Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

MLR Press, LLC www.mlrpress.com

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Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

CONTENTS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Epilogue About the Author ****

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Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon Lucky in Red Anthology Jianne Carlo **** Passion in Print Press www.passioninprint.com

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Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright 2010 by Jianne Carlos **** All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Published by Passion in Print Press 3052 Gaines Waterport Rd. Albion, NY 14411 Visit Passion in Print Press on the Internet: www.passioninprint.com **** Editing by Lawan Williams Cover art by Deana Jamroz **** ISBN# 978-1-60820-247-8 First Edition 2010

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Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

Chapter One Maximilian Julio Lobos knew before the brass bell hanging from the door of his family's dry cleaning business dinged that the mysterious C. Wagner, the woman who dinged every one of his five wolf senses and then some, had entered the premises. Her spicy scent wrapped around his flesh, seeped into his pores, coursed through his arteries and veins. His heart pumped faster and the drum of lust battered his brain. Six months. It had been six arduous months since she first appeared in Sleeping Dog, Texas. For one hundred and eighty-one days he'd been unable to focus on any other female. For four thousand, three hundred and forty-four hours, okay maybe fifty-two counting today, he'd fought the instinctive knowledge that prim and proper Ms. C. Wagner was his mate. A human mate. Couldn't the fates have found him a wolf mate? She cleared her throat. Shifting his eyes from the Excel spreadsheet into which he'd been entering an adjusted five-year cash flow projection, Max studied the clean-cut features of the five foot-six inch slender woman whose visage and porcelain complexion could've graced the cover of a L.L. Bean, J Crew, or Ralph Lauren catalog. She was so not his type. Max liked his females overripe, luscious and curvy, and spitting-fire passionate. 6

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

Not a single strand of C. Wagner's perfect waist-length blonde locks dared stray from the confines of her high ponytail. She returned his stare without flinching, not an eyelash flickered, but her grip on the cloth bag she carried tightened, the flesh covering her long fingers paling at the knuckles. He wanted to muss her up, get her wild and flustered, smear the pink lipstick off her mouth, rip the brown band out of her hair, tear the unisex white blouse apart, and have her panting and begging and kneeling in front of him. "Good morning," she said and the pink tip of her tongue wet her upper lip. Max did a double take. Miss Prim-and-Proper swallowed a couple of times, and he glimpsed a thin sheen of sweat on her temples. She was nervous. Miss Nothing-fazes-me was fricking nervous. "What can I do for you today?" Where can I do you today? How many times? How many positions? Doggie-style? Backed against the wall? Knees dangling from the counter? "Um." She licked her lips again and a powerful surge of greed consumed the few rational shreds left in his primitive brain. His cock strained the confines of the worn denim jeans he wore and blood raced to his thickening erection. He needed to fuck so badly his fingernails lengthened portending his wolf transformation. "I, um, I—my dress is stained." She rushed the words out and a deep, rosy color rode her high cheekbones. She fumbled with the green-and-white bag she carried and a swath of scarlet spandex thudded onto the counter. 7

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

Entranced by the blush cascading down her slender neck and the rapid-fire pulse leaping in the center of her collarbone, Max had to force his gaze to the red fabric. Jesus fricking H Christ. Max's jaw dropped at the sight of the I-want-it-hard-and-fast spandex ruby slip of material that the term dress barely described. Thin spaghetti straps plunged to a v so deep her belly button would show, and the sheath wouldn't hide a flaw, the fabric was so elastic. A dark splotch the color of a muddy Texas creek covered the lower front of the dress. Max's nose quivered as he inhaled the aroma of rich, dark chocolate touched with a hint of spearmint. Another aroma, unfamiliar, but unmistakably male, hit his nose. Saliva coated his tongue and his testicles slammed into his pudendum. Some man had touched her, tried to claim her. Up until today he'd never scented another male on anything belonging to her. Max battled for control, flexing his fingers and taking a deep breath before he growled, "What is it?" "Chocolate." She patted the side of her head and lo and behold thin wisps of golden hair coasted onto her cheek. "What kind?" "Does it matter?" "I need to know the ingredients." He rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease his tension and slow his rising temper. "If you want the stain removed." She bent her head and a swath of long brown lashes cast twin shadows on her pinkening skin. Fumbling in the cloth bag, she withdrew a long tube and placed it on the counter. 8

