Seduced by Wolves (2 page)

But there had been nothing preposterous
about the hands stroking her body when he spoke in that soft
bedroom voice. Firm and warm, they melted her where she lay. In
fact, it was the last thing she remembered.

Licking her lips from the lingering
foreign scents, it took another three breaths for her mind to
suppress her libido—fear paralyzing her beneath the sheets. There
shouldn’t be aftershave on my pillow, she wanted to scream as her
heart scrambled in her chest. And I don’t own flannel sheets, she
sobbed silently as she started hyperventilating, too shocked to
open her eyes.

The horror of the prior night replayed
in fast-forward in her mind. The desire to help the injured, her
poisonous fear once attacked. Running her hand over her quivering
stomach, she said a silent prayer of thanks she was still
alive.

Naked, but alive.

So where was she?

Forcing herself to believe she couldn’t
possibly still be with the attacker—after all there was that
peculiar dream—she carefully fisted the sheets, bunching the fabric
in her trembling hands until she could peek through.

“Good morning, Selena.”

Eyes wide, she stared at the handsome
stranger almost disappointed he didn’t own the commanding voice
from her dream. He towered above her next to the bed, a
mouthwatering combination of long, lean muscle and tanned skin. Her
heart tripped as she scanned down what seemed endless miles of bare
chest.

He chuckled softly right about when her
perverted gaze reached the dusting of hair just beneath his navel
and she blushed, her eyes locking back on his hazel, amused
ones.

“Please tell me I’m still dreaming,”
she breathed.

He bent beside her in one fluid
movement, reaching out to run his fingers through her tangled hair.
She bit back a deep sigh. “Having a pleasurable dream, were you?”
he asked as his lips curved into an unmistakably hungry
grin.

“Well, there was this voice.” She bit
her lip, shocked by her admission not to mention complete lack of
fear.

The hand in her hair slid down the side
of her face, tracing the outline of her lips until she parted them
for him. He brushed the soft pad of his forefinger against her
tongue and she nearly drooled.

“I could make you forget all about that
voice, Selena.”

It was an erotic promise she had no
doubt he could easily fulfill. Only greedy—starving—sex fiend she
was, she wanted him and the voice.

Sign number one you’ve lost your
marbles—flirt with dangerous strangers.

He dipped his head, teasing the
sensitive skin of her throat with his firm lips, his teeth
playfully nipping at her quickened pulse. She shivered from the
intimate touch but caught his hand just before it pushed the covers
low enough to expose her tightened nipples.

“What’s your name?” she asked,
breathless, wondering if a name would make the situation seem more
like reality. Recharge her common sense.

Twining his fingers with hers, he
tugged her hand high and pinned it by her head. Still, he sampled
her flush skin, the heat of his tongue leaving her in a state of
mindless pleasure.

Sign number two—allow said strangers to
touch you without reproach.

“Cory.” His breath was a hot pulse over
her mouth. Her lips trembled as she resisted the urge to lift her
head the centimeter separating them and taste him back.

“Do you always try seducing strangers
who find themselves unable to remember how they wound up naked in
your bed, Cory?”

He laughed again, the masculine chuckle
skittering down her spine until it collided with the already
pooling puddle of growing desire. Voice or not, she wanted him, and
feared they both knew it.

“Not usually,” he whispered deeply,
easily slipping his free hand beneath the soft sheet and caressing
over the tight peak of one aching breast. “But then this isn’t my
bed.”

Shocked by both his statement and the
very deliberate brush of his fingertips over her moist sex, she
swallowed too hard and coughed. Her cheeks burned. “It isn’t?” she
choked out.

A warning sign that you’re marbles are
never coming back—relish the wicked touches of dangerous
strangers.

He shook his head gently, strands of
his tawny hair brushing over her neck. For a moment, his hand
paused on her thigh as if deciding whether to cop another feel.
Please do! Her body shouted.

“Well, not all the time.”

Confused, turned on and not nearly as
afraid as she should be, she propped herself up on her elbows,
gripping the sheet to her chest in one last ditch at propriety.
“Then exactly whose bed am I in?” she whispered as Cory’s eyes
darkened, his large hand squeezing over her hip.

“Mine.”

Selena turned, the truth slapping
harshly against her, tightening her throat. The voice from her
dream, the realization that it probably wasn’t a dream, and the
intense physical desire to jump up and run into the stranger’s arms
like he was a treasured lover she feared she’d never see again.
Cory’s fingers closed tighter on her, snapping her back to the
present.

“I didn’t think you’d wake so soon
after the night you had.”

She wondered vaguely whether he
referred to the attack or the bits and pieces she remembered of
being on the receiving end of his heavenly touch. Dear Lord, what
had she done?

I’d let that voice seduce my marbles
away any day, she thought with the detached amusement of one
without marbles.

“Selena?”

She heard the unmasked concern in his
thick voice but found it impossible to focus on. Like Cory, he wore
no shirt, his glorious, chiseled body a feast she ached to run her
hands—and mouth—over. Her heart raced as something shifted inside
her, an indescribable sense of rightness. The knowledge that no
harm would come to her here. Just like he had promised.

Selena shook her head. What in the
world was wrong with her? Was she really lusting for both of these
dark strangers?

“How are you feeling,
Selena?”

Hearing him say her name—like he
whispered it seductively in her ear and not from across the
room—left her trembling. Cory stroked his fingers over her thigh,
teasing her by nearing her throbbing sex as if reminding her not to
forget him.

Like that was possible. She touched the
tips of her fingers to his, giving reassurance and trying to find
something to ground her from getting lost in his stare. “Um, I
ache.” She muttered dry-mouthed.

