Sanibel Burn Vampire Werewolf Menage Page 2

  Would she not accept him or them? She had the balls of her sister. Except Renee was wholly unique from Tatum, embodying the contradiction of an anti-authority spitfire and a speak-easy flower child. Would she try to stay fully in the human world, denying them? She could try.

  Thoughts, such as those, made his empty stomach churn. The last thing he wanted from his bride was a fight. The Weres ate it up, loving the chase. Not the vampires, their species demanded instant submission. Vampires met their brides, crooked their fingers, and claimed with savage passion. Jayce had given him a thorough set down; Dru wasn’t to be aggressive with the Alpha’s newfound baby sister, or he wouldn’t agree to the contract. He couldn’t believe feral animals had him by the short hairs. Not said enough, Dru thoroughly hated werewolves. If you caught one of them denying its nature, you’d know it was the second coming. Hypocrites, he shook his head yes, all of them.

  Dru needed Renee’s love, though it still didn’t matter in the end. Vampires were terrifically powerful and dangerously territorial, no denying it. Werewolves were malicious killing machines, setting a lifetime on finding their one true mate, no messing with it. Renee Shirley belonged to him and to them, forever. Nothing could stop fated mates from their claim, nothing.

  “So what you're saying is that I can’t work,” Tatum sat on Jayce's desk. Bare legs crossed at the knees, her tasteful skirt reached mid-thigh. A halfway unbuttoned, raw silk blouse displayed a delectable bit of sheer lace, which covered the tops of her heavy breasts. Yeah, she had planned it. A girl has to do what a …. Well, anyway, she was using her ammo. Biting her bottom lip, she sucked it just so.

  “Knock it off, hellcat,” his growl filled the den. “You have a wedding to plan, and I have paperwork to do.” Jayce Jordan was Alpha of the North American Pack. His beast carried an instinctual, mystical devotion for that position. Playing with his mate wasn’t a bad idea, he could. No, he tightly gripped his desk; playtime would have to wait a few more hours.

  “But my business is taking off,” she whined.

  “I’m proud of you. I studied your profit and loss statement this morning,” he held up a wrinkled piece of paper that was half-filled with figures. “As you are able to work out of the house, you’ve now profited exactly one hundred and twenty-three dollars,” he affectionately patted her knee.

  “You patronizing -”

  “Watch it,” he warned, fighting a grin. “You know how I greatly enjoy giving you a red ass. And that saucy mouth of yours, well yeah, I could plug it up while Bren takes a switch to you.” He placed his index finger on the blatant ridge that stretched the crotch of his two-hundred dollar jeans. “So you might reconsider finishing that statement.” Reaching forward, he buttoned her shirt. “You know the golden rule about flashing what’s mine.”

  “I was flashing it for you,” she blew a curl from her eye, hopped off his desk, and straightened her skirt. This conversation wasn’t going as planned. Bren, her other mate, might see things her way. Maybe with a little coaxing, he would pressure Jayce to agree.

  Although the human shell existed, werewolves were not human. They blended in with mortals almost flawlessly, however, blending in didn’t erase centuries of animalistic dominance and inherent aptitude. A predacious beast pushed through in every aspect of their lives, which trickled to Tatum. “I’m going to the Blue Pelican.”

  “Not without a guard,” he countered.

  “It's a ten-minute drive,” she countered back.

  “Racking up the punishments today,” he shook his head in mock concern. “Your little bottom is going to be so sore that you won’t be able to sit in a car, much less drive it.”

  “I can’t deal with you when you’re like this,” she opened the door, not bothering with a kiss goodbye. Although, she could partly forgive him for saying her bottom was little.

