, and she wouldn’t mind a bit. “Glad to see you here,” Oliver said as he broke the kiss. “Me, too.” “Come on.” He took one of her hands in his and nodded at Roarke. “It’s time to show you a damn good time in Savage Valley.” “You know, one that doesn’t involve our bed.” “Roarke!” Chelsea jokingly chastised. “Seriously, I want you to meet some people.” Oliver tugged on her hand, and Roarke pressed his hand against her back as the three of them dove into the crowd of the hoedown. **** God, Chelsea was beautiful as she stood wedged between Bryce Sullivan, Jack Abbott, and Ezra Yeats. Roarke laughed as the three lion-shifters stood at the bar at Catdaddy’s, surrounding his wildly gesticulating mate. Apparently, it only took a few pints of the Yeats twins’ honey ale to bring out the rosy glow of inebriation in Chelsea’s cheeks. The hoedown had been a family affair, but the infamous afterparty at Savage Valley’s favorite watering hole always included fun reserved for those twenty-one and older. “The convenience store’s your only place to get groceries?” Her eyes rounded in amazement as she chatted with the three men. Roarke could feel the possessiveness of his lion flare inside him, but each furtive glance Chelsea threw in his direction calmed the beast. She was his mate. He had marked her. Ever since the mating, he had felt an odd mixture of serenity and power. Oddly, taking her together had dissipated the tension between him and Oliver. The two of them now worked in concert as they never had before. “Yeah, but it just means we have to get creative,” Ezra, the short, shaggy-haired twin, said. “We can’t have all that fancy microbrew

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beer y’all city folks buy. We have to mix our own concoctions.” He leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows. “Let us know if you want to try some, pretty lady.” Chelsea blushed but ignored his come-on. “Wait, but isn’t Colorado, like, a hotbed of microbrewing activity? I mean, there are so many beers that come from—” “We would rather make our own and give ourselves a reason to approach gorgeous women like you in bars.” Jack flashed Chelsea his famous smile. Clayton’s little brother Jack was known for his charming ways. Given his brother’s often gruff demeanor, Jack’s likability saved the Ninth Time and guaranteed a steady stream of female patrons. “And don’t beautiful women like you find that more fun, too?” Chelsea’s adorable red eyebrows furrowed as she seemed to be deep in thought over Jack’s inquiry. Roarke couldn’t help crossing over to where the three of them leaned against the bar and taking his mate in his arms. “Excuse me, lads, but are you hogging my woman.” “We would never do such a thing,” Jack insisted then winked at Chelsea. “I saw that.” “Come on, Roarke.” Bryce gave him a soft punch on the shoulder. “We know she’s your mate and all, but—” “Shh!” Damn it, what did Bryce think he was doing? The lions worked hard to keep their presence in Savage Valley a secret, and speaking of “mates” in the local honky-tonk hardly counted as clandestine. “We’re in the middle of Catdaddy’s for fuck’s sake,” Roarke said in a harsh whisper. “Aw, it’s no big deal. Anyway, everyone’s had way too much of Cleve and Ezra’s hoedown brew. No one’s gonna remember anything that happens tonight.” “Still, you know we have to take precautions.”

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“Wait, you have to take what?” Chelsea said drearily and then hiccupped. Shit, that beer had gone straight to her head. He should have known that his petite mate couldn’t handle that much drink. “We’ll talk about it later, honey.” He directed his attention back to Bryce. “You know I don’t give half a shit about adhering to the traditions, but I definitely want to avoid incurring Bo’s wrath.” Bryce sighed and threw up his hands in a defeated gesture. “Fine, just ruin all my attempts at impressing your woman.” Roarke started to say something about Bryce’s persistent flirtation, but he realized that Bryce’s partner in crime, Noah Strong, was nowhere to be seen. Even though they were on separate sides of the lion-bear divide, the two had been inseparable since birth. And hitting on unsuspecting ladies at Catdaddy’s appeared to be their favorite pastime. A scream pierced through Roarke’s reverie. He held Chelsea tighter to him as several more screams sounded from outside. The people inside the honky-tonk began running back and forth about the space, some eager to see what had frightened those on the outside patio and some eager to dispel fear with whiskey. “Bears!” one of the disembodied voices called from the patio. “Bears! In town!” Fuck. The only bears around Savage Valley were the shifters, and if there were shifters out in public, something was very, very wrong. “Roarke!” Oliver came running from outside and also threw his arms around Chelsea. “We have to get her out of here. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t find Joseph and Caleb.” “Do you have the truck?” Oliver dug the keys from his pocket and handed them to Roarke. “I’m gonna need your help here to straighten this situation out. It looks like—” “What situation? What’s going on?” Chelsea’s voice, although slurred, conveyed her concern.