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

"Kama Sutra Edible Body Chocolate," Max read the label aloud. "You wore this? Miss Butter-wouldn't-melt-in-mymouth iceberg wore edible body chocolate?" "I'm not an iceberg," she muttered. "And you'd know that if you ever bothered to start a conversation instead of scowling at me every time I enter this place. If there were another decent dry cleaner in town—believe me I wouldn't come here with this. As it is, I almost drove to Houston, which is hundreds of miles away, just to avoid your disapproval. You're always so smug and judgmental." "Smug and judgmental?" Max barked. "You've no idea." He vaulted over the counter. She stumbled backwards. "What're you doing?" she squealed as her spine met the far wall. "Not half as much as we're going to be doing real soon." Max slapped his palms on the plastered brick. He widened his stance, caging in her head and feet, and jammed his pelvis to her body. "Feel that?" He ground his steel-hard boner over her mound. "That feels judgmental to you?" "No," she gasped. "I mean yes. I mean. Omigod. I don't know what I mean." "Who did you hook up with?" He couldn't erase the thought of some other man licking that chocolate off her pussy from his brain. "Who licked your pussy?" Her eyes crossed as she shook her head and he caught the scent of her minty breath as her panting accelerated. The alpha in him took over. "This." He cupped her sex. "This is mine. How dare you let some creep lick my pussy? Who ate your chocolate?" 9

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

"No one," she whispered. Her pupils dilated almost to the size of dimes and flecks of gold dusted the ice blue of her irises. "I. Oh God." She covered her face with her hands. "Why're you doing this? You don't even like me." When Max tried to pry Candi's fingers off her face, she shook her head so hard and fast her ponytail loosened and her straight blonde hair sank down her back and over her chest. I never thought a body could die from mortification. Please, God, make this a nightmare. Make me wake up in my own bed. Max growled and the low rumble sounded so bestial to Candi that she separated her fingers to peek at him. His obsidian eyes glowed yellow in the centers. And the look on his face made her heartbeat surge. Desire? Max wanted her? No way. She dropped her hands and stared at him. His finger separated her lips, brushing across her mouth; the room spun. Her vertebrae tingled as if a hognose snake slithered up the slope of her back. Her lungs burned, and she inhaled and regretted the action immediately. His musk made her head swim, her sex cream, her nipples pucker and burn, and her skin prickle and flame. Chagrin and lust mixed like oil and water, one floating on top the other and nixing dominant positions from one pulse beat to the next. Max liked women like Juanita Lopez, who had hips and breasts.

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Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

So why was one of his hands between her legs, the other trailing down her neck, his fingers skating delicious tingles along the top of her breasts. Let me die now, God. Please open up a sinkhole right here and now. The doorbell jangled. Swallow me to China. "Shit," Max hissed. He removed the heel of his palm from her crotch, but not before rubbing her clit with his thumb. "I'll deal with this. Button your blouse." What? Candi's gaze dropped and she squeaked. Not only had he unbuttoned her shirt, he'd also unclipped her frontclose bra. How? When? Max spun around and jammed his hands onto his hips. "Rosa," he intoned as in walked Carnation Rosa, the town's version of Annie Oakley in her sixties, who earned her nickname by shooting off the heads of three dozen bunches of carnations once a year at the county fair. Carnation Rosa acted as the unofficial leader of the gossip hub for Sleeping Dog, population 34,799, and she'd been the one who'd decreed Tres Lobos Dry Cleaning the only firm in town capable of removing the most obscure stain from a garment. The crinkles and creases lining her face and eyes all but disappeared as her brows climbed to her silver-streaked hairline and, when she smiled, Carnation Rosa displayed the dentures she so often forgot to wear. If you are a merciful god, let me go back in time. Five minutes, that's all I need. Five lousy minutes. 11

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

"Mighty fine day for a wall fuck." Rosa always bellowed even when insisting her hearing was sharp as a wolf's. "But then any day is a great day for a wall fuck. Used to be my favorite wham-bam. I like doggie style best. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. So, little Miss Prim, how long you been having the finest slice of cock in Goliad County?" Candi shuttered her eyes as heat scalded her from chest to forehead. Take me now, God. Any second's good. Eccentric couldn't begin to describe Carnation Rosa's personality. "Cut the crap, Rosa. Ms. Wagner had a wasp caught in her hair and I helped remove it. Got that?" Max's tone brooked no argument. "And get your mind and your language out of the gutter in my shop." It took longer than usual to set her clothing to rights, but Candi finally managed to get the last button through its hole. She snuck a side-glance at the fat tube spinning on the counter and shrank back against the wall. No, no, no. Don't let Rosa notice it, puhleeze. "Sure, Max," Rosa replied in the sweetest Betty White voice. "What's this?" She snatched the tube from the counter and peered at the lettering. "Where're my reading glasses?" Prying the tube free of Rosa's grip, Max said, "On your head, and this is a special lubricant we use to oil the presses." Candi's lungs started functioning again and the tension in her spine whooshed away. She looked at the arched stone ceiling. A whole month, four Sundays in a row at church, I promise. "Smelled like chocolate to me," Rosa muttered, tipping the reading glasses to the bridge of her nose. She sliced Candi a 12

