PacksBrokenHeart (23 page)

When she finally let the other male go Owen checked her hands to see if she’d pulled any of his hair out. Fortunately for Tom his head and the hair on it were intact. The tender way he kissed Suzanne enthralled Owen. The way Tom’s mouth captured hers, the way his lips brushed hers, bracketed the warm silence settling around the three of them.

Gently, Owen released her. He helped her to slide back down on the sofa, lifted her so she could stretch out. The tips of his fingers were drawn to her mound. Nearly bare, she was plump and so soft she took his breath away. Her face and chest shimmered with a blush of color. When she looked at him—him and Tom—she looked content, replete and so utterly feminine he could only shake his head in amazement. On their knees, shoulder to shoulder, he and Tom became absorbed by the lushness of her body in the aftermath of orgasm.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured and watched his fingers slip between her legs and glide across her warm, wet flesh. He felt her tremble as residual passion coursed visibly through her. He touched her breast while Tom caressed her belly. As they stroked her their hands crossed paths, touched, slid away, returned. Still on his knees, Tom turned to him.

The other male’s mouth looked hard but Owen knew differently. He knew how those lips could move against his, knew Tom’s taste, his scent. Tom’s gaze lifted to his. In it Owen saw that he could have him. Could take what he wanted. Anything he wanted, if he wanted anything at all. When Tom’s head dipped to the side, just a little, Owen moaned at the unconscious sensuality of the gesture and couldn’t have muffled the sound if he’d tried.

Unsure how or if to proceed, he licked his lips and felt his cock get thicker as the other were tracked the movement of his tongue as if he was hungry for it.

“I’m not into other guys. Never have been.”

“Me either.” Tom’s voice was rough, deeper than usual. The sound made Owen aware of how close their chests were. How their cocks seemed to be straining toward each other.

“Damn if I know why I like being this close to you.”

Tom’s lips moved like he was going to say something. Nothing came out. Instead he nodded and swallowed. The movement of his throat drew Owen’s gaze. Strong muscle framed the jerky bob. When a bead of sweat took a long, slow slide down Tom’s cheek, when it clung to his hard jaw and spilled over his throat, Owen leaned forward, dying without the taste of it on his tongue.

He laid his lips on Tom’s neck, licked at the drop of sweat, trembled and tasted him again. Like Suzanne’s, Tom’s taste was ambrosia in his mouth. That was fucked-up as hell. Tom was hard, big all over and scented like a prime male and the hands that gripped Owen’s shoulders were powerful and rough.

There was no benefit to loving another male that Owen could see. No soft breasts or thighs to press into him while they fucked. No pups to be conceived, not that Owen saw parenthood as a viable option. There was just…Tom. For some reason, it was enough.

He sucked on Tom’s skin, harder than he would dare with Suzanne. He growled with pleasure when the other male bucked in response. The scent of this male’s need was familiar and arousing as hell and Owen breathed him in until their chests touched.

Hard warmth, skin against skin. Owen felt his lips pull back in a feral smile. Lifting his head, he kissed Tom full on the mouth, paused then drove his tongue in deep.

The hand on the back of his neck held him hard, kept him right where he was. Powerful fingers fisted his hair as Tom’s mouth slanted against his. The other male tried to control the kiss, tried to drive his tongue into Owen’s mouth, tried to drive Owen’s back. Owen was having no part of it. With both hands he held on to Tom’s head, forced the other were to arch under his strength. Again Tom fought back and struggled for dominance but when Owen growled a second time, when the sound came up as a deep, wild rumble from his chest, Tom inhaled. A single sharp inhalation and the lips beneath Owen’s softened. Warm breath grazed the bridge of his nose and the hand on his shoulder held him tight without bruising.

The movement of Tom’s chest against his as he breathed was so intimate Owen growled again. This time the sound was subtle instead of fierce and conveyed so much tenderness Owen surprised himself. Like before, Tom tasted warm and salty and had that subtle hint of citrus that made Owen feel light in the head.