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“It’s nothing major, sweetheart,” Oliver said, flashing a concerned look to Roarke that belied his words, “but it needs our attention. Roarke’s gonna take you back to the Woodland, okay?” “Okay…” Chelsea didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded and leaned against Roarke’s shoulder. Oliver kissed Chelsea quickly and then, with a concerned glance back at her, disappeared outside. “Come on, sweetie,” Roarke said, squeezing his arm tighter around her waist, “it’s time to go.”

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Chapter 11 “Mmm, Roarke.” Her bed was steaming hot, thanks to the heat of her mate’s chest. In fact, the heat was so intense, Chelsea forced her still-intoxicated brain to remember if Oliver had joined them on the trip back to the Woodland Den from Catdaddy’s. No, even through the haze, she could remember only Roarke helping her out of his truck, up the rocky path to the Woodland Den, and eventually into her room and bed. Her heart swelled as she remembered the affection in his eyes as he stroked her hair and chuckled at her drunken antics. He had cooed, “Good night, gorgeous,” as he closed the door behind him and— Wait. He left. He had planned to go back to Catdaddy’s, and she was now all alone in her room. Then why on earth did her bed feel like a frying pan? Chelsea’s eyes flew open. It was dark, and she couldn’t breathe. Smoke. She tried to take a deep breath, but the soot in the air scorched her lungs. A light flickered from the crack beneath the door, and that was when it finally dawned on her exactly what was happening. The heat hit her before the flames licked at the door to her room. Her brain raced to remember everything she had been taught to do in elementary school. She gathered all of her effort to haul herself to the floor and crawled away from the door. Keep your nose to the ground. Don’t touch any handles. Try to get to the window. As she inched toward the window that led to her freedom or at least some fresh air, the flames broke through her door entirely, and she heard it crackle and smash to the ground.

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Her time was running out. The window was only a few feet away. She could make it, but the smoke was starting to rip at her lungs. Her eyes stung, and her energy was quickly fading. After one last stretch of her arm to haul herself toward her means of escape, her bodily effort was spent. Images of Oliver and Roarke rushed through her mind. She needed to get to them, needed to see them again. Why did I leave the bar a drunken mess? She pressed her face to the ground and gasped in a breath, trying to extract the last bit of clean air in the room, but to no avail. Everything faded around her, and even the deafening crackling of the fire as it destroyed the world around her quieted to a soft buzz in her ears. Her eyelids felt heavy and her limbs weak as she collapsed to the floor. All effort left to fight rushed from Chelsea’s body, and she gave in to the beckoning numbness. **** Something cold and wet nudged at Chelsea’s neck. Her eyes opened then shut quickly once she glimpsed the bright orange enveloping the room. The wetness nudged at her neck again, and this time she felt something prickly along with it. The sensations didn’t compute in her mind, and falling deeper back into the alluring blackness seemed like a much better idea. As her limbs became heavy once again, a low growl sounded behind her. Another rumbling growl joined it, and Chelsea’s eyes flew open. She used every iota of her strength to lift her head and look behind her. Two glowing sets of eyes watched her from the faces of two mountain lions. Even in the confusion, Chelsea’s heart rejoiced. Oliver and Roarke had come for her. The lion with the distinct black mark between its eyes that Chelsea knew was Oliver took a step toward her and growled again. She tried to reach a hand up to stroke the soft-looking fur on his face,

