Hidden Pride

The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 3

Hidden Pride After her boss’s sexual advances finally become too much, Anya Copely quits her job as an assistant skating coach. She runs to her father’s hometown of Savage Valley, Colorado, and takes a job at her aunt and uncle’s singles resort, the Woodland Den. When Anya stops at the Ninth Time, the town’s secondhand shop, owner and mountain lion-shifter Clayton Abbott instantly realizes that she is his mate. Despite being thirteen years her elder, he sets out to woo Anya, and his enigmatic younger brother Jack falls for her as well. However, nothing goes as planned in Savage Valley. Corporate giant Ulysses Norman deploys a scheme to seize the Ninth Time’s prime real estate by sending his mistress to seduce Clayton and Jack, but when she recognizes Anya, his mistress goes rogue. Can Jack and Clayton claim their mate before a shadow from Anya’s past takes her away from them forever? Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter Length: 49,708 words

HIDDEN PRIDE The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 3

Helena Ray

MENAGE EVERLASTING

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

HIDDEN PRIDE Copyright © 2012 by Helena Ray E-book ISBN: 1-61926-144-8 First E-book Publication: January 2012 Cover design by Les Byerley All art and logo copyright © 2012 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 reproduction, 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 Hidden 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 AM. For a decade, you have inspired me, entertained me, and understood me like no one else. They don’t make words to express how much you mean to me. And to Justin, the only man I’d let wake me up at 3 a.m. for, well, anything.

HIDDEN PRIDE The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 3 HELENA RAY Copyright © 2012

Prologue The skater on the ice hit the final pose of his long program, and Anya Copely erupted into applause along with the rest of the audience. “Representing the United States of America, Kenneth Whipple!” the announcer called, only intensifying the din of the American crowd’s cheers. Kenny looked around, dumbfounded as a sea of roses and stuffed bears fell around him. As soon as he reached the boards, Anya jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Kenny! That was incredible,” she exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, embracing him even before he could put on his skate guards. “The landing on the quad toe was perfect!” Kenny returned her hug and kissed her on both cheeks. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Anya. Through all the drama and breaking up with Paul, you’ve been my rock.” Anya gave him a final kiss on the cheek before releasing him. “Whatever. Those were hours and hours on the ice paying off.” “The choreographed step sequence was sloppy. You’re not getting any grade of execution points for that.” The harsh voice behind Anya made every muscle in her body tense up. The man’s fingers wrapped around her upper arm, squeezing so hard she winced in pain. “And

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what was that little display from you?” he said in a harsh whisper against the side of her face, his putrid breath invading her nostrils. “He’s not your boyfriend. This is being filmed for international television, remember? If you jump all over him like that, people are going to think I employ some sort of cheap slut.” The words were on the tip of Anya’s tongue to remind him that Kenny was most certainly not interested in anything female, but his hand squeezed tighter, nearly drawing tears from her eyes. A camera then turned in their direction, and he released her, smiling and patting Kenny on the back as their image was displayed on the arena’s JumboTron with the caption Coach: Christopher Birkhead. He waved to the camera, feigning an entirely believable look of humility as he ushered Kenny to the kiss-and-cry area. As soon as an image of the judging panel flashed on the screen, Christopher stomped off the carpeted platform and back to Anya. He clenched his fist around her upper arm again and lowered his face to hers. A cold droplet of moisture rolled off his nose and onto her face as darkness flashed in his eyes. “You’re mine. Whether or not you like it, you belong to me.” Anya tried to escape from his grasp, but he only put his hand on her back and forced her closer to him. “If I ever, ever, see you touching another man like that—” “The scores for Kenneth Whipple, please.” Christopher released her the instant the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena. He sat next to Kenny on the bench in the kiss-and-cry and rubbed the skater’s shoulders as if he actually cared anything at all about his student. Kenny leaned forward so that he could see around his coach and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” Anya shrugged her shoulders, once more feeling utterly powerless. With an Olympic figure skater turned choreographer for a mother and a professional hockey player for a father, Anya had grown up on and around the ice. Her long limbs made her too much of a klutz for skating, though, and her pacifist nature took her out of the running for

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hockey. Instead, she had accompanied her mother to the rink, watching every skater and learning what separated the average competitors from the Olympians. By the time she graduated high school, she had become a valuable coach’s assistant. When her parents ceased their jet-setting lifestyle and moved to Colorado Springs in order to be closer to her father’s home in rural northwestern Colorado, Anya landed the coveted position of assistant to Christopher Birkhead, coach of six national champions, two world champions, and an Olympic medalist. Her new job was the culmination of everything she had worked for. What she didn’t anticipate, though, was that working for Christopher would be a nightmare. Day in and day out, Anya watched him put his students through brutal training regimens that inevitably caused stress injuries in almost all of them. And then came his advances. He pursued her sexually with a single-mindedness that frightened Anya. She tried complaining to the rink staff and to the skating club, but no one dared cross him. When he groped her openly at the national championships, she had lodged a formal complaint with the sport’s national governing body. Even they only gave him a slap on the wrist, a nominal fine that showed exactly how much influence he had in the world of American skating. It had improved after the national championships two years earlier, but things had been getting progressively worse, especially when Anya’s best friend and Christopher’s prize pupil Kenny began garnering serious international attention. Fantasies of leaving Christopher played through her mind on a regular basis, but he had threatened to ruin her reputation amongst the skating community. What else could she do? She had foregone college in order to pursue a coaching career. There was always the possibility of joining her parents in Russia, where they had moved to start a training camp in her mother’s native Saint Petersburg. Although Anya spoke fluent Russian, she had never felt at home in that culture.

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All this ran through her head in the moment of silence before Kenny’s scores were announced. The numbers then flashed on the screen, and for a few beats, the crowd remained silent as the numbers sank in. A deafening cry echoed through the arena as the caption underneath a crying Kenny read Free skating score – 182.37, flashed again, and then read Overall placement – 1st. He dropped his head to his hands, obviously overcome with emotion at receiving the highest score of his skating career. Anya desperately wished she could be happy for him, but an overwhelming feeling of helplessness flooded over her. There was no way out, and Christopher’s forceful advances would only progress along with Kenny’s career. Twenty-three was far too young to be this miserable. She took a sharp intake of breath as an idea broke through the numbness that had taken hold of her mind. True, she had only been formally employed in the skating world, but she remembered a time before her reality had become more like a Lifetime original movie. Her summers as a young teenager had been spent working at her aunt and uncle’s guest lodge in Savage Valley, Colorado. She had been so happy, even at age thirteen, helping with guest bookings and guest activities, and even preparing the rooms. It had been ten years since she spent more than a day or two in Savage Valley, but she still missed the small town and its eclectic population. Maybe she could go back. “Coach Birkhead! Kenny!” Cameramen ran past her, trying to get an interview with her employer and best friend. God, she’d miss Kenny and everyone at the rink, but she needed to get away from that monster. She needed to remember what it felt like not to live every day in fear. She needed a home. Christopher shoved a cameraman to the side as he made a beeline for Anya. Before he could reach her though, she began shaking her head.

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“What are you doing? Why aren’t you handling the media? Kenny needs to get back to the ice to start preparing for his next event.” “I quit.” Anya couldn’t believe she’d spoken the words, but as soon as she had, a weight began lifting from her heart. “You can’t quit,” he bit out through a forced smile to one of the cameras behind her. “You’ll be ruined without me.” With a deep breath, she regretfully pulled off the Team USA jacket she wore and handed it to him. “Yes, I can quit, and I’m quitting right now.” “You’ll never work in skating again.” The truth of those words stung, and tears accumulated at the corners of her eyes. “I know, but I. Still. Quit.” She turned and walked toward the skaters’ exit. What did I do? I just threw away everything I’ve worked for. No, she thought to herself, that wasn’t what happened. She was finally putting her needs in front of everyone else’s, and what she needed wasn’t here. It was in Savage Valley.

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Chapter 1 Two weeks later… “Damn it! Not again.” Jack Abbott’s claws protruded as he hugged his coat tighter around him as he took in the view from Adam’s Point, shredding the fabric of yet another coat. However, the godlike perspective justified withstanding the cold and the resulting partial shift. Being programmed to shift in below-freezing temperatures had its drawbacks. But from where he stood at the highest point in the Mukua range of the Rocky Mountains at the western edge of Savage Valley, Jack could see the whole town sprawled out in front of him. He couldn’t help the sensation of omnipotence that rippled through him as he surveyed the land from the crumbling stillhouse in the northwestern corner, across the small Shoshone reservation and the town center, to Brown Trout Lake in the far southeastern corner. It was only early November, and already the rooftops were dusted with a thin layer of snow, promising a long and frigid winter. He glanced at his cheap watch. 1:30 p.m. Almost time for him to shift back into lion form. He looked over the town and saw the outline of tiny figures spilling from the strip of buildings on Main Street that held his own shop, the Ninth Time, along with the Savage Herald and Savage Hunger. The diner’s lunch rush would be dying down, clearing the coast for Jack to take his position behind the counter at the shop again. With a start, he grasped the wooden railing of the outlook and climbed on top of it. Balancing in the wind with his arms widespread,

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he reveled in the utter solitude, one of the few moments of peace Jack ever got. Reprieves from the telepathic chatter of the pride were few and far between. He closed his eyes, and soon only a pile of clothes testified to the fact that any human man had balanced on the thin railing. Instead, Jack treaded silently to the edge of the outlook, each of his four paws soundless as he started down the mountain. Cora would be up soon to collect his clothing and leave the crumpled garments in the designated tree stump near the top of the mountain, an agreement he’d struck in exchange for letting the staff of the Woodland Den have first dibs on new items at the Ninth Time. The cold sting of snow beneath his paws centered Jack, pulling his consciousness toward that of the animal. He allowed his basest instinct to take over and crawled through the woods to avoid anyone that may have wandered through on their way to Adam’s Point or the Woodland Den. A deep breath told him the coast was clear, and with one smooth motion, he leapt onto the low-hanging branch of a Douglas fir, landing on all four paws at once. Tired from his run up to Adam’s Point, he lay down on the branch, dangling one paw off the side, and opened his mind, listening for his brother to join him in shifted form, the signal it was time for Jack to man the store. His senses opened in preparation for the sign. Everything was in sharper focus in his lion form, his vision flawless, his hearing superhuman, and his sense of smell— Each muscle in his body tensed up, and he could feel his coat bunching at the back of his neck. His skin tingled beneath his fur as each hair stood on end, catching the wind that seemed to intensify in that moment. The sweet aroma filled his nostrils, turning into a tightening and burning that engulfed his entire awareness. Possession. Never had he wanted anything so badly as to find the owner of that heavenly scent, the creature that held his attention in the palm of its hand. He jumped to a lower branch, closer to the ground and the source of that aroma. He cocked his head and nosed a branch out of the way.

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What he saw electrified his awareness even further. Walking down the path toward the town center, only a short distance in front of him, was a young human woman, flushed from the cold and utterly exquisite in her beauty. Each long, shapely leg extended as her feet crunched the thin layer of snow. Her hips flared out from a trim waist and led up to what Jack could tell even through her coat were supple, ample breasts. But his admiration of those features was only an echo of his human mind. What held his leonine attention was the long, graceful neck that he could glimpse through the curtain of dark hair and from underneath the deep-red scarf she wore. Her skin was milky white, the color of the snow tinged with a pink glow. He could almost feel the skin of her neck underneath his teeth, feel how it would tighten before giving way to his canines, marking her as his forever. The power of the image took hold of him, drawing a low grumble from his throat and tightening his skin even further. With slow movements, she turned to him, and more blood rushed to her face, rouging her full lips temptingly. He dipped his head lower, and their eyes met. All the tension in Jack released at that moment, which freed his muscles, allowing him to skulk closer to her and— “Go’ainoo-doyadukubichi’.” At the signal of his brother Clay’s telepathic voice, Jack’s body crept backward against his will, away from the paragon of flush, feminine beauty that still gazed at him, even in his retreat. All parts of him, human and lion, were drawn to the dumbfounded creature watching him. The ancient Shoshone magic pulled him away, back to his homestead and back to his brother, but he wanted to stay with her. He wanted to stay there forever, reveling in the aroma and her beauty, wondering what it would feel like to sink into her soft skin, whether with his fingers, with his cock, or with his teeth. ****

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Anya Copely tried to be nonchalant as she opened the door to the Ninth Time. A bell rang when she pushed open the glass door, and she quickly dodged behind a circular rack of men’s shirts topped with a pile of women’s shoes at least three feet high. She held her breath, waiting for the secondhand store’s owner to come out and man the register. Ten seconds passed, twenty, thirty. Cautiously, she peered out from behind the rack. Coast is clear. Attempting a casual walk, she crossed to another circular rack further inside the store, this one taller and filled with dresses. They ranged from sensible outfits Anya wouldn’t mind owning to outrageous displays of neon that could only have been from the eighties. She fingered through the rack, wondering when, exactly, someone would emerge from door behind the counter that was barely visible through the collection of ancient electronics haphazardly displayed on the wall. Finally, the door creaked open, and Anya hurriedly jumped out of sight, satisfied that she was hidden behind a mess of taffeta that even a figure skater wouldn’t touch. A few steps sounded, followed by several curses muttered in a low grumble. When the door didn’t close again, Anya ventured to peer out from behind the purple taffeta sleeve of the dilapidated prom dress. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the man behind the profanity. Clayton Abbott. He had been the object of her affection since age twelve, although Anya was sure he had never noticed her. Oh, but how she’d noticed him. She studied him as he leaned over the front counter, appearing to examine the jewelry contained therein. Age had only improved Clay’s unconventionally good looks. She ran a quick calculation in her head and determined he must have been thirty-six years old. He pushed his shaggy blond hair behind his ear, revealing his sculpted high cheekbones. His bicep flexed as he raked a hand through his hair, his short-sleeved shirt riding up and revealing the base of one of his tattoos.

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Mustering her courage, Anya grabbed hold of the dress and used it to anchor herself as she leaned further toward the shop owner. God, she could spend hours admiring Clayton Abbott’s magnetic masculinity. However, the dress had different plans. Before Anya could stop it, the flimsy strap of the dress slid from the paper-covered hanger, depriving Anya of her grip and sending her tumbling to the floor. It took a moment for her to register what had happened, but flames of embarrassment ignited in her chest when she realized she was sprawled across the floor of Savage Valley’s cluttered secondhand store with Clay Abbott as her witness. She listened for a moment. No footsteps. Maybe Clay didn’t hear the incident? After waiting another moment, she began to sit up, convinced that Clay hadn’t noticed her fall. “Have a nice trip?” Her head whipped to the right, toward the entrance of the store. Clay knelt beside her, his hand outstretched and a look of bemusement on his face. Before taking his hand, Anya looked around the store. It was packed to the rafters, yes, but she couldn’t see any way Clay could have gotten to this side of her and still escaped her notice. Maybe I hit my head a little harder than I realized. “Well?” Anya turned her attention back to Clay. She couldn’t believe the scene before her, the beautiful Clay Abbott with all his attention focused on her. Delicately, she placed her hand in his, savoring the feel of his warm skin against her cold hands. He deftly pulled her to her feet, and she tripped again. This time, though, Clay’s hand shot to her waist to steady her. Even through her coat, her skin burned underneath his touch. She looked up into his ice-blue eyes, taking a moment to study everything about this position, the heat emanating from his chest, the way the dirty-blond stubble played along his chin, his spicy, woody scent that seemed to wrap around her.

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All too soon for Anya’s taste, he released her, but thankfully put one hand on her shoulder to steady her. “You okay there?” “Y–Yeah,” she stammered. “Sorry about that. I guess I got tripped up in the sea of polyester over there.” He let out one brief chuckle as he looked past her to the dress rack. “I keep telling Jack that he needs to get rid of that purple number.” He shook his head and turned his attention back to Anya. “Do you wanna take it off my hands, or would you like to keep looking?” He didn’t remember her. He really didn’t remember her! Anya thought that might be a good thing, considering her state when she had last spent much time around Savage Valley. She had been an awkward teenager, complete with acne, braces, and a very flat chest. “I think I’ll keep on browsing,” she said, curling up her nose in mock disgust. “Wise choice.” Clay turned from her then and started toward the counter. Her chest constricted a little when he headed back to the counter, but his brief moment of attention could suffice for the evening’s vibrator-time fodder. “So, you visiting the Valley?” Clayton asked as he busied himself at the register, confirming Anya’s suspicion. “What makes you say that?” Having waited so many years for this much attention from Clay, Anya figured she might as well have some fun. “You’re carrying a Woodland Den bag. They only give those out to guests and…” He looked up and narrowed his eyes at her. Would this be his moment of recognition? “Are you working at the Den?” “Maybe.” A smile broke over his stoic features for just a moment, but he quickly schooled his countenance. “Didn’t realize they had hired anyone for the holiday season.” “Well, I’m not just anyone.”

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He narrowed his eyes at her once more, and finally they widened in recognition. “Anya? Anya Copely? Is that you?” He stared at her as if she were in costume and walked around the counter. “How are you in…But I thought…You’re not…” “I haven’t been around for a while.” She didn’t miss the way his gaze traveled up and down her body, his appreciative gesture speeding up her heart rate. “God, you can say that again.” Clayton leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he cocked his head and studied her. “So how’ve you been? Frank and Cora talk about some of your exploits when they come in, and your grandmother brags on you to everyone at Savage Hunger. Aren’t you supposed to be travelin’ around with some bigtime figure skating coach?” Anya flinched, the mere mention of her former employer resulting in a bodily reaction. She forced herself to grin, determined not to let Christopher’s actions taint her time with Clay. “Guess my aunt and uncle haven’t been in recently. I decided to take…a hiatus from the skating world, at least for a season or two.” She forced her smile wider. “I’m working at the Woodland in the meantime.” Clay shook his head and continued to examine her, heating her cheeks. After a few beats, Anya started to feel awkward, the silence between them electrified with what she hoped was mutual attraction. Just when the tension became so unbearable Anya thought she’d have to leave, Clay broke the silence. “H–How’s your dad?” His voice came out shakier than she ever remembered hearing it. “He enjoying his retirement from the NHL?” “I think so,” Anya said, slightly disappointed that she’d have to recite this story once more but still more than elated to be talking to Clayton. “Although he’s been working with the US national team until recently. My parents have just started up a training camp at a rink in Saint Petersburg—”

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“Florida or Russia?” “Russia, silly,” she said, unable to stifle a giggle. “Anyway, it’s going really well for them, and I think my dad is finally learning Russian.” “Yeah, but how are you taking it? You guys started moving around a lot, didn’t you?” Anya felt her jaw drop. Clayton Abbott remembered all those details about her family? Did he really care that much? Then the sobering thought occurred to her that her father was a bit of a town celebrity. Right. That was why Clay cared. “It’s been…” Images of that fateful competition flashed through her head. The last five years had been anything but easy. “It’s been interesting.” A look of concern flashed across Clay’s face, but it vanished quickly. He snapped out his scrutiny and started to move to the other side of the counter. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He shook his head at her once more. “Anya Copely. I gotta do a bit of work, but feel free to look around all you want.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re not interested in that taffeta-polyester mess over there?” Anya laughed, thankful for the injection of humor. “I think I’ll leave it for some other lucky girl to find.” “You do that.” Clayton disappeared into the back of the store, and Anya let out a breath she had held through their entire interaction. Did all of that really just happen? Or was it some sort of traumainduced dream? Either way, Anya couldn’t help the silly grin she knew she was wearing. **** Clay had to struggle not to slam the door to the front of the store. As soon as it was closed, he rested his back against it and tried to catch his breath. He was hyperventilating, his heart pounding. He had

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called on his deepest stores of energy to stay calm in front of Anya, and now he couldn’t ignore the raging hard-on begging for his attention. Had he really just seen little Anya Copely? Rita’s granddaughter? He searched his memories for any recollection of the girl. He had never known her particularly well. Last he remembered, she was an awkward prepubescent teenager, sweet but still quite gangly, nothing like that creature that spilled onto the floor of the Ninth Time, beautiful even in her clumsiness. He couldn’t get the image of her long, lean body out of his mind, the sight of her long, dark hair flowing around her shoulders haunting him. After a great effort, Clay’s heart rate slowed, but there was no relief in sight for his cock. He turned toward his desk, hoping some paperwork would serve to wilt his hard-on, but a whiff of something caught his attention. It was a bizarre smell, a cross between body odor and cologne. It had been years since he’d had a date, and therefore years since he’d broken out any sort of man fragrance. He wondered briefly if Jack was getting laid and not telling him about it, but he doubted his little brother would either spend money on something so trivial or be poking around his studio. He dismissed the notion, instead passing his desk and continuing to his easel in the corner. As he picked up his brush, hoping to distract himself from his encounter with Anya, he closed his eyes and tried to recall the arresting visual stimuli experienced by his leonine consciousness. Only particularly powerful images from his shifted form stuck around once his human brain took over, but Clayton always tried to conjure up the scant memories for use in his work. Think. He squeezed his eyes tighter and tried to recall either his own experiences from the last few hunts or the experiences of the collective pride consciousness that formed when they all shifted together. With the cold weather forcing the Rocky Mountain mule deer population into an early mating season, food was plentiful, making for uneventful hunts. Think, Clay. Nothing on the last hunt, or

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the one before that, or the one before that, or…Wait. Only a few short weeks ago, one of the pride families, the Popes, had scented their mate on the hunt, sending the rest of a pride into a frenzy. They had felt an overwhelming bodily yearning, the intensity of their focus unheard of. Their lust had consumed them in an extreme arousal that— Holy fucking shit. Only a few hunts before that, Oliver and Roarke Cash, the pride alpha and beta respectively, had experienced the same heightened awareness when they scented their mate. Suddenly, Clay knew the source of his overpowering reaction to Anya. He had felt all those same sensations—the yearning, the intensity, certainly the arousal—the instant he heard Anya’s soft footfalls as she entered the store. His reaction to her was like none he had ever experienced, and now he knew he would never feel that for another woman. Just as his heart surged with a happiness and relief he hadn’t thought possible, his fathers’ words echoed in his mind. The story of when they first found their mother was legendary in the Abbott family. The three had been at Savage Convenience and Auto Plus, their favorite destination for parts to fix up the ever-revolving stable of ancient cars that filtered through the Abbott household. A young woman covered in ink stains had run into the store, gesticulating wildly and shouting something about a car stalled on Highway 131. It turned out that the clunker only needed a new serpentine belt, but the Abbott brothers would have built her a new engine right there in the middle of the store. They had fallen in love instantly with the bushyhaired beauty driving from art school in Boulder to her home in San Francisco, and legend had it, the Abbotts mated her only two days later. Remembering his late parents knotted Clay’s stomach, and he tried to tamp down the immediacy of their memory. What Clay knew he needed to dwell on was the fact that his fathers had known from the very first time that they saw his mother that she was their mate,

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and the Cashes and Popes had experienced the same phenomenon. He may have felt his entire body constrict in lust the instant Anya walked into the store, but he had to chalk it up to something else. He had seen Anya before, and even though he hadn’t known her very well, he certainly didn’t have the same reaction to the skinny, bespectacled preteen. He needed to get back to her. He needed to regain some semblance of calm so he could once more allow the intoxicating presence of his mate—his mate—to wash over him. “I’m gonna go!” Clay’s dick hardened as he heard the clear, ringing voice from within the shop. God, even the sound of her voice had him sweating with his desire. An image of her walked into his mind, and he longed to remove that jacket and the skinny jeans she wore, find out exactly how long those luscious legs were. “It was nice seeing you.” His voice sounded strangled, even to his own ears. “Come by again, okay?” “O–Okay. Bye, Clayton!” He heard the door close, signaling the alluring woman had finally left the store. Damn it, he had lost his chance. Clay glanced at the clock. It was 1:45 p.m. already. He had shifted and called for his brother to shift at one thirty, just before Anya came in. What the fuck was taking him so long? The lunch hours without Jack usually dragged on forever, but today’s felt even longer than usual. Clay’s cock pressed hard against his zipper, and he longed for his brother to take over the front of the shop so that he could finally relieve the pressure that had been building since Anya walked into the store. Mate or not, one thing was clear. He needed her with every iota of his being, mountain lion and all. **** “Grandma?”

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Anya cracked open the door to the Haven Salon, relieved at the burst of warm air that came from within. “Don’t you dare call me that, honey! You’ll make people think I’m old.” Her Grandma Rita hopped from one of the chairs in the waiting area and pulled her granddaughter into the salon, still wearing the black dress from her Savage Hunger uniform. “What do you want me to call you then?” Anya asked as she hugged her grandmother. She appeared to think for a moment, tapping a newly manicured finger against her chin. “What do you call your other grandmother? The Russian one?” “Babulya?” She paused for a moment before shaking her head and laughing. “No, I think ‘grandma’ actually suits me just fine.” “I’m so happy to see you.” Anya hugged her grandmother again, breathing in her distinctive smell of hand lotion and coffee, a mixture only acquired by frequenting a beauty parlor and working at a diner. “Oh, you, too, angel bunny.” Anya laughed against her grandmother’s shoulder at the use of the pet named she’d given Anya as a baby. “You come on in, and we’ll get you a pedicure. That’ll make everything better.” “Everything’s fine, Grandma. I don’t need a consolatory pedicure.” Grandma Rita waved off her comment. “Oh, everyone needs a pedicure, consolatory or not. And what happened to you is a big deal. I could just wring that man’s neck.” Once more, Christopher soaked into Anya’s life, and she worked to push him out of her mind. She closed her eyes and called up the recent memory of Clay’s spicy, masculine scent. How could she dwell on the past when her dreams had nearly come true? As she sat down, removed her shoes, and eased her feet into the blue jets of water and relaxed, Anya listened to her grandmother’s tirade on Christopher’s behavior. She’d already heard it several times

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before, when she called to tell her grandmother she was moving to Savage Valley then each time she had seen her since. “I know, I know,” Anya said when Grandma Rita finally took a deep breath of air. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have stayed, but I love the sport so much. I don’t know what I would do without it in my life.” “He never would have pulled that if your parents had been in the country. Why, I still say I ought to report him to—” “Can we move on?” Anya hated to sound ungrateful, but she wanted to think about anything else. “Sure thing, hon.” Grandma Rita gave her a wink, and Anya thought she knew where this was going. “So, you stopped by the Ninth Time, I hear?” “Is nothing private in this town?” “Only the things that matter.” “Grandma!” Anya grinned at her grandmother and stuck out her tongue. “Stop being so salacious.” “I can’t help it, angel bunny, you know that. But were you seeing that Abbott boy? He’s always been so dark and mysterious.” “He’s blond. He can’t be dark and mysterious,” Anya teased. Her grandmother waved her hand in the air. “Details. Well, I’ll tell you what. I hope that boy finds a good woman. His family has been through so much, and they’re such good people.” Anya tried to be nonchalant. “So, he’s single?” Her grandmother opened her mouth to respond then snapped it shut. “Uh-uh! You’re not gonna trick me into being the town gossip.” She shrugged, as if acknowledging that had been her purpose, but inwardly she harbored a small hope. Grandma Rita inferred Clay’s singledom. Clayton Abbott was fair game.

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Chapter 2 When Jack came to, he was lying naked against the back door of the Ninth Time. He cursed to himself as he pulled a bundle of clothing out from underneath an overturned box. Strangely, what he saw on his shift was still in his mind. The woman, the utterly exquisite woman, in the snow with her slender, flawless form was emblazoned in his mind. He normally remembered relatively little from the shift, but he could remember every detail of the instant he saw her. Something was different about today, but Jack didn’t know exactly what. “God, I wish I could just finish this fucking payroll and get back to Marta.” “Damn it, I don’t want to get back to the Mitchell case. That guy hasn’t got a chance in hell anyway.” “Let’s see, I need to get over the bank and consult with the Carsons about the town’s financial state if we pass the antiNormCorp ordinance.” The thoughts descended upon Jack all at once, shattering his memory from the woods and filling his minds with the trivial thoughts of Sam Pope, Ira Sullivan, and Roarke Cash, all still at Savage Hunger. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out all the voices. “Let’s see…it looks like Dave swapped shifts on Thursday. I wonder who—” “Goddamn, why did he have to get into that car drunk? My life would be far easier if—” “And Marta’s tips would go to—” “The statutory rights for DUI convicts—”

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Thankfully Roarke had drifted far enough away from Jack that he couldn’t hear his voice anymore, but Sam and Ira both mentally talked to themselves constantly, making their voices a regular presence in Jack’s mind. After pulling on his clothes, Jack stumbled into the back room of the Ninth Time, nearly knocking over one of his brother’s easels on the way. The chatter impaired his ability to concentrate, and he collided with his brother. “You’re back,” Clay grunted, turning back to his easel. After a fleeting thought—“Thank god I didn’t have to call him again, today of all days”—his brother managed to silence his inner monologue. “Thanks for that, man. Yeah, I just–I can’t—” Jack stammered, rubbing his temples, trying to drown out the chatter. “Wait, what happened today?” Jack could distinctly sense his brother’s unease among the emotions that floated through the other members of the mountain lion-shifting pride, but Clay’s attention stayed locked on his canvas. Luckily, the bell on the door to the shop rang, bringing Jack back to his own thoughts. “Customer.” Clay didn’t turn away from his easel. “Go out there. It’ll make you feel better.” Jack only nodded, even though he knew it would go unnoticed by his brother. When Clay painted, no one could draw his attention. Jack studied the easel for a moment, a study in white and red perched upon it this time. “Jack? You there?” an older woman’s voice called to him. Reminded of his duty, Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing all his effort on pushing away Sam and Ira’s thoughts. He gingerly placed his hand on the doorknob, blowing out his breath and opening his eyes in preparation for what was about to come next. “Agnes Bird!” he exclaimed as he burst through the door. “Why haven’t you been in here to see me in at least a week?”

