Wolves' Lair (A Werewolf MMF Bisexual Threesome) (4 page)

She practically held her breath as she walked by the first pool table, but beyond a few stares, nothing happened. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting, if she was honest: that here, in this bar in Boise, she’d be kidnapped and sold into sex slavery? That she’d somehow be loaded up with drugs and shipping across the border as a mule?

These men could barely be less interested in her. Lucy heaved a sigh of relief, and felt her shoulders relax down her back as she approached the other room.

Then, out of nowhere, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Adrenaline shot through her, and she whirled around, grabbing her purse with one hand.

“Whoa there,” said the man, lifting his hand off of her. “I don’t want your purse. Fancy seeing you here.”

Lucy stared at him for a few moments, and then it clicked: it was the other man who’d saved her from the mugger, a couple of nights ago. Up close, he looked different, rugged and handsome, at least six two, six three, and positively stacked with muscle.

“Hi,” she said.

“Lucy, was it?” the man said.

She nodded.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” he said, half-smiling. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I was actually looking for Declan,” she said. “It’s — I — we went for drinks, but I forgot to get his phone number and I thought maybe he would be here.”

The man raised one eyebrow. His eyes were light brown, almost gold, though he had the same nearly-black hair as Declan, his skin tanner.

“I didn’t know he was seeing anyone,” he murmured.

Lucy caught the hint of something dangerous in his voice. She was beginning to have a bad feeling about this man whose name she didn’t even know. After all, the last time she’d seen him he’d broken a stranger’s arm. It was for her, and the stranger had been about to rob her, but she still found that fact noteworthy.

“I don’t think we’re really
seeing
each other,” she said, the words spilling out. “We just went for drinks, kind of a date I guess, but then I didn’t get his number like I said—“

“I’m Heath, by the way,” he said, holding out one hand.

“I’m Lucy,” she said, taking it.

He knows your name already, dingbat,
she thought.

His hand was huge and warm and firm, and he squeezed her hand just a little too hard but Lucy forced herself not to make a face. She didn’t know why, but she was determined not to show any weakness while she was at the Mutt, where she felt like... well, she felt like a sheep among wolves.

“You’re looking for Declan, huh,” he said. He was still holding her hand, just a tiny bit too hard. Lucy could sense the men at the pool tables glancing their way, trying to see what was going on without really
looking
.

“If he’s around,” she said. “I just thought, since you were here the other night, maybe he comes here a lot?”

Heath chuckled and finally let her hand go. “I’d say he does,” he said, his voice cryptic. “I could take you to Declan. You sure you want to go?”

Something in his tone made Lucy pause. “Where is he?”

“He’s downstairs.”

As if on cue, a huge cheer erupted from the door to the back. Lucy looked through it, and realized, for the first time, that it led to a stone staircase. It looked old, almost ancient, though she knew Boise was anything but.

She felt thrown off-kilter, all her fake confidence sapped. “What’s down there?” she asked, uncertainly.

“The ring,” he said. The way he said it, she knew something odd was going on. He was starting to smile slightly, and Lucy could see his teeth, perfect and white and shining in his mouth.

Even as she knew he was dangerous, even as she knew that she might be getting in over her head, she found herself impossibly attracted to him. Maybe she could just leave Declan behind and go somewhere with Heath.

Lucy closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head slightly. That was insane. What was she thinking? She didn’t just go off with strange men, and
definitely
not with strange wolves. She straightened again, sticking her chin out.

“I’ll go,” she said.

For a split second, she thought she felt the men at the pool table next to them staring at her, all their activity stopped as they looked, but when she glanced their way she found that they were carrying on as usual.

Just my imagination
, she thought.
Don’t be crazy
.

“Perfect,” said Heath, and now he smiled even wider, showing off his perfect, sharp, white teeth. “That’ll do. It’s nearly my turn.”

Before Lucy could ask
at what
, he had turned and was headed down the old-looking stone staircase.
 

The basement was cool. The walls were mostly cement, mixed with wooden beams arcing overhead, and Lucy kept one hand on the wall as she descended.