Without giving himself an opportunity to second-guess his need, Owen let his hips rock forward until his hard cock rubbed Tom’s.

“Ah.
Fuck
.” He wasn’t sure if it was his need or Tom’s voice he was hearing. Reaching between them, he wrapped his fist around his cock, his and Tom’s, and squeezed.

This time Tom’s hips punched forward. They jerked like he was trying to fuck himself inside Owen’s grip. The feel of their cocks moving together, living satin over steel core, made it impossible to think about anything but pleasure and intimacy. Tom shoved his hand between their bodies, tried to take over the rough pull on their rods. Owen fought him off, held on tight, pushed back.

“Fucker,” Tom moaned. He brought his fist down on Owen’s chest then arched his back so his hips could power forward.

“Asshole.” Owen caught Tom’s nipple between his teeth, bit down until the other male groaned then licked and sucked. It was so different from a woman’s breast. There was no warm cushion of flesh to cradle his face. Tom’s nipple was smaller, harder and the solid backing of pectoral muscle meant there was no softness to pull into his mouth. Despite that Owen felt a surge of pride when Tom shivered, when he wrapped his arm around Owen’s head and sighed voluptuously. The other male stopped fighting and trembled when Owen stroked them both in a rough rhythm.

There was no weakness in Tom’s concession, just an admission of need.

Owen focused on what he was feeling, trying to make it good for both of them. The head of Tom’s cock leaked pre-cum, making the slide smoother. His scent just about drove Owen mad. Holding on with the full width of his palm, Owen moved their skin up and back, squeezed the heads, grunted when they rubbed together. Lifting his mouth from Tom he sucked air into his aching lungs, turned his head to the side and cursed when Tom pinched his nipple and didn’t let go.

Movement caught his eye. Stretched out on the sofa, Suzanne watched them. Her lids were heavy with lust. Those small, beautiful hands of hers slid over her body, squeezed her breasts, coasted over her belly and disappeared between her legs where they moved with a soft, squelching sound that made Owen’s balls ache. She rolled toward them, squeezed Owen’s ass, kissed his hip then Tom’s. Owen figured she was squeezing Tom’s ass too because he started rocking into Owen’s grip, even came up on his toes at the same time as Suzanne’s fingernail grazed Owen’s perineum.

Owen didn’t know who he loved more at that moment. Then it dawned on him. He loved them both. Loved them together, like this, with him. Loving him and him loving them. The male gripping his shoulder and nipple so intently he groaned and the cock pressed against his own began to pulse.

In time with Tom’s growls, cum splashed up between them, landed in thick trails on Tom’s belly and his. The wet stickiness made it easy to move his hand and he gripped and pulled, drawing the other male’s seed out of him. Reaching between them, he palmed Tom’s balls, scraped his nails over the unnaturally tight skin, held on to what control he possessed as the hard orbs pulsed.

When the final spasm of Tom’s orgasm ceded a warm dollop that oozed between Owen’s fingers, he didn’t stop. Despite the other male’s groans and the way he shuddered Owen moved his hand hard and fast. Throwing his head back, he braced himself with his free hand on Tom’s shoulder and gave in to the tingling building up beneath his balls. He cried out, squeezed his eyes shut when he came. Lightning strikes of ecstasy blinded him, made him ache, made him drive his cock into his fist as hard as he could.

With a final shuddering gasp, it was over. Letting go of his over-sensitive cock and Tom’s too, Owen swayed despite being on his knees. He leaned his head on Tom’s shoulder just as Tom was using his. When he felt a soft hand on his arm he blinked and looked up. Crouched beside them, Suzanne held a damp cloth. She bathed him gently, him and Tom. The cloth was warm and comforting and he leaned back, grinned and enjoyed the way she tended to them.

When they were clean her hand replaced the cloth. Her fingers trailed through the hair at the base of his shaft, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. She caressed Tom’s balls, ran the pad of her thumb around the crest of Owen’s cock.