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“I didn’t have anything for you, that’s why!” The older woman smiled as she hauled a cardboard box filled to the top with paperback books onto the counter then adjusted her long braid of silver hair. “Oh, come now, you don’t need an excuse to see me, do you?” She batted a hand in his direction. “Oh, hush, you. You don’t want an old woman like me coming in here, do you?” “Old? Hell, I—” “Shit! Motherfucker! That little rat didn’t finish his community service hours for his last arrest. Damn it all to hell. This must be why the judge has been crawling up my ass all week. If that little asshat hadn’t—” Jack gasped as Ira Sullivan’s stream of profanity broke through the shield of his bravado. He stumbled, but quickly regained his balance, flashing Agnes his best smile in order to hide his slipup. “H–Hell,” he started again shakily, “I don’t think you’re old at all.” Agnes looked concerned, but continued their exchange. “You can tell me that all you want, Jack Abbott. Coming from a good-looking young man like you, it’s quite the compliment.” “What can I say?” He twisted his mouth into a grin. “I’m just a sucker for a beautiful woman.” “Well, then,” Agnes said, patting the box she had deposited on the counter, “does that mean you’d be willing to give a beautiful woman a good price on these books?” Jack gave an exaggerated sigh then looked over to the box. He picked up a few titles, all of them romances, some with quite racy covers. “Where do you even get all these, Agnes?” She shrugged. “The ladies that come into the Haven are always leaving books, and I have to clean out my supply every once in a while.” “Oh, really?” Jack said, raising his eyebrows. “It all has to do with the ladies in the salon. You don’t read any of these?”

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“So what if I do?” Agnes challenged with a wink. “Some of them are pretty good. You oughta try one.” Jack picked up a book and turned it over in his hand. “Thanks for the suggestion, Agnes, but I hardly think I’m the happily-ever-after type.” She cocked her head and studied him for a moment, an enigmatic grin growing across her face. “You’d be surprised. I believe your fathers said much the same thing.” An image popped into Jack’s mind, unbidden, of the woman in the snow, the contrast of her creamy, pale skin and chocolate-brown hair causing his heart to beat faster even now. Even more arresting than the woman, the moment the image took hold of his thoughts, all sound dropped away, leaving him only with her memory. The sight of her turning toward him, her mouth dropping in awe, flickered in his mind, looping like a silent film reel played over and over. “You don’t have to look like you just saw a ghost.” Agnes’s voice sounded far away as Jack began drifting back to reality. “They’re just romance novels. They won’t kill ya.” Jack forced a laugh, panting a little from the force of the memory. He patted the box, needing something concrete to anchor him to the present. “Tell you what? I’ll give you fifteen dollars for the whole box.” Agnes put her hand over her heart and gasped, feigning shock at the price. “Well, I’ll be. Is that the price you give to a beautiful woman?” Jack shrugged. “Times are tough. We’ve gotta hire a new employee soon.” “Twenty? I know you can manage that.” Jack picked up another one of the books, looked at the cover, and turned it so that Agnes could see the cover. “Really? You want me to believe that a box of these is worth twenty?” “At least,” Agnes said, crossing her arms. “So are you gonna buy them or not?”

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Jack put the book down and sighed, enjoying the reprieve this banter gave him. “Seventeen?” “Eighteen?” “Seventeen fifty, and that’s my final offer.” “You’re killing me, Abbott.” “Okay, fine.” Jack relented. “For a gorgeous lady such as yourself, eighteen.” “You’ve got yourself a deal, handsome.” As Jack proceeded to write her up, he heard the dull chatter in his head change from Sam and Ira, to Sam and Phil Pope, to Phil and Roarke. “Hey, sweet pea,” Agnes said as Jack recorded her details, “is everything going okay? You look like you’re not feeling so hot.” “Maybe if I add a pinch of cayenne pepper—” Jack squeezed his eyes shut to block out Phil’s thoughts. He’d heard enough over the years that Jack felt he’d vicariously earned Phil’s culinary arts certificate. “Jack? Sweetie?” With great effort, Jack focused on Agnes again. “I’m so sorry, but you’re right. Things have been awful rough lately. Ulysses Norman is breathing down our necks about buying the place, and apparently he’s threatened to pull some strings with the IRS if we won’t give in.” “He can’t do that.” Agnes gasped and shook her head. “That’s some sort of crime, isn’t it?” “Maybe, but since he’s the head of one of the largest development and investment firms in the country, I don’t know if the laws for us apply to him.” “Oh, sweetie. Is there anything you can do?” Jack leaned on his elbows on the counter, mustering his best smile for the older woman. “The best thing we can do is make sure we’re in perfect order. Clay’s kept our books since our dads passed, but he’s looking into hiring a bookkeeper. We figure we can hedge our bets by keeping some flawless books.”

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“Is that all?” Agnes rubbed a hand over his back as Jack dropped his head, allowing his blond hair to sweep over his eyes. “It’s all I can talk about,” he barely whispered. “Pride business?” Agnes asked from above him. Exhaling deeply, Jack straightened and shrugged his shoulders in surrender. “I guess you could say that.” As a lifelong resident of Savage Valley and the closest friend of Susan Pope, Sam, Phil, and Mel Pope’s mother, Agnes knew of the existence of the pride, but they had all worked tirelessly to keep the details under wraps. Much as Jack appreciated her friendship, his telepathy would have to stay a secret. Agnes looked uneasy, but sympathetic. “Well, I gotta get back to the salon, sweetie, but if you need anything, you let me know, okay?” “I appreciate it, and I will.” Even through the chatter in his mind, Jack felt his own affection for the woman bloom in his chest. As soon as the door to the Ninth Time drifted closed, Jack’s knees buckled and he sank to the floor behind the counter. Once more, all his senses fell away, leaving every other memory lost to the cutting room floor except the woman in the snow. He needed to find her, and he needed to find her soon. Something deep inside Jack, something he didn’t quite understand, screamed to him that she would complete him. And for once, Jack didn’t try to block out the voice. **** Anya hung up the phone and finished writing down the details of the latest booking at the Woodland Den. She slumped against the reception desk and took in the empty lobby. While she was certainly grateful to be away from the hectic autumn skating season, the change in pace had rattled her a good deal. She laid her head on the desk and stared into the ashy void of the large stone fireplace on the opposite

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side of the lobby. They’d yet to fire it up since the Woodland’s remodel, but Anya couldn’t wait to sit in front of its warm blaze. It was how she’d spent her happiest winters as a child, she remembered. She thought of sitting with her knees curled up against her chest, a pencil and pad in hand, whiling away the afternoons by sketching skating costumes while her grandmother worked. When both hockey season and skating season were in full swing, Grandma Rita would take Anya under her wing, and her Uncle Frank and Aunt Cora would allow her to hang around the Woodland while her grandmother worked her shifts at the diner. When she was older, she began helping them, filing bookings and sorting materials for the guest bags. But once her father took a steady job on the coaching staff for the US national hockey team, a move originally intended to bring them closer to the Valley, their new life in Colorado Springs engrossed them and her trips to the Valley had become far less frequent. She would have loved to keep working at the Woodland throughout her teen years, but it seemed that fate didn’t have that in the cards for her. “Anya, honey,” her aunt called from behind her. “That wasn’t another group canceling their reservation, was it?” “No, luckily it wasn’t.” Anya glanced down at the reservation book—why Cora refused to switch to a computerized booking system, she’d never know—and sighed at the red pencil scrawled over half the bookings for the next two weeks. “It was another couple booking a room for the Marina Andrews concert.” “Oh, thank god.” Cora placed a hand over her chest and sighed in obvious relief. “I’ve been so worried about the concert. I mean, building the amphitheater along with the remodels from the fire was such a risk, and I’d just be torn apart if we had to cancel because everyone—” “Aunt Cora, it’s going to be just fine. Marina Andrews is such a big star that even if everyone cancels, you’ll find someone to take their place.” Anya turned and sat on the edge of the reception desk,

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laughing to herself about her aunt’s nervous behavior. Even away from the ice, she assumed the familiar role of consoling someone overly anxious about an event. Funny, how her life kept up the same patterns. “I’m still amazed we got Nashville’s latest starlet to come play for the opening of the theater.” “Honestly, so am I. How did that end up working out?” An enigmatic smile played at the corners of Cora’s lips, but she only nodded and said, “That’s a story for another time, honey.” Before Anya could respond, she glanced at the clock on the desk. “Nearly time for the singles nature walk. Shouldn’t you be herding the guests right now?” She sighed and looked out one of the windows overlooking the snow-dusted trees surrounding the Woodland. “It’ll probably be the last one before the big snow.” “Why are you believing the weather whiners again?” Anya shook her head at her aunt’s anxiety. “You know they’re just saying that so everyone will run out and buy batteries, logs, and a bottle of whiskey.” “Well, I’m not taking any risks. It’s supposed to hit tomorrow night.” Jeremiah Greenwood, naturalist and leader of the Woodland’s nature walk, burst through the lobby doors then stopped abruptly. “Come, guests, the wonders of the wild—” He paused, and Anya could see him looking around the deserted lobby. “Anya,” he called out, “where is everyone?” She heaved a deep sigh and headed toward the guest rooms. “I’m getting ’em,” she called back. “Oh, and one more thing.” Cora’s hand on Anya’s back stopped her, and she turned back to her aunt. “If I don’t see you before tomorrow, could you make sure to take the old linens down to the Ninth Time before the storm hits? We’re gonna need that storage space for the new generator.”

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“Since when are you getting a new—” Wait. Did she just ask me to go the Ninth Time? Oh, hell yes. “Yeah, I’ll be sure and make it down there.” She grabbed a clipboard with the names of everyone who signed up for the singles nature walk—a small number, she had to admit— and crossed the lobby in a daze, her mind now filled with thoughts of the next time she would encounter Clayton Abbott. “So, I got some new socks at the Ninth Time today.” Jeremiah’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Okay,” she said as she turned to face him. “No disrespect, but you’re telling me this because?” He grinned, the expression causing little lines to crinkle around his black eyes in mirth. “Ended up talking to Clay a little bit, and he told me to say hi.” Anya’s heart began racing. He thought of me? He wanted to say hi to me? She wanted to believe it, but the niggling voice at the back of her mind reminded her that Clayton’s reputation had always been for his grumpiness. He was hardly the type of person to be sending greetings along with the outgoing Jeremiah Greenwood. “Really? He said to say hi?” “Well, not in so many words, but that was the gist of it.” Now that piqued Anya’s curiosity. “What exactly did he say?” she asked, choosing her words carefully. Jeremiah opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. Instead he winked, the scar on his left cheek lifting with the corner of his lips. “Don’t you have guests to…what did Cora call it…herd?” “Yeah, but—” “Anya!” Cora’s voice boomed from the reception desk. “If you want to flirt, flirt with the guests! They’re paying for it!” “I’m not—” She considered arguing with her aunt but decided against it. Cora didn’t know that Anya only had eyes for one man. “Going!”

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She passed through the corridor to the left of the staircase and to the newly remodeled guest rooms. As worked her way through the hallways, her mind was preoccupied. Images of Clayton Abbott danced across her brain, echoed by memories of Jeremiah’s cryptic remarks. As the guests set off on their walk, some of them already eyeing others suggestively, Anya collapsed on the couch before printing the menus for tonight’s dinner at the Woodland Kitchen. Her heart pounded as she stared into the dark void of the fireplace. Inexplicably, another memory tangled with the images of her encounter with Clayton. It was the memory of the mountain lion she had seen while walking up to the Woodland. She had never been a particularly outdoorsy person—much to her father’s chagrin—but the animal had captured her attention like nothing else before. Its eyes were bright blue, and something she couldn’t name came over her as she stared into those azure orbs, pinning her to the spot and causing her heartbeat to race like never before. As she idly prepared the night’s menu, the two images flashed back and forth in her head. Why they were linked, she still didn’t know. **** “Mr. Norman, Mr. Fischer is here to see you.” Ulysses idly clicked on another ad, assessing the half-naked woman as unworthy of his advances. Heaving a sigh of frustration, he reached over and clicked on the speaker. “Send him in, Barbee.” “You can go in,” he heard the secretary say over the intercom. “And turn off your mic.” “Oh! Sorry, Mr. Norm—” A rustling noise cut off her voice followed by a click. Ulysses shook his head in frustration. If he hadn’t invested several thousand

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dollars in buying her that nice set of tits, he would have fired her months ago. Although, in her favor, she did suck a mean cock. “Ulysses, hi.” The tall, thin man cracked open the door and peeked in. “Skyler, take a seat.” Ulysses waved to one of the leather wingback chairs facing his desk. “I’m so glad you can come in today. I wanted to ask you about…” He trailed off as a particularly promising ad caught his attention. Luvs 2 eat cock – w4m – 21. Perfect. “About Savage Valley? Yes?” “Oh, um, yes.” The pursuit of profit was the only thing that could pull his attention away from the task at hand. He cleared his throat before continuing. “It appears that they’re going to fight us on the purchase of Adam’s Point—” “And neither Savage Convenience nor Savage Hunger will budge.” “True, very true.” He leaned back in his chair and held his steepled fingers in front of his face. “It’s time to find another weak spot.” “Ulysses?” Skyler said quietly, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “If you don’t mind, I think I have an idea that may work.” Skyler’s ideas were usually impractical, he mused, and often involved elaborate scheming. However, Ulysses’s pursuit of Savage Valley had become an obsession, and he was willing to do anything at this point to secure ownership and domination of the small town. “Well, we haven’t been able to negotiate a deal with the owners of Savage Hunger—” “Don’t remind me.”

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“—but we may be able to get a foothold with another of the businesses in Savage Valley.” Did Skyler really think he hadn’t considered the possibility? “While I respect your initiative, the idea is entirely implausible. The Carsons won’t budge on Savage Valley Bank, and the staff at the Savage Herald are impossible to deal with. We tried buying out the salon and that dreadful secondhand shop for the real estate value, but those owners are flat-out lunatics.” Skyler hesitated, gnawing on his bottom lip in a show of weakness that infuriated Ulysses. While he respected the man’s business acumen, he often found him entirely tedious on a personal level. “I–I know we’ve tried to talk with the owners of the Ninth Time, but certain…events have transpired that lead me to believe we could get in…clandestinely.” “Spit it out, Skyler. What’s the plan?” “Well, our connections in the IRS have been putting pressure on the Ninth Time and threatening an audit. As a result, there has been talk of a bookkeeping position open at the Ninth Time, presumably to avoid risking trouble with the government.” Skyler hesitated, but Ulysses liked where this was going. “Continue,” he said slowly. “If we could send in someone for the bookkeeping position who understood how advantageous the sale of the Ninth Time would be for NormCorp, perhaps they could convince the Abbotts that they, too, could benefit from the situation.” “Benefit?” Ulysses hated to think of any of those bigamists in Savage Valley reaping any reward from his seizure of their town. “Why would I be interested in doing anything of benefit for the Abbotts?” A coy smile played on Skyler’s face, and Ulysses noted his cheeks reddening, a repulsive sign of his weakness. “I didn’t say it would benefit them, and that benefit they perceive needn’t be financial.”

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Skyler hesitated, the color in his cheeks intensifying. Luckily, a soft ping sounded from Ulysses’s computer, and he turned his attention to the e-mail that had just arrived in his inbox. His dick hardened as he examined the attachment showing a scantily clad and busty girl. Judging by the quality of the picture, she was probably a professional. Not that Ulysses minded, of course. He’d have Barbee take out some cash funds after…Right. Skyler. “Pardon me if I don’t understand your meaning, Skyler,” Ulysses began uncomfortably—his prick still pulsed from the e-mail he’d received—“but if the benefit isn’t financial, then what on earth could it be?” Skyler cleared his throat, and then his blue eyes met Ulysses’s. “Sexual.” “Now I want to hear more.” “From what I learned during my stay, neither Clayton nor Jack Abbott has had a consistent partner at any point in the recent past.” Skyler rose and began pacing back and forth as he spoke. The flames from the fireplace in the vast cavern of Ulysses’s office silhouetted the man with a dancing orange glow. “Jack is known for being rather outgoing and flirtatious with customers in the shop, but from what I understand, he’s not the one who runs the business.” “Oh?” “Clayton makes all of the decisions.” Skyler walked forward and placed both his hands on the table, leaning uncomfortably close to the point where Ulysses could smell the man’s expensive cologne. Although, if he was to have no boundaries concerning personal space, Ulysses guessed it was fortunate he had good taste. “Here’s what I was thinking,” Skyler continued. “If we could send in a tempting candidate for the bookkeeping position, we could not only get a handle on the Ninth Time financially, we could win the Abbotts over to our side.” “We just have to send the right seductress.” Another e-mail arrived in Ulysses’s inbox, but he could do little to acknowledge it.

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Too many thoughts filled his mind as he began to envision how the whole thing would unfold. Skyler cleared his throat as he returned to his seat in the leather wingback. “I was thinking perhaps one of the women in the secretarial pool might be of service here. We could easily have credentials made up for—” “Nonsense.” Ulysses had just the seductress in mind for the job. “Jocelyn will do it.” Ah, yes, the prized thoroughbred in his stable. He knew firsthand that no financially minded woman could wrap a man around her little finger like his Jocelyn. When she began as an intern at NormCorp, Ulysses had immediately recognized her potential. Ever since, they had traveled the world together, she a sterling trophy and complement to his wit, far more enjoyable a companion than the dreadful bitch he’d had to marry. “Jocelyn? Jocelyn Smythe?” Skyler choked out. “I–I mean she’s obviously quite qualified—” “Quite qualified? She has an MBA from Harvard. There’s not a more qualified candidate for the position in the state.” “But won’t they suspect something?” Skyler countered. “Ivy League MBAs are hardly in abundance in rural Colorado.” The man did have a point there, but Ulysses refused to be deterred. “That’s but a minor detail. Between Jocelyn’s good looks, the supposed desperation of Clayton Abbott, and the convenient trust small-town hicks give newcomers, no one will suspect a thing.” Skyler’s mouth flopped open, giving him the repulsive appearance of a robotic singing fish. Finally, he shut the damn thing and nodded. “Shall I make the arrangements then, sir?” “Let me handle Ms. Smythe,” Ulysses said, relishing the moment he could feel her toned ass beneath his hands. “Do you still have the keys to the apartment in Savage Valley?” “Yes, but—”

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“Good. Clear it of your possessions and hand the keys over to Barbee when you come in tomorrow. It will look more convincing if Jocelyn has a real place to live.” “That’s all good and well, but I still have—” Ulysses’s hard look silenced Skyler. The man had always disliked Jocelyn, and his reservations about her qualification—or rather overqualification—were wearing on Ulysses’s nerves. Whatever issues the sycophant had, he’d have to learn to live with them. He had no intention on delaying the sexual reward Jocelyn would undoubtedly bestow upon him. “You will need to stick around to keep up appearances, won’t you?” Ulysses sighed and glanced at his inbox. Although he couldn’t wait to tangle his fingers in Jocelyn’s long, blonde hair as she sucked his cock, he would regret not pursuing his latest Internet-acquired exploits. “Book a room at that dreadfully cheesy singles resort. What is it? The Woody Hall?” “The Woodland Den. But really, it’s quite—” “Skyler.” Ulysses gave the man his hardest glare, hoping it would silence any objections. “It’s for the good of the company. You do care about the good of the company, don’t you?” He heaved a deep sigh, another show of weakness that began to wilt Ulysses’s cock, although a fleeting thought of Jocelyn chased the flaccidity away. “All right. I’ll have the keys for you tomorrow.” “Good.” He leaned over and spoke into the intercom. “Barbee? Have Jocelyn come up right away.” “Yes, Mr. Norman. Right away.” The intercom continued its obnoxious crinkling. “The middle button, Barbee.” “What, Mr. Norman?” “The middle button. It turns off the microphone.” “Oh! Tha—” God, what idiots surrounded Ulysses at all times. Luckily, though, one of his monkeys had managed finally managed a line of

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Shakespeare. He couldn’t wait to launch Skyler’s plan into action and finally get a foothold in Savage Valley’s commercial real estate. More importantly, the plan afforded him an opportunity to screw over those lecherous bigamists that made him curse his hometown.

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Chapter 3 Clay pulled his beat-up Volvo station wagon into the wide dirt expanse in front of Bo’s house. He knew it was eleven o’clock at night, but he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t even think until he had an answer to the question that had eclipsed all other rational thought. He bounded up the steps to the brown, wooden house and banged on the door. Damn it, why didn’t the Shoshone shaman have a fucking doorbell? After thirty seconds without an answer, he knocked again, this time harder, and shouted Bo’s name. Finally, a light flicked on in the house, and a croaking voice shouted, “All right, all right already! Geez.” The porch light flickered to life, the deadbolt snapped, and the door opened, revealing Bo in a robe and slippers, his long, black hair, streaked with silver, rolling down his back. The low light accentuated the wrinkles on his face, but his dark eyes still sparkled with mischief. “Clay, don’t get me wrong, I’m always happy to see you. But do you realize it’s nearly midnight?” “It’s eleven,” Clay grunted. “And I’m afraid I have some pressing business.” “Come in, come in,” Bo said with a yawn. “You want a beer or something?” Clay nodded as he walked into the small foyer and then left to the living room. He sat on the long, dilapidated couch, the one he’d occupied in some capacity every few months for his entire life. Bo returned from the kitchen carrying two bottles. Clay thanked him as

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he popped open the bottle with his teeth and took a long swig of the beer. “So tell me what’s so pressing, man,” Bo said as he lowered himself into his La-Z-Boy. “You boys aren’t having trouble with the bears again, are you?” Clay laughed and shook his head. “No, there hasn’t been any of that since our generation took over the pack, remember?” “Yeah, only the Sullivan boys prodding them into fights.” While Clay would have loved to spend the evening listing Ira Sullivan’s many flaws, his mind couldn’t concentrate on anything besides Anya for more than a few minutes. He had to know, and he had to know now. “It’s about…” How could he put this so that Bo would understand? “It’s a…mate…thing.” Bo’s eyes lit up at this, and he kicked down the footstool so he could lean closer. “You boys found your mate? Oh, man, and the Popes only mated a few weeks ago!” “Well, I…” Damn it, why couldn’t he be better with words? “I haven’t talked to Jack yet. He’s been shifted since around dinnertime.” Bo shook his head and made a clucking time. “That boy sure has it hard. I imagine having to listen to Roarke Cash talk to himself all day must be real tough.” “It was a bad day today. He was having trouble keeping out the thoughts even when he was with the customers.” “You know,” Bo said slowly, “you really need to think about him in the mating. He’s gonna have a lot easier a time once he gets that burst of strength from his mate.” “I know.” God, how Clay knew. Since his brother’s problem escalated when their generation became dominant, the legends had echoed through his mind, always admonishing that only mating would give Jack the power to control his gift.

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“So you found your mate? It’s cause for celebration!” Bo took a drag of his beer, his brow furrowed in thought. “Now let’s see, who’s come to town recently? Was it one of the other mates’ friends? Or maybe someone staying at the Woodland?” Clay felt himself trembling as he finally strung together the words to tell Bo why he had made his late-night visit. “Or someone working at the Woodland.” His eyes met with Bo’s, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “Do you remember Rita’s granddaughter? Gerard Copely’s girl?” “Gerard Copely’s girl? No shit?” “No shit.” “Not every day you get the daughter of one of the best damn coaches the American hockey team’s ever seen mating into your pride, but his daughter…” Bo’s eyes lit as Anya animated even the aging shaman. “Anya! Oh, she was always the cutest little awkward teenager, all caught up in her drawings at the diner and…” Bo’s jaw dropped open, and Clay nodded slowly. “You think she’s your mate.” “I felt it, Bo, I really did.” Clay closed his eyes, and all of it rushed back. The sensations overtook him, but they were not in human form. They were the sights and smells and primal pulls of his lion form. Anya. Beautiful, precious Anya with her porcelain skin and her chocolate hair, so far from the awkward child he had known before. “All right, all right, no need to get all sweaty there.” Bo’s words sliced through his leonine image. Clay realized he was panting and his sweaty grip had tightened around his beer. “S–Sorry,” he said as he pushed a few damp strands of hair from his forehead. Did Anya really affect him that much? “It’s okay. Geez, I guess you’re right about your body reacting to Anya as your mate.” Bo set the beer down beside his chair and closed his hands in his lap. “But I don’t know if she is your mate. You’ve heard the mating legend from me. I know you have. And I’m guessing that you boys have felt it from the Cashes and the Popes on the hunt.”

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“That’s how I knew.” Bo opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. He appeared to consider his words and then proceeded slowly. “For as long as the Savage Valley pride has existed, their mates have come from all over the world. It was designed this way, to bring new blood and new strength to the Valley. It’s why your mother”—he nodded at Clay— “was so important to the Valley back in the seventies and eighties. Not only did she give so much love and joy to the town, your fathers became so much stronger because they mated her. Her worldview and her experiences were a big part of what gave them that strength.” Memories of sitting on his mother’s lap, watching her paint yet another mountain landscape, poured into his mind along with a wave of sadness. “My mother was an amazing woman.” “That she was, son. That she was.” Bo laughed, clearly lost in a memory. “Everyone in this town could go on about your mother for hours, but that’s not what you’re here to talk about.” He cleared his throat and continued. “All this is why I’m skeptical about whether or not Anya is your mate. Yes, you reacted to her the way a mountain lion reacts to his mate, but you’ve seen her before, and her family’s from the Valley.” “I promise you, I didn’t feel the same way about her then that I do now.” “I wouldn’t expect you to. But that’s the part that’s got me…” Bo trailed off, and his attention went to the bookshelf to the right of the enormous TV in his living room. “Just a second.” He rose and reached up to one of the top shelves of the bookshelf. After a few low curses and some commotion, he pulled out a rectangular, flat, cardboard box. Bo sat next to Clay on the couch and set the box on the coffee table. Carefully, he peeled back the lid to the box, revealing a pile of old, yellowing documents, their edges worn from years of use. “What are those?”

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“Family trees,” Bo muttered as he continued fingering through the pages. “With the caveat in the curse about all the pride brothers taking the same woman and with the females born to lion-shifters not shifting, someone’s gotta keep track of your famil—Aha!” Bo pulled one of the crumbling papers from the stack and carefully unfolded it on the table. It was a complex spiderweb of names and dates in everything from nearly faded light-brown ink to what was obviously ballpoint pen. Clay’s eyes came to rest on the calligraphic script at the top of the page, and after a moment, he made out the name “Pope” through the swooping text. “Here.” Bo pointed to a date nearer the top of the page, and Clay leaned forward to decipher the faded script. “Amelia Sullivan, born in 1887, died in 1928,” Clay read and then looked up at Bo. “Sullivan? The Sullivans and the Popes are related?” “Indeed they are,” Bo said with a chuckle. “I had forgotten about that. But I remember the old legend that my father told me about when his father was the shaman. Back at the turn of the century, all the pride families hung around together, like you boys. The Popes had known Amelia all their lives—they were all only a few years older— but they had never felt anything but friendly feelings. “Then on her eighteenth birthday, when she had reached full sexual maturity, legend has it that bang!”—Bo spread his arms and eyes wide—“the Pope boys were head over heels for her and following her around pantin’ like cats in heat.” “Literally.” Bo laughed and shook his head. “I had forgotten about that until you told me about Anya, but I guess it can happen. I had always thought that worked because she was a daughter of one of the pride families, but maybe that was just one of the strange tricks of the universe.” Clay’s heart raced, a small hope kindling in his chest. Never before had he felt this tension, this all-consuming anxiety mixed with arousal. He needed to know.