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but the effort required only made her fall to the floor again. Sharp teeth took hold of the back of her shirt, and Chelsea felt herself pulled upward. Once she was off the floor, she saw the other lion—Roarke— and his strong paw on her stomach forced her upward. Her world flipped around, and she found herself straddling Oliver’s back with her arms locked around his neck. It felt bizarre straddling her mate and riding him like some circus performer, but her brain was so starved for oxygen that she couldn’t waste time lingering on this thought. Her head rolled to the left, dangling against Oliver’s shoulder, and she saw Roarke poised as if about to attack. His golden coat glided over his smooth muscles as every muscle in his lion form tensed and his rear haunches rose into the air. With a sudden burst of movement, he sprang into the air. Maybe it was her foggy brain, but Chelsea could have sworn that time slowed down as he flew through the window, shattering the glass completely. Oliver lifted his rear haunches into the air, and Chelsea wrapped her arms and legs as tightly around him as her weakened body allowed. With the same burst, Oliver propelled himself and Chelsea vertically and through the shattered window left in Roarke’s wake. They soared through the air and finally landed on the hard ground. Despite her attempt to hold on to Oliver, Chelsea slid from his back and curled in the fetal position on the sandy earth. The air was still smokey, but at least the fresh air outside mingled with the ash that floated from the Woodland. Chelsea took in a deep breath, and the fresh air stung her blackened lungs and sent her into a coughing fit. Oliver’s naked human form appeared beside her. His hair was disheveled, and his chest rose and fell with obvious concerted effort. He leaned over her and pulled her into his arms, brushing a soft kiss over her back. He released her and looked down into her eyes. She tried to smile up at him, but her chest constricted, and the pain caused her to roll closer into the ground.

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“Just a second, beautiful,” she heard Oliver’s voice say. Her eyes shut as another coughing fit overtook her body. “EMS is on its way. You’ll be feeling better soon.” Her breathing was difficult, and moving hurt. She gave the slightest nod of her head and, with great effort, opened her eyes. She looked back up, and the pain she saw etched across Oliver’s face caused her heart to curl in an entirely different way. Roarke moaned loudly, and she flicked her eyes to behind Oliver. She immediately wished she hadn’t. The ground around Roarke’s human form was stained red, blood flowing from gashes on his forehead, neck, and torso. She tried to call out to him, but she couldn’t find the energy or the breath. Oliver just wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. “I know, darling, I know.” The feel of his embrace was warm, and she tried to snuggle forward into it as the sound of his voice became lower and lower in her ears. “Chelsea, I hope right now isn’t the only opportunity I get to say this to you, but if it is, I want you know something.” His lips felt soft along the skin of her neck. “I love you, Chelsea Goebel. I love you.” Chelsea tried to find the air to respond to him, to declare the love she had felt building since she first laid eyes upon him, but the effort was nowhere to be found. The last sounds she heard were the faint trill of sirens and voices calling to her.

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Chapter 12 “W–What happened?” Chelsea rubbed her eyes as she awoke, naked, in the same large, warm bed as she did that morning. Or was it already morning again? She tried to crane her neck to see if any light streamed in from the foggy glass of the windows, but a stiffness made the movement uncomfortable. The pain caused the events of the night to tumble back into her memory. The hoedown. The bears. The fire. Roarke. Oh god, Roarke. She sat up, finding herself much more energized than she had been right after the fire. Much to her relief, she was surrounded by her loving mates. She looked down at Roarke, fearing the worst, but what she saw shocked her. His wounds had already closed, and only light pink scars remained where the gashes had been. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she tangled one hand in his shaggy light brown hair. His eyes blinked open, and he looked up at her. A grin broke out across his face, and Chelsea had never before felt herself so affected by a facial expression. He was alive, and he was happy to see her. “How do you feel, honey?” Chelsea laughed at his show of concern. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” Roarke’s smile widened. “Nah, don’t worry about it. We heal quickly if the injury occurs in lion form.” He paused. “Especially if we’re mated.” He ran a hand up and down her arm, beckoning her to lie with him. She obliged and put her head on the pillow, her face only inches from his.