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

speculative squint and pursed her mouth. "Maybe I do need to have that cataract surgery. How in tarnation could I've thought you'd fuck Miss Stick-and-Bones otherwise?" "Rosa, clean up your language. Reverend Foley's heading this way and he'll ban you from services." "Service, hmmpfhm," Rosa grouched. "I fricking don't give a coyote's tail for his hell-and-damnation sermons, but that church sure does make the best passion-fruit wine in the county." Dragging his hands through his long inky curls, Max inquired, "Are you picking up or dropping off, Rosa?" "Off." She delved into the fake Louis Vuitton tote she clasped. "My frock for the square dancing competition next week." Rosa held up an incongruously prim navy blue blouse with a matching flounced skirt trimmed with white ruffles. "Pretty, ain't it? My niece bought it from the Internet." Max had returned to his original position behind the counter. Candi spotted her red dress puddled along the baseboard and, while Max inspected Rosa's frock, she stooped and tried to grab the garment, but somehow Max got there before her, and he whisked the dress out of her hands. She couldn't think, her brain couldn't start her vocal cords, and one word roared around her mind boomeranging adrenalin through her veins. Run! Run! Run! Before she'd taken one of the two strides that it would take to make her escape, Max called out, "Ms. Wagner."

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Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

Hand clutching the doorknob, heart jumping and leaping, thunder rushing through her ears, Candi halted and held her breath. "I'll deliver your dress later today," he said, and the warning in his voice had her seeing black circles weaving around her head. "Yowza daisy." Rosa punctuated her loud comment with a wolf whistle. "Miss Stick-and-Bones brought that in?" She pointed one long nail, painted plum and emblazoned with the white letters FM, at Candi's red dress. Candi cringed. "Can't stop. I'm late." Candi banged the door open, marched through the doorway, and didn't look back, not once. Soon as she turned the corner, Candi broke into a sprint. Not a car traversed the single lane one-way Main Street, not a living creature, animal or human walked the sidewalk, not a bird call disturbed the eerie silence, yet a cacophony of noise thundered through Candi's brain. All she could hear was Max demanding, "Who ate your chocolate? This pussy's mine." The minute he'd touched her, she'd felt the wetness creeping over her sex, excitement tugging at her nipples, and flaming her inner walls. Desire, hot and frenzied, tornadoed from her curling toes and every single hair follicle on her scalp vibrated. She couldn't find any oxygen to suck in, the sun's rays penetrated her shirt, and two beads of sweat dripped down her neck. She swiped at the perspiration and instantly smelled that unique Max aroma: sandalwood, testosterone, a hint of lemony soap. Drawn so bowstring-taut 14

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

that one touch, one brush of his finger would send her spiraling over the orgasm precipice, she staggered and snagged her arm around the pole supporting an intersection's traffic light. Surely, if she used her six-month new vibrator, closed her eyes, replayed his raptor-like expression and those ferocious, possessive words, surely she'd finally have an orgasm, a miraculous release from the all-consuming pent-up cravings she'd suffered since the first second she laid eyes on Maximilian Lobos. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

Chapter Two "Where're you at, Tony?" Max drummed his fingers on the counter. "I need one of you to relieve me pronto." "It's ten thirty," his brother protested. "Why the hell do you need to be relieved so early?" "Because I'm holding a sixteen ounce tube of Kama Sutra Edible Body Chocolate that needs to be returned to a certain Ms. C. Wagner," Max replied, still lust-drunk on the scent of C. Wagner's spicy arousal. She was near heat and his dick throbbed with the need to mate. Mate—he could no longer fight the acknowledgment. The fates had chosen a human mate for him. And sometime in the last week, some man had dared lay his hands on her. He couldn't wait a second longer to claim her, mark her with his scent. Mate with her again and again, and wipe even the thought of another male clear out of her brain. "You've got to be kidding!" Tony exclaimed. "Miss Prim and edible body paint. I don't believe it. I guess you really can't judge a book by its cover. Blow me down and run me over—" "Cut the crapola, Antonio." Max rolled his eyes. "I need you here in five." "No can do, bro. You and Diego sloughed Abuela's doctor's appointment on me, remember?" Max pictured his youngest sibling's smug smile, but knew his grandmother's doctor visit took priority. "What was she doing with edible body paint? What flavor?" 16