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“So Anya,” he said as Bo placed the family tree back in the box and returned it to the shelf. “She’s our mate?” “Maybe. Mates are a random thing, and I thought it would never happen again that someone with such a close connection would be a pride mate.” Bo picked up his beer and leaned against the wall, studying Clay. “But if, in fact, it can happen again I don’t see why Anya couldn’t be your mate. If you and Jack both feel this way about her—” “I don’t know that yet,” Clay confessed. “But I also don’t know if Jack’s ever met her. He was still in school when she used to spend her days around Savage Hunger, and she’s only been back in town a few days.” Bo gave an exaggerated sigh and started to the door. “You don’t even know whether or not your brother will mate her and you’re already over here? What is this, a repeat of the Pope boys?” Clay laughed, remembering how Sam, Phil, and Mel Pope nearly didn’t mate because of a family disagreement. “Nothing like that, Bo. No near-irreparable splits between Jack and me.” Bo opened the door, signaling it was time for Clay to leave. “It’s been great seeing you, but just call me next time, okay? I don’t need everyone seeing me in my skimpies.” “I did call. You just didn’t answer.” “Yeah, yeah, technicalities.” Bo motioned for Clay to leave, and they said their good-byes. When Bo shut the front door, Clay stood on the front porch for a moment, taking in the outline of the fir trees in the cloudy night. The sky looked as tumultuous as Clay felt inside. Joy and apprehension warred within him at the thought of Anya, each emotion overtaking the next as he imagined their mating. A strong wind blew, chilling Clay to the bone. As he walked to his car, he braced himself against the wintry air. Something was blowing into Savage Valley and into Clay’s life. ****

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The bell on the door to the Ninth Time sounded, and Jack looked up from the copy of Classic Motorsports he had spread on the counter. Sam and Phil Pope were both away from Savage Hunger today, and Ira Sullivan was in court, giving Jack a blissful reprieve from their lengthy inner monologues and an opportunity to catch up on some reading. “Hello?” a female voice sounded from behind one of the circular racks. “Is anyone here?” “In the back,” Jack called out. A black stiletto stepped out from behind the rack, followed by a tall, thin woman with comically large and obviously fake breasts and bleach-blonde hair. She was dressed modestly in slacks and a V-neck sweater, but Jack could tell from the way she sashayed toward him that she was the type that usually wore skimpier attire. “Can I help you, ma’am?” She batted her eyelashes at him and held out a piece of paper. “I understand you’re looking for a bookkeeper?” Jack took the résumé from her hand and set it on the counter, giving her a forced smile. She obviously wanted some sort of attention from him, but Jack preferred the exotic, dark features of the woman from the woods. God, he needed to shift back and see her. If only the next few minutes would pass quickly, it would be lunch, and he could find that exquisite creature once more. “Lemme get Clay. He handles the hiring,” Jack muttered as he turned toward the door the back room. “Clay, there’s someone here for the—” Jack slammed into Clay’s emotions like a brick wall. His brother was in the corner, painting in a raggedy flannel shirt, but Jack could smell his frustration and excitement hanging in the air. Since they were young, Clay had learned to shield his thoughts around Jack, but overpowering emotions still flowed into Jack’s consciousness. And whatever Clay felt now, he felt it at a fever pitch.

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“C–Clay,” he managed to choke out, “someone’s here for the bookkeeping gig.” Clay slowly withdrew his attention from the painting, the intensity of his feelings lessening when he looked away from the canvas. He headed toward the door, a pained look on his face telling of the emotions he was now shielding. Jack grabbed his brother’s elbow just as he reached the door. “What’s going on? When you were painting, I nearly crumbled under the weight of your feelings.” Jack kept his voice lowered, aware of the woman still lingering by the counter. “You’re my brother. I can feel you as well as hear you. You remember that, right? “Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell you later,” Clay whispered back. “Shit’s about to change, Jack. In a big, big way.” With that cryptic statement, he pushed past Jack to the counter, greeting the prospective employee with his trademark cloudy demeanor. Sensing that this would not be an interaction to miss, if only to watch his brother fend off the plastic woman’s flirtations, Jack maneuvered into the office and left the door open a crack. “I was just so delighted to see the job opening on the Denver Craigslist,” the woman yakked after introducing herself. “You see, my parents just moved to a retirement home in Craig, and I was so worried about not being able to find a—” “Jocelyn, was it?” “Yes, that’s exactly it?” Did she just bat her eyelashes? “Can I just see your résumé?” Ah, Clay. Always the charmer. “Oh, but of course.” Jack saw the woman slide the document forward across the counter, revealing her expensive cleavage at the same time. He closed his eyes and tried to sense if his brother had any sort of reaction to her physical presence, but found nothing.

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“Huh. Harvard.” Clay’s emotions spiked for just a moment, and Jack held his breath. “I see you interned at NormCorp. You know they’re not too liked around here, don’t you?” “Oh, yes. I read a story about the ordinance the city tried to pass a few months ago. I think it’s just awful that anyone would want to destroy the environment in order to make some tacky ski resort.” Clay only grunted in response, and his emotions calmed once more to a level that Jack could not feel. “Well, frankly,” he began slowly, “you look plenty qualified, and I want to take that ad down so idiots stop calling my store. How about I check on a few of these references and we’ll say you’ve conditionally got the job?” Anger heated Jack’s awareness. What was his brother doing? Couldn’t he see what a proudly silicone phony this woman was? Yes, she may have had a degree from Harvard, but something about her struck Jack the wrong way. One hardly needed telepathic powers to tell that something wasn’t right here. He vowed to say something before Clay handed her the position, and he watched as she thanked his brother profusely and made her way back toward the entrance to the shop. “What are you doing?” Jack said in a sharp whisper. “Relax. I still have a chance to check her references. I was planning on consulting you about it.” “I don’t know. I’ve got a funny feeling about this. And after what you were feeling…what was that, Clay? I’ve gotta know.” Clay pushed the door to the office open then slammed it shut behind him. “Listen. I talked to Bo last night.” “Bo? What on earth does Bo have to do with—” “Let’s see. I’ve got to meet with Bryce for lunch, and then it’s back to the police station. It is so damn wonderful to see the Kinmans so excited about helping out with this. Oliver said they wouldn’t, but he just doesn’t have faith that our modern pride can overcome our prejudices to embrace our fellow shifters in Savage Valley. Is Marta

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here today? Chelsea said that she needed to talk to her today. Some sort of wedding business…” Jack doubled over as Roarke’s thoughts assaulted his mind, drawing him away from the situation at hand and to Savage Hunger. Jack watched through Roarke’s eyes as he scanned the diner, looking for any signs of the Popes’ mate, and new diner manager, Marta. “Lunchtime.” Jack’s voice came out strangled as he backed toward the exit. He needed out. He needed his lion form. He needed some sort of quiet. “You can tell me about it—” “I can’t believe Roarke actually wants me to help out with protecting against NormCorp. This is so cool! I’m the youngest one in the pride, and I’m one of the pride elders. Isn’t that contradictory? But whatever. It’s so awesome that I can—Oh. There’s Roarke!” Once Bryce Sullivan’s inner monologue joined Roarke’s, Jack knew he could only stand a few more moments in his human form. If he could shift, he could run far into the woods, away from the voices and back to what waited for him there. “Can you tell me about it when you get back?” “Pride elders meeting this afternoon. It’ll be dinner before I get back.” Even through the attack on his mind, he could hear the pity in Clay’s voice. “Fuck. Tonight then. At home.” He rubbed his temples, fighting the numbing pain caused by too many voices talking at once. Jack swore this was the worst it had ever been, especially with so few shifters. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on with this level of pain eating at his mind day in and day out. “Go, Jack. You need it.” He leaned against the bar, and the back door flew open, pouring him out into the crisp, frigid air, and he had shifted before he hit the pavement. In his lion mind, he didn’t sense any of the world around him. All he saw was the girl from the woods, turning and looking at him

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through the snowy branches. Silently it played. Over and over and over again.

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Chapter 4 The sky was darkening rapidly as Anya ran up to the door to the Ninth Time. The clock on her cell phone said it was 5:50 p.m., just enough time for her to deliver the box of linens she had stashed in the back of her car. Luckily, the warm orange glow from the shop still illuminated the slick sidewalk outside. Even though she’d repeatedly told her aunt that she would take the linens to the secondhand store that day, her afternoon had been spent holed up in her room, attached to her laptop. Kenny had been recruited as a last-minute replacement for a major international competition, and Anya wanted to support her friend enough to put off her much-anticipated trip to the Ninth Time. Through her aunt and uncle’s fuzzy Internet connection, she’d watched as he’d easily skated through his long program. But this time, his quadruple toe loop had only been a triple. When Kenny stepped off the ice, most of the world saw Christopher as a consoling coach, patting his back and telling him he was still proud. But Anya saw the real Christopher Birkhead, the mouthed curses as they stepped up to the kiss-and-cry, the hard glint in his eyes even when Kenny took the silver medal. It had pulled at her heart, but seeing her best friend had given her a warm feeling inside. Even though she adored being back in Savage Valley, memories of her old life still crawled into every moment. The crisp smell of snow brought her back to the present, and Anya noticed the day grow sharply darker. As she turned, the lights on the wooden sign advertising the Savage Herald flicked off. She found it odd, considering that the paper should have been going to press in the next few hours. Shrugging it off as another example of the bizarre

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doings of the Valley’s wacky townsfolk, Anya pulled at the door to the Ninth Time. It was locked. She tried again, but with the same results. What was going on? There were still ten minutes until the store closed! It occurred to her that the town may have been battening down the hatches for the storm the local weather channel had announced, but in Anya’s experience, those were only ever a problem for— Right. They were a problem for people in rural areas. Like Savage Valley. She looked up at the sky and saw the flat, dark clouds. She had attributed the declining light to the autumnal sun, but now it felt not as if the sun had been blocked out, but erased entirely. The dry air whipped against her face, blowing a loose strand of hair against her cheek and calling her attention upward. The dark, rolling clouds let her know the blizzard was impending. Suddenly frantic, she knocked on the door to the Ninth Time. When she heard no response, she began pounding in earnest, desperately hoping she wasn’t about to be stranded in the middle of a wintry attack. After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few minutes, Anya heard a rustling inside the store. Suddenly, she didn’t need to be rescued from the cold. No, what she saw had her blood rushing through her veins and heating her from the very core of her being. Once Clay Abbott caught sight of her, he came striding to the front of the store, a vision of magnetic masculinity. He wore a white wifebeater that clung to the muscles of his chest, clearly chiseled from hard work and not from hours in the gym. Tattoos covered his upper arms, and Anya recognized the work of a few famous Surrealists in the ink laced over his skin. His jeans were slung low over his hips, revealing a narrow strip of flat, toned abs between the waistband and the hem of his shirt. He padded barefoot to the door and quickly unlocked it. “Anya, what the hell are you doing here?”

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His brusque reaction to her presence hurt a little in its contrast to their interaction the day before. Maybe she really had misconstrued what transpired between them. “I was just bringing some linens from the Woodland. My car’s around back if you want to get them.” “It’s about to storm like crazy out there,” he said, his tone softening. He took a step toward her, reached around her, and clicked the lock to the store. “I was just about to put the storm windows up.” “Really? It’s only November.” Clay shook his head as he crossed to the area behind the window display to the left of the entrance. He reached up to pull the storm windows down, revealing more of his stomach as he did so. Anya felt a distinct tingling in her pussy when she saw his shirt lift to show hard lines near the bottom of his torso. Those lines mimicked the shape of another part of Clay that fanned the flames growing inside her cunt. He finished securing the storm windows and turned back to her, shoving his messy blond hair out of his face. It was only then that Anya noticed the streaks of paint through his hair, one staining his cheek. “You were painting?” she asked as he headed back toward the counter. “Yeah, with the storm coming, I decided to close up earlier and work a little on the piece I’m doing right now.” “Oh.” Anya suddenly felt even more awkward, having interrupted a moment of artistic inspiration. “I guess I’ll just try and get back to the Woodland then,” she said tentatively, nodding toward the back of the store. “Can I go out the back to get to my car?” Clay started to nod and move to the door to the back, but stilled as he put his hand on the doorknob. He turned back to Anya. “You have tire chains, right?” Oh, shit. In her rush to flee her life in Colorado Springs, she had neglected many normal preparations for relocating to rural Colorado.

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“Those aren’t totally necessary, are they? I mean, the tires on my car should provide enough traction, shouldn’t they?” “Not for driving up to the Woodland, darlin’.” He sighed and shook his head, only increasing Anya’s uneasiness. “Oh. Um, well, I guess I’ll see if I can call anyone to come and get me then.” “Nonsense.” She looked up to see Clay’s ice-blue eyes pinned to hers. Even though they stood several feet apart, she swore she could feel the heat rolling in waves from him. “I can get you home, no problem. If it’s okay by you, can I just finish something on my painting real quick?” “That’s okay.” Anya couldn’t hear her own voice over the pounding of her heart. The idea of being in such a small, confined place as a car with Clay sent lightning bolts of electricity rushing to her pussy. She didn’t care if a relationship with him was completely improbable. The fantasy of Clayton Abbott had stuck with her for so long that she would never pass an opportunity to see it fulfilled even in the tiniest way. He opened the door to the back room then turned and motioned to Anya. “You can come take a look, if you want.” Oh, I want. “Sure,” she squeaked as she followed him into the room. The back of the Ninth Time was a cross between a studio and a drab office. To the left of the entrance was a large, wooden desk topped by a Macintosh computer that looked like it belonged in a museum of ancient technologies. Past the desk was an easel with a canvas on it covered in an abstract painting of reds and oranges, but the colors didn’t bleed into each other as they would in an Impressionist painting. Instead, they stood distinct from one another, like the constituent hues of a flame separated from one another and turned into a puzzle of geometric forms. Traveling around the world as a

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coach had given her a taste for art, and she could easily see that Clay was exceptionally talented. “It’s beautiful,” she gasped as she stepped closer to it. The stillwet paint glimmered in the glow of the single lamp directed toward the easel, revealing new facets to the painting as she neared it. “I see a lot of early Picasso and Braque in it.” “Fan of cubism, are you?” he asked as he came to stand next to her. She looked up to see his head cocked at the painting. “Done well, yes. I see you’re quite devoted the Surrealists.” She turned, and he met her eyes, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “On your right arm. That’s Miró, isn’t it?” “Indeed it is.” He crossed behind her and sat on the edge of the desk, his attention back on the painting. “I’ve always felt an affinity with the Surrealists. Their entire approach to art was based on finding different ways of seeing and representing those new visions in art. I…” Clay trailed off, seeming to struggle to find the right words to say. “Sometimes,” he began carefully, “I try to find ways to represent the way I see the world in my art.” Anya glanced back at the painting. “The way you see the world is certainly compelling.” “Glad to hear you think so.” When he didn’t speak for a moment after that, she turned to see him engaged with a piece of charcoal and a sketch pad, a series of tiny prisms quickly filling the blank page. “What’s that?” she asked before she could stop herself. She didn’t know if interrupting an artist in the midst of his work was a good idea or not, and the grunt that escaped from Clay made her think it was the latter. “It’s for the painting,” he said, his gravelly voice deeper than usual. “I got a flash of something when we were out of the shop, and I had to get it down on paper.” He didn’t look up as the intricate figures filled the page completely. Suddenly, his head snapped to the side, and his eyes captured Anya’s. He studied her for a moment then turned his attention back to the page and continued his sketching. He

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repeated the motion several times, as if he were sketching her, but when she looked at the page, the series of sharp corners looked like no human face she’d ever seen. Finally, he sat up and dropped the charcoal, grabbing the green army jacket that had been slung over the back of the desk chair. “Now, how about we get on the road and—” Darkness fell suddenly, cutting off Clay’s words abruptly. Everything around them was silent, no buzz of the fluorescent lights or choking of the old heater. After a long moment, the screeching howl of the wind broke through the quiet, signaling that the storm had turned vicious. “Well, shit,” Clay finally said, breaking the silence. “Looks like it’ll be a while before we can get you back to the Woodland.” It took every ounce of willpower Anya had ever possessed not to jump up and down in celebration at that moment. She must have done something very, very good in a former life to receive this gift. Holy motherfucking shit! I’m really locked with Clayton Abbott in the middle of a blizzard. Incapable of speech, she nodded before she realized that he couldn’t see her in the pitch-black office. “That’s okay,” she gasped, a breathy voice all she could manage. “I’m off today, so I can get back as late as you want.” Once Anya was deprived of sight, all the other sensual elements of Clay Abbott came pouring onto her full force. She smelled his spicy, woody scent as if someone had sprayed cologne the instant the power died, and the sound of his ragged breathing filled her ears. His hand landed on her shoulder, scorching her skin even through her coat. His laugh vibrated from his hand, to her shoulder, and straight to her pussy. “That better be real late, because there’s no way we’re getting out of here tonight.” His hand left her shoulder, and she swayed back and forth, overwhelmed by everything that was happening. A beam of light

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shone from across the room, blinding Anya temporarily. It swooped around, and Clay held the flashlight underneath his face, casting deep shadows over his handsome features. “Luckily, if you’re going to get stuck in a storm somewhere, a secondhand shop’s just about the best place to do it.” He turned the beam of light so that it shone at Anya, blinding her temporarily. “Too much light!” she said, laughing, as she batted her hands toward him, and he lowered the flashlight. The low rumble of his laugh felt oddly comforting as she felt her way toward the door to the room. “Believe it or not,” Clay said as he opened the door to the darkened store, “this is far from the first time I’ve gotten stuck in here.” Fearful of tripping even in full light, Anya carefully treaded behind him into the shop. “Here, hold this.” He placed the flashlight in her hands then got down on his knees behind the counter. Finally, he withdrew a bundle of blankets and handed them up to Anya. He grabbed a gas heater after that, and they returned to the back of the store. “You certainly are prepared,” she said as he laid the blankets on the ground, creating a makeshift place for Anya to stretch out on. She sat in the office chair with her legs crossed, shining the flashlight on Clay and admiring the way the stark contrast of the shadows played on his muscular arms and chest. “This isn’t even the best part.” He stood, and she followed his movements with the beam as he crossed to the locked cabinet to the left of the store entrance. After fumbling with the padlock, he eventually pulled out a gas-powered lantern and, much to Anya’s delight, a bottle of wine. “What’s a blackout without a good pinot noir?” “My favorite,” she said as Clay set the bottle and the lantern on the floor and pulled a package of Styrofoam coffee cups from the cabinet.

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“Sorry about the cups. Hard times call for hard measures.” He settled on the floor and lit the lantern, immediately casting a soft glow throughout the space. “Now that’s better.” Anya turned off the flashlight and joined Clay on the floor, slightly tentative. “So how do you entertain yourself during these blackouts?” “Usually, I paint, but since you’re here, I might see if my other favorite diversion is available.” “Oh, if you need to paint don’t worry about—” “Don’t worry,” Clay said as he reached behind himself and grabbed a faded turquoise plastic box with silver-chrome detailing and a wire dangling from it. “Is that a transistor radio?” Anya said, incredulous. “Restored it myself,” Clay replied with obvious pride in his voice. “Now the only issue is if I can get a signal from it. We’re too far from Denver for the big stations, and the Mukuas block out anything from Steamboat Springs, so we have to make do on our own.” As he turned the knob back and forth, the radio whined in high-pitched squeals interrupted by moments of static until finally, two discernible voices broke through the noise. “Ah, yes,” Clay said as he set the radio on the floor and adjusted the wire. “Savage Valley’s finest.” “Hello, ladies and gentlemen—” “Or should we say, lions, ladies, and bears—” “Oh my!” “Well, we hope you’re having a lovely blackout. I’m…not Noah Strong—” “And I’m…not Bryce Sullivan—” “And you’re listening to Savage Valley’s very own pirate radio.” “All illegal, all the time.” “Oh, and if Mayor Cash or Sheriff Kinman are listening, well, we hope that they’re having a good time during their blackout.” “And considering the recent arrival of their, uh, new friends, we’re sure they’re going to have a very, very good time.”

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“Bryce? What are you suggesting?” “Nothing, Noah, nothing at all. Well, maybe just that the blackout’s a little more fun if you’re with someone.” “Aw, well, Bryce, I didn’t know you felt that way. I’m honored, but I don’t—” “That’s not what I meant, Strong.” “Well, while Bryce and I discuss this little revelation of his feelings, how about you folks enjoy a little bit of Wanda Jack—” “Oh, no, you don’t. It’s my turn to pick the song.” “What do you mean?” Anya’s eyes met Clay’s to see they were full of amusement as the radio broadcast a scuffle between the two hosts. “Now folks, here’s Eagle-Eye Cherry with the nineties hit, ‘Save Tonight.’” “Hey, it’s my—” The radio switched to music, and Clay turned down the volume on the transistor radio. Then he took out the bottle of wine and filled two of the Styrofoam cups, handing one to Anya with a nod and a softly spoken, “Cheers.” “Well, those two are quite a pair.” “Did you ever meet Noah and Bryce when you were here before?” Clay asked after taking a sip of the wine. “I don’t think so. I really only knew the people that hung around Savage Hunger and the Woodland.” Clay cocked his head and watched Anya as she took off her coat. She felt flames rush to her cheeks and to her crotch as his eyes ran up and down her form, disorienting her completely. “Tell me more.” “About what?” Anya asked as she set her coat behind her. “You.”

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Chapter 5 “And so–and so,” Anya said, gasping between convulsions of laughter, “the guy lands on his butt and goes sliding all the way across the ice, and my dad is chasing after him waving a hockey stick. Oh my god, it was so priceless.” Clay shook his head, and the waves of blond hair falling over his face hypnotized Anya. She was lying on the blankets on the floor, looking up at him as he relaxed with his back against one of the legs of the desk. “I can’t believe your dad chased Wayne Gretzky with a hockey stick.” “Well, it was only that one time, and ice time is taken very seriously in Olympic hockey games.” “I would hope so,” Clay said in a tone laden with sarcasm. “Only appropriate for the gravity of the Olympic games.” Anya couldn’t stop the fit of giggles that took hold of her. The wine had lowered her inhibitions, allowing her to bask in the glow of spending time with Clay without all the anxiety about it being perfect and magical. What amazed her most was how much they seemed to get along. Not only did they share a common interest in art, there was just a certain something between the two of them that Anya couldn’t put her finger on. Part of her wanted to blame it on the wine, but she knew it was more than that, knew it was part of the same thing that kept him on her mind all these years. “That was Patsy Cline with ‘Sweet Dreams (Of You),’ one of country’s most romantic songs…if all you lovers out there get my meaning.”

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“And that means it’s my turn to give you the late-nineties alt-rock classic—” “Come on, Bryce. You know we have differing opinions on that.” “Yeah, but I’m the one who gets to choose the nineties hits on the air.” “If you don’t play them soon, I got some Dolly Parton that—” “‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls, ladies and gents.” The opening notes of the song quickly replaced the men’s voices, and the tension in the room took center stage. The crackling radio sounded louder than ever as Anya watched the rise and fall of Clay’s chest, totally aware of every movement. His long eyelashes lowered as he looked down at her, heating her from the inside out. Anya didn’t have much experience with things like this. Her few relationships had been with hockey players her father coached, brutish men out to take their own pleasure and leave her cold. Looking up into the face of a man who was not only devastatingly attractive but still had all his teeth, she didn’t know where to go from here. Luckily, Clay appeared to know exactly what to do. His foot, which had been resting on the floor in front of her, moved slowly forward, tickling her stomach. Clay wore a smile, but as his eyes met her, she could feel the gravity in the flirtatious gesture. Whatever this was, whatever had bound her to the memory of Clayton Abbott all these years, was finally rising to the surface, and Anya would be damned if she didn’t make the most of it she possibly could. “I like this song,” he said quietly, his voice mixing with the acoustic guitar. “It’s romantic.” “It really is.” Anya watched as Clay slid lower down the side of the table, so that he nearly lay beside her and his foot now rested firmly against her hip. “I like the idea that there’s one person in the world, one person you’re always supposed to be with. One person that haunts you your entire life.” Clay rotated so that he lay on the blankets across from her, his head on the other pillow, their faces only inches apart.

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“I like the idea that love, true love, is something the rest of the world won’t understand, something so big and deep it becomes a part of who you are.” “Why, Anya,” Clay said, his voice only slightly slurred by the wine, “you’re as much of a romantic as I am.” She shrugged, unable to contain the giggle that passed through her lips. “What can I say? I grew up watching pairs skaters on the ice, playing out stories of love and sacrifice.” Clay rolled his eyes, but the humorous gesture was short lived. His eyes became serious, and as the ice-blue orbs held her gaze, she felt his hand rest against her waist. She sighed, reveling in the warmth and weight of his hand against the thin fabric of her shirt, the simple touch that had invaded her dreams for so long. His look was questioning, and Anya gave a single, slow nod, hoping he would take it as permission to do anything he wanted in this moment. As the song came to a close, bleeding into a slow country tune, Clay’s hand slid backward, moving to the small of her back, and he used it to pull her toward him. Anya didn’t breathe as her body melded against his, nor did Clay’s eyes leave hers. His gaze pinned her to the spot, his clear eyes speaking his intent, as he lowered his face toward hers. Only when their noses brushed did he close his eyes, but Anya was hesitant to follow suit. She wanted to remember everything about this moment, every tiny sensation, every ray of light that played through the translucent halo of dark-blond hair as their faces touched. His lips grazed hers, and they were softer than anything she’d ever felt. She pressed herself closer to him, her whole body seeking more contact, but he drew his face back just a breath. A whimper escaped from her throat, and his lips finally made contact with hers again, this time closing around her bottom lip. She sucked in a breath of air as the hot warmth of his tongue grazed against her lip, sending shivers

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running downward and tightening her nipples to a point that teetered on the edge of pain. He tilted his head to the side, and this time, his tongue slid in between her lips, brazenly stroking into her mouth. She opened her mouth to accept the invasion and tangled one of her hands in his soft hair, using her grip as an anchor as she pushed their bodies closer together. His hand on the small of her back pushed lower, and she gasped into his mouth as it covered one of her ass cheeks and pushed her toward his already growing erection. The outline of his cock against her stomach felt large, and the sensation of his reciprocal attraction sent an electric bolt of arousal to her pussy, hardening her clit and dampening her underwear. His lips stole to her jaw, finally giving her a chance to gulp in a breath of air. However, she didn’t have long to rest during his sensual assault. His hand retreated from her ass, and Clay rolled forward, pushing Anya onto her back, and his kisses continued down her neck. As his lips fluttered back up her neck and under her chin, leaving a trail of soft kisses, one of his hands traveled up her torso, finally wrapping around her breast. “I haven’t been able to get these tits out of my mind,” he whispered against her lips before kissing her again. He squeezed her breast and brushed a thumb over her nipple, causing it to tighten more, even through the fabric of her shirt and bra. “I haven’t been able to get any part of you out of my mind. Not your neck,” he said as his lips brushed over the sensitive skin. “Not your hips.” His hand traveled downward, following his words, and came to rest beside her hip bone. Without warning, he used his other arm to hook underneath her thigh and wrap her leg around his back. He pushed against her, finally giving her some of the friction she desperately needed against her clit. “And most certainly not your pussy.” She felt the effect of the illicit, dangerous words deep in her cunt as a fresh wave of cream wet her panties.

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“I’ve dreamt of this so long,” she panted, meeting Clay’s gaze head-on. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” “It’s time to make up for time lost, darlin’.” Clay’s hands tugged at the bottom of her shirt, and he dragged it upward at an excruciatingly slow pace, exposing one inch of skin at a time. When he finally gathered the shirt around her breasts, he quickly moved his body lower, licking and nipping at the sensitive flesh of her stomach. Her hips shot upward as he finally pulled off her shirt and his hand snaked underneath her to undo the clasp on her bra. The fabric of her shirt tangled with her bra as she tried to wiggle out of the garments and feel the warm air of the heater blow over her tight nipples. Clay made certain, though, that the air from the heater never met the hard nubs or the dark skin surrounding them. His mouth covered one of her breasts, sucking the nipple into his mouth, and he used his hand to caress the other. Anya hissed a sharp intake of breath as she felt Clay’s ministrations vibrate throughout her body, the most concentrated echoes between her legs. “God, yes,” she moaned, using her leg to press her pussy against Clay’s hard stomach as he gracefully alternated his ministrations between her breasts. Without warning, his hands left her breasts, and the warm air blowing over her wet nipples only served to drive Anya’s arousal higher and higher. Clay began another trail of kisses, this one starting at the valley between her breasts and slowly winding downward across her torso. As his lips grazed over her belly button, her hips rolled toward him, moving of their own volition in a frenzied search for friction, for penetration, for completion. Clay appeared only more than willing to oblige her body’s demands. He unclasped the button on her jeans, and his fingertips danced over the flesh just above the waistband. “Every inch of you.” Clay breathed over her skin then ran his tongue underneath her belly button, eliciting a near-violent shiver. “Every inch of you, Anya. It’s all so perfect.”