“Watching you two together made me crazy hot,” she whispered then kissed his throat, sucked on Tom’s earlobe. “I’ve never seen anything so erotic. Just so you know, I’m jumping the first one to get hard again.”

Owen laughed—a deep, lusty sound that washed away his self-recrimination, his doubts. He kissed her then Tom. “Deal,” he said. “Squeeze the head harder and I’m your man. And when you’re finished with me,” he added and jerked his head in Tom’s direction, “I’m going to watch you make him howl.”

“Crouch dowwwnn… Now jump!” Owen threw his arms into the air and exploded upward. The nine preschoolers in front of him did the same thing, only they yelled like mad. “Shoulder roll.” Remembering not to bark, he flashed them a big smile and held his hands ready to nudge their tiny bodies over so they completed their rolls.

“Plant your feet. Punch right.” Elbows tucked in, he thrust his right fist straight out from his body.” The pups copied him, yelled again. “Punch left.” This time his left fist shot out. “Oohhh, you’re way too good at that. Way too good. Quick walk around the mats. Faster. Move your arms. Yeah, you’re
so
good at this.

“And rest.”

Sweating, groaning and grinning, the pups collapsed on the mats in the middle of the community center gymnasium. The parents, sitting in chairs against the walls, heard the cue the class was over. They hoisted their children up, smiled and praised them, mopped sweaty faces and offered water to drink.

A tiny female pup stepped away from her mother and parked herself in front of Owen. “I like coming here,” she said and held out her arms.

Wondering why the hell he was doing it, Owen reached down and picked her up. She sat in the bend of his elbow like she was used to big people holding her, wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her cheek against his. While she did that another pup wrapped himself around Owen’s leg. There’d been so much demand he’d started a third intro to self-defense course, this one for preschoolers. The group was by far the most demonstrative. By the time the class dispersed every one of the pups had nuzzled and marked him. What was crazy about it was he didn’t have that maniacal urge to wash their scents off him.

Shaking his head, he trotted to the far side of the gym where he’d left his warm-up jacket and cell. There was a voicemail waiting for him.

“Owen, hi.” He stood up a little straighter when he recognized Piper’s voice. “I know you’re working this morning but I wanted to ask if you could drive the boys and me to the airport tomorrow. We’re catching a flight to Arizona. All three of us.”

Precisely at a quarter to nine the next morning Owen checked the departures board. The flight to Tucson was on schedule. He looked over the group of weres huddling around Piper and her sons. For the most part the weres were older. Friends of Piper and Cory. Katherine and her mate were there of course, Piper’s sisters, Ian the pack’s business manager, Myra the waitress from the diner. Because his pickup could only seat three, he’d borrowed Suzanne’s SUV.

“Time to check in,” he said to no one in particular. When he pushed the trolley holding the family’s suitcases they fell into step behind him. Just before they reached the counter Piper handed him a key.

“It’s for the house,” she said. She straightened his coat lapel and brushed it smooth. “The office is yours.” Her sons began passing the luggage through to the check-in agent.

“Piper, I’m…I’m not the man for the job.”

She smiled and it looked so sad he felt his heart crack. “Says you,” she whispered, stretched up on tiptoe and pressed her cheek to his. She turned away from him, waved at the others and let her sons lead her up to the check-in desk.

Standing back, he watched what was left of Piper’s family produce travel documents, wave one last time then walk toward a security gate. Halfway there she paused and reached out to the female who’d distanced herself from the others. “Take care of yourself, Victoria. I’ll miss you.” She hugged her hard then let her sons guide her away.

The female, now standing by herself, looked unaccountably small. Myra walked up to her and said, “Let’s get going. It’s a long drive back to Pinebridge.”

“You go ahead. I’m going to ask Owen to drive me home. You’ll be late for work as it is.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Absolutely. Go ahead. I’ll call you later.”

Hearing his name, Owen looked up at Victoria Timberman, Sheriff Ed Timberman’s widow. He held out his arm. She took it without prompting and let him lead her out of the terminal.