  “Tatum,” his look said it all: promising. “I can deal with you in any situation that you are in and take you out of it. In fact, you’re bringing this one on yourself. I’m not an overbearing Neanderthal.” She raised an eyebrow. “Well, not most of the time,” he continued. “You know your privileged position in the Were community, and you comprehend the demanding appetites of the wolf. You have two said wolves to feed, sort of speak. And let’s not forget that one is an Alpha.” He raised a tawny brow back for emphasis. “Hopefully, you will become a mother soon, as we all planned and agreed upon. Working on top of all that,” he fisted his large hand on his desk, “would be a strain on your body and my sex life. I’m responsible for your care...for you. I put that task above all. You are first in my extraordinarily long life; I say to put the business on hold for a while.”

  She closed the door behind her. Sure, she didn’t say bye. Doubly sure, he was adding another swat to the penance that she would, without a doubt, get later. Damn it, but she just got wet.

  “I can smell you, hellcat,” Jayce’s laugh rumbled through the heavy door, flowing into the halls. Tatum grabbed her purse and headed to the restaurant. Just like any guard dog, Rock was fast on her heels.

  “Lady Tatum, where are we off to?” A full smile met her dark scowl.

  “As if you don't have super-sonic hearing and hadn’t just heard that entire conversation, I am visiting Bren at the restaurant,” she huffed while lifting the keys from her purse.

  “It’s lunch hour,” his shoulders hiked, “maybe you should wait a bit.”

  “Why do you get on my last nerve? You have been up my butt for weeks. I don’t like people up my butt.”

  He started to respond and thought twice. His expression, however, was priceless.

  “Okay,” she grated, “whatever; you’re a wolf...I’m with wolves.” She opened the driver’s side of a shiny, new Mercedes, “so...lose the smile about the butt conversation, and get the hell in.” Her entertainment for the day: watching a nearly seven-foot hottie fold his monstrous form inside her two-seater. She could have taken the SUV, but where’s the fun in that? “When you transform, how tall are you?” she goaded, grinding the clutch.

  “About eight feet tall,” he flashed his wolf, uncompromisingly feral and flaming crimson. “Why do you think I’m the head of your security detail?” A distorted voice bounced inside the small car interior.

  “I can’t answer that.” She remained unfazed, because he wasn’t as freaky as Jayce. “Since I don’t understand why I need one in the first place.” Positioning her shades atop her nose, she ignored the werewolf sitting next to her, turned-up Lenny Kravitz, and hauled ass out of the driveway.

  She loved it here. Sanibel Island spoke tropical every day. Tatum was grateful to be away from Maine and back home for good. She had been living with Bren and Jayce for more than two weeks. According to them, they were already married. A wedding of the moon then mating had ensued. The ‘human wedding’ that they planned for the imminent future was a show for family, friends, and legalities.

  When she thought of her family, she bit the inside of her cheek to relieve the pressure of the mind. Granny was a full werewolf. Crazy, bitching Granny, who drove everyone nuts, came out of the closet and admitted her species to Tatum. Granny fell in love with a human, Grandpa, sacrificing immortality for him. Giving up immortality was the only way to bear children - human to Were. It was an irreversible commitment of the purest love. Thankfully, it had worked out for Granny and Grandpa. According to Jayce, most of the time, it didn’t play out so well. The couple could remain infertile, or worse; the children died shortly after birth.

  Obviously, Tatum’s mom knew all along that she married a half-breed. This also meant that Tatum’s parents had kept everything on the quiet talk and hadn’t planned to reveal a thing. So yeah, she was pissed. Another ‘oh yeah’, someone else could break it to Renee.

  Supposedly, Tatum was now immortal too. Jayce and Bren had exchanged blood with her after getting it on under the last full moon. Tatum fought a groan back when she remembered that night. Noticing Rock’s swift intake of air, she curbed her sex-laden thoughts. Werewolv
es could smell everything. Sitting by one while ‘thinking dirty’ wasn’t good form. No, he wouldn’t touch her since she belonged to his Alpha and another. But why tempt a beast? What she had just witnessed was a potentially vicious killer in a sexy facade.

  Arriving, she threw it in park and planted her grossly overpriced heels onto the seashell infused pavement. Not waiting for Rock to push in ahead of her, Tatum anxiously gripped the carved wooden fish that acted as a door handle, dying to see Bren.