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He then hooked his thumbs underneath the waistband of her jeans and panties and, with one smooth motion, had her nearly naked. While he used one hand to work her skinny jeans off of her ankles, the other rubbed against her mons, igniting the spot against the front wall of her cunt that she knew would set her entire being aflame. His lips followed his hands, and Anya dared to anticipate his actions. She closed her eyes and let her head fall backward, completely lost in the sea of sensations that came over her. Her hands tangled in Clayton’s hair, not pushing his head downward, but holding on for dear life as he plunged lower. A sharp squeal escaped her throat as he pushed one finger through her folds, brushing infuriatingly briefly against her clit. His finger teased at the entrance, gathering moisture there, then plunged into her. “Fuck, Anya,” he groaned as he slowly began moving his finger in and out of her clenching pussy. “You’re so wet”—he inserted another finger, drawing a yelp from Anya—“and so fucking tight.” No more words were spoken as Anya’s hands followed Clay’s head downward, his hot breath dangerously close to her mound as his fingers withdrew from her. When Clay’s tongue laved at her clit, every square inch of flesh felt the soft caress of his mouth, her nerves becoming a tangled network or pleasure. He traced up and down her slit, and every tiny movement of his mouth combined to drive her closer and closer to the brink. His mouth opened then and pressed over her pussy, the tip of his tongue teasing the hard bud of her clit. The power of speech left her, and any words she may have said turned into one low, passionate moan. His mouth retreated for just a moment, and two fingers plunged into her without warning. Clay began a furious pace of finger-fucking, and Anya met his hand’s every thrust. She rolled her hips, and his fingertips brushed against her G-spot, sending a shower of sparks hurling outward over her body. “So close, Clay, god, so close,” Anya gasped. Only a few more thrusts, a few more seconds of overwhelming erotic stimulation, and

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she knew she would be a goner. She tried to breathe deeply and extend the experience, extend the realized fantasy of being at Clayton Abbott’s sexual mercy. Her efforts were shattered, though, when Clay’s tongue returned to her clit and flicked it as he brushed against her G-spot once more. Something within Anya snapped, propelling her into a stratosphere of erotic fulfillment that nothing, not the steamiest corners of her imagination, could ever come close to replicating. Throughout, Clay’s fingers kept working at her, kept her from leaving the ecstatic state of orgasm. After what seemed like whole minutes of pure carnal bliss, Anya’s senses returned to normal, and she panted as she lifted her head to stare down at Clay. Slowly, he rose from between her still-quivering thighs. A smile pulled at his handsome features, and his tongue stole out to lick her juices from off of his lips. The wind howled outside them, but all Anya cared about was the man crawling up her naked body, a Cheshire Cat smile plastered across his face. Clay pulled himself to lie beside Anya and traced his hand up and down her heaving chest. “That was…Wow,” Anya managed between pants. “You’re telling me.” Clay leaned forward, and his shaggy hair tickled the side of Anya’s face and his lips brushed the tip of her nose. She could smell the strangely erotic aroma of her own juices on his lips, and her clit throbbed in response. “You taste delicious, darlin’.” She could feel her face flush at his comment, and she reached up to brush her fingertips against his cheek. He pressed his face into her palm, the intimate gesture so similar to the fantasies she’d harbored for years. “But what about you?” she asked as she dragged her hand down his neck then over his collarbone. She rested her palm over one firm pectoral and looked into his eyes. Even though heat still flared in her pussy, she couldn’t stifle a yawn. The day had been long, and the

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aerobic activity of her orgasm combined with the wine to drag her toward exhaustion. “Don’t you worry about me,” he said, brushing his lips over hers. “We’ve got all night, and I’m planning on tasting you again.” He pressed a trail of kisses from the corner of her lips, to her jawline, and down to her neck. Warm contentment spread from where his lips grazed her skin, encompassing her entire body and easing her toward sleep. “But I want…” she began to say, but another yawn interrupted her. “But I want to worry about you.” “You worry about taking a nap right now, and we can play later. I can tell you’re exhausted.” “Promise?” Anya said as she closed her eyes and snuggled against Clayton’s still fully clothed body. “I promise.” She started to reply, but sleepiness finally tugged her into its warm grip. **** Jack saw the snow before he felt it. He blinked open his eyes and saw the muted moon reflected off the hard surface of each snowflake, casting the world in an eerie white. For a moment, he admired the snow swirling around him and lying unbroken, shimmering like a thousand tiny crystals. Then, as his fur retreated into his skin, the sharp edge of those crystals turned on him, driving into his skin like another thousand tiny, frozen swords, and he was human again. He shot to his feet, desperate for the cold to sting the least possible skin, but even with his feline grace, he stumbled as his feet sank into the snow when he landed, toppling face-first into the frigid powder. “Motherfucker!” The snow stung his skin and formed an icy glove around his prick, sending jolts of very unpleasant sensation spiraling

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to his groin. He kicked his legs, finally getting a foothold in the snow. Much to his chagrin, it rose up to his shins, at least a foot and a half deep. His hands shot to his crotch as he stood, trying to squelch the growing pain long enough to find his…Shit. His clothes were stashed beside the Dumpster, buried under the thick layer of snow insulating the earth. Another blast of wind caused Jack’s skin to pebble into gooseflesh and his groin to contract again in pain. He needed heat, and he needed it now. When he didn’t hear Clay’s call, Jack had stayed in shifted form all night, a better way to weather the storm anyway. But his human rationality had broken into his leonine mind when all the lights in the town had flicked out. He’d shifted, but as usual, his highly irrational lion brain had failed to take into account what Jack would do without his fur. Frozen to the bone. Totally naked. In downtown Savage Valley. “Clay! Clay, are you in there?” Jack pounded on the back door to the Ninth Time, inwardly cursing his brother for not installing a keypad entry system like they had at Savage Hunger. “Clay! Open up, man!” He pulled on the door, and much to his dismay, it only opened a tiny crack. Clay didn’t normally leave the back door unlocked, but Jack was in no mood to question his luck. He pulled it again, this time pushing the snow back a bit more and opening the door further. He leaned over and scooped the snow back from the door, making room for it to open. This time, when he pulled, the door groaned open, and a welcome blast of warm air smoothed over Jack’s skin. The light from a gas lamp blotted out Jack’s vision briefly, but when his eyes finally focused, they followed the thin beam of light from the crack in the door across the paint-splattered carpet to where his brother lay strewn on a pile of blankets on the floor. Curled against his body was what appeared to be a naked woman, unfortunately covered by a tattered quilt. Her ample chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of sleep.

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Her head rolled back suddenly, tossing a mane of dark hair away from her face, and that was when Jack recognized her noble features, her alabaster skin, and her chocolate hair. The beauty from the woods, the one that had captured his mountain lion’s attention and seeped through his human thoughts, slept on the floor of the Ninth Time office. Moving with a silence only possible due to his two-sided nature, Jack eased the door closed behind him. When it softly clicked into place, he stopped, holding his breath as he awaited any movement from his brother or the angel pressed to his side. Neither moved, and Jack felt a distinct stirring in his cock as he was finally rid of the cold air. He studied the woman closer, noting that the quilt fell to the side, revealing long, creamy legs that he desperately wanted to run his hands over. As he studied the substantial swell of her chest, his cock lengthened, ready for action even after its recent cold shock. His gaze moved up her long neck, made more beautiful for the contrast between the pale, rosy skin and the dark hair, to her full pink lips. He looked down and saw a droplet of pre-cum had already gathered on the tip of his dick from the sheer power of his attraction to her. With the same smooth, graceful movements, he took his cock in hand, the long strokes up and down his shaft powered by the erotic visions that took hold of his mind. He imagined that mouth wrapped around him, sucking his seed from him as he tangled his hands in that dark hair, but it was supplanted by an even more intimate vision. He could almost feel the skin of her neck underneath his lips as he kissed up, over her jaw, and to those perfect full lips. Why couldn’t he? Some part of his mind knew it was wrong, but he had to taste her lips, at least had to smell her. He tightened his grip on his cock as his fist bumped against the swollen purple head, driving the need within him higher. The animal and human blended together, creating one variegated will that called for him to touch, to taste, his…

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His mate. Jack’s hand stilled. Jack recognized the certainty from the minds of the lions that had already found their mates. It was a fullbody knowledge that permeated all the human and leonine senses, and some part of Jack had been anticipating this moment since he first found the recollection in the pride alpha Oliver’s mind of scenting his mate Chelsea. And Jack knew, just as Oliver and Roarke had, just as Sam, Phil, and Mel Pope had. It was why the flickering images of the woman in the woods flashed through his mind and why he felt so pulled to her then. Seeing her wedged next to his brother only confirmed this notion. Jack padded across the floor, stepping over his brother without a sound, and knelt in front of the precious creature. Trying not to wake her, he leaned his body toward her and anticipated the sweet taste of her pink lips. He was within a hair’s breadth of her lips, about to sup from the sweet berries, when her long eyelashes twitched. Her wide brown eyes flew open, and a bloodcurdling scream sounded through the office—and Jack guessed through the rest of Savage Valley, too. “Who are you?” she shrieked as she bolted upright, her shoulder knocking Jack on the forehead and sending him reeling backward. “What are you doing here?” “Come back to bed,” Clay mumbled as he rolled onto his side, still in the throes of sleep. He reached a hand up toward where she held the quilt to her chest in a white-knuckled death grip, but she swatted it away. Jack scrambled to his knees and tried to hold out his hands in a conciliatory gesture, but a look of horror overtook her face and her eyes shot downward. “You’re naked!” “Oh, um, shit.” Jack’s hands shot to his crotch as he tried to crawl closer to her and assure her that his intentions were far from harming her. “Look, I’m Jack, and I—” “Nice to meet you, Jack, but could you get out of here?”

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Clay finally stirred from his soporific state and blinked open his eyes. After a moment of disorientation, he looked between Jack and the woman then wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Anya, hold on, darlin’.” Anya. Jack knew he had heard the name before, but his brain couldn’t connect his scattered thoughts. Before he had any time to contemplate the matter, the woman shrugged Clay’s arm off her shoulders, then scrambled to her feet and backed up, slamming into the desk as she did so. Her ass landed on a pile of papers, and she began sliding to the side. Without thinking, Jack darted forward, saving her from an unpleasant landing on the floor. The flesh of her upper arms was soft underneath his hands, and only the fear of another earsplitting scream could motivate him to release her. He took a few steps back, carefully covering his crotch with one hand as he held the other up in a gesture of surrender. But with her mouth dangling open as that quilt barely covered her succulent form, Jack knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his erection long at all.

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Chapter 6 “C–Clay,” Anya stuttered as she regained her footing, “who is that?” “Jack Abbott, at your service.” The handsome blond stranger extended his right hand to her, inadvertently revealing himself at the same time. Although Anya had to admit, despite her frustration, she was quite glad that he did. A long, thick erection sprang from the bottom of his sculpted torso, causing her sleepy, sated body to flare back to life. “Take this,” Clay mumbled as he clambered to his feet next to Anya. He handed Jack a blanket from the pile they had fallen asleep on, and the other man wrapped it around his waist, letting it hang casually from his hips like a beach towel on a summer day. Clay threw his arm around Anya’s shoulder just as she noticed Jack’s erection tenting the thin fabric. A pang of guilt coursed through her, and she shied from Clayton’s embrace. What was she doing? The man of her dreams had finally, after ten long years, returned her affections and driven her to the most satisfying climax of her life, and here she was, lusting after his brother. At least, she assumed he was his brother. “Jack Abbott? So you two are brothers?” “We are indeed, and co-owners of the Ninth Time. If you can’t show up naked at your own business in the middle of a blizzard, then where can you?” Anya cut her gaze to Clay, and he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “My brother has a tendency to be a little…overly peppy in stressful situations. Forgive him. He means well.”

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Jack punctuated the words with a blindingly white smile, proving Clay’s point. Anya couldn’t help but note the similarities between him and his brother. While Clayton had rugged, unconventional good looks, Jack could easily have been the star of a teen soap opera with his messy blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and instantly likable smile. With a hard, chiseled chest thrown in, Anya was a goner. Admiring the smooth planes of flesh that led to where the blanket draped from his temptingly toned hips, Anya felt her nipples pebble against the scratchy fabric of her quilt. With her arousal climbing again, she suddenly noticed her nakedness. She spotted her clothing in a pile by Clay’s feet and began wrapping her quilt tighter around her torso. “Um, if you boys don’t mind,” she started as she inched out of Clay’s grasp toward her clothing, “can we delay the formal introductions until I’m dressed a little more…uh, appropriately?” “Well, considering that two out of the three of us are only sporting a blanket, I’d say you’re dressed very appropriately, dear.” Jack winked at her then nodded at his brother. “Looks like Clay here’s the one that’s overdressed. What do you say he grabs himself a blanket and suits up like the rest of us?” Anya tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle at Jack’s request for Clay to strip, and her pussy clenched at the idea, causing moisture to gather between her legs. God, she needed to get her clothes on as soon as possible or her libido would certainly lead her to do something she’d regret. She used one hand to hold the quilt closed behind her as she crossed between the two hard, masculine bodies to retrieve her clothing. “Uh, Clay? Is there somewhere I can change?” Anya turned her face up, expecting his answer, but it didn’t come. Instead, his lips captured hers in a chaste kiss. Anya began to pull away, but the soft flick of his tongue against her lips made her stay for a few more moments of his kiss. All thoughts about anyone but Clay

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dropped away as his arms wrapped around her, holding the quilt in place. Jack cleared his throat, and Anya stilled. Shit. That went on a little longer than intended. Clay continued to kiss her for a moment then stopped, apparently sensing her sudden reluctance. With one hand, she secured the blanket around her body, and she placed the other over Clay’s chest, longing to dig her fingers into the hard muscles. Her bodily instincts would have to take a backseat, though, at least for the moment. The spicy, woodsy scent that rolled off of Clay combined with the sight of two ungodly attractive Abbotts made rational thought impossible. “Clay, I need to change.” Her voice sounded breathy, her sudden arousal manifest, and she looked up into his flushed face. “The bathroom,” he choked out and, without breaking eye contact, motioned toward a door on the wall to the left of the entrance to the store. His ice-blue eyes made it difficult to turn away, but Anya mustered the willpower to lean over and retrieve her clothing. As she placed her hand on the doorknob to the bathroom, she couldn’t resist one more look at Clay and Jack. “Don’t you worry.” Jack’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’ll work on talking Clay into getting out of all those clothes. After all, everyone knows the quilt-toga look is what’s in for fall.” The idea of the hard muscles she’d felt beneath the thin material of Clay’s wifebeater on full display sent another electric pulse to her clit, and she rapidly opened the door to the bathroom and slammed it behind her. She rested her back against the door and slid down to the linoleum. Deep breaths, she reminded herself as she curled her knees to her chest and tried to dispel the excitement that held her in its grip. Her clothing fell to the side as she lowered her forehead on her knees and tried to figure out what exactly was happening out there. Her thighs tightened from the tingling inside her pussy when she remembered the feel of Clay’s tongue between her legs, his silky

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blond hair between her fingers as she rode his face straight to an earth-shattering orgasm. But then she had seen his brother, and after she recovered from the shock of a naked man interrupting her long winter’s nap, the sight of his erect cock had just added to her arousal. How could she be so attracted to two men? Brothers, no less? Anya remembered when her grandmother awkwardly explained ménage relationships to her when she asked about her Aunt Cora’s two fathers. Sometimes, her grandmother had stuttered uncomfortably, two men would fall in love with one woman. When Anya explained that she had seen Gone with the Wind enough times to know all about love triangles, Grandma Rita had corrected her. Ménage relationships were not love triangles, she specified, but one relationship that developed organically between three or more people. Yes, the woman would get something different from her relationship with each man, but it would be understood from the first moment that both men would love the woman together. Even as a teenager, the idea had fascinated her, and when she later realized the sexual ramifications of the situation—that two hard cocks would fill a woman at once—ménages had haunted her dreams. Her grandmother had said that the men in the Yeats family, Aunt Cora’s family, traditionally shared their women, as did a few other families in the Valley. Anya racked her brain, trying to remember if she had ever mentioned anything about the Abbotts, but came up empty. Would they want that with her? Damn it, she wasn’t doing a very good job of calming down. With a few deep breaths, she coaxed herself into standing and splashing some cold water on her face. Shakily reaching for her clothes, she realized it would take much more than cold water to cool the flames inside of her. It would take an Abbott—or two. ****

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Clay watched the door to the bathroom close before turning his attention to his brother, who was dressing himself in a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt kept in the office desk. “What the fuck, Jack?” he hissed under his breath. “What do you think you’re doing?” “I saw the lights go out while I was shifted, and it was enough to get me to call me back into human form. How was I to know that you’d be in here with our mate naked on the floor?” “Our—” Taking a deep breath, Clay closed his mind and tried to dissolve the mental barrier he kept up to shield his thoughts from his brother. “You really think she’s our mate?” he sent telepathically. “Of course I do.” Jack’s expression was devoid of its usual tension. Clay now saw a rare sight, his brother without any of the bravado or extraversion he used to mask the constant chatter inside his mind. “I saw her while I was in lion form,” he said under his breath, flicking his eyes toward the bathroom door. “And it’s been all I can think about, Clay. The sight of her keeps looping in my brain, just like it did for Oliver. I saw his memory of seeing Chelsea, and it looked just like my first sight of…” “Anya. Did you forget her name already?” “Pardon me, but I was too caught up gazing at the top of those breasts. She’s fucking gorgeous.” “Wait until you see all of her.” A worried expression fell over Jack’s features. “What happened? I mean, no offense, bro, but how did you get her back here? Snagging the ladies has never really been your thing.” “Do you really not recognize her? It’s Anya, Rita’s granddaughter, Gerard Copely’s daughter. She was in the Valley all the time when she was a teenager, practically lived in Savage Hunger.” “I would remember her, even an awkward kid version of her. You know I’ve never spent all that much time at Savage Hunger. It’s still too hard for me with the Popes there all the time.”

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“What’s too hard?” Anya emerged from the bathroom at that moment, and both Clay and his brother turned to see her dressed again, although her tousled hair and the flush of her pale skin attested to their earlier play. Damn, sinking between her legs had been so fucking good, and hearing her gasping his name right before she came…Well, that was a pleasure he’d never imagined. She walked with purpose across the small office, and Clay’s breath hitched when she molded her body against his side. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her to him. Nothing had ever felt so right as having her soft, feminine curves pressing into him. Without thinking, he leaned over and brushed a kiss against her forehead. She cooed and burrowed closer to him, and his cock pressed against the zipper of his jeans. “Sorry for waking you.” Jack’s voice drew both Clay’s and Anya’s attention. “It was quite a start,” she said, and Clay ran his hand down her back, feeling the rise and fall of her ribcage as she spoke. “But I guess I’ll forgive you.” “You know, you never did explain what you were doing in my store, doe eyes.” Jack leaned back against the wall and crossed his legs, appearing as calm as ever. “And naked nonetheless. Not that I mind.” The flush in Anya’s cheeks intensified, and Clay felt her silent giggle against his chest. “I think Clay would be the one to explain that.” Anya put on an expression of exaggerated distress. “What can I say? I was just a poor damsel in distress and he rescued me from getting stuck in the snowstorm.” “Oh, at great personal cost to him, I can see,” Jack replied sarcastically. “Indeed.” Clay brushed her hair back and grazed his lips over her earlobe. “Great personal cost.” Her pulse quickened, and her sweet

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aroma became more potent, calling Clay’s lion to the surface. The rational part of Clay’s mind screamed at him not to overwhelm her, not to scare her away, and it was the only thing that kept him from stripping her and fucking her right then and there. Never had he wanted anything with such a visceral force. His fingernails began tingling, a sure sign that his inner lion was clawing to the surface, and Clay released Anya and took a step away from her. He needed a moment without her tempting heartbeat against his skin, because he was damn close to mating her right then, Jack be damned. “Painting,” he choked out breathily. Yes, that would do the trick. He could return to his work and try to dampen the inferno inside of him, although he knew his cock would stay hard as long as Anya was within a hundred-foot radius. The brunette beauty in question turned her wide eyes up to him. “Is it okay if I work on my painting for a bit, darlin’? I’ll just be over in the corner if you’re too uncomfortable with my crazy brother.” “You should listen to him,” Jack said, his gaze locked on Anya’s. “I can be quite dangerous. After all, I have a reputation for running around naked in snowstorms.” “Yeah, why exactly were you doing that?” Anya asked then looked back at Clay. “Is this a regular occurrence?” “Why don’t you let Jack explain.” Anya looked back and forth between the two men several times, each glance more assessing than the one before, until a flush rose from beneath her T-shirt to color her pale skin. “Sounds good,” she said finally. “I don’t want to interrupt a masterpiece.” Clay turned and looked at his canvas, illuminated only by the soft glow of the lamplight. The colors morphed in the low light, revealing new aspects of their luminescence. “Thanks for understanding,” he said as he brushed a kiss on the top of her head. Withdrawing from her took such effort. Only ten feet away would be ten feet too far.

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**** Now that the idea of a ménage between herself and the Abbott brothers had wormed its way into her brain, it colored everything she saw. Clay had left her to spend time with Jack after he had spent the evening driving her crazy. That had to mean something, right? Did he want her and Jack to develop a bond? And Jack was overtly flirtatious even after Clay had kissed her senseless. He wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t had cause to believe that Clay would approve of their flirtation, would he? Exhaustion quieted the questions echoing in her brain as she sank to the floor, resting her back against the desk. Across the small office on the opposite wall, Jack did the same. His smile stunned her once more along with the amusement that sparkled in his blue eyes. Loosened from the wine and the cunnilingus, Anya blurted her question to Jack. “So why were you naked?” It appeared as though a dark cloud flashed over Jack’s features, casting a shadow over the ever-present sunlight in his expression. He appeared to fight the darkness, though, and a look of bemusement overtook his countenance. “I know this is going to sound evasive, but I don’t want to lie to you.” Oh no. His answer unsettled her stomach and reminded her far too much of the phone calls Christopher would make to his wife when he had a tryst with a random groupie. Damn it, why did thoughts of that man keep seeping into her life in Savage Valley? That part of her life was closed, and she needed to move on. “Then don’t lie to me.” “I won’t.” With one fluid motion, Jack rolled onto his knees and crawled closer to Anya, so that he sat just on the edge of the

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makeshift bed. “I would tell you now, but it’s a very long story, one I want to be certain you hear in its entirety.” Jack’s words caught in her chest, and even through her doubts, hope blossomed there. “It sounds like you’re planning on telling this story to me someday.” “Someday soon, gorgeous,” Jack replied with a smile. “But I want to be sure you don’t have any wine in your system to muddle the details.” After hesitating, Anya nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll let you off the hook. For now.” “Phew.” Jack pretended to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. “I was worried you’d never speak to me again.” “But you have to tell me something else.” “Anything, gorgeous.” Anya smirked at him, and he amended, “Well, nearly anything.” “Tell me about your family.” The question was innocuous enough, but Anya noticed the brief tensing in Jack’s muscles before he answered. Hopefully, he would tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. “Let me get this straight. I’ll tell you anything, and you want me to tell you about my family? No offense, but that’s tame.” “Don’t be evasive,” Anya said with a hint of teasing. “I’m curious.” To Anya’s surprise, Jack turned to face his brother. “Clay.” The older Abbott continued at his canvas until Jack cleared his throat loudly. As if a spell were broken, Clay stumbled backward then turned back to face them. “Anya wants to know about our family.” Neither said anything else, but an entire conversation seemed to pass between them in only a few seconds. Finally, Jack turned back to Anya, the amusement of earlier gone.

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“Well, for the most part, they’re gone.” “Oh god, I had no idea,” Anya said apologetically. “I didn’t mean to pry, I really didn’t. If you don’t want to answer—” “I don’t mind talking about it.” The mirth had trickled back into Jack’s eyes. “It’s just a little hard to remember sometimes.” “Did something happen?” Jack hesitated for a moment, appearing to consider how best to phrase his response. “Yes, but we’re not upset about it. There was a…hunting accident. And when our mom went after our dads, she never came back.” “Oh my god, what hap—” Anya hated to sound insensitive, but what she had just heard had her world tilting on its axis. Dads. Meaning multiple fathers. Meaning they had one wife. She told herself to calm down, that she may have been hearing things. Jack studied her, and his stunning smile widened. “Yes, I said dads. Plural. Your family’s from around here if I’ve understood Clay correctly, right?” “Well, my dad is, at least.” “Shit, I can’t believe you’re Gerard Copely’s daughter,” he said reverently. “But about your…”—Anya hesitated to say it out loud for fear that her uttering the words would make them untrue—“y–your dads?” “Well, there were three of them, brothers. They’ve always owned the Ninth Time. Hell, our family’s been hocking other people’s shit for as long as anyone can remember. There used to be a used auto part of the business, out back where the Savage Hunger parking is now. They brought old cars back to life before reality TV made it cool.” Anya watched Clay’s face illuminate as he told her the endearing story of how his fathers—the word still sounded bizarre to Anya— met his mother. “You see, brothers in the Abbott family have always shared their women, for the last hundred and fifty years or so, at least.”

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“How do you know it’s been going on that long?” Anya asked, completely engrossed in Jack’s tale. “Remember how I couldn’t tell you why I was naked?” “How could I forget?” “Same reason.” Frustration began to tug at the edge of her mind, but the implications of what Jack said pushed it away. When Anya opened her mouth to speak, her breath wouldn’t cooperate, leaving her mouth dangling open in awe. Finally, her diaphragm allowed her to inhale a deep breath. “So you and Clay…” The idea was too incredible to voice. “Yes, Anya, Clay and I fully intend to share a wife.” Any response Anya could formulate stopped in her mind when Jack rose to his knees and closed the short distance between them. With one smooth stride, Jack’s abdomen was pressed against her calves, and his face was inches from hers. “With that in mind,” he began as he reached out and stroked his thumb over her chin, “I’d like to get to know you, especially since you seem to be getting along with Clay so well.” A shiver ran down Anya’s spine at Jack’s nearness. Something in the back of her mind told her she should be afraid, that men could not be trusted, but that something was drowned out by the sincerity that sparkled in his wide blue eyes. He didn’t move, staring at her as if awaiting her reaction to his words, and Anya realized she would have to make the first move. She waited a moment more, wondering if Clay would react. When the only sounds she heard were the wind roaring against the back door to the Ninth Time, she surged forward, allowing her lips to crash against Jack’s, but he controlled the kiss as he slid his hand across her jawline, holding her still for the languid assault of his lips. At first, she fought, wanting the burning arousal that electrified her nerve endings when Clay had touched her, but as Jack brushed her hair behind her ear, she remembered that this wasn’t Clay. No, Jack

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was his own man, and her body would respond to him differently. Instead of the hot tingling of excitement that rushed through her body at Clay’s touch, a slow, erotic sensation burned from within her womb, tightening her lower abdomen and her thighs as it warmed over her. As she extended her legs and let Jack press his body harder against her, the pleasure wept from within her cunt, both onto her panties and throughout her body. It traveled through her veins, twisting and turning down her limbs as if someone had injected her with warm liquid sugar. Jack’s soft lips withdrew, and Anya followed them, hoping for only a fraction of a second more of his kiss. Instead, he sat back on his heels and dragged his hand to her upper arm. As she watched the rise and fall of his chest, she noticed that she panted in time with him. “Yes, I think I’ll enjoy getting to know you,” Jack said as he clambered to his feet. Anya still couldn’t move, couldn’t say anything. The vibrations of his kiss still echoed through her lips, her body still intoxicated by him. “We wasted so much time,” Clay said, approaching them. From where Anya still leaned against the desk, she could see the bulge tenting his jeans. She dragged her eyes upward, taking in the hard chest that his tight shirt hinted at until she met his eyes. The unmistakable lust that burned there both excited her and overwhelmed her. The suddenness of all that had happened began to weigh on her, and she needed a moment alone. Her brain moved quickly, trying to think of a way both to withdraw and to stay near her men. Only one solution came to her, although she found it slightly pathetic. “I–I don’t know if I can stay awake much longer,” she said between yawns, feigning sleepiness. The two brothers shared a knowing look, and Clay knelt down in front of her.

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“Don’t worry about staying awake for us, darlin’.” He leaned forward and brushed a fluttering kiss against her cheekbone. “We’ve got nothing but time now, and you’ll need your strength.” “Surviving a blizzard takes it out of you,” Jack added as he squatted next to his brother. “Especially if you’re caught in it naked.” She laughed, thankful they weren’t particularly bothered. She focused entirely on the warm pillow between them and the pile of blankets she slept on earlier, and her pretend sleepiness suddenly turned very real. “Kill the light.” Clay wrapped his arms around Anya and pulled her to his chest. Slowly, he lowered her to the blankets. “But how are you going to see to paint?” she asked as she curled against the pillow, wondering how much longer she could lie awake listening to Clay’s breathing. Clay brushed a kiss against her hair and covered her in a soft quilt. “Same reason my idiot brother was naked in a blizzard,” he whispered with a soft laugh. Anya tried to contemplate this enigma surrounding the Abbotts, and giver herself a much-needed opportunity to process what had happened, but sleep caused her to lose her mind’s grasp on the question. **** Soft conversation woke Anya, followed by an instant pang of stiffness in her neck. The feeling crept down her spine, and when she stretched, her arm hit something hard and wooden. Right. The desk. She was still on the floor of the Ninth Time, which meant… Anya blinked open her eyes and saw Jack sitting across from her with his back resting against the far wall of the office. “Morning, gorgeous,” he said as he flipped through a paperback book. “Welcome back to the world of the living.”