Below the Mutt was a huge room, easily fifty feet by fifty feet. The center was fenced off with a big, five-foot-high chain link fence, and men were gathered around it, shouting and cheering. The only lights in the room were gathered around that fence, the interior of it lit bright, the rest of the huge basement room in varying levels of shadows.

From inside the fence, Lucy could hear growling and snapping.
 

She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes becoming the size of saucers. At the bottom of the stairs already, Heath turned and looked up at her.

“You said you wanted to come,” he said.

From the look in his eyes she could tell he was mocking her and her frightened, human ways. He was daring her, almost, to run back up the stairs, leave the bar and never come back. That was what he
wanted
, she thought.

Lucy straightened her back again, steeling herself.

“I did,” she told him, and descended the last couple of steps.

There was a high-pitched, canine yelp from inside the fence, and Lucy flinched, despite herself. Through the gathered men she could just barely see flashes of gray-brown fur, hear intense snarling. The flash of teeth and claws.

She bit her lips together, heart hammering.

This
was
dangerous, actually dangerous in a way that going into a bar probably wasn’t. She knew that, while not many humans hung out with wolves, even less had ever seen one in wolf form. Hardly anyone had ever seen them shift, few enough that shifting was still in the realm of legend for lot of people. Even Boise, home to a huge pack, had people who didn’t believe that the wolves could turn from human to animal and back.

And here she was, watching two animals fight with each other, snarling and snapping and growling. One had a big scratch across his snout, and the other had an ear torn ragged. They were really, truly animals, capable of nearly anything, and the only thing separating them from her was a thin wire fence.

Lucy had never felt more human, or more vulnerable.

She edged her way between two big men, her head not coming any higher than their shoulders. They each looked at her and then at Heath, then shrugged, and kept on watching the fight.

It seemed to be nearly over: one wolf, the brownish one, seemed to be flagging, favoring one front paw over the other. As Lucy watched, the bigger, grayer wolf went in one last time, snapping at the other wolf’s neck, getting it hard between his teeth.

Lucy covered her eyes with her hands, totally unable to bear whatever came next.

She heard men chuckling at her, Heath loudest. Then he took her hands and uncovered her eyes, forcing her to look into the ring.

The brown wolf was on his back, all four paws in the air, tail sweeping back and forth across the floor — clearly still alive. The gray wolf paced back and forth a few times, then sat, looking surprisingly dog-like.

“We’re not savages,” Heath said. That spark of malicious amusement was back in his voice, and Lucy blushed.

“I didn’t think that—“

“I’m teasing you,” he said, his voice softer than it had been before.

“Oh,” she said.

“It’s my turn next,” he said. “How about a good luck kiss?”

“I don’t—“

“Oh, come on,” Heath said, coming closer.

Lucy’s heart sped up again. His lips were close to her face, and inside her she could feel the strange, burning desire to kiss them.

What is wrong with me?
She wondered.

“Just a peck,” he encouraged.

Face flushed, Lucy maneuvered around him, landing a peck on the cheek.

Heath laughed.

“I’ll get a kiss on the lips if I win, I guess,” he said, and then he was gone.

Suddenly alone in the crowd, Lucy looked around the ring. She’d been so amazed and nervous and overwhelmed at being down there at first that she hadn’t even thought to look for Declan, but she did now.

The place was full of male wolves, all human, all with the same snarling wolf tattoo on their forearms, milling around, drinking beer, and talking to each other. She saw money changing hands a few times, but over all, it seemed surprisingly tame for what was essentially a dog-fighting ring.

Well, sort of. She supposed it wasn’t technically animal cruelty if the animals were part human and knew exactly what they were getting into. More like a fight club.

Then, she spotted him, sitting on a metal folding chair at the far side of the ring. He was straddling it, his long legs around the back, his arms resting on it, relaxed and slightly hunched.

He turned his head a little toward the light, talking to someone, and Lucy realized that he had a black eye and a deep scratch across one cheek.

Declan fights too
, she realized. She almost couldn’t process it: the sweet, charming, gentle guy who’d bought her cocktails, turning into a wolf and getting in the ring. Turning into an
animal
.