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

"None of your beeswax." "You should know Abuela's becoming mighty suspicious about you and her new tenant." "She's asking questions?" "Hinting around. Carnation Rosa's been dropping juicy references about you and Miss Prim." "Great. That's all I need right now." Max dragged a hand through his hair. "Tell her you know nothing." "Who me? Privy to your secrets? Never happen." "I owe you one. Later. " Max punched his middle brother's pre-programmed number and got Diego's voicemail. He glowered at the phone. For the rest of the morning he seethed, alternating between lust-fever, impotent anger, and accelerating impatience. His persistent hard-on refused to deflate even through the steady stream of clients bringing in garments for cleaning. In the middle of typing in tickets he'd picture C. Wagner's pert breasts, the sexy see-through white half-cup bra, and his mouth salivated remembering the intoxicating smell of her sex creaming, the feel of her silken skin. Max stifled a groan when Juanita Lopez strolled through the door, voluptuous hips swaying, lustrous shining blue-black hair cascading and curling around D-cup breasts, peaked nipples testing the elasticity of the thin ruby-red cotton tee she wore. "Hola, Max," Juanita cooed. "Thinking of me?" She eyed his erection and licked her lips. 17

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

Max's jaw clenched for the zillionth time. He was totally annoyed at Juanita's persistent boldness as he stepped closer to the counter, attempting to hide the bulge in his pants from her hungry sight. "You slumming, Nita? Or is there a bag of dry cleaning hidden in that thing you call a purse?" Max caught of whiff of the flowery perfume she favored and he shuddered. She'd doused her skin with the fragrance and he couldn't discern a single, natural female aroma. The manmade scent replaced the last remnants of Ms. C. Wagner's musky arousal and, finally, his cock went flaccid. "Looks like you have something for me," Juanita purred. Sandy Bellows half-jogged, half-dashed past Juanita, sparing Max the necessity of a reply. "Max," she rasped, catching her palm to her chest. "Here." Slapping a cloth bag on the counter, she continued speaking as if the hounds of hell had her in sight. "Toby sprayed paint over his suit and Cassie's dress. And you know Becky's wedding is tonight. You have to, have to, get them clean by four at the latest. Otherwise I'm dog meat." "Slow down, Sandy." Max held up a hand. "Can't," Sandy retorted. "Gotta get the cake, the flowers, and I'm in charge of the church decorations." She swiveled. "Call me if you finish before four." Before Max could ask what type of paint Toby had used, Sandy raced out of the premises. "Crap," Max snapped. Ignoring Juanita's simpering littlegirl giggle, he worried the knotted string free, opened the bag, and dumped the contents on the counter. 18

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

"Shit." The damage proved worse than he'd anticipated. A froth of orange paint smeared the front of Sandy's son's tux jacket, the crotch of the matching trousers, and part of one leg's hem. He smoothed the crumpled navy chiffon dress Sandy's daughter, the flower girl, was supposed to wear, and swore when he glimpsed the spray of neon polka dots covering the bodice. "Still don't have a date for the big event?" Juanita asked, leaning both elbows on the counter. "You and I both need a hot fuck, mi querido." She swung around and stalked to the entrance. "Why don't I turn the sign to closed, lock the door, and take care of that problem you have right now." "Yo, Max," Cleo, Carnation Rosa's roommate, almost yodeled the two words as she sauntered into the cleaners. "What's up, studly?" Max's jaw clenched so hard he thought it'd snap. Whereas Rosa was tiny and wiry, Cleo did her Germanic heritage proud, topping five ten and weighing in at a solid one sixty if Goliad County's Carnival scales were anything to go by. And she had a raunchier mindset than Rosa, if that was remotely possible. "A little bird told me you got caught in a wall fuck not too long ago," Cleo blithely announced. "Notice I'm wearing my glasses. Can't believe Rosa lost the chance to ogle your sausage." A groan escaped Max's lips and he prayed for a fastapproaching storm with cracking thunder to drown out Cleo's booming voice. He glanced to the door when the bell rang and 19

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

choked on his own saliva. Reverend Foley, accompanied by his wife, twin girls, and son strolled into the cleaners. Juanita sidled closer to Max who took a long sidestep in the opposite direction. "Hola, Max. Cleo, Nita. Got your speech ready, Max?" Tim Foley shifted his son in his arms. "Sandy's got the whole crew at the church, so we thought it prudent to escape. I'm hoping everything will go smoothly tonight." The chances of anything going right at his best friend's wedding tonight was zilch, none, and nada. Max shook his head. Tim was such a fricking optimist. Appointed to Sleeping Dog's Baptist Church three months earlier, Tim and his wife struggled to cope with the town's peculiar blend of eccentric personalities, Bible belt conservatism, liberal activists, and various miscreants. "Yo macho Rev," called out Cleo. "Dem girls of yours are soooo cute." Cleo pinched each twin's cheek and straightened. "Jenny, you found that recipe for the passionfruit wine yet?" The Baptist church's passion-fruit wine had won every prize at the Goliad County Carnival for the last decade. The church's recipe had been handed down from reverend to reverend since Sleeping Dog's inception. Twin flags of pink rode Jenny Foley's cheekbones. She grabbed the hand of each daughter and stumbled closer to her husband. "Uh no." "Actually, Mrs. Schmidt," Tim said edging around so his body hid his wife and daughters. "We aren't certain that passion-fruit wine should be the product of a church." 20