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“What time is it?” Anya mumbled as she snuggled into the warm blanket that cocooned her. “Almost eleven,” he answered. “The storm looks to be over, too.” Right, the storm. Images of the night before came rushing into her mind, and for a moment, she sincerely doubted her sanity. “Well, well, it’s nice to have you back,” Clay said, strolling toward where Anya still lay on the blankets. He smiled, the expression casting light on his face, and lowered himself to the floor. His hand brushed over her waist as he extended his body beside her, and Anya had to refrain from pinching herself to see if she was awake. It had really all happened. Clay had answered the door to the Ninth Time, they had shared wine and conversation, and he had driven her to heights she had previously believed unreachable. Oh god. If all that had happened, that meant her memories of Jack were all real, too. She could almost feel his lips brushing against hers, and the image of Clay’s hard-on after her kiss with Jack burned in her mind. “I had a good night,” she whispered as Clay laid his head on the pillow beside her. “Although,” she said, crinkling her nose, “you never did give me an opportunity to drop off those linens.” “Small price to pay.” The grin Clay wore grew as he leaned forward and kissed her, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth briefly and running his teeth over the sensitive flesh. “You’ll just have to come back,” Jack added from where he had situated himself above Anya’s head. She looked up as he tangled one of his hands in her now quite messy hair. “I know it will be such a burden for you.” “Speaking of which, your Uncle Frank called your phone earlier. I hope you don’t mind, but I gave him a call back and let him know he could come get you.” Some part of Anya’s brain told her she should be offended at his invasion of her privacy, but his desire to take care of her comforted

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her more than anything. These men certainly did a number on her mind and her body. “But you can stick around as long as you’d like.” She looked up at Jack and grinned. “We won’t mind having you around.” Clay leaned forward, and his lips landed on her neck, showing just how much he wouldn’t mind. She pushed her chest against him, desperate to give in to her arousal. Clay’s hand smoothed down her back and came to rest on the swell of her ass. But just as his fingers began to dig into the flesh, a knock echoed from within the shop, and with a few muttered curses, Clay rose and stormed out of the office.

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Chapter 7 “Damn it!” Jocelyn cursed to herself as her stiletto heel sank into a pile of snow. Did no one in this dreadful excuse for a small town know how to shovel snow? She straightened herself, balancing her top-heavy figure on four-inch heels before knocking on the cold glass door to the shabby secondhand shop. Ulysses needed to plan something big for her in return for this favor. Today alone she’d had to reschedule her trip to Denver in order to make it to this shithole shop, missing her weekly manicure appointment. Did Ulysses have any concept of how difficult it was to get an hour with Melissa? A shudder ran through her body at the thought of the man she’d been sleeping with for the past five years. He was a despicable human being, self-important and bigoted, but he had been her ticket to business success. That was the only way she knew how to operate. She’d fucked her way through college and business school, and she fully intended to fuck her way to the position of NormCorp CFO, even if it meant allowing Ulysses C. Norman to spasm on top of her for a few painful minutes then flop onto her like a dead fish. If she didn’t do it, another woman would. She rapped her leopard-print-covered knuckles against the glass door again, desperate to get out of the cold and get this over with. It would be a quick interaction, anyway. Jocelyn knew it would take only a few appointments with the owners of this shithole before she would convince them it was best to sell out to NormCorp. Men were putty in her hands, after all. It had only taken a blow job behind the tree at the company Christmas party to wrap Ulysses around her finger. Ever since then, Jocelyn had carefully maneuvered up the

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ranks at NormCorp, all the time playing the good mistress to Ulysses Norman himself. God, that hypocritical megalomaniac actually thought he was the only man in Jocelyn’s life. Fat fucking chance. Every man she met fell to his knees before her, and she used her carefully scheduled sexual favors to her advantage, financing everything from her rent to her Jimmy Choos with an artfully delivered blow job. Her conquests included not only corporate giants, but aging rock stars, foreign dignitaries, and even a few major sports figures. “Coming!” Finally, that sluggish, broad-shouldered Neanderthal came to the door. At least he was better than his all-American little shit of a brother. She’d overheard him voice concerns when she left the shop after her interview, but thankfully Mr. Cave Man had been blinded by the word “Harvard” on her resume. Oh, if he only knew how she had acquired it. After he grumbled and unlocked it, Jocelyn hurried in, careful to “accidentally” rub her breasts over his arm. “Thank you so much. It’s so cold out there!” The man only grunted in response and ran his fingers through his messy dishwater hair. He walked to the counter, leaving Jocelyn standing like an idiot by the entrance. Ugh. He’s going to be difficult, isn’t he? Flipping her hair behind her shoulder, she carefully wound her way through the jumble of overly used clothing, books, and god knew what else. Why would anyone want to spend their hard-earned money on this shit? Did they not realize that they could buy new things? Probably not out here in Bumfuck, she thought to herself. She removed her coat as she approached the counter, being certain to squeeze her breasts together and deepen her cleavage and catch Clayton Abbott’s attention. “Well, for one, if you needed more money, you could try sticking to the opening hours on your door. It’s eleven, and you still look pretty closed up.”

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Another grunt escaped from behind the counter as Clayton leaned over to dig something out from beneath the counter. Did this man even know how to speak? “There was a power outage,” he said gruffly, proving her wrong. “Whole town’s shut down, or haven’t you noticed?” “Um, I hate to point out the obvious, but your lights are on.” “Only happened a few minutes ago.” He straightened and placed a box of receipts on the counter. Jesus. No wonder they needed an accountant. It would take Jocelyn a day’s work just to go through these. “Business expenses,” Clayton grunted as she used one Frenchmanicured fingernail to flick through the receipts. “Oh, we can get right through these,” Jocelyn said, plastering a smile on her face. “And we can take that time”—she dropped her voice—“getting to know each other a little better.” He remained stoic as she batted her eyelashes, and she wondered if there was something wrong with the man. Skyler would have mentioned if he were gay. Fags always stuck together, didn’t they? She pushed her breast together harder and added a good dose of breathiness to her voice. “I would so like to get to know you, Clay.” She leaned closer to him and found the odor emanating from the man unbearable. She hated the woodsy stench of the outdoors. “I can call you Clay, can’t I?” “I’d prefer if you didn’t.” He turned away from her, stomping to a door that she assumed led to a back room. When he opened it, the obnoxious din of giggling flooded into the store. It was probably the younger Abbott, Jack. The research Skyler had provided told her that he had quite the weakness for the opposite sex. Perhaps he would be the weak link in the chain, Jocelyn’s way in to take down the Ninth Time. “This way. I started entering all the numbers into Quicken 98 last year. Can you handle that?” “Quicken 98? They haven’t made that since…” Jocelyn took a deep breath as she entered the dank office but quickly regretted it. The

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gray-walled chamber smelled like a mixture of turpentine, gasoline, and that cloying, pine-scented musk. “Never mind.” Clearly these people weren’t the technology types. More giggling drew her attention to the corner where, indeed, Jack was canoodling with some brunette. She gave the woman an assessing look, deeming her to be merely average compared to Jocelyn’s own surgically enhanced figure. Jack’s arm was wrapped around her waist, tickling her of all juvenile things. The woman threw her hair back, revealing her face, and Jocelyn’s stomach sank. That little bitch. Jocelyn had to fight the sneer that came to her lips when she saw exactly who Jack Abbott was mauling. She would have recognized her anywhere. That disgraceful excuse for a woman had pursued Christopher Birkhead for years and even groped him on national television. Christopher was Jocelyn’s cash cow, the primary financier behind her Caribbean vacations for the last five years. Yes, Jocelyn knew all about Anya fucking Copely. The daughter of Gerard and Misha Domnina Copely, she pranced about like the princess of winter sports. On their weekends on Saint Kitts, Christopher told her all about how Anya pursued him relentlessly then reported him to the governing body of American figure skating for sexually harassing her. Jocelyn was a woman, though, and she knew that any woman would be crazy to turn away the advances of a sports mogul like Christopher. “Now, can I e-mail you these files?” Clay’s voice drew her back into the moment, although she still watched Anya from the corner of her eye. Remembering she had a role to play, Jocelyn put both her hands on the desk and leaned flirtatiously toward where Clay sat in front of the flickering screen of the ancient machine. “You can e-mail me anything you want.” “Really?” The other man’s voice came from behind Jocelyn. “You’re going to be that obvious.”

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Fuck. Apparently, this brother wasn’t her in. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said innocently, still focusing her attention on Clay. “I was just saying that he can e-mail me any sort of file.” “Yeah, right.” Jocelyn tried to flash her brightest smile and turned to the bastard blond. “We met briefly when I came in before, but I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” She extended her right hand, suppressing a wince when she noted the chip on her manicured pinky finger. Ulysses will pay for this. “I’m Jocelyn.” Hesitantly, Jack took her hand and shook it, a look of wariness in his eyes. “Jack.” Then Jocelyn turned her attention to the lowest creature taking up air space in the room. “And you are?” She met her eyes and studied her. Oh, fuck. Had Anya seen her before? Jocelyn made a point to avoid the fag parade of figure skating competitions, but it was possible Anya had spied her hanging outside the arena during practice. “Have we met before?” “I don’t think so.” Jocelyn grinned to hide her assessing glance at Anya. No way in hell would her Christopher prefer her European features to Jocelyn’s pinup-girl figure. “I really love your eyebrows,” she said. Women liked compliments like that, didn’t they? Since they really couldn’t earn her any financial gain, Jocelyn hadn’t made much of an effort to befriend any members of her own sex. “Uh…thanks.” Anya’s noncommittal reaction worried Jocelyn for a moment, but the other woman smiled and extended her hand. “I’m Anya.” Goddamn it, Jocelyn knew who the bitch was. She forced herself to exchange pleasantries until the older, highly nonverbal brother finally fired up his computer and called her over. Jocelyn leaned closer to Clay, allowing her breasts to brush along his arm at frequent intervals, as he explained the intricacies of Quicken to her. His explanation was highly unnecessary, but Jocelyn appreciated the opportunity to formulate her plan of attack.

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She frequently sneaked glances behind Clay to where Anya— fucking Anya Copely—sat in the corner, positively cuddling with Jack. Jocelyn had never seen any sizable benefit in cuddling and thus found the act detestable, but of course, someone with a mind as warped as Anya’s would engage in it freely. It appeared she at least enjoyed Jack’s company, as her face was flushed and she giggled like an idiot schoolgirl, which would only make her demise that much more pleasurable. The plan began to bloom in Jocelyn’s mind, and the taste of sweet revenge heated her blood. Not only would she take down the Ninth Time and finally get Ulysses the foothold in Savage Valley he’d lusted after for years, she would take down Anya Copely in the process. Christopher would be so delighted with her plan, and it would lend credence to her sudden move to Savage Valley. Twice now, that dark-haired little rat had seduced her way into the pants of men Jocelyn considered her own. She was young, twentyfour at the oldest, judging by her skin. She had years of seduction ahead of her. Jocelyn didn’t know how many more years she could get away with the whole “twenty-nine” act, but she did know that her facade required surgical maintenance. And without Christopher or Ulysses, that might prove quite difficult. Finally, Clay finished his tedious explanation. He stood from the computer, and Jocelyn moved to sit in the chair, suddenly relishing her assignment. “If you have the software, would you be able to work on this at home?” Clay stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She halted and curled her fingers around where his hand touched her, giving his hand the most intimate stroke she could manage. “Oh, but I’d really like to get to know the store better. It would so help me with—” Clay shocked her by pulling back his hand from her grasp. “No offense, ma’am,” he said, his tone suddenly formal, “but we have a good deal of catching up to do, what with the outage and all.”

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Jocelyn tried to widen her eyes then bat her lashes at the man, aiming for a kicked-puppy look. “It’s okay. I can’t wait to hang around the shop some more, though. It all looks so…fascinating,” she lied. Clay merely grunted once more and started to the door that led back into the shop. He held the door open and gestured for her to exit. “I hate to kick you out, but we need the computer for other things.” “I’ll bring my laptop next time,” Jocelyn said as she sauntered toward Clay. “That way we don’t have to be apart.” She stood right in front of him, close enough to smell the nauseating woodsy fragrance that rolled off of him in waves. Before she could take a step forward to rub her breasts against his admittedly tempting hard chest, Anya shot between the two of them, and Jocelyn stood face-to-face with the enemy. “It was great meeting you.” Anya’s words were friendly, but her eyes hurled daggers at Jocelyn. She saw some movement behind Anya and noticed that Clay was affectionately running his fingers through her hair. So the rumors about Savage Valley were true. The men really did share their women. She couldn’t believe that she’d hit the jackpot. Both Ulysses and Christopher would shower her with gifts once they found out about her plan, and she had the chance to exact personal revenge on Anya Copely and to land a blow on one of those bigamist pervert families. Just the thought that two men would claim one woman, their cocks pushing into her and shoving her over the edge into… “Great meeting you, too.” Jocelyn grinned to push the thought of a ménage a trois to the far reaches of her mind. “I hope we get to know each other better.” “Oh, me, too.” Anya said nothing more, and Jocelyn finally excused herself from the shop with one last flirtatious glance at Clayton.

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The cold assaulted her as soon as she spilled onto the snowcovered pavement, but the flames of hatred rushing through her veins had sweat spilling from her forehead. She scurried toward the dreadful little company car, a Chrysler that felt like a boat compared to the Porsche Ulysses bought her, but the stiletto heel on her Manolo Blahnik snapped, leaving her limping in the snow. “Shit!” she cursed to herself and pulled out her cell phone. Not that big a deal. She’d have another pair before the day was out once one of her cash cows heard about the little plot she’d devised. She tapped a name on her speed dial and waited for him to pick up. “Christopher? You’ll never guess who I met today.” **** Anya barely acknowledged her Aunt Cora as she stumbled toward the staff quarters at the Woodland Den. Concentrating on where she was going was difficult when scenes of the previous night and that morning kept running through her head—spending time with Clay and seeing his art, Jack leaning over her butt-naked, Jack’s soft lips. Her body still tingled from the passionate good-bye Clayton had given her right before Uncle Frank showed up on the snowcat to take her back up the mountain to the Woodland. Clay had kissed her thoroughly then run his lips over her neck, leaving small bites that stung her skin with excitement. Jack’s farewell had been more tame, but just as exciting. He had brushed the softest kiss across her lips while ghosting his fingertips over her waist. When the back door opened and Anya staggered out into the snow, she had felt physically bereft. She turned the corner down the hallway that led past the guest rooms and to the small corridor where Anya stayed. Her shoulder grazed the corner as her thoughts distracted her. It made sense to her that she would feel physical withdrawal from Clayton. After all, she’d spent so many years lusting after him that the first hit of his sexual

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attention would have propelled her to highs she had previously never imagined and left her hungover the next day. But then there was Jack. Anya certainly hadn’t expected to meet Clay’s little brother, let alone find him as goddamned attractive as she did. It would be one thing if the attraction were purely physical, but so much more drew her to him. Anya could contemplate her thoughts no longer, though, as she collided with another human being with a loud smack. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz.” She righted herself and tried to see if the other person had sustained any bodily harm. When he straightened himself stiffly and adjusted his fashionably thin tie and his wire-rimmed glasses, Anya assumed he was okay. “Not a problem,” he said as he pulled his suit jacket back into place. “I just arrived the other day, and I’m afraid I’m horribly lost around here. It’s like a maze.” “You’re quite lost indeed,” Anya said as she leaned against the wall. “You’ve found your way to the staff quarters.” “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on anything.” The man looked from side to side, as if genuinely concerned about the fact that he had muddled his way into this wing. “Don’t worry. Just go back, take two lefts, a right, and you’ll be smack dab in the middle of the lobby.” The look on his face clearly demonstrated his appreciation for her directions. “Thank you so much,” he said as he turned around. Anya started back toward her room when his voice stopped her again. “Excuse me, but you look very familiar.” She turned and squinted at him, but didn’t recognize the man and shrugged in response. “You’ve probably caught glimpses of me wandering the building. I don’t believe I saw you when you—” The man’s eyes widened, the whites nearly extending past the rims of his narrow glasses. “You’re Christopher Birkhead’s assistant, aren’t you?”

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Oh god. Memories of Christopher were the last thing Anya needed right now, but she was intrigued by the fact that one of her guests could identify her so readily. “Well, I was Christopher’s assistant. I’m working here now, as you can see. Are you a skater?” He looked around himself sheepishly then stepped closer to Anya, lowering his voice as he spoke. “I’m actually a skating fan.” His eyes darted as if scanning to see if anyone would overhear them. “A big skating fan.” A laugh escaped from her at his whispered admission. “Well, I’m glad to have a fan staying here then. Let me know if ever want to swap stories.” “Oh, I don’t have any stories,” he said with an inexplicable blush. “I did meet Kenneth Whipple at a club in Denver one time, though.” “Kenny’s my best friend!” Anya exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I’m so glad to find someone who knows who he is.” “You know Kenny Whipple?” She found his incredulity endearing and smiled as she leaned against the wall. “Sure do. We’ve been friends since he could barely manage back crossovers,” she said, although she was interrupted by a yawn. “I had a late night and could use a nap, but I’m Anya, and you find me later and I’ll tell you all of Kenny’s most embarrassing secrets, okay?” He nodded enthusiastically and started back down the hallway. “Hey, what was your name?” Anya called to his retreating figure. “Skyler. Skyler Fischer.” **** “Jack, where are you? I can tell you’re there, but I can’t get a read on where exactly.” Jack watched as his closest friend, Perry Sullivan, shifted from his lion to human form and dressed in the clothing he’d gathered from

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what appeared to be an old metal garbage can beside the abandoned stillhouse. “I’m inside the stillhouse,” he lied, knowing Perry would be better able to pick up on his thoughts if he hid the truth. Instantly, he turned to where Jack lay crouched beneath a patch of brush on the side of the mountain. His eyes met Jack’s, glowing even in the darkness of midnight. Perry moved with leonine swiftness to where Jack hid and easily maneuvered himself to sit beside him. “Are you sure this is far enough away?” Perry said aloud, no longer communicating his thoughts to Jack telepathically. “I saw Roarke go in a few minutes ago, and I couldn’t hear a word from him.” Perry gave a single chuckle at his remark. “Well, if you couldn’t hear Roarke, then you won’t hear a peep from anyone else.” Jack smiled at his friend, once more glad there was at least one other person in Savage Valley who could understand his burden. While Perry did not have telepathic ability identical to Jack’s, he could hear the thoughts of all others within close range, especially when they were being deceptive. “What’s with all the tension?” he asked, accurately ascertaining Jack’s emotional state. “Why aren’t you being up front with me?” “It’s just…” As Jack let down his mental block, the images flooded his mind. Anya splayed naked beside Clay, the deep berry tint of her lips when he pulled back from kissing her… “Fuck, man, you gotta stop with that. I’m getting a contact hardon just from your thoughts.” Perry looked up and searched Jack’s face. “She’s your mate, isn’t she? That’s why you can’t get her out of your mind.” Jack nodded in response and almost felt her soft flesh beneath his hands as he helped her right herself after slipping off the desk. “She’s even fallen for Clay?” Perry’s gift was certainly unmatched.

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“Looks like it. And I’ve never seen him flip his shit like that for a woman before. He couldn’t stop touching her.” “Then what’s holding you back? Mate her already.” “Believe me, I want to,” Jack said honestly. “There’s nothing I want more, but I can’t keep my head on straight for half a second. I swear, ever since I saw her, the chatter in my head has gotten worse, and the range has extended. It’s not just a few feet anymore.” Perry was silent for a long moment, and Jack appreciated his friend’s ability to quiet his thoughts. The noise had gotten worse since he saw Anya, yes, but it had taken a nosedive that day, the babbling broke of chatter now an unstoppable squall. Not only did he hear the lions as they filtered in and out of Savage Hunger, but he heard them as far away as Ira Sullivan’s law office on Treaty Lane. Legend had it that pride members strengthened when they met their mates, and Jack worried his ability to hear the others would only grow the longer he was around Anya. And while some others of the pack may have wanted their supernatural gifts enhanced, Jack longed for peace and quiet. Almost as much as he longed for Anya. Oliver Cash, along with Sam, Phil, and Mel Pope and Cleve and Ezra Yeats, approached the stillhouse in lion form, and Jack and Perry waited for them to shift, clothe themselves, and enter the dilapidated building before they emerged from their hiding place. “Ready, man?” Perry asked as they stood and prepared to join the pride for the hunt. Truly, Jack was never ready for the assault to his senses that took place whenever the pride gathered as a whole, but he would grit his teeth and bear tonight, if only for the possibility of shifting and watching his mate for as long as Clay would watch the Ninth Time tomorrow. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Jack moved a few steps closer, and each of the pride member’s inner thoughts rang clearer and louder than ever in Jack’s mind. “I hope we finish the new batch of the white lightnin’ before—”

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“The governing bylaws concerning the relationship between the Savage Valley Town Council and the Bannock Shoshone—” “I sure hope the storm doesn’t affect my almond delivery. It’d be a shame if the muffins—” Perry hauled open the rusting metal sliding door to the space, and both the mental and voiced chatter from the pride ceased for a moment as Jack and Perry stepped into the space. “Try to block it,” Perry sent to him through the silence. “See if meeting your mate made that stronger, too.” Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating his mental energy on creating a shield around his mind. For a moment, Jack’s world stayed silent. The door to the stillhouse flew open again, and Ira and Bryce Sullivan, Perry’s brothers, and Clay all walked in. “Damn it, I have work to do. There’s a pile of briefs waiting for me at—” Ira’s thoughts rang clear in Jack’s mind, shattering any block he may have created. He sank to his knees and ran his fingers through his hair as the pride members’ inner voices swelled. One after the other, they layered on top of each other and thwarted all Jack’s attempts to call up a mental block again. “Eleven fifty-nine.” Oliver spoke aloud, and the voices died down. “Let’s go, boys.” With total mental and spoken silence, Jack joined the other members of the pride as they formed a circle in the middle of the empty space and each slowly rid himself of his clothing. Soon, they were all stripped to their boxers, and Oliver moved to the middle of the circle. “Deegai-doyadukubichi’, mukua.” Thankfully, Jack’s mind moved away from verbal thought and back into the warm pool of sounds and colors of his leonine mind. Only one human word echoed through his thoughts. “Anya.”

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Chapter 8 “Okay, room fourteen is clean,” Anya said with an exhausted sigh as she walked behind the desk. “Is that everything for today?” “I think so, sweetie.” Aunt Cora shook her head as she examined the reservation book. “I’m gonna have a long night processing all these new reservations.” “See? I told you the storm wouldn’t cause any trouble.” “You were right about this Marina Andrews concert. Looks like we’re gonna be beyond booked, so I’ll need you that night, okay?” Anya had hoped she would have other plans for that night. Over the past two days, memories of Clay and Jack had haunted her every moment. The Woodland had been a mess with cancelled reservations and guests staying longer because of the storm, and the text messages she’d received from them had been her only salvation. “I guess,” she said as she took her hair down, thankful to finally be off duty. She took her phone out of her pocket and saw she had not received any texts. Damn it. All she wanted was to hear from Clay or Jack again. Their messages over the last few days had certainly been flirtatious, but her heart still pounded with her anxiety whenever she thought of them. Knocking roused Anya from her stupor. After cursing to herself briefly, she hauled herself onto her feet and started toward the door, tripping over her laptop cable as she did so. As whoever stood on the other side of the door continued their knocking, she gave a disgruntled, “Coming.”

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She lazily opened the door, not bothering to check who it was first. When she saw who waited for her, though, all her languor fell away. “I’m so sorry,” Jack said, worry creasing his perfect features. “I’ve wanted to contact you so badly, but Clay said you needed some time and—” Anya did not allow him to finish, instead satisfying her own body’s urges and throwing her arms around his neck, pulling herself to him, and crashing her lips against his. After a moment of hesitance, Jack responded in kind. This time, his kiss did not have the tender exploration that he had shown earlier. No, his kiss was possessive, dominating, full of probing tongue and stinging teeth. Anya heard the door slam behind him, and Jack began moving forward, apparently knowing instinctually the direction of Anya’s bed. His hands held her steady as she rose to tiptoes as she moved backward, closer to the soft surface of the bed where she had already imagined Jack taking her. The backs of her knees bumped against the bed, and Jack lowered her onto the bed, never breaking their kiss as he climbed atop her. One of his hands snaked between them and wrapped around her breast and massaged the sensitive mound. She moaned into his mouth as she pushed her hips upward in imitation of the act she so desperately needed in that moment. Jack’s tongue pushed into her mouth again in time with a sharp thrust of his hips that pressed the hard outline of his cock against her. This time, Anya had no wine in her system, and she would not be deterred. She wrapped one leg around his thigh, rubbing her pussy against him as she maneuvered the opposite arm downward, over the toned muscles of his ass she hoped to explore later, across the hard, indented muscles of his hips, and to the waist of his jeans. With one hand, she began unbuttoning his jeans. When her fingers fumbled over his zipper, Jack’s fingers encircled her wrist, and he broke the kiss, leaving Anya panting.

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“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his blue eyes penetrating hers with the gravity she had only seen momentarily there before. “You don’t really know me.” “That doesn’t matter. Something about you…I need you, Jack.” The truth behind the words shocked Anya, but she couldn’t deny it. Every cell in her body cried out for Jack. Gone were her insecurities about intimacy, replaced by the same purpose that had radiated outward from her cunt when Clayton pleasured her on the floor of the Ninth Time. This was what she wanted. This was what would complete her. “You’re sure.” She could see the barely restrained lust burning in his blue orbs. “I’ve never been more certain.” He needed no more coaxing as he used his grip on Anya’s wrist to push her hand against his cock, and she gladly massaged the bulge there. She craned her neck just a bit, brushing her lips against Jack’s as she unzipped his pants then wiggled her hand beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts. He hissed into her mouth when her fingers encircled his substantial erection, only barely connecting around his impressive girth. He thrust forward, and when his hips retreated, her fingers brushed over the sensitive flesh of the head, and the droplet of fluid there drew matching wetness from deep within Anya’s cunt. As she began to caress his cockhead with her fingertips, Jack stopped her by breaking their kiss, shoving his hands beneath her shirt, and pulling it upward over her head. When his knuckles brushed over the sensitive buds of her nipples, she cried out as bolts of electricity flew to her clit at the sensation. Soon, he had her out of her shirt and her bra—after only a moment’s fumbling with the hooks— and moaning as she writhed beneath his expert mouth and hands. Even through her haze of pleasure, Anya didn’t think Jack should have all the fun. While his mouth explored her neck, she pushed her hands beneath the fabric of his shirt, running them upward and along

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the rippling muscles of his chest. Although she missed the feel of his soft, full lips exploring the sensitive flesh of her neck, what she saw when he sat up and pulled his shirt over his head more than made up for her loss. His muscles were long and lean, his pectorals leading down to a smooth abdomen with an indention where a drop of sweat trailed even lower. She felt her tongue steal out to lick her lips when her gaze fell to where his cockhead peeked from beneath the waistband of his boxers, and after looking up to see Jack’s tanned skin flushed with arousal, she hooked her fingers over the waistbands of his jeans and boxers and dragged them downward. Jack hurriedly shucked his pants after that, and she got her first thorough view of the heavy cock that stood hard and ready against his abdomen. It had been impressive when she only glimpsed it quickly at the Ninth Time, but upon further examination, she noted that Jack was truly well endowed. It curved up along his abdomen, long and thick, and its head flared from the shaft with sculptural grace. He cut Anya’s scrutiny short, though, when he responded in kind, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans then pulling them down along with the black lace thong she wore. “Aren’t you going to admire my underwear?” she teased as he pulled her jeans from around her ankles. “I’m not interested in your underwear, gorgeous.” He caressed one of her calves and then dragged his hand upward to her thigh, pushing it to the side and allowing himself better access to her soaked pussy. His hungry gaze focused there, and he said, “This is what I’m interested in.” He plunged two fingers into her without warning, tearing a strangled cry from Anya’s throat. For a brief moment, she worried that some of the guests might overhear her activities, but that thought flew from her mind as his thumb brushed against her clit. His fingers thrust faster into her, harder, and she knew if she didn’t do something—anything—to distract herself soon, she’d come in only a few seconds. She fumbled for his cock and was gratified by the slick

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pre-cum she felt there. However, Jack had apparently gotten wise to her game, as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. He sucked, sending mind-blowing spirals of pleasured pain to her pussy, then nipped at the tight bud. That did it. Anya heard her scream, almost as if another had voiced it, as her climax overtook her senses. Her hips bucked a violent rhythm, clenching around Jack’s fingers as he rubbed relentless circles over her clit to extend her orgasm. When the shudders of release finally ceased rocking her body, Jack gave her no time to relax. He withdrew his hand from her pussy and trailed it over her hip and around her back. He lowered himself so that his chest pressed against hers, and she widened her legs to allow him to slip between them. “I like it when you come for me,” he whispered into her ear, and his hot breath caused vibrations to begin anew inside her cunt. Already? “I want to see you do that again.” “I want to do that again.” Her voice was breathy and high pitched as she returned his words. “As many times as you want.” “Oh, I want.” Jack moved his hips, and the head of his cock pressed against her slick folds. She felt another wave of feminine wetness flow from within her just from his nearness. Anya had never particularly thought of herself as a sexual person, but it appeared that the Abbott brothers brought out a side of her as yet unexplored. He thrust forward, and the thick head of his cock pushed past her labia and hovered at the entrance to her cunt. He landed soft kisses on her neck, entirely inconsistent with the erotically brutal furor of his earlier ministrations, then over her jawline to her lips. His nose brushed against hers as he pulled his face back only enough to capture her attention with the forcefulness of his stark blue gaze. “I want to fuck you. I hope you know that.” Her pussy convulsed at his words, and all she could manage was a small nod in response. “But I also hope you know that I want so much more than that. You drive me crazy, Anya. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you

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for a second since I first saw you. But it’s more than that.” He ghosted another kiss over his lips at the same moment he pushed his hips forward only a fraction of an inch so that the tip of his hard erection was now inside of Anya’s ready pussy. “I want to know you, I want to be with you, and I want to fall in love with you.” Love? Wasn’t it a little soon to be batting around that sort of word? The rational part of Anya’s brain listed all the reasons she should scream for help, but it was the irrational part that won out in the end. Somewhere deep within her soul, she knew that she wanted the same things that Jack did, and she wanted the sort of relationship Jack and Clay would offer her. No, it didn’t make any sense, but what about Anya’s life did make sense at the moment? “Me, too, Jack.” Her voice wavered as she said the words. “I feel like this is happening so fast, but god, I want everything with you and with Clay.” He pushed forward, sending tiny waves of pained pleasure out from her damp pussy as his head fully penetrated her. “So you want me to fuck you.” Instead of responding verbally, Anya wrapped one leg around his back and used it to press forward. His cock sank fully into her, and she felt his ballsac brush against her forbidden entrance as she sheathed him. He began slowly, only pulling out an inch before pushing back into her, his eyes searching hers. While she appreciated his consideration, her libido couldn’t take the slow fucking, not now, not when she’d spent every waking second of the past forty-eight hours dreaming of having his cock inside of her. She clenched her inner muscles around him, and he increased his pace, pulling his cock all the way out then pushing back in with a tantalizingly punishing rhythm. Over and over, he slammed into her, driving her need higher with each thrust, pushing her closer and closer to the brink of orgasm. Right when she hovered at the precipice of another release, he slowed his pace, pulling out of her and pushing only his head in and out.