  The restaurant portion of The Blue Pelican was overcrowded and smelled of a salty-sweet heaven. Patrons patiently waited in the foyer, tables bustled with food, and diners clanked their plates and glasses in frenzied dietary bliss. Fighting not to roll her eyes, Tatum noticed many of the haughty regulars were there today. Heads in the air, flashing their glitter, unaware animals prepared their meals. Yeah, it was funny.

  She turned towards an arched window, never tiring of the scene. A connecting bed and breakfast blanketed the coastline that faced a six-mile bridge, the causeway, to Fort Myers. The Were community held many businesses, which financially aided their group. Bren owned this breathtaking property, as well as many others. The pack functioned together seamlessly under Jayce’s command and had much to show for their hard work.

  Unfortunate for them, the females were in short supply, a rarity. Tatum was not even a full werewolf. ‘More like a mutt’ Granny so nicely put it. However, it was enough. Werewolves couldn’t breed well with humans, even with the immortality sacrifice, or at all with another wolf, that wasn’t their God-given mate. That meant the species wouldn’t survive unless they got their grind on with the right being. She was the right one for Jayce and Bren.

  Sadly, she had been the one for Mike Carter.

  Mike and his idiotic sister, both full werewolves, had taken it upon themselves to snatch her away from Jayce and Bren. That didn’t work out well for either of them. They were both dead. Tatum had watched in horror while Jayce broke Mike’s neck with his mouth, scaring the hell out of her – understatement. Jody’s fate was worse than Mike’s; Bren had blanketed her with silver, resulting in a slow, excruciating decapitation. She sure deserved it, since she had murdered Troy. Tatum’s ex-husband had been in a horrid ‘wrong place at the wrong time’ scenario. Guilt rang true for Tatum. No matter what Troy did to her, he didn’t deserve death. Brutally torn apart, she found his body parts casually strewn across the powdery Sanibel sand, all still haunting her.

  Tatum’s thoughts came back to the present when she saw what was in front of her. It was six and half feet of hard male, causing her entire body to liquefy in response. His chestnut hair brushed the most magnificent set of shoulders born to man or wolf. Unearthly blue eyes met Tatum’s as a knot formed on his jawline. Bren was holding himself back, straining from the effort.

  Deeply inhaling, he greeted her, “Hello, love.” Bren slid his tongue over his front teeth, canines lengthening at the sight of her. He visually drank his mate. “Did you come to feed me lunch?”

  Never fooled for a second, she asked, “He’s already called you, hasn’t he?” They stepped onto the deck that connected the restaurant at the first row of buildings. Seclusion was necessary and, thankfully, the deck provided just that.

  “You smell delicious, look edible; care to join me for a bite?” His tongue grew longer, beastly. Ignoring her previous statement, “I can ply you with prime rib, your favorite watermelon feta salad, and my cock.”

  She opened her mouth to interrupt his plans, but he responded by clamping his palm over her lips. “You aren't topping me, Tatum. I want you all to myself,” he prodded her through a connecting corridor that paralleled the restaurant. Once inside and reassured of privacy, he put his shoulder into her middle and cave-manned her through his office door. She slung the hair from her eyes and caught Rock’s face. “Beat it, watch dog,” she hissed, so not going to let him ride home in the car after this. A sudden and medium slap hit her backside.

  “Say sorry, Tatum,” Bren bit into the thigh closest to his mouth. Hard.

  “He’s laughing at me,” she complained.

  “I’m sure you're mistaken, isn’t she Rock?” Bren didn’t turn as his hand slid upward to caress her inner thigh.

  “Bren, why would I laugh at the Alpha Queen?”

  Rock curled the side of his mouth and gave her a leisurely wink behind Bren’s back. Why should she bother to tattletale? Bren hadn't seen the display, and he wouldn't believe her guard was antagonizing her to death. “Please, accept my sincerest apologies,” she grated, while giving him a saccharin smile. “It must have been my overactive imagination, again. God only knows that weird things don't go on around here.” Rock mimicked a bow and planted himself against the wall. You are so running home, dog.