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“I can’t believe you’re okay. W–What happened? Where did the fire start?” Roarke closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and put an arm around Chelsea’s waist to pull her closer to him. His expression became serious. “I’m afraid we’ve got quite a mess on our hands. Last night, after you left, Clayton—one of the pride elders—came to tell us a wing of the Woodland had caught on fire and that he had seen Wilmer and Wally around there. You see, they’re supposed to be in Denver right now, so their appearance was pretty unexpected.” “Oh my god.” The pieces fell together in Chelsea’s mind, and she knew exactly where Roarke was headed with his story. “Oliver and I got over there as fast as we possibly could, but the fire was already raging. Luckily, we got out there before the fire spread. But, as if Wilmer and Wally poking around wasn’t suspicious enough already, the fire started right outside your room.” Chelsea could feel her own eyes widening at the statement. “Oliver and I’s working theory is that Ulysses Norman sent his goons out to the Valley to intimidate us. Norman has a lot to gain by the destruction of the Woodland Den and by…” Roarke’s eyes closed as he trailed off. “What? What else does he have to gain?” Roarke took a deep breath and began again. “By taking you out, honey.” Silence hung between the two of them. The soft din of Oliver’s snoring was the only sound in the room. “Go on,” Chelsea said weakly. “You see, if anything were to happen to you, Norman knows that Oliver and I would be weakened.” A small smirk kicked up the edge of his lips. “And not to brag or anything, but not much can get done in this town without the two of us, including passing that ordinance.” It may have just been the smoke, but Chelsea felt her throat closing up at Roarke’s words. They had tried to kill her. The NormCorp goons had actually tried to end her life, and for what? To coerce Oliver and Roarke into letting Norman buy up the land

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surrounding Adam’s Point? It was all too much for her to take in. She forced back tears, distracting herself with another inquiry. “And what about the Woodland?” “If it’s damaged, it’ll go down in value, and that’s what NormCorp’s banking on. But I don’t think they understand just how mighty the people of Savage Valley are when it comes to defending their territory.” Chelsea shook her head, in utter disbelief of everything that had happened in the past six hours, not to mention the past six days. “So what’s next?” “Well, Oliver’s been in contact with Sheriff Kinman, and it looks like we might be able to get some proof of arson. Unfortunately, with the criminal charges pending, the vote on the ordinance will be put off for a little while. So that the little son of a bitch got what he wanted after all, but not for long. You see, Oliver’s planning on using his mayoral—” “Right.” Chelsea cared about the civic and legal implications of the evening, but there was something else she wanted to know, something much more pressing. “But that’s not what I meant.” Roarke looked shocked at Chelsea’s interruption. His hand on her back pulled her closer to him so that their hips were touching. “What did you mean then, honey?” “I meant…” She paused and mustered the courage to ask the question that had lingered since she saw Roarke lying injured on the ground and her heart nearly stopped beating. “I meant, what’s next for, you know, us? For you and me, for Oliver, for this whole…mate…thing, for Savage Valley. What comes next?” He looked relieved as he began to rub his hand up and down her back, occasionally dipping below the small of her back to her ass. “We take it one day at a time, and we figure it out. Norman’s not done yet, I’m sure, but hopefully all this’ll throw him off his game, at least for a little while.” He paused and furrowed his brow, creating a small crease between his eyes. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am that