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He moved one hand underneath her ass cheek and squeezed his fingertips into the flesh there. She felt his nails dig into her, and the quick, sharp pain melted into molten pleasure that oozed straight into her cunt. Suddenly, one of his fingers strayed closer and closer to her back entrance, to the puckered, virgin hole that no man had ever caressed. When he raked his finger over her anus, her hips shot forward involuntarily. She had never imagined how amazing that would feel, never even knew that the nerve endings there were capable of such sharp electric shocks straight to her clit. “Do you like that?” Jack whispered as he moved his finger over her again. This time she thrust back into the sensation, reveling in the erotic glory of his fingers. “God, yes,” she moaned as his finger pushed forward, penetrating her only slightly. “That’s good,” he said, picking up the pace of his fucking, “because I fully plan on putting my cock inside this tight little ass.” Before Anya could respond or let him know exactly how appealing that sounded to her, Jack resumed his relentless thrusting. His lips moved back to her nipple at the same time his fingertip slipped just a little further into her. Anya felt the telltale contractions in her lower abdomen, felt her clit tighten and retreat into its hood just before her moment of climactic joy. Her pussy grasped Jack’s cock into its vise, and she felt his cock slam against her inner walls as his release sprayed inside her. Combined with his echoing shouts of pleasure, Jack’s orgasm set off her own, and she milked the rest of his hot seed from him. Moans ripped from her chest as the fireworks of release mixed with the blood flowing in her veins. It was too much, too good, too perfect. After what felt like the longest and most intense moment of pleasure in Anya’s life, her body returned to its normal state, although slightly sweatier than before. Jack’s lips pressed a line of kisses along her throat then over her lips as she wrapped her legs around his waist, unwilling to let him

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withdraw from her body just yet. She didn’t know why, but her body screamed at her to stay connected to this man, to trust him to care for her. “Thank you,” Jack said against her lips. “For what?” “For that. For you. For trusting me to take you there.” He pulled back just an inch and looked into her eyes. “I want to explore everything with you.” “So do I,” Anya said quietly. “So much.” He kissed her once more, the deliberate, tender kiss he had first given her at the Ninth Time, and pulled his spent cock from her body. She whimpered a little as her womb cried out at the loss. Jack fell to her side and held out one arm, inviting Anya to cuddle against his chest. “I can’t believe I found you,” he said as he ran his hand over her upper arm. “You were looking for me?” “I didn’t know I was, but now that I’ve found you, I know that I’ve been searching my entire life.” That spark of anxiety lit in her chest at his words. He spoke like a man committed, like he had found the one. And while that frightened Anya, her mind couldn’t conjure a future that didn’t include these warm caresses, that didn’t include long blizzard-filled nights with gas lamps and the Abbott brothers. What did she have to be afraid of? “Then I’m glad I was here for you to find.” “Me, too, gorgeous,” he said as he looked up at the ceiling. “Me, too.” **** Jack’s fingers tickled Anya’s palms as they entwined with hers. When she looked up at him, she couldn’t help a schoolgirl’s giggle. It was very obvious that he had just been fucked, for his hair stood at an

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odd angle, and his full lips were an even deeper red than usual. She wanted to run her fingers through that hair again, to feel his chest pressed against hers as he fingered her asshole once more. Her inner thighs zinged with excitement at the thought, and she had to tamp down her arousal as she and Jack entered the lobby area. “Come here,” Jack said just as the blast of warmth hit Anya from the fireplace. He maneuvered her around his front and lowered his lips to hers. His hand slid down her back, and she stood on her tiptoes, hurrying its descent to her ass. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.” Before his hand could caress her, Aunt Cora’s voice stilled both of them. Anya broke the kiss and turned, keeping her gaze lowered to the ground as she felt the heat of color rush to her cheeks. “Um, yeah. We met at the Ninth Time when I, uh—” “Oh, I should have known,” she said as she approached the couple. “You always were close with Clay, weren’t you?” Anya’s face set aflame as visions of Aunt Cora’s family, the Yeatses, flooded into her mind. They had always been ménageamous, and therefore she probably had an idea of what was transpiring between Anya and the Abbotts. “I guess you could say that.” Anya dug her toe in the ground then looked back up at Jack. One of his hands was busy trying to smooth his hair and shirt and appear as though he hadn’t just gotten laid—a futile effort. “Jack and I are good friends, aren’t we, Jack?” “Yes, ma’am,” Jack responded with a nod. “Very good friends. That have known each other a long time. And who have a mutually beneficial professional relationship.” Anya couldn’t help but grin at how flustered Jack was, a departure from his normally suave demeanor. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be helping down at the Ninth Time?” Aunt Cora asked pointedly. Jack gave her a look that Anya

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couldn’t interpret, and she made a mental note to ask her aunt about this situation later. Jack ran one hand down Anya’s back and kissed her hair, and the intimate gesture sent a chill through Anya. “I was just on my way, wasn’t I, gorgeous?” “Unfortunately.” “Clay and I will call you a little later,” he whispered to her before kissing her cheek and heading toward the exit. “I’ll be seeing you down at the Ninth Time soon, won’t I, Mrs. Copely?” “You bet your sweet ass you will,” Cora said as Jack opened the door, letting in a burst of cold air. He mouthed a “good-bye” to Anya as he made his way down the path toward town. After looking around and making certain the lobby was free of guests, Anya turned to her Aunt Cora. “Okay, what was that all about?” Her aunt merely grinned and crossed her arms as she made her way to one of the armchairs situated to the right of the entrance. “The Abbotts, huh?” Anya eyed her warily. “What aren’t you telling me?” “Come sit a spell,” Aunt Cora said, patting the seat of the chair beside her, and with tentative movements, Anya joined her. “So have they told you yet?” What was it with Aunt Cora and Anya’s sex life today? “With, um, you know, the…uh…more than one…um, person, thing?” Her aunt chuckled at her stammering comment. “They told you about ménageamy then. That’s good.” She cocked her head and studied Anya with twisted grin. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought you would go that direction, but now that you have, I can see how it would really work for you. You’re quite the woman, honey, and you probably do need more than one man to keep up with you.” “Nothing’s been decided or anything yet,” Anya clarified, hoping Aunt Cora wouldn’t jump to any wild conclusions. Even though the

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fantasy of forever with the Abbotts ran through her mind, neither she nor they had committed to a relationship. “Honey,” Aunt Cora said in a nurturing voice, “I’ve been around the Abbotts since they were babies. I’ve seen both of them grow up, and I will tell you, Jack’s never had goo-goo eyes for a woman in his life.” “I find that hard to believe.” Anya gave her aunt a hard glare. “Come on, he’s a total flirt.” “He puts on that image, yes, but I’ve never seen him crazy about a woman. There are certain…things that make it difficult for him to get close to other people, so seeing the two of you right after you fucked was quite a shock.” “Aunt Cora!” she exclaimed, incredulous that her aunt would say such a thing. “What? It’s what the two of you were doing, wasn’t it? Let me tell you, with your uncle, I know a thing or two about an afterglow. I bet your mother does, too.” “Oh my god, I don’t need to hear this.” “Come on, we’re all adults here.” She winked, and Anya crinkled her nose in mock disgust. “Okay, okay, enough about that. But let me tell you, those Abbotts will start like they mean to go on. Their fathers did with their mother, and it looks like this generation is doing the same with you.” She stopped suddenly and narrowed her eyes at Anya. “You do have feelings for Clayton, too, right?” “Um, I, um…” Anya trailed off, the memory of Clay’s tongue buried inside her pussy inconveniently jumping to mind. “That’s what I thought. You’ve been hanging around the Ninth Time and making eyes at him since you were a kid. It was always just a matter of time before he figured out you were a woman now and went for it.” “It was that obvious?”

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“Honey. No red-blooded thirteen-year-old girl wants to sit around listening to some guy talking about restoring old electronics unless she has a soul-crushing love for him.” A grin spread across her face at the memory of lurking in the Ninth Time for nearly an hour when she was thirteen, just watching Clay restore an old weather radio. Yes, when she thought about it, she had never particularly hidden her admiration for the man. “Had you even met Jack then?” her aunt asked suddenly. Anya thought for a moment. “I would have remembered him, even back then.” She nodded, as if deep in thought, then clucked her tongue. “They only told you about the ménageamy thing. There was nothing else. Nothing particularly odd or perhaps unbelievable that they told you.” “I don’t think—” She stopped midsentence and remembered Jack’s evasive answers about his inexplicable nudity. “There was something. They never explained it to me, but they kept alluding to this secret they couldn’t tell me, at least not yet.” Her aunt leaned forward and grasped her hand, her expression gravely serious. “They’re gonna tell you something you won’t believe at first, honey. It’s gonna sound more bizarre than anything you’ve ever heard, but you have to trust them.” “Aunt Cora, you’re scaring me a—” “Just hear me out,” she interrupted and squeezed Anya’s hand tighter. “You’re my niece, and I love you, just like I love your father and your mother as if they were my own brother and sister. But so help me, if you break those Abbott boys’ hearts, after all they’ve been through, I’ll still love you, but I’ll find it real hard to be around you.” The intensity of the moment shocked Anya, and she felt dizzy from everything that had happened over the past few hours. Hell, the past month of her life had changed everything. Now her normally sane aunt had a crazy glint in her eye and sounded like a soothsayer from some medieval tale.

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“Get some sleep,” Aunt Cora continued. “I know I just dumped a lot on you, and you look like you got quite a cardiovascular workout with Jack.” She winked, eliciting an exaggerated shudder from Anya. “Everything will unfold like it’s supposed to. I just wanted to give you some fair warning.” She finally released Anya from her grip, and Anya dropped her head to her hands. “Sleep does sound like the best option.” “I’ll make sure you don’t get any more unexpected guests.” Aunt Cora started back toward the reception desk. She looked up gratefully and gave the best smile was capable of. “Thank you, for everything, Aunt Cora. I wouldn’t have survived the past month without you and Uncle Frank being there for me. With my parents out of the country, I don’t have a lot of family around here.” “Anytime, sweetie.” She took a few more steps then turned and winked at Anya. “I think your family’s about to grow in a very big way.” Before Anya could ask what she meant, Aunt Cora disappeared, leaving Anya to her thoughts. Anya had never thought herself particularly intuitive, but today, she knew—knew with every bit of her mind and heart—that things were about to change, and they would change for the better.

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Chapter 9 “We gotta go to Bo.” Jack was out of breath as he opened the door to the Abbotts’ cabin in north central Savage Valley, disrupting Clay’s work. “Already did, brother.” Clay was sitting at the large drafting desk in the center of the cabin, hunched over his latest sketch, but he hadn’t really been working. Visions of a certain buxom brunette danced through his mind, stealing every conscious moment. “What do you mean you already did?” Clay looked up as his brother stormed across the room to stand beside him. “How could you go without me?” “Easy. I showed up at his house.” Jack shot his brother an exasperated look, and Clay grinned in response then turned on his chair to face Jack. “I’ve been trying to tell you for days, but you keep disappearing in your lion. I went to Bo as soon as I saw Anya and my dick got hard. See, I thought that lions could only recognize their mates the first time—” “Not true. Amelia Sullivan.” Did everyone know about this but him? “How did you know about her?” Jack shrugged. “Ira thinks about it all the time. Wonders if some of the girls he went to elementary school with were actually his mate. He gets terribly disappointed when he runs into one of them at the courthouse and doesn’t get an insta-woody.” “You gotta get out of people’s heads.” Clay stood to go to the kitchen, not having taken any time to eat all day, but then he smelled an intoxicating, sweet scent coming from…his brother?

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It was then that Clay took in his brother’s appearance—the matted hair, the flushed skin, the grin that looked stupid even when compared to Jack’s other sloppy grins. “You slept with her.” Clay couldn’t deny the jealousy that rose within his chest, but mostly he was overjoyed. “You fucking went out and fucked our mate.” The grin widened. “Got a problem with that?” “We gotta go to Bo,” Clay said, echoing Jack’s earlier words. “If she felt that drawn to you after just meeting you…” Something occurred to Clay then. “Did you musk her?” “As soon as I touched that soft skin of hers, I couldn’t help it. You know how it goes, don’t you?” Clay’s mind went back to when he helped Anya up after she fell in the Ninth Time and to the oddly satisfying feeling of the musk slipping from his pores as his arousal grew. “Yeah, I do. So we’ve both musked her, and apparently she’s attracted to us both, so…” “It’s time to go to Bohagande,” Jack finished for his brother. “You know we can’t shift in front of humans unless our lives or our territory are in danger, and you know that according to legend, we gotta shift before we mate her. Bo has the potion that allows us to do that.” Clay glanced at the clock and saw that it was already ten thirty at night. Bo wouldn’t appreciate another late-night interruption, but Clay couldn’t let this rest until tomorrow. No, he had spent thirty-six years alone, and six years with his brother as his only family. He was fed up with the loneliness, and he had found the one woman made to spend the rest of her life with him. One more second than was necessary was fucking long in his book. “Let’s go,” Clay said, grabbing his tattered green army jacket from his bed. “Clay, it’s a little late for driving out to the Shoshone reservation, isn’t it?”

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“You just got to be inside our mate, man. I didn’t get the privilege, and if waking up Bo means there’s one less second I have to wait before sinking into that sweet cunt, then I would see him any hour of the day or night.” Jack said nothing for a moment, and then his silly just-beenfucked grin grew once more. “Fair enough. Let’s go.” **** Jack watched his brother bang on the door to Bo’s house and wished he could be in his lion form. His worn woolen peacoat— pilfered from the shop when his parents were still alive—did nothing against the unseasonably harsh late-autumn winds. Finally, light shone from within Bo’s windows, and Jack heard loud footsteps as the Shoshone shaman approached the door. “Seriously?” He opened the door and looked back and forth between Jack and Clay. “Didn’t we talk about how waking me up in the middle of the night ain’t the way to earn my favor?” “Yeah, but it’s our mate.” Clay smiled, an expression Jack hadn’t seen on his brother in a very long time. “It can’t wait.” Bo stared at Clay then turned and walked deeper into the house, leaving the door open. “Might as well go in,” Clay sent telepathically. Before they even walked through the foyer, they heard the clattering of pots and pans from the kitchen in the back of the house. “I’m assuming you wanna shift in front of her,” Bo called out. “Fuck yes we do,” Jack said, and he let himself get excited for the first time since he met Anya. So many precariously balanced factors could have fallen apart and made the mating impossible, but it seemed that most of those had dissolved. He and Clay had fallen for the same woman. Amazingly enough the same woman had fallen for both of them, and that woman sounded pretty damn ready to settle down with both of them.

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Only one factor still worried Jack. His telepathic skills had been out of control recently. When he heard the other pride member’s voices, they came through as clearly as if they were speaking directly to him, and Jack could remember each and every word they said. But when he could muster the energy, he could create a nearly impenetrable shield around his mind to silence the others, something he had never before accomplished. But his shielding abilities were still unpredictable, and without the power to block out the thoughts, the increased clarity only frustrated Jack more. But he had already decided before he went to see Anya that she was worth the effort. Some mental discomfort outweighed the possibility that he could have a forever with the most beautiful, most alluring, most endearingly clumsy woman he had ever met. Feeling her pussy milk the seed from his cock only solidified his decision. “Okay, boys,” Bo said as he placed a tray holding two glasses of a murky brown substance on the coffee table across from his couch. “Take a seat and have a cocktail.” From their thoughts, Jack knew that when Oliver and Roarke had found their mate, they had to drink the same substance. Both had thought about how disgusting it was for weeks on end, but both had thought it was totally worth it. They both sat on the couch, and the acrid odor from the beverage filtered into his nostrils. “Is this toxic?” Clay asked, poking one finger against the side of the glass. “Anything that smells like that can’t be good for humans.” “Lucky you boys ain’t all human, huh?” Although Jack could understand Bo’s pique at being awakened late at night, it appeared that Bo enjoyed his and Clay’s pain a bit too much. Knowing it was better to get it over with, Jack grabbed the beverage and downed it in three painful gulps. It burned down his

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esophageal tract, causing him to sputter and cough as he placed his glass back on the tray. “You’re not making this too appealing, man.” Clay picked up the glass, sniffed the liquid, and crinkled his face in genuine disgust. “It’s worth it, though, isn’t it?” he thought so that only Jack could hear. “Sinking into her and knowing that she’s the one, that we’re gonna make kittens and grow old with her, it’s worth it.” “Totally worth it,” Jack said aloud. With a deep breath, Clay emptied his glass with one admirable swallow. He appeared to turn slightly green right before coughing violently. His sickness lasted only a second, though, and he turned from where he sat to look up at Bo. “You’re a cruel man.” “Hey, don’t blame me. Blame your ancestors for going and messing with the land. We don’t take no shit from anyone, not your ancestors and not the corporate fuckers trying to get it now.” Clay gave his typical grunted response and rose, saying good-bye to Bo before heading out the door to where his old station wagon awaited them, but Jack stayed behind for a moment. “Before I go,” he said while Bo worked putting up vials of unidentifiable fluids back into his cabinets, “I wanted to ask you something.” “Shoot, man. You know that I’m always here for you boys, even when I give you shit.” “I know. It’s just my…well, you know…” “Your weird telepathy thing?” The shaman didn’t mince his words. “Yeah, my weird telepathy thing. It’s gotten…well, it’s gotten better and worse at the same time ever since I saw Anya.” Bo closed a cabinet then crossed to stand across from where Jack leaned on the breakfast bar. “Let me guess. You’re having an easier time hearing but a harder time blocking.”

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“Sort of. You see, when I try to block, it doesn’t work. Except when it does, and then…it’s…” “It’s better, ain’t it? Stronger?” “Exactly.” He sighed and shook his head. “You know, you boys with the special powers—you, Perry, and Bryce—the curse chose you. Some of the shifters couldn’t handle the stress of what you boys have to go through, but the three of you are tough enough. Your gift is necessary for the pride’s survival. It’s vital when there’s an attack on the pride while you’re in human form. Remember, this shit came about before texting. “But your powers, I’m not gonna lie, they’re just gonna get more intense. When a mountain lion-shifter takes a mate, it strengthens him, and your ability is part of who you are. That may mean that it gets easier to block, but I don’t know. She’s gonna help though, your Anya. Whatever happens to your powers, having a woman who loves you by your side is going to make everything better.” Anxiety twisted Jack’s stomach. “I don’t know about the whole ‘love’ thing. I can feel it happening for me, for Clay, but we just met her and this is all gonna scare the living shit out of her. I don’t know when—or if—she’s gonna fall in love.” “Don’t be stupid, man. The woman was built to love you. Something in the universe marked her as the one for you and brought her right to your doorstep. Trust me, you’re not the first shifter to worry about this, and just like the rest, she’s gonna fall for you.” Bo appeared thoughtful for a moment, a far cry from the no-bullshit shaman they had come to know and love. “And being in love…being in love makes everything better. Going to buy groceries, doing your taxes, hell, just washing the dishes, when you’re with the one person meant for you, it’s not tedious anymore. It’s a joy.” Jack didn’t know how to react to the sudden display of emotion, but it struck a chord within him. Hadn’t his life already gotten better just since he met Anya? He did have stress from his increased

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abilities, but hadn’t he grinned at himself in the mirror this morning while he brushed his teeth? “Anyway.” Bo shook a little and started to the door, putting one hand on Jack’s shoulder to guide him. “You boys should be set to mate her now, and I can’t wait to meet her. I heard legends about her, but never seen the real thing.” “It’s a treat.” Jack smiled and shook the man’s extended hand. As he turned to where the station wagon idled, the cold wind whipped across his face once more, but the sensation didn’t pain him this time. No, it reminded him that he was alive. And fuck it, he was going to say it. He was in love.

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Chapter 10 Light filtered in through the small gap in the curtains on the window beside Anya’s bed, rousing her from a deep sleep. She didn’t know how long she’d been out, but she did know that dreams had haunted her sleep. Dreams of Clay and Jack and all the things they could do together played out in her head, and remembering the dreams had her pussy tingling already. Despite the fact that Anya usually didn’t get turned on in the morning, she felt wetness gathering between her thighs, and she reached down and pushed her fingers through her already soaking lips. Before she could stroke her clit and give it some of the relief she so desperately needed, a memory of another dream stopped her in her tracks. It hadn’t felt as much like a dream as like a supernatural interruption to her sleep. She had heard scratches against her window and at first had thought it the scraping of the trees in the wind. But it continued, and as she listened closer, she heard no howling wind. The noise increased in volume until she could no longer ignore it. With sleep robbing her of her normal cautiousness, she had risen from bed and gone straight to her windows. When she ripped open her curtains, what she had seen stopped the beating of her heart. There, balancing on the tree limb outside her window, had been two massive mountain lions, their faces only inches from the glass. She had waited for fear to hold her in its icy grip, but it didn’t come. Due to sleepiness or to impetuousness, she didn’t know, but the creatures roused only curiosity within her. In the dark, she had studied their outlines and the eyes that glowed in their dark faces.

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Then Anya remembered their eyes. They hadn’t been the usual golden eyes of the feline predator. Instead, these eyes were a bright blue, shimmering almost as if it were daytime. And then, signaling to Anya that she had most certainly dreamt the encounter, she saw Jack and Clay in their stares. The lions had tilted their heads as they studied her, and she swore that one had Clay’s intense glare and the other Jack’s playful, sparkling gaze. Her arousal climbed as Anya remembered the visions, but she attributed that to the adrenaline rush associated with the memories. As much as she longed to stroke herself to completion, she wanted to be ready for Clay and Jack, because good sense be damned, she would go down to the Ninth Time that day, and she would confront them about this mysterious secret they harbored. If Aunt Cora’s predictions were correct, the two of them meant to make her their lover, and Anya wanted answers first. And after she got answers, she’d like that itch eating away at her pussy scratched. Grabbing her leggings, a pair of gym shorts, and her faded Team USA hoodie, she dressed quickly and threw her hair in a messy ponytail. She forced her feet into her slippers, intending to grab a cup of coffee and maybe a muffin from the staff kitchen before marching down the mountain to confront the men. Her resolve gave her movements emphatic power as she strode toward the door and tore it open. But two large, male lumps blocked the path between her and the hallway leading to the office and staff kitchen. “You’re awake,” Clay said, a yawn at the end of the words. “Good morning, darlin’.” “What are you doing here?” Anya said on a gasp. Jack roused from his sleep beside Clay then, his long limbs slamming against the walls of the corridor as he stretched. “Do we need a reason to come see you?” “You need a reason to be asleep in front of my door at eight in the morning.” She narrowed her eyes at the two of them and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you have a shop to open?”

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“It’s Sunday, darlin’. We don’t even open today.” Shit. Was it Sunday already? The mixture of her work, the storm, and the hours of her life devoted to fantasizing about the Abbotts had thrown off her sense of time. “Oh, um…” She shook her head, trying to get back some of the resolve the sight of Clay and Jack asleep on the floor had scared out of her. “Do you two want to come in?” Coffee could wait. The two men who set her aflame couldn’t. “Don’t mind if we do,” Jack said as he clambered to his feet. He took two steps and pulled Anya into his embrace, shocking her with the forcefulness of his kiss. The arousal she had felt earlier returned tenfold as she felt his erection press against her stomach. She moved her hips against him, eager to convey that she was quite ready for another round with him. A warm body nestled against her from behind, and she felt Clay’s hair brush against her shoulder as he landed kisses there. One of his hands cupped her ass, and her inner muscles clenched at its nearness to her throbbing pussy. He slowly dragged his hand forward, over her hip then to her stomach. He pulled back against her, and Jack released her easily. Anya almost cried out in protest, but Clay’s hand ventured lower, beneath the waistband of her gym shorts, over her mound, and finally came to rest on top of her cunt. He squeezed, and she couldn’t help the moan that echoed from her chest as she rested her head back on his shoulder. Wait. Wasn’t there something I needed to know? Through the haze of her arousal, rational thought struggled to be heard. Finally, though, Anya remembered the purpose in flinging the door to her room open. She was going to ask them something. Now what was— “Ooh.” One of Clay’s fingers pushed past her outer lips and brushed against her clit. If she wasn’t careful, she would come right then and there, before…What was it? What was she going to ask them about again?

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“Wait,” she croaked, and Clay stilled his ministrations. It took all her strength not to tell him to ignore her protests and continue his stroking, but in the end, sense won out. “I need to ask you something.” “And we need to tell you something.” Jack had settled himself at the head of her unmade bed, his back leaning against the carved headboard. “Come here and let us explain.” He held his arms open to her, and after a tentative glance backward and a nod from Clay, she walked slowly into his arms. His embrace closed around her, and he pulled her onto the bed beside him, landing several kisses on her neck as he did so. “We haven’t been entirely honest with you,” Clay said as he climbed onto the bed next to her. Oh no. Anya had heard those words too many times before—from Christopher on the phone to one of his flock of temporary fuck buddies. And she’d heard them from her previous boyfriends, her dad’s students who had vowed they were single before using Anya as a sperm receptacle while they were away from their “real” girlfriends at training camp. Then, as her heart began its descent into her stomach, she remembered her conversation with Aunt Cora. Her aunt had been concerned with Anya hurting them, not the other way around. But what did Anya owe them? “Just tell me if there’s someone else,” she said, suppressing the sting of tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. “Rip off the Band-Aid.” She looked between Clay, who hand now put his arm around her shoulders, and Jack, whose arms encircled her waist, and they looked nothing but stoic. They made eye contact, and Anya watched as a smile bloomed across Jack’s face, and his infectious laugh rang through the room. “Gorgeous, there’s no way at all that there could be anyone else. We’re both completely crazy about you.”