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

"Well hold on now, mister." Cleo stabbed a finger and nearly took off Tim's hooked nose. "Since my daddy and his daddy lived in Sleeping Dog the Baptist church's always made passion-fruit wine. Why in tarnation do you think so many people show up on Sundays? Passion-fruit wine. Hell, I'm Protestant-born. I don't need no preaching, but I come. Like clockwork." "Juanita—good to see you." A thin line of perspiration dotted Tim's forehead and he swiped at it with his free hand. "I take it you'll be at the wedding tonight." Tim looked desperate for a change of topic, but Juanita and the wedding was a gigantic no-no. Max knew full well Juanita hadn't been invited, but it wouldn't take much for her to finagle an invitation from the preacher. "Want to take a gander at my speech?" Max dove into his back pocket, fixing Juanita with a scowl. He knew she'd try to find a way to be his date. "Ms. Wagner's my date for the wedding." Fuck he'd find out C. Wagner's first name within the hour. "Candi?" Jenny squealed. "Oh, I'm so glad she'll be there tonight." Candi? Miss Prim and Proper's name is Candi? With an I or a Y? Max couldn't stop his salacious grin from spreading. His dick rose to the occasion, doing a happy dance in anticipation of a hot mating. She'd be tight and fiery. Max's testicles contracted hard in the too-confining denim. "I didn't realize you two were dating." Jenny flashed Max a wide smile. "She's such a nice person." 21

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

"That the one you had up against the wall, studly?" Cleo waggled her eyebrows. "From what Rosa told me you two are so hot and heavy smoke was—-" "Kids present, Cleo," Max snapped. "Now, I hate to bust up this gathering, but the ring bearer's suit's stained and I have to get it clean by four." "Stained? Oh my," Jenny stated, clasping a hand to her forehead. "Becky must be frantic. She was so afraid Toby would, you know, be naughty." Toby Bellows, six-year-old devil in training, was the bride's only nephew, and certain to cause endless problems during the wedding and reception tonight. Opposite sides of the tracks were marrying and none of the families involved were pleased. Becky, the bride, sister to Sandy, and the youngest daughter of the town's mayor, was getting hitched to Max's best friend, Nick. How he shoveled them all out the door Max never knew, but ten minutes later the seamstress who worked with them had found a solvent for the paint. Max handled the chocolate on Candi's sexy dress, all the while muttering her name and wearing a smile worthy of Red Riding Hood's wolf. He'd be riding Candi tonight, hard and fast, then hard and slow. He'd investigated C. Wagner for the past six months and had been able to learn her real name, where she'd lived before, but that damned initial had eluded him. According to his sources she was one Lindsay Wagner. Where had the C for Candi come from?" Ten minutes later he had an answer. Max re-read the email from the PI he'd hired to investigate Ms. C. Wagner. 22

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

The timing of the report couldn't have been more fortuitous, and the contents more salacious. All the planets had just aligned. You are so mine, Candi Lindsay Wagner. The phone rang at three forty-five. "Tres Lobos Dry Cleaning." Max hadn't bothered to check caller ID. "Um, this is Ms. Wagner." Her voice squeaked on the Ms. "Candi? This is Max. Good to hear from you." Max slouched on the chair, tilted it back, and didn't even attempt to keep the triumph from his tone. "Good news. I got the stain out of your dress." And I know all your secrets. "You did?" She sounded breathless. "I'll come and get it tomorrow." When Diego would be working. Max almost tsked he was so amused. "No worries, I'll be at your place in ten minutes with it." "No!" She spat a muffled curse, the F-word. Well, well Candi Wagner got more interesting by the second. "Don't do that. I'll pick it up." "Ten minutes, Candi." Max hung up. "Oh, God. No." Candi collapsed on the couch. "He can't be coming here." Her fingers shook and the phone clattered to the floor. Five different vibrators lay on the coffee table. She'd raced home before the excitement Max had provoked vanished, fumbled for the sex toys, and stripped, and then felt like a disgusting slut. She couldn't do it. Something was wrong with her sexually. All the women she knew, except maybe Jenny Foley, took 23