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you had to get involved in this. When Clay told us…” Appearing overcome with emotion, Roarke stopped for a moment and seemed to gather his thoughts. “God, honey, all I wanted was for you to be all right. You’re the most precious thing in my world.” “I’m all right,” Chelsea said, surprising herself with the truth of her statement. She was all right. Despite the fire, the mating, and the strange turn her life had just taken, never before had she felt such a sense of well-being. “I swear I am.” A relieved smile broke across Roarke’s face, smoothing his brow and making his blue eyes sparkle. “And I’m so thankful for that. You know, we’re the first mates in this generation, so it’s not like we really know what this relationship will look like. Every generation’s different, especially the Alpha family.” He closed the small distance between them and placed a soft kiss on Chelsea’s lips. “But you don’t have to worry about anything. You’re beautiful, you’re kind, you’re gentle, and Ol and I are completely crazy about you. If we all try, and try hard, that’s more than enough to make everything—us, the pride, NormCorp, all of it—work out just splendidly.” Chelsea smiled at Roarke’s long-winded response. His thoughtfulness and intelligence were only a few of the many things that had always drawn her to him. “I love you.” The admission seemed to shock him a bit, but he only pulled Chelsea closer to him and kissed her thoroughly. “I love you, too.” This time she kissed him. All semblance of her weakness earlier in the night fell away as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. She felt his cock growing against her hip and rubbed against it. She felt a low moan rumble in his chest as they kissed, and he grasped her ass firmly with one hand. “No having fun without me.” Oliver’s hands landed on her shoulders, and she felt his lips ghosting over the spot where he had marked her as his mate. She broke her kiss with Roarke and turned to

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Oliver, lightly caressing his lips with hers. Roarke’s hands stayed on her body as she turned, and he palmed at her breasts as he hooked one leg over Oliver’s hip and deepened their kiss. Oliver held her ass in his grip as Roarke slid a hand between Chelsea’s and Oliver’s bodies down to her mound. He pressed one finger through her folds and found her clit, causing her to buck against his hand. Roarke’s heat suddenly disappeared from her back, and Oliver’s hand replaced his on her pussy. He ripped his mouth away from hers and lowered his head to her breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked, drawing a moan from Chelsea. His teeth grazed over the tip just as Oliver inserted two fingers into her cunt. The sudden invasion felt so welcome, and though she never would have imagined it a few hours earlier, the need for Oliver and Roarke inside of her was overwhelming. “Please,” she whispered as Oliver finger-fucked her mercilessly, “I need you.” “Oh, you can have me.” He switched to her other nipple and bit down, sending erotic waves of excitement spiraling straight to her clit. He raised his head just a bit. “You can have me forever.” A sudden, bold streak of self-confidence nearly had Chelsea screaming out her passion, but Roarke’s slippery fingers at her asshole distracted her. He rubbed against the rosette then slipped one lubed finger into her tight hole just as Oliver withdrew his fingers from her pussy. Oliver then thrust back into her with more force as Roarke drew his finger completely from her ass. Then suddenly, two fingers invaded her forbidden hole. They were mimicking the rhythm they used to push her over the edge, and she wanted it again. She wanted it now. “Please,” she panted again, “I want to feel you again. Both of you.” A dark chuckle came from Oliver. “That can be arranged.”

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He pulled his fingers from her cunt, and she used her leg’s grip on his hip to push closer to him, seeking out the hardness of his cock. She found it soon and pushed against him, forcing the head between her pussy’s lips. At the same time, she felt the lubricated tip of Roarke’s cock at her puckered hole. Oliver looked deeply in her eyes and sank his cock into her. The sudden stretching caused her to cry out in pleasure. He thrust again, rubbing against her clit and tightening the coil of arousal inside her. He then stilled, and Roarke pushed his cock through the tight muscles of her ass in small, quick strokes. When he was fully sheathed, all three of them held still for just a moment, and Chelsea had never felt more complete in her life. Here were two men who loved her and wanted to protect her. They had risked their lives for her that night, and that only increased her love for them. She had tried before, but something inside her told her that this time, she got it right. The two men then began thrusting, and Chelsea writhed back and forth between them, seeking the erotic fullness of the three of them united. Roarke massaged her breasts while Oliver held her hips to steady her for the assault of his thick cock. When they found their rhythm moving in and out, over and over and over inside her, she felt the arousal inside of her about to snap. Roarke fixed his mouth on her neck, biting and twisting at the flesh. His thrusts into her ass became harder, and Chelsea forced herself back onto him, wanting his hard dick to impale her to the fullest. “Shit, honey, if you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last.” He then pinched one of her nipples, and Chelsea cried out, feeling her own orgasm about to burst from within her. “God,” was all that came from Oliver as he squinted his eyes and pushed his cock into her. He angled his thrusts upward and hit her Gspot directly. The sparks of excitement that spun out to her limbs had her on the very edge.