“Warm enough?” he asked after he’d gotten her settled in the passenger seat. He adjusted the heater.

“Fine. Thank you.” Ed’s widow was around five and a half feet tall but she seemed smaller than that. She stared out the window and kept turning the gloves in her hands over in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Owen hadn’t spent much time around her before this. After her husband’s funeral, apparently, she’d kept to herself, staying with one then another of her three adult cubs and their families. In her mid-fifties, she had short brown hair and blue eyes. He supposed she was pretty, except she looked too worn down for it to show.

“So the boys are going back to school?” she asked, finally breaking the silence that had settled around them.

“Geoff is. He says he’ll lose the year if he doesn’t get back to class. Apparently Ty’s gifted enough he’ll get an automatic pass.”

She smiled thinly when he looked over at her. “I imagine that annoyed the hell out of Geoff.”

“I think so. Especially since Geoff thinks he’ll have a hard time getting his mind back on school. He might have to repeat a course or two, or get tutoring next term.”

“I imagine he would. Find it hard to concentrate.”

She stared out the window again and Owen let the conversation lapse. She probably had a reason for asking him for a ride. It was just a question of waiting for her to tell him what it was.

It was some time before she broke the silence again. “It’s good Piper’s found a house to rent in Tucson. Being with family helps. Taking care of her boys will give her something to do.”

Owen grunted noncommittally.

“Are you working with them?”

He felt the furrow between his eyes deepen.

“Tom and the other sheriffs. Are you helping them solve my Ed’s murder?”

He considered lying then remembered this was a cop’s wife. She’d know how to keep a confidence. “Yes. Cutler Powell asked me to snoop around.”

“He’s a good man. And what do you know so far?”

Owen hesitated.

“I was married to a cop for thirty-six years. Not once in all those years of him coming home and getting off his chest the things he had to did a peep of what he said make it past my lips. So when I ask you, young man, for information about the investigation into my mate’s murder, you damn well better answer me.”

Shifting nervously behind the wheel, Owen glanced at the female sitting beside him. All of a sudden she didn’t seem quite so small. “Two different shooters,” he said evenly. “Different weapons, different vehicles. A group of weres attacked me the night Cory was murdered.” For the sake of his pride he left out the part about the dog-training sprayers. “Tried to shame me into leaving town.”

“Hmm.” Victoria nodded. “To make you look good for the murder?”

“That’s what we’re thinking.”

“A
group
of weres you said? That’s not normal behavior. We each fight for and accept our position in the pack. One will rise to Alpha. For our kind leadership isn’t by committee.”

He grunted in agreement.

“Well, it sounds like they’re organized. And smart. Be smarter.” That was the last thing she said during the trip until they passed through Pinebridge and she told him which turnoff to take.

“Try this one. It’s one of my specialties. Crab cake with grain mustard hollandaise. Hell on the cholesterol count but once in a while won’t kill us. Will it, boys?”

Owen inhaled then sighed when David Hold set a plate in the middle of the diner table. Tom and Suzanne had gone to work early because the coroner’s reports were due in so Deputy Wally Pierce was with Owen this morning. At least until after breakfast when Owen would be at the community center. Then Wally would be officially off shift. But for now he was grabbing his fork and staring at the offerings on the table with a lust that almost embarrassed the hell out of Owen.

Jackson Fender, the jukebox repair guy, and Garnett Ross, the blacksmith, rounded out their number.

All five men fell silent as they dug into David’s breakfast.

As he chewed Wally made quiet, voluptuous sounds until Owen poked his elbow into the humongous were’s ribs.

“So tell me more about your idea of a group hierarchy,” Owen asked David when they’d finished eating and the coffeepot was making its second round.

David waved his hand dismissively and passed the sugar. “Nothing to tell. It was just an idea I had off the top of my head. Mostly I was thinking of you. You’re settling in here nicely and I’m sure I’m not the only one who’d hate to see something bad happen to you.”