Eyes the color of dark chocolate, a
perfect fit with the decadent voice soaked her in. Every inch lower
his gaze traveled heated another foot of her body as if she would
start on fire from the intense sensation if he didn’t stop soon.
She studied the angles of his chiseled face, searching for
recognition but finding none. Yet a strange sense of familiar clung
to him. Warning signs might have gone off in her head had her
marbles not been stolen.

“I imagine. You took quite a blow last
night.”

Reality knocked her backward with
similar force to the blow he referenced. “Yeah, about
that.”

Suddenly all too aware of the liberties
she allowed Cory, of how inappropriate her actions were, she
scooped her legs to her chest and curled herself into a ball. Just
because one bad guy was out of the picture didn’t mean these were
golden boys either.

No matter that her body all but
screamed for her to give into this invisible tug of
desire.

“He’ll never harm you again,” the new
stranger assured with almost too much confidence. She looked first
to the man standing across the room and then sideways to
Cory.

“Did you—” She choked, the words
refusing to form. Dear Lord how she wanted to lean into the
radiating warmth of the virile man beside her, to be held in one of
their strong arms and forget the whole scenario ever happened.
Almost an erotic dream come true.

“He was a rogue wolf determined to kill
you.”

Her eyes widened, her hands
automatically flying to cover the gasp fleeing her mouth. Wolf! But
then that meant—“You’re wolves too.”

When they both nodded, she dropped her
forehead to rest on her knees, closing her eyes as if she could be
like Dorothy and wish this all away. First the attack, now she was
surrounded by wolves, men who were—quite successfully--eliciting
the most sexual of responses from her with just a slight whisper of
their voices.

She stiffened when what she assumed was
Cory’s hand stroked down her bare back, slow and smooth. Within
seconds she responded to the gentle touch, relaxing from the
intimate petting. No matter how outrageous the situation, Selena
still couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of rightness that
cloaked the three of them, and easily found herself becoming
content once more.

“That’s better,” Cory’s voice whispered
against her hair. “You have nothing to be afraid of here, Selena.
Zane and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.
Safe.”

Oh, how she wanted to believe them.
Despite the horrifying circumstances that brought her to this
place, she had never felt more cherished or loved. And all in the
span of minutes. How many years had she spent chasing after that
elusive feeling only to uncover it in the most unlikely of places?
It was a drug to her starved senses, a euphoria rivaling any
produced during sex. Selena wanted to bottle every moment of this
bliss to carry with her when she left.

Because the people that brought joy
into her life always left.

She looked up, startled such minimal
time could bring these deep emotions rushing to the surface. And
that’s when she noticed the puckered marks on the
newcomer’s—Zane’s—chest. He had been on the receiving end of that
rogue’s claws. He had been injured because of her.

Knots twisted her stomach. “You were
hurt!”

Selena sprung from the bed before
rational thought intervened to remind her of her nudity, desperate
to soothe the pains of those brave enough to put their necks on the
line for little old her. These men who already seemed to care about
her—deeply.

And who in all likelihood never
intended to return her marbles.

Chapter Three

Unlike Cory, Zane never spent much time
lingering over the sight of a woman’s breasts when they invited one
to bed. He much preferred a shapely ass he could spank. Therefore
it was a considerable surprise when he couldn’t drag his gaze away
from Selena’s modest chest as she scrambled to his side. Creamy
white skin was offset by the dark pink of her areolas, her nipples
already tight, evidence of Cory’s success at arousing
her.

His mouth watered for a thorough
taste.

“They’re just scratches, Selena,” he
hissed out as she ran her smooth fingers over the scabbing claw
marks on his chest. They weren’t the first or last.

Her delicate scent—the intoxicating
signature of his one and only mate—coupled with the casual brush of
bare skin to bare skin sucked him into a vortex of need. Thick,
delirious, overpowering desire. He ached to bite her, to claim her
as his own and two of the three people here knew it.

Selena’s gentle touch continued to
torment his control as she slid her hands higher to where the
bastard sliced his face. She gasped, her fingers trembling but not
pulling away. “You need stitches,” she whispered.

Zane lifted his hand to hers and
slowly, smoothly, drew her fingers down his side. By accepting her
rightful place as his mate, she would become the Pack healer, and
knowing her immediate concern for his wounds was genuine reinforced
the desire to make her his. She could help his Pack gain so
much.

“It will heal with a little more sleep.
Wolf, remember?”

She nodded, the warm heat of her skin
lighting a fire in his groin. He held her hand, unable to let go
but unwilling to force anything on her no matter his hunger
bordered on out of control.

And when her green eyes met his, he
knew control was the last thing he wanted to have.

“Right,” she said, licking her full
pink lips in a slow, sinful move.

He scented her growing arousal, a heady
aphrodisiac, as she became more aware of the intimacy of her
actions and less concerned with his minor injuries. As expected she
pulled away, only he didn’t release her from his hold.

He couldn’t.

Heat colored her cheeks. “Stay,” he
insisted softly.

Selena nodded and he knew she felt the
pull of their mating bond. In some basic way it reassured her all
would be well as it did the same for him. It helped her to trust
his words, his actions. And if she accepted her rightful position
in the Pack—as his mate and Cory’s—all would be well.

She licked her lips nervously this
time, her soft, moist tongue teasing him. His hunger raged, a fire
burning to be quenched by her alone.

Slipping his hands possessively behind
her slender back, he leaned down and pulled her into him. The tips
of her nipples grated against his flesh. “I’m going to kiss you,”
he warned on a growl before crushing his lips against hers in a
fiery explosion of raw, primitive need.