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“I’m gonna–I’m gonna–” She couldn’t think through the desire overwhelming her, begging her to explode into release. She screamed in pleasure as her orgasm overtook her, driving her completely mad with excitement, arousal, completion. Her pussy muscles clenched Oliver, and she felt his hot jets of semen shooting into her cunt. “I…love…you!” he shouted as he came. The tension also sent Roarke over the edge, and he pounded furiously into her ass, heightening her sense of complete and utter erotic contentment. When they finally all came down from their release, Oliver and Roarke both slowly pulled out of her then wrapped their arms around her. “I love you, honey,” Roarke whispered. “And I can’t wait to do this again.” “And again and again?” Chelsea asked with a giggle. “Whatever you want,” Oliver answered. “We’ll do anything for you.” Completely dumbfounded, Chelsea found herself unable to fathom an appropriate response. Without her need for orgasm energizing her, she could barely stay awake. “I love both of you so much.” She closed her eyes and snuggled against the warmth of Oliver’s chest. “And I’m so excited about being with you, whatever that means. “Us, too, baby.” Oliver’s chest rumbled as he spoke, and the sound drew her closer to sleep. “Us, too.”

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Epilogue Four weeks later “And if there’s no further business…Meeting adjourned!” Oliver slammed his gavel on the dais, and the people of Savage Valley all stood from the benches in Town Hall and began milling about. Chelsea watched as Oliver conferred briefly with a few members of the town council. Her chest swelled with pride at watching how gracefully he had handled the meeting, despite Ulysses C. Norman’s presentation on what he called “more advantageous uses” for downtown Savage Valley. Oliver had deflected any outright hostility by the Valley populace, and Roarke had grilled Norman with questions showing a nuanced grasp of speculative development for tourism. By the end of the question and answer session after the presentation, Norman had skulked out of the meeting like a puppy with his tail between his legs. The crowd was so loud that Chelsea didn’t notice Roarke’s approach until he sat next to her, swept her hair aside, and placed a gentle kiss on the side of her neck. She all but melted at the sparks of pure enjoyment that radiated from his full lips. “That was a rough one, honey.” He rubbed between her shoulder blades, and the gestures seemed to be more for his comfort than hers. “You were brilliant, though.” She brushed a kiss against his freshly shaven jaw. “I never knew that you were so well versed in—” Roarke turned his head to capture her mouth with his, cutting off her words. Chelsea broke the kiss but kept her face against his.

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“Roarke, anyone could see us here.” “And that matters, because?” “Oliver!” Chelsea jumped to her feet at her older mate’s voice then turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I was just telling Roarke what a brilliant job the two of you did tonight.” Oliver shook his head, releasing that laugh that did all sorts of terrible things to Chelsea’s insides. “We won the battle, darling, but we haven’t won the war.” “What do you mean?” Roarke stood and wrapped an arm around her waist as Oliver untangled Chelsea’s arms from his neck and took one of her hands and led her toward the rear exit. Once they were behind the dais and safely out of earshot, Roarke answered Chelsea. “We’ve stopped Norman from seizing Savage Valley outright, but that won’t put a stop to his attempts to infiltrate the town.” “Sam told me that Norman himself has requested a private meeting at Savage Hunger.” “Why is that such a big deal?” “I know you don’t get our small-town ways, miss city slicker, but in small towns, the diner is the heart of everything, the hub of municipal activity,” Roarke explained. “Once you have control of the diner, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the town falls in line.” Chelsea nodded her head as they emerged onto the path behind Town Hall that led to the cabin they now all shared. “I get that, but—” A peal of thunder cut Chelsea off. “We better hurry up,” Roarke said. “Because when it rains here in Savage Valley—” Just then, the sky opened and poured rain on Savage Valley for the first time since the drought had begun in July. Chelsea looked up and held her arms open, heedless of the fact that the rain was soaking her clothing and hair.