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

care of their own pleasure. She was no longer hot and bothered, but deflated and cold. Goose bumps peppered her forearms, and she tugged on her underwear, her jeans and shirt wondering why in the hell she'd spent seventy-five dollars on the white lacey bra and the matching thong. It wasn't as if anyone would ever see it. Except Max had earlier and he had seemed to like the lingerie. The phone ding-donged and Candi scrambled for it. "Hello." "Candi, it's Jenny." "Hi." She slid-slipped off the sofa and grabbed the cosmetic case from the middle of the table. Grinding the phone between her ear and shoulder she snagged the vibrators, stuffed them into the bag, and straightened. "Why didn't you tell me you're dating Max Lobos?" The phone fell away and she froze staring when it clattered onto the glass, bounced, and took flight, hitting the wall with a thud, but remaining intact. "Dating Max Lobos. Omigod." She dropped the case, and the five vibrators scattered across the carpet and under the table. Candi made a flying leap for the corner of the couch and snatched the phone. "Jenny. You there?" "Of course. And I'm so glad you're going to be at the wedding tonight." Wedding? "What did you say?" Candi's voice box deflated on the last word. 24

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

"I must say I never expected you to be so secretive," Jenny chatted on oblivious to Candi's pending mental breakdown. The doorbell buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. "Shit." Candi's eyes were crazy-glued to her apartment door. "It's him." "Didn't catch that. Sorry the twins are watching a noisy cartoon. Wonder if we'll be seated at the same table for dinner. What are you going to wear tonight?" Not the red dress. The buzzing escalated. No stab-stabbing of a finger, but rather a hand jammed onto the bell. "I can keep this up all night." Max didn't have to raise his voice; his low rumble traveled through the door and settled in her belly, warming her insides. And he would. "I have to go, Jenny." She hit end. Nothing could save her now. She was doomed. Tornados popped up out of nowhere. Now's a good time, God. Send a flash-storm, drop a hurricane. Her gaze rolled to the ceiling, then to the window. The sun, haloed by a ring of golden rays, hung in the middle of her living room window, a giant ball mocking her last spit of hope. She heard clicking and a tinkling sound and glanced at the door the second Max pushed it open. "Hi." It took a few seconds before her brain, eyes, and mouth connected all the dots. "How'd you get in?" "Picked the lock." Huh? Stern and forbidding Max Lobos picks locks? 25

Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon by Jianne Carlo

Candi shook her head, but that didn't clear her muddled brain. Then she noticed he had the red dress slung over his shoulder, his face was flushed, his dark curls mussed, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his creased forehead. His brows pulled together, black eyes looking all of a sudden more like molasses than coal, and he smiled, a wicked-looking onesided smile. "Well, well, Miss Prim-and-Proper. Looks like I've been all kinds of wrong about you. Interesting accoutrements." What? Her jaw dropped and she yelped, "Nooooo." Max's gaze swept from the different shaped vibrators decorating the floor to her, and his white teeth glistened. He crooked his finger. "Come here, Ms. C. Wagner." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Three Not on her life could she respond to his command. Candi's feet had cemented to the floor. She couldn't even suck in oxygen, far less get a limb to obey the mental screaming making her brain hurt. "One more time then I come and get you, Ms. C. Wagner." Max's grin grew more Satanic with every pump of her pounding heart. Cocking his head to the side, he quipped, "Warned you." He kicked the door, the resounding slam jump-started her fried brain, and she skittered back her bare feet stumbling on a banana-shaped vibrator. Before she could stoop down to snatch the damned plastic, Max scooped it off the floor, and stood there dangling the yellow dildo not two inches from her crossing eyes. "Gimme that," she squealed, grabbing for the lewd object, but he batted her hands away and shook his head. "Uh-uh," he said. "There's only one way you get any of these back." "Oh God," she muttered. He had three of the smaller vibrators clutched in one hand and one neon oversize penis in the other. "How did you get them all so fast? I didn't even see you move." Max blinked and did a slight double-take, then he shot her that evil grin. "Honed reflexes, Miss Prim." 27

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"This isn't what you think." She held up a hand. "I'm not that kind of girl." "These vibrators say different." Max waved them. "Which one's your favorite? Which one do you pick up when your clit's throbbing and your pussy's aching?" An inferno raised a film of sweat over every pore, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "This can't be happening. Things like this don't happen to me." "Things like this," Max asked, threw the sex toys onto the couch, and hauled her into his embrace, "you mean." His lips fitted over hers, sliding insistently from corner to corner, the tip of his tongue teasing sparks over her flesh, and her knees gave out. He smiled against her mouth and sucked on her lower lip. Candi went dizzy, the room blurred, and Max growled, his breath sending shivers over her wet lips. "Which one's your favorite?" "Mmm?" She didn't want him to stop and, when his mouth left hers, she tugged on his shirt, the snowy crisp lapels cool to her touch. He nuzzled her neck and her eyes crossed at the sheer pleasure rippling over her skin. When he lifted his head and his gaze trapped hers, it took a while for his features to come into focus. "Querida, which one's your favorite?" "None," she answered, a dreamy smile taking ownership of her face and thoughts. "Never used 'em." "Never?" he asked. "Omigod." She batted at his chest, horrified that he'd turned her brains to mush with one kiss and not even a long 28

