Acceptable Risk

eXcessica publishing

Acceptable Risk
© September 2015 by Candace Blevins

A Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved under the
International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of
this book
may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and
retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters
and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons,
living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely
coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18
years of age or older.

This book is for sale to ADULT
AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes
and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some
readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by
minors.

Excessica LLC

P.O. Box 127

Alpena, MI 49707

To order additional copies of this book,
contact:

[email protected]

www.excessica.com

Cover design © 2015 Willsin
Rowe

First Edition September
2015

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or
distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal
copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary
gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years
in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Acceptable Risk

by Candace Blevins

Acceptable Risk
is part of the
Chattanooga Supernaturals
paranormal romance series, which
is a sister series to the
Only Human
urban fantasy series,
and the
Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club
. You don’t need to
have read the other books to enjoy
Acceptable Risk
, but if
you enjoy the story and characters, you can learn more about the
books in this universe at
candaceblevins.com/kirsten-osheas-universe
.

Ranger pulled open the heavy wooden door and
walked in from the damp, chilly day into the raucous laughter of a
biker bar at noon, filled with more people eating than drinking at
this time of day.

Men seated around several tables stopped and
looked his direction, and he knew they were sniffing him. He wasn’t
a member of the local wolf pack, he was an unknown wolf, and he’d
walked into an establishment owned by a werewolf bike club.

Luckily, the president of the club was expecting
him.

“I’m here to see Duke,” he told the bartender,
and the man nodded towards a table with two men.

One of the men stood and offered his hand as
Ranger approached.

“You must be Ranger. I’m Duke, this is Brain.
Have a seat.”

There was no menu, and no one came to take his
order, but he’d expected as much. Aaron Drake had gotten him the
sit-down, but hadn’t told them what he wanted.

“I’ve been working at Drake Security a while,
but they’ve had me out of the country most of the time, so there
was no need to introduce myself.”

“We aren’t a pack. You aren’t obligated to get
permission to be in the territory unless you’re wanting to start
your own club.”

Ranger shook his head. “Courtesy visit, I know
I’m not obligated. I talked to the local Alpha already, and he
knows I have no intention of joining his pack. I plan to make my
three obligatory full moon runs a year with my Texas pack so I
won’t be a lone wolf. The local Alpha gave me leave to stay in this
territory as long as I’m working for Drake and don’t cause
problems.”

Duke smiled. “And can you behave? Will this be a
problem for you?”

“There’s enough of a structure at Drake to give
me what I need, personally, but I’m coming to ask for a little help
with a new wolf.”

The two men looked at each other, and Brain
asked, “What’s the story?”

“Drake said it’s safe to trust the two of you
with the details.” He paused until they both nodded, and continued.
“I’ve been handling jobs for Drake in the middle east. We were
hired to rescue an American taken by the enemy, and when we got to
him, the man had been tortured. They’d cut pieces of him off, but
it hadn’t been more than a couple of days. We explained he could
stay a human and do without his right hand, assorted left fingers,
and ear…or we could turn him into a werewolf and there was a good
chance everything would grow back. He chose wolf.”

“
You
turned him? Personally?” Duke
asked.

“Yeah. He’s mine, so I’ll be working local for a
while, until I’m sure he has his wolf under control.”

“What do you need from us?”

“He’s seven weeks in. Been through two full
moons and has decent control. He has a serious case of cabin fever
and wants to go out for a drink. We’re approaching the new moon, so
now’s the time to try. Aaron suggested your bar might be the safest
spot for his maiden voyage.”

“How fucked up is he from the torture?” Brain
asked.

“He’s a seasoned operative, not his first time
at the rodeo. It was bad, but Aaron’s making him talk to the
company shrink and she tells us he has good coping skills.” Ranger
shrugged. “I take responsibility for him. I wouldn’t ask if I
didn’t think he could handle it.”

Mac pulled into the parking lot of the Rolling
Thunder Bar and looked around to get a feel for the place. It was a
typical biker bar — not his first choice, but he’d certainly been
to much worse places, and right now he’d consider walking into hell
if it meant he could go somewhere besides the Drake Security
offices or the house he was sharing with Ranger and Jonathan.

He’d lost control of his wolf enough to know he
shouldn’t go out in public alone, yet, but he was going crazy. He
was a social person, and now a social
wolf
. He was never
alone — either Jonathan or Ranger was with him, twenty four hours a
day and seven days a week. However, he wanted to go out, have a
beer, talk to women, cut up. He needed to know how his wolf would
react in a room full of people.

Not to mention, it’d been close to ten weeks
since he’d dipped his cock into a warm pussy.

They’d let him drive for nearly two weeks now,
and he’d wondered why they made him start out on back roads, but
soon realized with his enhanced senses and faster reflexes, the
muscle memory he’d built up around driving no longer worked. He’d
practically needed to relearn to drive and it was damned
annoying.