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“It pours!” Oliver shouted over the din of the downpour to complete Roarke’s remark. “Come on!” Roarke shouted and took off at a run toward their cabin. Chelsea laughed as she ran with her two mates—who were thoughtful enough to stay in human form during their scurrying— back to their home. Home. That’s what this was, she thought as she neared the cabin. This was her home. She was loved here and surrounded by people she loved dearly. Her arrangement certainly didn’t fit within the strict moral boundaries she had grown up with in the South, but it worked for her and her two mates. She had gone through her life in lockstep until she arrived in Savage Valley a month and a half ago, and the deviation from the path refreshed her zeal for life. They reached the cabin, and the three of them stumbled inside. The hearty laughs and gleeful expressions on the Cash brothers’ faces only heightened the sense of well-being that flowed over Chelsea. Roarke playfully hopped onto the bed, and Chelsea gladly threw herself onto the soft mattress next to him. So what if the bed got wet? They had plenty of ways to stay warm. Oliver rummaged through his desk, finally restored from its earlier ransacking, and crossed back to the bed. He shot a look at Roarke, and he leapt from their bed. Chelsea held out her arms and squealed in protest of being left alone in bed, but she silenced as both men kneeled beside the bed. She swung her feet to the side of the bed and sat up. A ring box. There, cradled in Oliver’s palm, was a ring box. “Chelsea,” he started, “you have changed our lives.” “It’s true,” Roarke continued. “We haven’t been the same since we met you. We’ve been better.” “And what the past few weeks have shown us is that our affection for you is beyond just the mating.”

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“Yes, that’s what brought us to you first, but it’s far more than that. We love you, and we want you around forever.” Only the pounding rain outside the cabin sounded as Chelsea sat silently, her heart pounding in anticipation of what she knew came next. “Chelsea Goebel,” Oliver started. “You are the most beautiful, gentle, kind woman we could ever have hoped to meet. The thumping of Chelsea’s heart drowned out the sounds of the rain. “Will you marry us?” Oliver and Roarke said in unison, and Oliver flipped open the ring box to reveal a delicate, simple white gold ring decorated with an austere diamond. Finally freed from her doubts about commitment, her fear of eternity, she could be with the two men she loved forever. With her newfound confidence, she bravely leaned over and kissed Oliver and then Roarke. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.” She couldn’t help but inject a laugh into her voice. How could they have ever doubted it? “You will?” Roarke put his hand on Chelsea’s thighs. She cupped his dripping face in her hands, smoothing away a stray lock of hair with her thumb. “Yes, yes, yes.” Oliver placed his hand on her cheek, and she turned to look at him. “I love you so much, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” “Glad to hear that,” Roarke said, and she turned her attention back to him. “Because we love you like nobody’s business, honey.” “I love you,” Chelsea said, laughing at Roarke’s statement. “Good thing,” he replied, “because you’ll need a lot of love to believe us once we tell you everything else about Savage Valley.” Everything else? “There’s more?” “Oh, just a little bit,” Oliver replied. “Should we tell her about the bear-shifters?” “Bear-shifters?”

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Helena Ray

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Helena Ray has always maintained that the world inside her head is much more exciting than the real world. Growing up as an only child, she spent many happy afternoons dreaming up companions. These included her evil twin in Mexico, puppets that would pop up out of the ground, and many a talking dog. Born the daughter of a newspaperman and a lawyer, Helena has always given words a vital role in her life. Over the years, her love affair with the written word turned torrid, and she couldn’t stop herself from following in her parents’ footsteps. She loves to travel, and her most recent adventures have included several trips to Paris, leisurely weekends on Lake Constance in Germany, and raucous nights in Dublin. She has traveled all over the United Kingdom and has lived in London and northern England. Currently, Helena lives in Texas with her very handsome boyfriend, his two cats, and her also quite handsome dog. She hopes that readers have as much fun occupying her imaginary worlds as she has creating them.

Also by Helena Ray Ménage Everlasting: Male Order, Texas: A Bride for Two Roughnecks Ménage Everlasting: Male Order, Texas: A Bride for Two Playboys

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