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His words hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt dizzy as her heart jumped to her throat. “Is it true?” she asked, turning to Clay. “Do you really like me?” Clay used his hand behind her neck to tangle in the hair at the base of her ponytail. “Yes, I like you, as you put it. I want to get to know you more, and not just physically.” His arresting gaze held her still. “We connect, and I didn’t know it was possible, but you fit with Jack and me. There’s a life waiting for the three of us out there. All you have to do is say the word.” “But before you do, hear us out.” Jack didn’t give her a chance to respond. “What we’re going to tell you may change your mind. There’s nothing that will change how we feel about you, Anya, but this is up to you. We don’t want to force a future on you if you don’t want it.” “Tell me already!” Anya hadn’t meant to shout, but the combination of frustration and arousal pushed the words out with unintended force. “I mean, you’ve been hinting about this thing, and then Aunt Cora said you were going to tell me something I wouldn’t—” “Wait, Cora warned you about what was coming?” Jack asked then looked up at his brother. “Shit, she really does care about us.” “She does. She told me I couldn’t break your hearts or I’d be out of a job.” Clay chuckled, the dry, deep sound made sexier by its rarity. “I’m sure she wouldn’t fire you, but we would hate for you to break our hearts.” “So tell me.” Anya shrugged their arms off of her, sat up straight, and looked between the two of them. “I’m going crazy thinking about you twenty-four-seven. You’re haunting my dreams, making it so work is damn near impossible. I highly doubt there’s anything you could tell me that would change the way I feel for you.” Her voice cracked at the end of the words, and her voice became softer as she confessed her true emotions. “Look, Clay, you were the only man I’d

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ever really been interested in. The reason I’ve never had any real relationships is because I never wanted anyone but you.” She turned to look at Jack. “Until I met you, Jack. I’ve never felt anything for anyone so quickly, but being with you…from the second I met you, it’s just been right. And to have the two of you together is more than I’d ever hoped for.” After a moment of silence, Jack said, “Speaking of when we met, want to know why I was naked?” “Are we finally getting to the big secret?” “Yes, darlin’,” Clay said as he opened his arms to Anya, and she tentatively shifted her weight so that she lay against his chest. His arms locked around her stomach, generating a mixture of security and excitement she had never before known. “Remember when I told you about our family history?” Jack turned to face Anya and Clay, and she nodded in response. “Well, our story goes all the way back to the pioneer days when our family left their home in Illinois in 1845 to travel on what became known as the Oregon Trail. Along with four other families who are still in Savage Valley today, they packed everything they’d ever owned into a covered wagon and headed west to find their promised land. In fact,” Jack said, cocking his head at Anya, “if you’ve been lurkin’ round Savage Hunger as much as Clay’s told me, then you probably know all of them.” Although Anya was eager to bypass the history lesson and get to this closely guarded secret of the Abbott family, the love for gossip fostered in her by a life spent in the skating world got the better of her. “Who are they?” “Well, it was us,” Clay said from behind her, “along with the Cashes, the Popes, the Yeatses, and the Sullivans.” All the names rang bells in her mind, and she quickly connected the dots. “So Mayor Cash, the guys that own the diner, the creepy dudes who work at the newspaper, and the weird kid on the radio who loves nineties rock?”

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“You got it,” Clay said with a laugh. “Now do you want to know why I was down to my skimpies in the snow or not?” Jack asked, drawing her attention back to him. “Honestly”—Anya waggled her eyebrows—“I’d like you in your skimpies right now, but yes. I want to know.” She needed to calm down or she’d soak through the crotch of her gym shorts before Jack got to the point of this story. “So the five families were on the trail, and it was a rough life, with rivers to be forded and bandits taking their supplies in the night. When they reached what’s now Wyoming, dysentery claimed another victim in Mrs. Sullivan, the last surviving woman. Morale was low, and they decided they had expanded about as westward as they cared to. After a few more days of travelling, they came to an abandoned fur-trading outpost. You know the bank?” “I do,” Anya said dutifully, using her knowledge of pioneer time gleaned from the Oregon Trail computer game to fill in the gaps in Jack’s tale. “That was the center of it all. When they found five abandoned cabins all within a mile or two of the outpost, they figured that God Himself had called them to that spot. They moved in, and soon enough, they were clearing the land and dreaming up a city on the scale of Cincinnati or Philadelphia. But they weren’t the only occupants here in the Valley, and the native Shoshone tribe—the Bannock, I think—were none too happy about their home being destroyed by a bunch of careless settlers. “Cameahwait, the local shaman, came to speak to Gideon Cash, the leader of the town in those days. He warned them to stop their cutting trees and killing animals or there would be some serious consequences. Gideon and the rest of the settlers laughed at him, calling it just scare tactics. After all, the settlers had rifles, something the Shoshone lacked at that time. So they went on clearing and killing, and once more, Cameahwait showed up at the Cashes’ cabin—behind where the town hall is now—and told him this was his

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last warning. Being the self-assured type he was, he laughed in the shaman’s face and instructed the rest of the men to continue their work. “When another week or so passed and no one heard a thing from Cameahwait or his tribe, everyone assumed their superior weapons had scared the natives away. Then one night, when the moon was just a shimmering sliver, all the men were drawn to a clearing at the base of the Mukuas. Up by where Treaty Lane and Kwitakusix Cove meet now. You know it?” Anya nodded, now completely engrossed in Jack’s tale. “Well, right at midnight, each one of them inexplicably dropped whatever it was they were doing or woke from their slumber and met in the clearing. They all thought it was the hand of Saint Peter, calling them to his gates of heaven before the rapture would come and a demon would rise from a lake of fire and consume the world. But none such thing happened. Each man shed his clothes, closed his eyes, and…I don’t know to say this so you’ll believe me.” They were almost there! Why had he stopped just then? “What is it? Come on, Jack, I wanna be in on the secret.” “The men…they…Clay?” Jack looked at his brother with a pleading expression. Clay flattened one of his hands on her stomach and used the other to turn her so she faced him. “They turned into mountain lions.” For a long moment, Anya said nothing. The words trickled into her brain, and she struggled to make a connection to the mysterious reason behind the Abbotts’ odd behavior. “That’s all good and well,” she started, “but I don’t see how some tall tale from the Wild West has anything to do with this big secret you’ve been hiding.” Both brothers hesitated and looked between each other before Jack spoke slowly and carefully. “Anya, we’re not telling you a tall tale. We’re telling you our family’s history.”

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“Right.” She shrugged and said, “Lots of families have weird shit in the legends that get passed down. I’m sure there’s probably tales of my ancestors slaying some magical bird in Russia.” “Darlin’”—Clay’s chest rumbled behind her—“I don’t think you’re understanding. We have documented evidence of this, and we live it out twice a month. At the waning and waxing gibbous moons each lunar cycle, the two of us, along with all the other families in Savage Valley then, turn into mountain lions.” Once more, Anya was silent. They were joking, right? They couldn’t be some sort of sexy feline werewolves that haunted northwestern Colorado, but then she remembered the two mountain lions from her dream. It hadn’t felt like a dream. No, it had felt more like when she would wake frightened in the night as a child and run downstairs to open the refrigerator and bask in the glow of its light. The darkness cast an eerie shadow over the entire house, transforming it to a different dimension of nighttime existence. Her mother would come down and find her and assure her that all was fine. She would tuck her back into bed, and when Anya awoke, the memory mingled with the bizarre imagery from her dream, halfway between reality and superstition. “Anya?” Jack asked, and she realized it had been minutes since she spoke to them. What did they expect? News like this took a moment to process. “Yeah,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m still listening. You’ve just thrown a lot at me, and I’m trying to sort through it all.” Sadness creased his handsome features, and she reached out and touched his arm. “I’m processing it, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe you.” “You believe us?” The animating spark returned to Jack’s body, giving him movie-star good looks once again. “I didn’t say that,” she said carefully. “I just said that I don’t not believe you. Give me a moment to get it all through my mind.”

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It was Jack’s turn to nod solemnly. “It’s not just a twice-a-month thing, either. The mountain lion is a sacred animal to the Shoshone, and when he bestowed the gift of double nature on the settlers, Cameahwait also tasked the pride—what we call the group of lionshifters—and all their offspring to protect Savage Valley, not to let anyone harm the environment any more than is completely necessary. The area around each of the cabins became the sector for each family, and they work not to let anyone invade their territory. And that includes us.” “The lion is part of who we are,” Clay continued, and Anya looked up at him. “Not only does the curse compel us to shift, but we need to shift. It keeps us grounded and reminds us of our purpose.” She was compelled to believe the two of them. As far she knew, they hadn’t misled her yet, and her aunt and her grandmother both trusted their family. Even if they were spouting bullshit to get into her pants, this was some impressively elaborate bullshit. They deserved some sort of credit for their effort. But everything she knew about the two of them told her they weren’t lying, and as unbelievable as their tale may seem, it appeared they were giving her the gospel truth. “So when you showed up naked,” Anya said, connecting the disparate pieces of their story, “you had just…” She couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “You had just shifted back from being a mountain lion? That’s why you weren’t wearing anything?” “I knew you were smart.” Hesitantly, Jack leaned forward and placed a small kiss at the corner of Anya’s lips. “In addition to giving us the ability and forcing us to change into mountain lion, the curse influences a lot of different parts of our lives.” “Wait.” Anya held up a hand and remembered her Aunt Cora’s family. Hadn’t her maiden name been Yeats? And wasn’t that one of the names they dropped? “The fact that you…you know…share. Is that because of the curse?” When she asked the question, Jack visibly relaxed, and she could feel the tension leaving Clay’s muscles. “Yes,” Jack said, “under the

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curse, all brothers in a generation of lion-shifters must mate the same woman. It was a rough time back then, and the Shoshone knew how easily the added stress could split a family. Compelling the brothers to mate the same woman ensured that the family would stay together and that their family line would continue.” Disappointment swelled in her chest, an emotion that shocked her. Over the past week, she had begun to see exactly why so many in the town of Savage Valley insisted ménage relationships could work so well, possibly even better than traditional one-man-one-woman pairings. She saw it in each encounter she’d had with Clay and Jack, and the excitement about their impending relationship had become the reason she got out of bed every morning. She had thought the Abbotts felt the same way, and that was why they both wanted to be with her. Apparently, she was wrong. “But that’s not a bad thing,” Clay said from behind her. “The curse opened the settlers’ eyes to the advantages of ménage relationships. They saw how two men could give a woman so much more satisfaction than one, and how much stronger their ties to both their ancestral family and the new family they created were when they took the same woman as their brothers.” He used one hand underneath her chin to turn her head and tilt it up to meet his eyes. “Anya, even if we could escape this curse, we would still both want you, and we would want to be with you at the same time. Yes, the curse brought us together, but why should that make our relationship any lesser?” Clay leaned down and kissed her gently, sealing his words. He released her chin and pulled her closer to him. “But what happens if both brothers don’t…mate the same woman?” Jack sighed and leaned his forehead against the headboard. “It’s not a pretty sight. Any offspring that results from a relationship that does not involve all the brothers in a given generation of a given family will die before they reach their third birthday.”

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“And it’s happened, too,” Clay added. “Every other generation or so, one of the pride will stray, and it causes a tragedy throughout the town.” “That’s not the only thing the curse changes about our lives, though,” Jack said solemnly. “The Shoshone also understood that over the generations, there may be shifters that don’t agree with the curse and will run from Savage Valley and leave their families behind.” Jack leaned forward and took Anya’s hand in his. “I know how much you’ve traveled in your life and that half your family lives abroad, but there’s something you need to know about us.” “We can’t leave Savage Valley,” Clay finished. “None of the shifters in our generation can, at least not yet.” “When the pride alpha—in our generation, Oliver Cash—” “So that’s why he’s mayor,” Anya chimed in. “—turns thirty, that generation becomes the dominant pride. We’re born with the ability to shift, although we can’t usually control it until we’re three or four, meaning every thirty years or so, there are a bunch of toddlers running naked in the Mukuas who shift into mountain lion kittens like popcorn in a hot skillet. “Anyway, the dominant pride shifts every two weeks to go on a ritual hunt, and they’re the ones who have to worry about protecting Savage Valley. Because of this, and because those damn Shoshone were so worried about keeping families together, we’re physically unable to leave Savage Valley.” The news spun through her head, and with each detail Anya committed to memory, she found herself believing them a little more. If she were to make up magical powers for herself, it certainly wouldn’t involve dying children and being stuck in rural Colorado. Although the idea of staying in Savage Valley sounded totally foreign to her after a living out of a suitcase for so many years, she loved the possibility of having a home. Somewhere she could return each and every night with someone—or two someones—to hold her and to accompany her in building a life.

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“Okay.” Her words came out slowly. “Let’s say I believe you. What does that mean for me? For…us?” Clay’s grip tightened around her stomach, and he pulled her upward, landing kisses along her neck. “It means that we would live together and we would start a family.” “Here?” “Where else?” Jack moved closer to them, running his hand up and down Anya’s leg, coming dangerously close to her inner thighs where desire had already coiled. “You’re our mate, Anya. We’ve both known it from the instant we saw you, and from what you’ve said, you know, too.” His hand dragged upward, pulling up the hem of her shorts, but stopped only an inch from her pussy. “We won’t force you, though. We know you need time to make this decision.” “In the meanwhile”—one of Clay’s hands slipped beneath her hoodie and traced upward—“you can’t blame us for trying a few things to help you make your decision.” In one swift motion, Jack pushed aside the sopping-wet crotch of her gym shorts and inserted one long finger inside of her. Her breath hitched at the sudden, very welcome invasion, but she couldn’t focus on that for too long. Clay cupped the bottom of one of her breasts and rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a soft moan from Anya. “Jack got to be inside of you,” he whispered as he switched hands and lavished attention on her other nipple. “I want to fuck that sweet little cunt, too. I want to feel your pussy tighten around my cock, and I want to hear you scream my name again as you come all over me.” He pulled her backward against him, and she could feel from the rock-hard erection against her ass that he meant every word. “God, Clay, I want to—Oh my god!” Jack pulled her gym shorts down over her hips, and before even easing them off her legs, buried his face in her pussy. His tongue licked along the seam of her outer lips then pushed into her, grazing her clit before it dove downward to tease at her entrance.

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Her hips moved of their own accord as she tried to maneuver his face so that his tongue fucked into her. She used her free hand to tangle in his soft, blond locks and angle his head just right, but without a hitch in his ministrations, he reached up and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Just sit back and let us make you come,” he breathed against her pussy, the little rivulets of air driving her need higher. He licked again at her clit, and she knew her release was close. She moaned her assent as Jack pushed his finger back into her and Clay pinched her nipples, twisting them into hard nubs. Jack sucked her clit into his mouth at the same instant he added a second digit to his finger-fucking. When Clay twisted her nipple and bit at the back of her neck at the same moment, everything inside of Anya snapped. She cried out as her universe exploded into tiny points of light, and she could feel the liquid rushing from within her cunt and into Jack’s ready mouth. “Goddamn, that was sexy,” Clay whispered in her ear. “I will never get tired of seeing you do that, of making you do that.” Even in the afterglow of her orgasm, Clay’s words ignited her desire. She shifted in his arms, turning so that she faced him, and craned her neck upward for a kiss. He readily obliged, and his tongue plunged into her mouth as his hands ran down her back to cup her ass. He rolled onto his back, forcing her to straddle him. Anya busied her hands with undoing the buttons of his shirt, and just when she had snapped the last enclosure to free his skin, Jack’s hands curled around the hem of her hoodie and drew it over her head. His hands wrapped around her chest and squeezed her tits, and his cock bumping against her ass told her that he had shucked his clothes as well. He moved away suddenly, and Anya thought to protest, but she finally freed Clay’s chest from the confines of his shirt. She smoothed her hands over his pectorals as she pushed his shirt to the side. Her breath hitched at the sight. While Jack was all long and lean, Clay was pure muscle. He had hard six-pack abs, clearly defined by a

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hard line running down the center. Anya leaned over to run her tongue along that ridge, but her efforts were halted when Clay rolled again, this time placing her body under his. He pressed one hot kiss against her lips then sat up to shuck his jeans and boxers. What he revealed was truly an impressive specimen. His cock wasn’t as long as Jack’s, but it was thicker, wider than any she had ever seen. She worried suddenly about whether or not she’d be able to take such an impressive dick inside of her, but Clay leaned forward so she was flat on her back, and the feel of that cock bumping against her wet entrance made it impossible for her to think about anything else. “Are you ready?” he asked, rubbing his cock up and down along the seam of her pussy. “I know you just came, and I don’t want you to be sore.” “I don’t care about being sore.” Anya wrapped her arm around his back and pulled herself upward so her tits bumped against his hard chest. He must have taken this as a signal to move, and he adjusted the angle of his cock then thrust hard into her. The girth of his cock stretched her, but the sensation drove her crazier than anything before. He pulled out and thrust back in again, and the fullness of his cock buried inside her had her racing to the brink once again. She remembered Jack’s promise, his fingers against her back entrance, and knew she wanted that, and she wanted it soon. When Clay snaked a hand between them and brushed her clit as he pounded into her, all other thoughts flew out the window. Between his cock filling her, his fingers rubbing her, and the knowledge that Clayton fucking Abbott himself was making love to her, she couldn’t hold on another second. She burst into her second orgasm of the day, slamming her hips upward against Clay’s as his speed increased, and an instant later, jets of his hot cum spurted into her. “She is goddamn sexy when she comes,” she heard Jack say over the noise of her and Clay’s combined panting. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she managed before Clay placed another kiss on her lips. Slowly, he withdrew from her, and this time,

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when she felt the emptiness from the loss of her cock, she knew she wouldn’t feel that way for long. No, she had made up her mind, and both Abbotts would be inside of her. And soon. “God, I want to be inside of you again,” Jack said. He stood from the bed and began adjusting his hair back to its carefully mussed state. “But not yet.” “Why not?” she breathed, still panting. “I want you. I want you both again.” “You need some time to process this, darlin’.” Clay began gathering his clothing and dressing then joined Jack where he stood dangerously close to the door. “We want you, and we want you to be our mate, but you need to think it over.” “We don’t want to rush you into this. Take some time. It’ll be tough, but we’ll stay away, for a week even.” Dates rushed through Anya’s head, and she had an idea. “No, five days.” “Why five days?” “The Marina Andrews concert. I can get you extra tickets, if you’d like to go”—she looked between them—“as my dates,” she said with an added emphasis on the S. “We’d love to,” Clay answered. “And that’s perfect, but don’t think you won’t hear from us.” “Because I’m gonna have to text you every dirty I thought I have.” Jack grinned as he walked back to the bed, leaned over, and placed a kiss on Anya’s hair. “Five days,” she said as much to herself as them. “That’s not too long, right?”

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Chapter 11 Jack was in a haze. All he wanted to do was to check his phone every thirty seconds to see whether or not Anya had tried to get in touch. It had been five long days since he last saw her in the flesh, but luckily the night of the Marina Andrews concert had finally come. Jack would get to see the object of his affection, to hold her. From the nature of her texts, he was relatively sure that she would accept their offer and become their mate, but until he held her body in her arms and heard her accept his mating, he wouldn’t be satisfied. Ever since he and Clay had told Anya about their true nature, his ability to block out the thoughts of others had grown substantially. Now, he could push thoughts away with relative ease, and when he concentrated, he could stop the thoughts from flowing into his mind entirely. As a result, however, Clay had happily handed over the reins to the Ninth Time, and now Jack was behind the counter full-time. There was only one spot marring his otherwise pristine outlook. “Oh, Jack, could you get me your last year’s tax returns? I can’t believe I left them here again!” And there was the spot. Jocelyn waggled into the store, flaunting her assets for all to see. Ever since they hired her, she had tried desperately to win their attentions, but of course, both Clay and Jack were otherwise occupied. But Jack had had enough of her bullshit, and now, with a clear mind, he intended to let her know exactly how he felt. “They’re on the counter,” he said as he walked out to meet her in the middle of the store.

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A look of childish delight stole over her face as he stopped in front of her, and she placed both her hands on his chest. “Oh, Jackie, what would I do without you?” Jack gently wrapped his hand around her wrists and lowered her hands. “You’d manage just fine. Look,” he said, his voice stern, “I don’t know what your problem is, but Clay and I aren’t interested. We’ve found someone, and I’m sorry, but you need to stop throwing yourself at us quite so violently.” For a brief moment, unmistakable anger passed over her face, twisting her pretty features into an unbearable mask of ire. The moment ended, though, and she resumed her innocent, wide-eyed expression. “What do you mean? I’m not throwing myself at you. I just want to get to know both of you so much better.” “Please, stop.” Jack released her hands and took a step back. “From what I understand, whatever you’re doing for Clay is nearly finished. We’ll make sure you’re fairly compensated for all the work that you’ve done, but as the front-of-store manager, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She said nothing but blinked rapidly, as if trying to conjure up tears. He sighed, tired of her overdramatic antics, and walked back to the counter. As soon as his back was turned, she said, “It’s that skank, isn’t it? The one who was hanging all over you when I first came in here.” Jack stopped in his tracks and turned, slowly, to face her. This time, the mask was firmly back in place, and he saw that this was no mask at all. He was finally seeing Jocelyn’s true nature. “What did you just call her?” “A skank. You heard me. Any girl who would willingly fuck two men at the same time is nothing but a cheap, two-bit whore.” “Get out of my shop,” Jack whispered, but Jocelyn just folded her arms over her comically large chest. “Get out.”

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“Oh, you can kick me out of this shop, but don’t think you can get rid of me.” She closed the distance with two steps and shoved her face into Jack’s. “There’s more going on than you or your stupid Neanderthal of a brother will ever know about. Jack Abbott, I have it out for you, and I will take you down.” With that she huffed, turned on one metallic stiletto heel, and stormed out of the Ninth Time. Jack shook his head and checked his phone once more, hoping his brother would return soon so they could make their way up to the Woodland Den and their mate. As Jocelyn crossed back by the Ninth Time, she flipped him off through the glass window. Classy. He wondered for a moment if he should put any stock in Jocelyn’s threats, but decided they were most likely empty. Nothing she said made sense, and Jack worried she was just a poor, lost soul that some man had hurt very badly. The woman he wanted was soft, luscious, and had chocolatey hair. His mate. Tonight, hopefully, would make that official. **** The lobby of the Woodland Den buzzed with activity, but all of Anya’s attention focused on the small hand of the clock and its excruciatingly slow journey to six o’clock. For the past five days, a flurry of activity had consumed the Woodland as the snow from the blizzard melted away and they hit capacity with guests in for the Marina Andrews concert. Anya worked fourteen-hour days with only a few scant hours for sleep, but visions of her two men—her mates, she reminded herself—kept her up, aroused, and trading dirty text messages with both Clay and Jack. The minute hand on the clock over the reception desk inched closer to six. Only two more minutes now. Anya looked around to find something to busy herself, but everything she could find to do would require far more than two minutes, and she was most certainly unwilling to spend a second longer than necessary at work. The

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instant she was freed from her duties, she would steal to her room to get ready for the concert. Much as she enjoyed Marina Andrews, Nashville’s latest country starlet, she was really looking forward to what would happen after the concert. Jack and Clay would be up at the Woodland as soon as they could after the Ninth Time closed at six, and they would all attend the concert together, along with the majority of Savage Valley’s population. Then afterward… Aunt Cora walked through the lobby, and Anya quickly flung open the reservation book and began scribbling with pencil over some unfortunate family’s reservation. “Anya, honey, do you have a problem with the Joneses?” Aunt Cora asked as she walked behind the reception desk and studied her furious scribbling. “Because you’ve just about obliterated their reservation for December.” “Oh, did I?” she said, feigning innocence. Five fifty-nine. She just needed to keep this going for another minute and she would be free. Her aunt studied her for a long moment. “You’re looking a little stressed out. You’ve been working ’round the clock. Go ahead and take some time to—” “Thanks! Bye, Aunt Cora.” Anya cut off her words as she simultaneously kissed her aunt on the cheek and unclipped her nametag. “Honey, what are you—” Once more, Aunt Cora’s words faded away as Anya disappeared through the lobby to the staff quarters. In record time, she made it to her room, throwing open the door to the small closet and digging through her clothing. Tonight was the night. Clay and Jack had given her time to think about whether or not she wanted to be with them, but her answer came to her before they had even asked. After years spent lusting after Clay, she finally got the opportunity to lie wrapped in his arms, and

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that opportunity came with another man for whom she’d already started falling. Hard. The decision to be with them would change her life for good, but every fiber of her being knew it was what she wanted, even with the ramifications. She wasn’t the woman she had been even a few weeks earlier. Everything that had happened had changed her, and suddenly, the idea of being tied to Savage Valley forever didn’t even scare her. In fact, it thrilled her. A certain word started buzzing around the back of her mind, a word that had escaped Jack’s lips once, and when she was completely honest with herself, she wanted to hear it again every single day. As she studied her wardrobe once more, racking her brain over the grave decision of what to wear that evening, a knock sounded on her door. It couldn’t be Jack and Clay yet, could it? She looked at the clock next to her bed. 6:01. It would be impossible for even the two of them working together to close the shop and get up to the Woodland that fast, wouldn’t it? She carefully walked over to her door and peered through the peephole. When she saw who it was, she flung the door open with gusto and leapt into his arms. “Kenny! What on earth are you doing here, you crazy, wonderful man?” “You know how crazy I am about Marina Andrews. Did you really think I’d miss an opportunity to see my favorite country singer and my favorite assistant coach ever?” Assistant coach. Right. As thrilled as she was to see her best friend, his words dented the high she had been riding after making her plans for the weekend. “Come on in,” she said, smiling brighter than she felt. “I have so much to tell you.” “And I want to hear everything. I just got back into the States today and saw all the missed calls from you,” he said as they went to sit on her carefully made bed. After all, she was expecting visitors

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later that night. “When are you going to come back to work? I miss you so much, all of us do, and Christopher’s been better, too. I swear, he’s not even chasing the skate rental girls anymore.” Anya took a deep breath and steadied herself as she prepared to voice her plans aloud for the first time. “Kenny, I don’t think I’m coming back at all.” “Why not?” he asked, grasping both her hands. “You’re my best friend, An, and I miss you so much it hurts.” “I miss you, too, but—” “You’re a great coach,” Kenny pressed, “and if you keep at it, you could be on top of your game in a few years.” “It’s not my world, Ken. It’s never been my world. That’s what my parents wanted, and it’s something I’ve loved doing, but I really think my future is here. Everything that’s happened since I last saw you, well, it’s made me a different person. A person that doesn’t fear Christopher or skating officials or what anyone will think if I don’t go into a coaching career.” Kenny opened his mouth to say something but stopped suddenly. He narrowed his eyes and squeezed Anya’s hands tighter. “You’ve met someone, haven’t you?” She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks and pulled her hands back to cover her face. “Not just someone,” she said, muffled by her palms. “Two someones.” “Get out.” “Yup. Clay and Jack Abbott.” Kenny grabbed her elbow, pulling one of her hands from her face. “Why, Anya Copely, aren’t you a homewrecker? Splitting apart brothers like that. They are brothers, right?” “Yes, they’re brothers,” she said as she watched her hands twist in her lap. “But, um, I’m not splitting them apart.” “No,” Kenny gasped. “Yes, actually. You see, I’m sort of, well…” She took a deep breath, admitting her feelings to herself for the first time as she told

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Kenny. “I’m in a relationship with both of them. And, Kenny, I think I’m in love with them.” The smile that split across her friend’s face warmed her heart. “I’m so happy for you. I really am,” he said as he pulled her into a hug. “You realize you’re going to have to tell me about the sex, right? I’m fascinated to hear about how it feels to do two guys at once.” “Kenny!” she squealed and batted a hand in his direction. “But seriously,” he said through a laugh, “I’m so happy for you. You really could be a great coach, and I’m not just saying that because you’re my best friend, but skating’s not your passion. I understand. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you glow like right now.” “It’s just…it’s a commitment. And it’s scary.” “If you weren’t scared, it wouldn’t be real,” he said as he stood and headed toward the door. “You’re in love, Anya. It’s obvious for anyone to see.” That word. Anya’s heart beat faster, but she pushed the emotion to the back of her mind for a moment. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Kenny.” “And I’ll miss you so much, Miss Winter Sports Princess.” He smiled and tilted his head as he studied Anya. “You’re not coming back to Colorado Springs, are you?” When she shook her head, he leaned against the doorframe, and she was shocked at the smile that spread across his face. “It’s not gonna be the same without you, but I gotta say, I love having an excuse to visit this town. You never told me there were all these gorgeous, rugged men running around.” “Kenny!” Anya squealed as she rose to her feet. He simply winked in response then gestured to the door. “Now are you gonna pull some strings to introduce me to Marina Andrews or not?” “Let me get dressed and I’ll come find you,” she said, joining him at her door. “And you’ll get to meet Clay and Jack tonight.”