Pounding music hit him like a sledgehammer when
he stepped through the front door, and adrenaline flooded his veins
as all the smells and sounds of the bar assaulted him. He stepped
to the side, looked down, and took a breath — not because he was
close to losing control, but to simply take a minute to acclimate,
and to soothe the sometimes savage wolf now sharing a body with the
human parts of him.

He looked around and noted rich, wooden paneling
on the walls with gleaming motorcycle parts mounted around the
room. The bar along the side wall looked expensive, complete with a
brass foot-bar, and carved pieces on the corners. No live band, but
a nice sized dance floor, and the music wasn’t the honky-tonk-hell
he’d been afraid of.

When he’d collected himself, he nodded to Ranger
and the three men walked through the bar to the back, where someone
was supposed to be holding one of the VIP tables for them.

Bethany pointed to her best friend’s margarita
and told her, “You aren’t drinking fast enough. Cassie and I are on
our second and you’ve barely started your first!”

Gen smiled, took a big drink, and asked, “So
what happened with the hottie personal trainer? Oh, and the
pro-football player? He hasn’t been back to town in a while, has
he?”

“They were okay, but both were just a short,
fun, fling.” Bethany said with a shrug. “I meant what I said about
wanting a harem. Cassie has it fucking
made
with her three
guys.”

“I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you can
plan for,” Gen said as she rolled her eyes. “And besides, my
brother’s a demented sexual freak. I love him…” She shuddered, then
seemed to realize how her words must sound and she turned to her
brother’s girlfriend and said, “No offense, I’m glad ya’ll found
each other, but…” Another shudder, and both Bethany and Cassie
laughed.

“No offense taken,” Cassie said. “I love him,
too, but I won’t argue with his being demented. It’s one of my
favorite parts,” she said with a happy smile.

Bethany smiled and laughed, but frowned on the
inside as she realized her friend Gen was wrong, because Bethany
would be in heaven if she could find a harem of sexually demented
men to have at her beck and call. But, while Gen might not be
anywhere near as naïve as she’d been before she started dating the
president of a motorcycle club, she wasn’t likely to ever know much
about kink.

Three men walked by, and Bethany thought her
eyes might bug out of her head. They were all different, but each
perfect in their own way. A brown haired bodybuilder type; a red
headed wiry-muscled dude who was probably as strong as the first,
just more compact; and a perfectly normal looking black haired man
who might be the most deadly of the three. In her mind, she could
see them as special ops guys taking it easy between assignments.
Their confident strides weren’t bravado. These men didn’t have to
think about looking macho — they oozed it without trying.

“Oh, my,” Bethany said, drawing the last word
out into a half-dozen syllables. “Look at those three. If I were
building a harem and had my druthers, I’d start with them.
Shit-fuck-damn, but what I wouldn’t give to be under all three of
them in a giant bed like your brother’s.”

“Stop reminding me of my brother’s giant bed. I
love him, and I adore his partners, but I’d just as soon ignore
whatever it is the four of them do in that dumb bed.”

Bethany grinned, knowing ‘dumb’ was code word
for Gen wanting to say ‘damn’, and wondered once again how her best
friend had ended up so happy being paired with a biker.

* * * *

“No,” Ranger told Mac. “Absolutely not. We can
try to set you up with a female wolf if you just need to get laid,
but no way in hell do you get intimate with a human female.”

“But you heard what she said! She wants us all
in bed at once. Are you seriously telling me you’re gonna pass that
up?”

“We’ll come back when you have two more full
moons under your belt, see if she’s still interested,” Ranger said.
“Drink your beer and relax. You wanted to come to a bar, we’re
here.”

Mac looked at Jonathan, who was looking at the
beautiful woman a few tables away, thoughtful.

“Actually,” Jonathan told Ranger, “with both of
us there to help him keep control, I think he’ll be okay. I mean,
we’ve heard his and Tyler’s stories of what they did when they were
both with the Agency and working together, and I know the two of
you have shared a few times. He’s used to handling a ménage, so
it’ll be familiar territory. If she’s willing, I vote we give it a
go.”

Ranger sighed, looked back to the redhead, and
finally told Mac, “Get her on the dance floor. Any loss of control
and you make excuses and come to us, but let’s see how you do
dancing. No promises, but maybe this’ll at least let you meet her
and get her number.”

Bethany’s heart jumped into overdrive as she
looked up and saw the huge, muscled, brown headed man a few steps
away — one of the guys she’d wanted in her harem. He kept walking
towards her, and she thought her heart might have stopped a few
seconds when their gazes met.

Once again, her instinct told her these guys
were bad-asses. Not the kind who think they’re bad, but who are
truly rough-and-tumble men capable of handling just about anything.
Gen’s boyfriend, Duke, fit the definition, but he was rough around
the edges. These guys were much more polished, but they still
exuded excitement and danger.

Mister Muscles didn’t feed her a line, didn’t
ask her name. He walked up to her, tilted his head as he gave a
friendly smile full of promise, and asked, “Wanna dance?”

Bethany looked at Gen, and her best friend was
laughing as she said, “Go! I have no idea how you do it, but dance
with the man, see what happens.”