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one with tongues tangling and plundering. "I take that back. Why are you here?" "To take you to a wedding." He flicked open a button on her shirt. "We have to be there in forty minutes. By the way, we're an item. I brought my suit. You shower and start getting dressed. I'll change in the living room. And Candi?" "You can't..." She flung her hands wide. "You just can't come in here and order me about." "Wrong. I can and I will. The only reason we're not naked and fucking is because I'm best man at this wedding and I won't let Nick, the groom, down." He cupped her breast and rolled his thumb over her throbbing nipple. "You're mine. And Candi?" He had some sort of hypnotic control over her mind; she couldn't break away from the amber glow of his eyes, and her limbs had softened, joints not taking her weight anymore. "Yes?' she whispered. "You dance only with me." He kissed tip of her nose. "Don't wear the red dress. That's for me only. Hair down loose. No cleavage showing." Craning back he studied her dishevelment and said, his lips curving, "The first time I saw you I thought you needed messing. I was right. Forty minutes, querida." So stunned and paralyzed, she simply let her knees buckle and thudded onto the couch, sitting on the rabbit vibrator she'd purchased in a fit of panicked anxiety. "Ouch." Lifting her butt she eased the plastic out and stared unseeingly at it. "Snap to it," Max ordered. "We need to get a move on. You don't want us to be late, do you?" 29

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She lurched to her feet. "You can't really expect me to be ready for a wedding in forty minutes." When did I concede? Why can't I conceive of refusing him? He chucked a hanger bearing a metallic suit garment cover over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "'Course I can. Come here." Again with the crooked finger and the orders. Candi bristled, her shoulders wriggling and eyes narrowing. He shot her a look that could only be described as a warning, stalked over to her, and scooped her feet off the floor. "Closet?" Max shook her when she didn't respond quickly enough. "I see it." They'd entered her bedroom. "Open," he directed, halting in front of the sliding doors, and he angled his chin. "What're you doing?" she protested, but grabbed the handles and pulled. "Obviously you have trouble getting dressed quickly. I'll pick the dress. You do the rest." He surveyed her clothes. "No pants. I like my females in dresses. That one." He pointed at one of the two full-length dresses in her closet. "The lilac one. It'll make your ivory skin and your golden hair look delicious." "Lilac?" Candi shook her head. "Guys don't know the color lilac. A purple thing, maybe." He nibbled on her lower lip, which effectively stopped her speaking, and she got a whiff of the tangy spice of him and realized he still had her in his arms. "I'm in the dry cleaning business. I know more about colors and fabrics than most women." He sniffed her hair. "Nice. Smells like spring. I can't wait to see it down again." 30

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Sliding her body down his, he checked his watch over her shoulder. "Down to thirty-two minutes. Are you on the Pill?" "What?" she sputtered and her face heated. "Maybe. Maybe. None of your business —-" "It is all of my business," he stated. "When we come home we're going to spend the rest of the night fucking. Do I make a pit stop at the pharmacy?" Her throat went dry and she had that sink-me-to-China feeling. "Aren't we supposed to do the sexual history thing first?" "I'm clean, I'm certain of that fact. Anyway, there hasn't been anyone in six months." Max tipped her chin. "You?" "No. I mean I haven't had any tests, but I don't exactly need them." She couldn't meet his eyes. Max hissed, his hands fisted. "Querida, are you telling me what I think you are?" His growl raised the hair on the back of her neck. "Maybe." "Answer me now. Clearly and thoroughly. Have you had sex before?" Max's eyes scared her and her toes flexed, scraping the hardwood floor. "Sort of," she croaked. "Not the actual thing, you know, the penetration part." "Mate," Max said, his voice so low she couldn't be sure she heard properly. "What?" she asked. "I didn't get that." He swiveled, his hands braced the wall next to her dresser, his fingers dug grooves in the wallpaper, and the material ripped. Max grabbed the tear and opened it so a wide slash of 31