  “Want to know what I think? No?” Bren gently placed her face down on his desk and kicked the door shut behind him.

  A precise area was clear of papers and files. No doubt, Bren was expecting her. “You’ll tell me anyway,” she moaned, as his funky tongue slid around her dangling ankles. “This desk is high.”

  “I'm a large creature,” he murmured against the inside of her calf, licking...stroking his way to the promised land.

  “No kidding.” Her head literally swam. She had to hand it to him; that tongue and monster-sized erection, which was now pushing against the back of her calves, were causing quite a stir between her thighs. “Up, please,” she wiggled her buns.

  “What I think,” he continued, “is that you need to forget about everything, except what I am going to do to your sweet body.” His voice was a soft whisper against the lace that centered her innermost secrets. “I hate that we have panties on you,” he raked an incisor across the bottom of her left cheek. Blood welling, Bren groaned. He greedily lapped and sucked the minor amount of liquid from the wound.

  With his and Jayce’s blood flowing in her body, small nips and swallows would heal almost instantly. Full moon feedings were another matter altogether. They required larger blood exchanges that would keep her alive, immortal, and fully theirs. “Your taste never ceases to amaze me, Tatum. It is you inside of me, everywhere. I can’t get enough,” his voice contorted. Body shaking with the inner fight of the Were. The beast flared. The beast won. A flash of silver lit the room. Three short breaths in, one long breath out.

  Immediately, Tatum felt the dramatic change in his body, “Bren?” The werewolf that was part of Bren - her love and her mate - was almost scarier than the Alpha. His full power, his magical aura, his dangerous animal, had breached the surface. A hand grew heavy on her backside with stiffening fingers and rapidly emerging claws. They were sinking, ever so slightly, into her hips. A shocking hint of pain had joined his cat-like tongue as he, once again, lowered his mouth to her core. With his coarsely textured tongue, his cock was unnecessary, since Bren’s oral ministrations rocked her world. The werewolf rather did what he wanted when he was loose, no matter what anyone said. That fact was what frightened her the most.

  “Mine,” he hissed.

  Her panties angrily snapped, dropping to the floor, so much for Irish lace. She had complained when Jayce had splurged on the costly underwear, now lying on the floor forever useless. Attempting casualness, struggling not to run, Tatum steadily turned her head and met the silver-skinned beast who dominated her relationship with Bren. “Hello,” she cleared her throat, “I’m not running like the last time. No need getting yourself all worked up,” she soothed.

  Stretching his head to the side, Bren’s predatory movements denoted the werewolf’s communal with his body. A low growl began, going on and on, as he appraised Tatum. Muscles swelled, ripping clothes at their seams. A tongue, so unearthly extended, slid across his muzzle, licking Bren’s full lips. Three breaths in, one long push out. Palming her nape, especially careful of his claws, he, once again, placed her face down.

  Wrapping a heavily muscled arm around her waist, he positioned Tatum. With a single deep thrust, they joined. Thankfully, his saliva had pre
pared her walls to expand. Because if there’s anything she remembered about his wolf, it was monstrously huge and downright merciless with an erection to match. Even with his saliva, it was a tight, and slightly uncomfortable, fit. Nothing harsh, just a sense she couldn't take any more of his vast size. With another firm push forward, surprised, she realized Bren had a way to go.

  “Bren, oh,” she scratched the top of his fancy desk. The need that racked her body turned tidal wave, drenching Tatum and Bren with the first big O of the day. Although, they loved each other with near desperation, there was nothing sweet about this. No love or tenderness in this taking, it was just pure, unadulterated screwing. Right now, Tatum felt pretty good about the arrangement. Until, after three harsher grinds, he pulled out. Gaping and grasping at emptiness, her walls clenched at nothing. “Please,” she shamelessly begged. The magnificent beast whom she feared suddenly became her best friend. She needed him. Three sharp breaths in, one long push out.