“You do kind of stick out above the others,” Jackson added. “That’s a good thing but considering what’s been going on around here it might be a bad thing too. Pinebridge needs a strong leader but it also needs to find a way to protect its leaders.” He took a sip of his coffee and smacked his lips in appreciation. “Are the police looking into protecting the hierarchy?” he asked Wally.

“Yes but our priority is protecting every member of the pack,” Wally hedged.

“Nobody can find fault with that,” David said. “I just wish somebody smart would get their head around the problem of how the hierarchy has become targets. More toast anybody?”

Sitting back and waving off another helping, Owen drank the last of his coffee. Whether he’d intended to or not David had planted an idea Owen knew he’d be wrestling with for days to come.

Owen’s wolf looked up at the quarter moon. He felt the milling of almost two hundred wolves around the clearing. The stink of unease still permeated the pack but resignation was edging it out. The void in the leadership had to be sorted out and soon. Like their kind had always done, they’d accept the strongest leader to emerge from their ranks. Owen’s wolf knew this instinctively but wasn’t capable of rationalizing it. It understood strength, the bonds of the pack, affection—even love. It also knew that to rule was its birthright.

With the golden-brown bitch and the massive black wolf flanking him Owen moved through the pack. A male and female, a mated pair, spronked in front of him. Accepting the invitation to play, Owen chased them around the clearing, holding back his speed while they navigated huddles of wrestling wolves. When another male joined in the chase Owen broke off his pursuit so he could return to his earlier companions. He scented them nearby and wasn’t surprised to find them behind him when he turned around.

A big reddish male approached him head-on. In a second the male was on him, snarling, gnashing his canines. Driving up on his back legs, Owen’s wolf twisted its upper body and brought his powerful chest down on the challenger’s back. His jaws clamped over the red’s neck, held for the space of a heartbeat then released. Shoving at the other with his forepaws, sending him sprawling, Owen used the shift in momentum to jump clear and land on his feet with calculated grace.

He felt his lips flutter menacingly as he faced the red wolf, waiting for another challenge. It came. This time the other male came at him fast and low, deeked to the side just before impact and swung his heavy skull so he could hit and bite at the same time.

Being big didn’t mean Owen’s wolf was slow. More than one challenger had made that mistake. Jumping to the left, he let the other wolf’s momentum carry him past. Owen clamped his jaw on the male’s hindquarter and snarled when a drop of blood wicked into his mouth. Yelping, the challenger hopped away, leaving Owen’s wolf to spit out the tuft of fur lodged between his teeth.

The red wolf faced him again, seemed to consider his options then turned so his flank was exposed. Giving one final growl, Owen trotted up to him, gave him a sniff then bumped the male’s shoulder playfully. The tension around them diffused and they rolled around the grassy clearing, batting at each other with their forepaws and mock wrestling.

It wasn’t long before Owen’s wolf scented fresh tension rising nearby.

Scrambling to his feet, he sniffed the air and glanced around. A large white wolf was pacing nearby—circling not him but the massive black male who had a hold on Owen’s heart. As much as he wanted to intercede, to help the male who was his packmate, this was not Owen’s fight. He would diminish the black wolf’s position by letting the others think the male couldn’t fight his own battles.

Growling, he watched Tom’s wolf fend off the first charge, turn and attack. In a vicious flurry of movement the two were all over each other. Teeth snapping, paws striking. They stopped, circled then dove at each other again.

Just as quickly as it had started, it was finished. The white was on his side, whining, casting fearful sideways glances at the massive black wolf towering over it, who was still snapping its jaws in warning.

The golden-brown bitch walked up to Owen like she owned the land around him, butted her head into his jaw then, tail held high and back end twitching, walked over to the black wolf. She treated him to the same haughty greeting she’d shown Owen’s wolf then led the black back to Owen’s side.

Just the scent of her made him mad to father her pups. Lots of them.

The sound of fighting drew his attention. Angry because he was no longer focusing on the golden-brown bitch and the sleekness of her hindquarters, Owen turned to gauge the new scuffle.