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He raised his eyebrows. “Now that I want to see. Any two men who could keep a beautiful woman like you interested must be quite a catch.” **** What idiots planned an outdoor concert in Colorado in November? Jocelyn paced back and forth at the edge of the woods along the path leading from the parking area to the amphitheater. Concert-goers were beginning to trickle in, and she waited for that bitch Anya to walk in with her two idiot boyfriends. This afternoon at the Ninth Time proved they were either crazy or gay, as no heterosexual man could resist her advances. Her phone call with Ulysses that afternoon had been a disaster. He had insinuated this was Jocelyn’s fault, that if she had just tried a little harder or dressed a little sexier, the men would have fallen at her feet. And even when Jocelyn had tried to convince Ulysses to give her a little more time, that she might have luck with the older one, he had only groaned, and the sounds of sucking had poured from the receiver. The bastard was getting a blow job while he was on the phone with her. Well, she’d show him. She’d take out the bitch responsible for her failed assignment and for the tarnished reputation of Christopher Birkhead. He had been so busy handling the press from that bitch’s assault that he’d canceled his weekend with Jocelyn, meaning she still had a Manolo with a snapped heel that needed replacing. She dipped her hand into her Hermès bag on her shoulder and wrapped her hand around that detached metal stiletto heel. Oh, but wouldn’t that snapped heel come in handy. The plan had formed in her mind that afternoon, and she knew it was a stroke of genius. She’d get Anya alone—an easy thing to do in a wooded, mountainous small town—and she’d scare her straight. After Jocelyn was through with her, she would never set foot near one

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of her men again, and she would make damn sure that the Abbotts sold out to NormCorp. Then Jocelyn realized she carried the perfect weapon, enough to scare Anya, but not enough to kill her. How many times had irritable, ugly, old receptionists poked at her shoes and croaked, “you could kill someone with one of those things?” Jocelyn doubted she could kill Anya with it, but after she sharpened the heel with her nail file that afternoon, she knew it would be enough to scare her into silence. And if Jocelyn slipped and took Anya’s life, who would know? No one knew she was still in Savage Valley, and they’d never find the murder weapon. After all, they’d have to perform some sort of Cinderella search for women missing a Manolo heel. In a small town like this? Not happening. Now, if only she could isolate Anya from the rest of the crowd, she could put her plan into action. Jocelyn would have her reputation back as an utterly irresistible seductress, or someone was going to get it. And that someone was Anya Copely. **** The Woodland Den lobby was packed. All the guests who had booked for the Marina Andrews concert were up and about, getting ready for the big event. Anya squinted through the crowd, searching for her best friend. Somehow, she innately knew that Clay and Jack hadn’t arrived yet. Whenever they were near, her body tingled with the knowledge their hands would soon be on her. The absence of that feeling over the past five days had driven her nearly crazy. If not for her vibrator and Jack and Clay’s knack for dirty text messages, her libido would have destroyed her by the week’s end. Finally, her eyes zeroed in on Kenny’s curly blond hair, and she saw him seated by the fireplace across from Skyler, the guest who had so enthusiastically declared his love for skating.

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“I’m glad the two of you found each other,” she said as she weaved her way through the crowd. “I had just wondered if you were still here, Skyler.” “Well, we did meet that once before,” Skyler said softly, and she could swear she saw the man blush, “but I doubt you remember.” “No, I think I do remember,” Kenny answered. “Was it after the Champs Camp exhibition? Last year?” “Yes, yes, it was.” Yup, he was definitely blushing. “I can’t believe that you threw a quad in an exhibition program.” “Well, you see, at the time, Anya and I were working on my landing technique for…” She didn’t hear the rest of his words as something stirred within her. Her pussy flared to life, and she could feel her clit pulsing against the lace thong she wore. Only one thing could cause such sudden arousal. Jack and Clay were close. “I’ve gotta excuse myself,” she said, turning her attention back to Kenny and Skyler. “How about I meet you guys at the amphitheater in about half an hour? I’ve, um, got something to take care of.” “Oh, I’ll bet you do,” Kenny said with a wink. Anya sighed dramatically and made her way back out of the crowded lobby. As she reached the exit, her heartbeat accelerated and her palms began to sweat, not to mention the dampness accumulating on the bare skin between her legs. She had opted for fleece-lined thigh-high tights and a garter belt that evening, and she suddenly worried the evidence of her excitement would drip down her leg. She burst through the door and, against her better judgment, shucked her high heels and took off on a run toward the newly built parking area for the amphitheater. They were there, she just knew. The throbbing intensified with every stride she took, and she didn’t care if her stockings were ruined. Clay and Jack would probably make certain of that anyway.

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Her pulse rushed in her ears, and she veered to the left, taking a shortcut through the woods. Only a few more yards and she’d see them, be with the ones she wanted. She wanted them forever. She approached the tree line and could see the distant outline of Clay’s station wagon. Yes! Almost there! Without warning, she fell, smacking her chin on the cold ground. Something sharp ground into her back, pinning her to the spot and taking away her ability to breathe. A hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head upward, and French-manicured fingers stuffed a sock in her mouth. “Don’t you dare try to run, bitch. I will have you.” Anya knew of only one woman with a cold voice and a proclivity for French manicures, and that woman seemed to harbor a bizarre vendetta against Anya she’d never taken the time to understand. Yes, it had to be her. Jocelyn.

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Chapter 12 Clay spent the entire day uncomfortably hard. Inside, his lion and his manhood knew that tonight he would claim his mate, mark her for him and his brother forever. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and memories of her filtered through his every moment. The heaven he found inside her cunt was like nothing he had ever before experienced. All he wanted was to bury his cock inside her again and push in and out, imprinting her soul upon his as he did so. The painting he was working on was in the back of the car, and he longed to give it to Anya. It was a portrait of her, abstracted, yes, but a vision of his desire all the same. Since he had plunged inside her, the leonine part of his brain was much more readily accessible. In his art, he tried to visually represent the overwhelming sensory input he received as a lion, and after being with Anya, this came so much easier to him. “We’re here,” Clay said, unnecessarily, breaking the silence of their drive into the Mukuas to the Woodland Den. Jack grinned over the top of station wagon as they both exited the car, evincing his unbridled excitement about the evening. “We certainly are here. We’re here to claim our mate, Clay. Our mate.” Even though Clay tried to portray himself as the stoic eldest member of the pack, Jack’s enthusiasm was contagious, and he felt a sloppy grin spread across his face. “Honestly, I didn’t know if it would happen, but goddamn, she’s more than I ever imagined.” Jack turned serious for a moment, closing the car door and leaning on the roof. “It’s all really starting, isn’t it? The rest of our lives. I

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thought it started when we became the dominant generation, but it’s Anya. She’s the one that’s done it.” Clay felt his chest seizing at his brother’s words. He was right. All these milestones had passed, and he was well into his mid thirties, but his life started the day Anya strolled back into the Ninth Time. Overcome with emotion, he could only nod at Jack as he walked away from the car and toward the amphitheater. Jack looked down at his phone once more and nodded in Clay’s direction. “I still haven’t heard anything else from her, so I guess she’s meeting us at the amphitheater entrance.” “I couldn’t give a shit where we meet her, as long as I get to see her damn soon,” Clay said under his breath as they joined the throng of people making their way toward the stage. It had been carved into the base of Adam’s Point, the highest peak in the Mukuas, and was impressive in its scale, especially given its quick construction. The wind picked up, and although it had warmed in the past week, Savage Valley was still far too cold for an outdoor event such as this. The amphitheater with its dense seating provided the only source of warmth Clay could think of. Warmth. Warm. Wet. His thoughts strayed to Anya once again, and despite his best efforts, he grew impatient. He and Jack watched as the crowd slowed, most of the concert-goers now seated and waiting for the headliner. Clay couldn’t give a shit, honestly, as long as he had his own personal body warmer melded against him while they played. The final few latecomers trickled in, and uneasiness settled in Clay’s stomach. This wasn’t like Anya. In the time he’d known her, she always eagerly returned calls and texts, always showed up when she said she would or earlier. Her disappearance didn’t sit right with him.

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“Me, neither,” Jack said, apparently mining Clay’s thoughts. “It’s been too long. She would have at least shot a text to us if she was going to keep us waiting.” “Something’s wrong,” Clay whispered, and when he did, something deep within him told him he was right. Anya was in trouble, and he needed to help her. “I feel it, too.” Jack turned to him, and he could see the worry in his brother’s eyes. While Clay watched, Jack’s face twisted in horror, and he brought his hand to his head as he doubled over. “She’s screaming,” he gasped as he continued to shake his head. “Ezra…he’s at the top of Adam’s Point, and he’s hearing her.” The words were strangled, but already, Clay could feel his lion tearing at his control. “We have to shift.” Jack looked up at Clay as he spoke, clearly still haunted by whatever he heard and saw in the other shifter’s mind. “If you’re in lion form, too, we can both find her.” Clay couldn’t stay in human form a second longer, not when he could shift and he could save his mate. The primal possession took hold, and with a nod to Jack, they both started at a dead run across the parking area to the trees. Once they had secured the cover of darkness, both peeled their clothes from their bodies, and the shifting process began. Clay’s fingertips tingled as his claws burst from beneath his nails, and shivers ran over his skin as it grew long, tan fur. In an instant, he was fully in lion form, ready to find his mate, the one true counterpoint to his leonine soul. Through the telepathic link he shared with Jack in shifted form, the sounds of Anya’s screams resonated in Clay’s mind now, too. His lion was drawn to the source of that shrieking. He had to stop it. He had to end the pain. He had to make sure that his mate would live and bear his kittens. His paws pounded across the earth in rhythm with his brother’s, and soon, her smell filtered through the crisp air. They had to track her. Had to find her. Finally, her screams split through his own ears, not through Ezra’s thoughts from the other side

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of the mountain, or from Jack’s, along with the sounds of a man and a woman shouting at each other. Jack sent him a signal to slow, to approach carefully, as they reached the apex of Adam’s Point. There, on the outlook, his precious mate lay with her wrists and ankles bound, sending a flow of pulsing blood to her wrists and ankles in its struggle to reach her extremities. He had to save her now. The woman. Some note of recognition rang in his human mind along with a sharp disgust that drew a low growl from his throat. Jack gave him a look that even in lion form he recognized as a warning. He turned his attention back to the scene unfolding. “Where are your loyalties?” she shouted, and a tall, skinny man with curly brown hair cowered beside her. She held what looked like a pointy, metallic stick with its end sharpened. Weapon. She meant to hurt the man, and she meant to hurt his mate. “Stay.” The warning came from Jack, a rare verbal command issued in lion form. Clay lingered as she pointed the shiny stick underneath the skinny man’s chin. “I’m here on a personal mission from Ulysses, and I can only accomplish it, only give him the satisfaction he needs, if I make sure this bitch”—she kicked his mate, and Clay felt the blow echo against his own side—“does exactly what I say.” The skinny man looked at his mate, Clay’s beautiful, perfect mate, then back at the woman with the twisted face and sharp stick. “That’s not true. Look, Ulysses just wants to buy out the town, and yes, he’s willing to do whatever that takes, but I don’t think he’d stake his reputation on you murdering an innocent woman over the secondhand shop.” “Oh, like you know what Ulysses would want,” she barked. “Assistant to the Chief Executive Officer, my ass. You’re just another bitch like the rest of them in line to suck his cock.” The skinny man grabbed the woman’s wrist, effectively pushing away the shiny, pointy stick. “What exactly are you implying?”

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“Oh, come off it, Skyler. Everyone knows you’re in love with Ulysses. Although why anyone would want anything to do with that scumbag is beyond me.” Clay noticed the man cut his eyes to Anya, and her screaming ceased for a moment then started louder again. “God, what is it, bitch? First you try to take away one of my biggest cash cows, and then you get in the way of my relationship with motherfucking Ulysses C. Norman.” The woman wrenched her hand free, and as she stormed toward Anya, Clay and Jack both made their way slowly in opposite directions along the edge of the clearing. After a moment, the beautiful brown pools of his mate’s eyes flashed, and he knew that she had seen him. She knew he would rescue her. She knew he would take care of her as long as he could, hunt for her, provide for her. Love her. “You’re never going to mess with Jocelyn Smythe again, you little—” Clay sprung, flying over Anya and landing easily on all four paws in front of the woman, and growled low in his throat. A high-pitched, fearful noise sounded from her, and she turned around, only to find Jack on her opposite side. They began circling, closing in on her as they would their prey. They heard the man take off, running at top speed away from the hill. The woman began panting, and when Clay raised one paw in preparation to swipe at his assailant, she dropped her weapon in shock and followed the other man, waving her arms and screaming. Feeling the relief that his mate would not be attacked, Clay shifted, his fur and claws receding as he crawled a few feet to his Anya. “Are you okay?” he whispered over and over as he undid the bonds on her wrists and ankles. She did not say anything in response, only shivered in the cold night air. Jack soon joined him, and as soon as Clay freed Anya, Jack pulled her into his arms.

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“We thought we might lose you.” He placed kisses on her cheeks and forehead, and Anya finally came back to life, wrapping one arm around Jack’s neck and holding out the other for Clay. He moved quickly to where his mate sat in his brother’s arms, reaching out to tangle his fingers in her soft brown hair before pulling her face to his for a kiss. She pulled back a fraction of an inch and ran her hand over his shoulder to rest in the center of his naked chest, and finally, she spoke. “I love you.” **** The words came out naturally, the only thing to say in the situation. She still felt shock, still felt the pain of Jocelyn’s stiletto in her back as she yanked Anya’s arms and legs behind her to hogtie her then drag her up the mountain. And she still felt the relief when she heard Skyler’s voice shouting Jocelyn’s name. And she still felt the cold fear that ran through her veins when Jocelyn scraped her metal pick along Skyler’s collarbone, drawing his blood. But now one feeling overwhelmed all the others. Love. Kenny was right. Even though she’d only spent such a brief period of time with them, she knew she loved Clay and Jack. The whole lion-shifter thing would take some getting used to, but the two of them were worth it. They weren’t like the men she’d known before. No, they were good, and they were honest, and more importantly, they had become a part of her. And the pull she felt to them, the all-consuming need, well, only being with them forever would satisfy that desire. “I love you, too,” Clay whispered against her lips then pressed another kiss to them. He wrapped both his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. “God, I love you so much.” She easily curled her legs around him pressing her barely clothed pussy to his naked chest.

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“And Jack,” she said as she reached one arm behind her. He quickly came beside her and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “I love you.” “And I love you.” Of all Jack’s intoxicating smiles, this was the widest, the most illuminating she had ever seen. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her face to his, kissing her thoroughly and proving his words. “Anya, I’m so in love with you.” One of Clay’s hands slid down her back to cup one of her ass cheeks, and she smiled back at him. “You, too, Clay. I’ve been crazy about you for as long as I can remember.” “We’re together now, darlin’. That’s all that matters.” He squeezed her ass, and her inner muscles contracted in response, reminding her of the purpose of that evening. “Clay,” she said solemnly, “could you put me on the ground?” His muscles tensed for a moment, and then he set her on the cold, packed earth in front of him. She steadied herself, and the words came out in a rush. “I want you to mate me.” “You do?” Jack said, crawling toward her. “God, how quickly can we get back to your room?” “Now.” Neither Clay nor Jack said a word, but Anya noticed that even in the cold air, both of them sported impressive hard-ons, revealing their true feelings. “Now. If being kidnapped, hogtied, and nearly shanked has shown me anything, it’s that I want the two of you.” She looked between them. “And I’m not known for being particularly patient.” “We’ve waited long enough,” Clay said as he surged forward, wrapping one arm underneath her and lowering her to the ground so that he lay on top of her. His hard cock bumped against her tattered dress, and he quickly had it and her shredded stockings and thong removed. She ran a hand down his chest and curled her fist around the base of his cock.

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“I want to feel you inside me again,” she said, trying to direct his cock to her pussy. “Just a moment, darlin’.” He sat up and indicated for Anya to do the same. She looked to Jack questioningly, and he nodded. She sat up, and immediately, Clay’s hands landed on her shoulders. When they did, her whole world came into sharp focus, and even though they sat on the cold, windy outlook, Anya’s universe contained only her and Clay. His features were in sharp focus—every graceful line, every tiny indentation of his skin, each of his fine blond strands of hair. Then unexpectedly, she felt little pinpricks of sensation on her shoulders, almost like nails breaking the skin, but she felt no pain. Instead, a warm pleasure oozed out from the punctures, rushing first along her collarbone, then over her chest, tightening her nipples, and then finally down to the pool of liquid between her legs. Clay spoke, and his deep, husky voice vibrated through his hands, and Anya could swear she felt his words splash against her skin. “Anastasia Copely,” he began, “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.” The words surfaced in Anya’s mind as if they’d always been there, and they flew from her lips with only the slightest bit of will. Yet when they floated through the electrified air between them, she could nearly see the truth of them written in the atmosphere. She accepted Clay with her mind, her body, her soul, and her heart. He closed the space between them and brushed the softest of kisses over her lips, but with her heightened awareness, the featherlight touch sent fiery-hot bolts of excitement flying throughout her body. Without warning, Clay removed his hands from her shoulders, and the air around them broke, the vacuum that had held them dissolving into the atmosphere. She swayed, dizzy from the sudden shift, but

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luckily, Jack moved with swift grace to capture her upper arms in his hands. He smoothed his hands up her arms and around her shoulders, and Anya gasped as his nails broke her skin, and it felt even more pleasurable when she expected the warm feeling to soak through her. The electrified atmosphere snapped back into place, and Anya was more aware than ever of Jack’s classically handsome features and roguish smile. She looked into the sparkling eyes that had captured her heart from the moment she saw them and prepared for him to begin. “Anastasia Copely, 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,” she said again with only the whisper of a will, “I accept your mating.” Jack kissed her purposefully, and the force of her arousal nearly knocked her out. Every nerve ending in her lips lit up as his tongue pressed against them, and the wet combination of his hot mouth and the cold air sent zinging sensations straight to her pussy. He pulled back, and once more Anya reeled at the abrupt change. And once again, Anya had little time to dwell on this feeling. Clay lunged at her, and she fell back to the ground. His lips were on her neck as his cock bumped against her pussy, and with little warning, he slid the rigid organ inside her, hitting her G-spot instantaneously. She cried out just as the music began from below. It was a fastpace number Anya recognized from the radio, and she and Clay synced their thrusts with its rhythm. As they found their steady rhythm, Jack’s hand entangled in her hair, and he used his grip to turn her head to face him. There, bobbing right before her eyes, was his hard cock, with a perfect jewel of pre-cum gleaming at the tip. With no more direction from Jack, Anya leaned forward and sucked the head into her mouth, and he hissed at the sensation. Clay continued his thrusts, driving her

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need higher, and she quickly found herself hovering dangerously close to the point of no return. After leaving Jack high and dry—or rather, hard and dry—last time, she didn’t want to spare him any pleasure at the moment. Mustering all her strength to hold back her orgasm, she sucked Jack into her mouth, humming around the head as she used one hand to stroke the shaft. At that moment, though, Clay moved one hand between them and rubbed the hard bud of her clit. Between his thrusts and the warm pressure there, Anya released Jack’s cock and split in half with a cry of release, bursting open with a rush of pleasure that she could feel soaking Clay and running down her own thighs. “Now,” Clay said through gritted teeth, and Jack pulled Anya’s hair, turning her face to the ground and offering up her neck to Clay. His teeth sank into the base of her neck, and like when he had pierced her shoulders before, she felt no pain. No, it only heightened the pleasure of Clay exploding inside of her and pouring his scorching cum into her awaiting pussy. “Oh my god,” she whispered as Clay pressed a kiss over where he had sunk his teeth into her neck and slowly withdrew. “My turn,” Jack said, his eyes aglow. Quickly, he and Clay traded places, and his hard cock lined up with Anya’s entrance. He leaned over her and lowered his head to drink from her lips. As he lifted his face, he held her within his bright-blue gaze and said, “I love you, Anya. I never thought it would happen so quickly, but goddamn it, you’re perfect, and I love you.” “I love you, too,” she said, then added sheepishly, “but I’m not perfect.” “Never say that.” She looked up to see Clay staring down at her with the same intensity. “You’re perfect for us, and that’s what matters.” “Not to mention,” Jack said, “we think you’re perfect in every way possible.” He dipped his head and took one nipple in his mouth, the sharp sensation reigniting the fire within Anya. Damn, these two

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knew how to get her excited. And I get to spend the rest of my life with them. Jack pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, then withdrew and forced all of his length inside her. The fullness sparked excitement within her, and she suddenly thought of the dangerous fullness they had hinted at before. Secretly, she hoped that was part of the mating ritual, too. She turned to look up at Clay, and what she saw shocked her. His cock, still glistening with her juices, was once more fully erect and ready to go. As she stared in disbelief, she saw a smug smile cross Clay’s face from the corner of her eye. Confused but more than willing to oblige, she guided Clay’s cock to her lips and wrapped her lips around the head, sucking hard and running her tongue over the tip. Jack began an unforgiving pace, pressing both himself and her closer to release, and Anya laved at Clay’s cock with the same rhythm. Jack twisted one of her nipples between her fingers, and she darted her eyes up to see his glazed over with pleasure. His rhythm became uneven, his thrusts harder, and she could see he was on the verge. “C–Clay,” he said, “now.” Like Jack had before, Clay brushed the hair off Anya’s neck and turned her head to the side. Jack’s teeth sank into her skin at the exact moment his seed shot into her pussy, bathing her cunt in his essence. “The two of you aren’t going to give me any rest, are you?” she asked as Jack fell beside her and Clay stretched out on the opposite side. “No plans to, darlin’.” Clay traced his hand up and down her stomach and studied her face. “How do you feel? Any different yet?” Anya closed her eyes. Every square inch of her skin tingled, and even though she could feel the cold wind whipping over her skin, the warmth from within assured she was more than comfortable.

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“Tingly. Excited. Warm,” she said, articulating each word. “Is that how I’m supposed to feel?” “We don’t know,” Jack answered. “Not like we’ve ever done this before.” “But the mating’s not over yet,” Clay said, a note of danger in his voice. “There’s still one final thing, and I think, from what I’ve seen and felt around my cock, you’re going to like it.” At her side, she crossed her fingers, hoping for the one thing, the one sexual act, she knew would propel her into a heaven like she’d never known before. “We’re going to take you at the same time,” Jack answered. “Clay’s going to fuck your pussy while I’m inside this sweet little ass.” He ran his hand over her hip, and her breath hitched as her inner muscles contracted in anticipation. “How does that sound to you, gorgeous?” “It sounds pretty damn good,” she said in a lascivious tone. “When are you boys gonna be ready for that?” “Right now,” Clay growled as he rolled onto his side and thrust against Anya. “You bet your ass.” Jack pressed against her, and Anya was stunned to find he was already hard as a rock. “Wait,” she said, needing answers. “How on earth are you two hard again? I mean, don’t you need a little bit of downtime?” “Darlin’, that’s for normal men. In case you forgot, we’re definitely not normal.” Clay brushed her hair to the side and laved at her collarbone, sending a few more sparks flying toward her clit. “Fun fact,” Jack said as he rubbed his dick against her hip. “Mountain lions can copulate nine times in one hour.” Wait a minute. “The Ninth Time? Like the store? Is that what that’s referring to?” “Our forefathers’ idea of a little joke.” Clay landed a kiss on her collarbone. “We’re bred to be ready all the time.”

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“Well,” she breathed, this news fully reigniting her excitement, “we should take advantage of this, shouldn’t we?” Neither verbally responded, but Clay rolled onto his back, and Jack helped Anya to climb on top of him so that her pussy hovered near his erect cock. “Lean over,” Jack whispered into her ear from behind her. “I need a little lube.” She moaned as she lowered her chest and Clay drew one of her nipples between his lips. In one sudden motion, Jack pushed his cock all the way into Anya’s pussy, hitting her sensitive inner walls as he did so. He only thrust three times, though, then pulled out, and Clay’s hands landed on her hips. Slowly, he guided her pussy to hover over him then lowered her. As she sank onto the cock she had already come to love, she felt a delightful sensation of fullness. That sensation grew when Jack spread her ass cheeks before placing his cockhead at her puckered hole. “This is gonna hurt a little, so just let us know if you feel uncomfortable.” She mumbled her assent, the only response she was capable of in her aroused state. Jack pushed, and the flared tip of his head pushed against her tight ring of muscle. It burned as he stretched it further, inch by excruciating inch, until he was buried to the hilt. After a moment of discomfort, a warm pleasure spread outward, tightening her pussy around Clay’s dick as a new brand of flame consumed her body. “Are you okay, darlin’?” Clay ground out. “Because there’s nothing I want to do more right now than push my cock into you.” “More than okay,” she whispered, barely audible over the music still coming from the amphitheater. Jack must have taken her comment as permission because he pulled out then pushed back in as Clay used his hands to lift her off his cock a little. After a few uneven thrusts, they found their steady in-and-out, back-and-forth rhythm.

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Anya couldn’t believe how hot she felt, how decadently full, with both of her mates’ cocks buried inside of her. As the two Abbott brothers fucked in and out of both her holes, she began to climb the peak of excitement. Its summit came closer and closer, and the hard thrusts from Clay and Jack told her they were right there with her. “Lean over again,” Jack ground out as he thrust into her. “One last thing before we’re mated.” She did as he asked, and Clay sat up a little and moved his lips over the side of her neck. Jack pushed her hair aside and attached his lips to the other side of her neck then raked his teeth over her skin. Clay reached a hand up and twisted one of her nipples, and on Adam’s Point, Anya reached an entirely different sort of mountaintop. She cried out, a scream of base pleasure, as her inner muscles contracted around the hard cocks filling her. Just as she felt her juices spill onto Clay, Jack erupted in her ass, and his teeth once more pierced her skin. A second later, Clay followed suit, filling her pussy with his seed as he buried his teeth in her neck once more. Her orgasm extended onward, and an entirely new sort of pleasure overcame her. Colors burst in front of her eyes as she felt her soul meld with those of the two men inside her, and she realized she had truly become their mate. Finally, her orgasm ended, and the three of them rolled to the side. Both her men slowly withdrew from her, and their panting nearly drowned out the music from below. Another of Marina Andrews’s radio hits filtered into Anya’s consciousness, bringing the rest of the outside world with it. As yet another song began, Anya spoke, breaking the companionable quiet between the three of them. “What’s going to happen to Jocelyn you think?” “Just a second.” Jack closed his eyes, obviously concentrating on something neither she nor Clay could see. “Oliver,” he said slowly, as if a vision were unraveling inside his mind. “Oliver’s just been called by Sheriff Kinman. Skyler—that’s the guy who helped us to save you,

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right?” Anya nodded in response. “Remind me to tell him I’m forever in his debt.” Jack rolled to his side and kissed Anya’s forehead quickly before continuing. “Skyler’s given the Sheriff the lowdown, and between that and the fact that she’s running around with makeshift dagger, they had enough for them to arrest her. She’s on her way to the county jail right now.” “Why was Skyler even there?” Anya asked, the details of the event clarifying in her memory. “He seemed to appear out of nothing.” Jack took a deep breath, and his eyelids fluttered as he opened his mind again. “Skyler apparently knew Jocelyn from Denver, honey, and saw her sneaking around. Apparently she didn’t look like normal and had something he keeps calling ‘crazy eyes.’ He was worried, so he followed her into the woods, and that’s when he saw you and helped us to take her down.” Anya felt a pang of guilt over what had happened to Jocelyn, but once she remembered her life had been threatened only minutes earlier, the feeling dissipated rapidly. “So it’s over?” she asked, relief already washing over her. “It’s over,” Clay answered. “Jack, can your magic mind-reading abilities tell us why the hell Jocelyn had it in for our mate?” He nearly purred the words “our mate,” causing both Anya’s heart and her pussy to throb. “Skyler claims she was sent by…by NormCorp?” Jack sounded surprised as he squeezed his eyes tighter. “Oliver says he believes it. Apparently she was going to seduce us into handing over our property to that bastard Ulysses Norman.” “Fat fucking chance,” Clay muttered. “I should have known. Everything in this town seems to boil down to Norman lately.” He took a deep breath before rolling onto his side and looking down at Anya. “She could never have seduced us, though. We were made for you, beautiful. You’re the one and only love of our lives, and we want to be with you forever.”

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The pounding of her heart drowned out the drumbeat emanating from the amphitheater. “Forever, huh?” she asked, thrilled but attempting to sound nonchalant. “The three of us…this is a real, forever thing, right?” “Of course it is,” Jack said. “And you know, at some point we’re going to want to make it legal.” “We’re not saying it has to be right away, darlin’,” Clay assured her. “But just know that we’ll make sure your name is Anya Abbott pretty soon.” “Anya Abbott.” She said the words aloud for the first time. “I like that.” “I love you so much.” Jack pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “Enough that I’m willing to lie naked on the top of Adam’s Point in the cold.” “I don’t think we have any hikers staying right now.” Anya tried to force her mind to think of anything besides her two mates, but it was a futile effort. “Doesn’t matter,” Clay said. “I’d gladly start a nudist colony if it meant I get to see you without any clothes.” “Speaking of which, are you okay with your nakedness?” Jack sat up and looked down at her, and she noticed his eyes rake over her body with an appreciative assessment. “Because we’re going to want you naked…well, basically all the time.” “I could live with that,” she said. “You’ll just have to learn to give me a break, though. I’m not sure if I can make love nine times in an hour every single day.” “Oh, you’ll learn to, darlin’.” She turned back to Clay, and he kissed her briefly. “Just takes some practice.”

THE END TWITTER.COM/HELENARAYWRITER

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 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. Should any of her readers care to contact her, they can find her on Twitter under the name HelenaRayWriter or e-mail her at [email protected].

Also by Helena Ray Ménage Everlasting: The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 1: Mountain Pride Ménage Everlasting: The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 2: Taste of Pride

For all other titles, please visit www.bookstrand.com/helena-ray

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