Strangely, she felt an odd tingle at the thought, deep down inside.

“Next fight!” someone bellowed, off to her right. Men crowded against the fencing, though it seemed like they were oddly careful not to touch Lucy, or even get too close. It was like they were being careful.

Either side of the wing had a gate, and at once, both of them went up, two flashes of fur erupting into the ring. The wolves looked so similar to each other, Lucy couldn’t really tell them apart: both yellow-eyed, gray, snarling canines who looked like they could easily rip her to shreds without a second thought.

She swallowed.

One wolf made a quick lunge, going for the throat, but the other caught him and feinted, sinking his teeth into the first wolf’s snout.

“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed softly, caught by surprise. The wolf who’d been bitten was bleeding now, shaking its head, tiny droplets flying off. She covered her mouth with both hands and forced herself to keep watching.

Was that Heath?
She thought. She realized that she was rooting for him to win, even though she didn’t know which one he was.

The wolves snapped and feinted, growling.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” said a voice in Lucy’s ear, making her jump and yelp in surprise.

She turned to see Declan behind her, grinning. Even with a black eye and that cut he was handsome.

“Sorry, I forgot how jumpy you are,” he said. He moved closer to her, putting one hand on the fence, his arm going over her shoulder and just barely touching it.

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I’m just — I’ve never been down here before, is all.”

“Most humans haven’t,” he said. His eyes flicked from the fight to her face. “I saw Heath bring you in, though. I think he’s taken a shine to you.”

Lucy shook her head, glancing nervously at the growling wolves on the other side of the fence. “It’s nothing,” she said.

“I’m not that sure,” he said, that same half-teasing look on his face.

He leaned a little into the fence, and Lucy could feel his body heat close to hers. All he wore was a white t-shirt with a little dried blood on the sleeve and jeans.

“He’s winning,” Declan said. “This shouldn’t be too much longer. Jackson’s starting to flag, moving too slow. He won’t last.”

“I can’t actually tell them apart,” Lucy admitted.

“Racist,” Declan teased. “Heath’s on the left, he’s watching until Jackson tries to get his neck again and then he’s going to end it.”

Declan was right: they circled a few more times, the other wolf snapping and tiring himself out, and finally, Heath locked onto his neck, holding on for seconds on end, until finally the other wolf let out a high-pitched yelp. Heath let him go, and Jackson rolled over onto his back.

“So that means they give up?” Lucy asked.

“It’s a show of submission,” Declan said, casually, as if it were a normal thing to say. “Nobody gets too hurt in these fights. It’s for fun, not for guts.”

Lucy looked at his black eye and the deep scratch on his cheek, and Declan started laughing. “This is nothing,” he said. “This was a scuffle.”

Without thinking, she reached one hand up to his face, tracing her fingers softly just under the deep cut. It was angry and red, still recent, no older than a day or two, she thought.

“It looks worse than it is,” he said. “You should see the other guy.”

Lucy half-smiled.

Both wolves in the ring were standing now, and Lucy glanced behind herself at them, doing the lupine equivalent of back-slapping, nipping at each other’s ears, pawing at each other’s heads.

“Are they gonna fight again?” she asked.

“Nah,” said Declan.

Sure enough, Heath and Jackson trotted back toward one of the gates, disappearing into a dark hallway. Lucy leaned against the fence and looked after them.

She thought that she could
just barely
see one of the wolves, its outline slowly lengthening upward into a naked man. It could have been her eyes playing tricks, though. She couldn’t tell.

“C’mon,” said Declan.

“Where are we going?” Lucy asked, but he was too far ahead of her, not listening. She elbowed her way through the crowd of leather-jacketed men who looked at her just a little bit too long, still feeling their eyes on her back and she hurried to catch up to Declan.

He pushed open another door and waited for her, holding it open just long enough for her to get through.

She realized she was in the locker room and stopped short, just inside the door. Both of the men who’d just fought were there, shirtless and wearing only jeans, scratches and bruises covering their naked, muscled chests.