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planked wood was exposed. His breathing had become labored and she heard his harsh inhales. "Max?" She touched a finger to his back. "Go have your shower," he commanded, his growl more pronounced almost feral. "Now. Leave me." Too frazzled to do anything but obey, Candi dashed to the bathroom and locked the door. Her hands shook when she lathered the soap. Grateful her legs had been waxed two days earlier because her fingers trembled too much to chance a razor, she showered quickly. After toweling off she opened the bathroom and peeked, letting out a whoosh when she found her bedroom empty and the door closed. Sexy lingerie or regular? Candi hopped from foot to foot. Sexy. The lilac dress was classic and Grecian in style. Wide straps at the shoulders a low V front and back, a fitted elastic waist with a wide matching belt, and a long, flowing skirt. Black strappy high heels, a pair of square, silver amethyst drop earrings, a filigree chain with a matching pendant, and a delicate charm bracelet completed the outfit. Max rapped on the door before calling out, "Can I help with anything?" "Almost done." Adjusting the loop for the belt, she turned to the dresser. The door opened with a soft click, she heard his rasped inhale, and fumbled for her purse. Max's hand on her shoulder halted her movements. Feeling unaccountably shy she peeked up at him. "You look beautiful." 32

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The blush she couldn't prevent warmed her cheeks. "Thank you." Then she drank him in. He looked mouth-watering. His damp curls tucked behind his ears, the charcoal tux, white shirt, blue cummerbund and tie, made his bronzed skin glisten. "You look nice too," she said. "We have to rush now." "I know." She grabbed the keys and her purse. Max relieved her of the keys, dropped them on the dresser, escorted her to the door, and locked up. Candi replayed the astonishing events of her day and something Max had said earlier worried the corners of her mind. As they went down the stairs she broached the subject. "You. I think. That is, earlier you said you were certain you were clean and that, you know, you haven't for six months?" "Yep." Max buzzed the truck's open switch. "I moved here six months ago," Candi said. Max darted her a glance and he gave her that one-sided grin. "Bingo, Miss Prim. Finally figured it out, did you?" Max spotted his brothers waiting for him in the back of the church. The vestibule had been partitioned for the occasion to allow husband and wife not to see each other until they met at the altar. Diego and Tony approached him and Candi the minute they entered the church. Toni smiled at Candi and pushed his glasses, which always slipped down the bridge of his nose, back in place. Diego scowled but straightened his tie, which had been loosely knotted around his neck per usual. "Candi, you know my brothers, Diego and Antonio." 33

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"Hello." If she wore that blush all night he'd have to find a place to jerk off. As it was, his control was hanging by the proverbial thread, and only knowing the importance of the occasion to Nick and Becky kept him in check. "I have to sit at the head table tonight, so Diego and Antonio will be taking care of you." Max had his arm around her waist and his hold tightened for a second when he bent his head to whisper in her ear, "You can dance with them. No one else." Max squinted at his brothers. "I'm relying on you two tonight. Don't push me." He scowled as he issued the warning. Diego rolled his eyes. Tony shot Candi a good-natured grin. "That's for D. He likes to push big brother's buttons." "I gotta find Nick." Max dragged a hand through his combed and tamed hair. The action brought a smile to Candi's lips, effectively concentrating his focus on her lips and what he'd be doing to that mouth later tonight. "He's probably a basket case by now, knowing Nick." Tony shrugged and stuck both hands in his jacket pockets. "Yeah. Why alphas go nuts for weddings and births, I'll never get," Diego drawled. The sounds of an organ tuning quieted the chatter of arriving guests. Max glared at Diego's use of the word alpha. Diego mouthed "My bad" and Max knew Diego's mood meant trouble tonight. 34

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He caught Tony's elbow and ordered, "Keep her in your sight at all times and she's not to dance with Diego." "Aw, Max, you know once D's in this kinda mood there's no reasoning with him." Tony grimaced. "I'll do my best." "I'll organize a table for you guys close to the head table. Later." Max turned to Candi. "Let me get you seated. I spotted Jenny Foley and the girls near the front. Will you be comfortable sitting with them?" "Of course. I'm a big girl. You don't need to worry about me. After all, what disastrous catastrophe can happen at a wedding?" She waved her hands. "A wedding's a happy occasion." His wolf instincts went on full alert. He thought of Toby the ring bearer, Carnation Rosa and Cleo who were invited and sitting together at the reception, the mayor's wife's disdain for Nick's mother and father, and he shuddered, massaging the tingling back of his neck. "I'll come get you after the ceremony." Max cupped her face, gave her a hard tongue-heavy kiss, making sure anyone entering right then couldn't miss his staked claim. The taste of her distracted him and he deepened the kiss. His dick literally did a fast salsa when she lifted to her toes and sighed into his mouth. Hard, aching, and worried about leaving her in the care of his brothers, he met her gaze, and ordered, "Hold that thought and don't dance with Diego, only Tony." [Back to Table of Contents] 35

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Chapter Four Candi got her first inkling of what could go wrong when Toby, the ring bearer, started his saunter up the aisle. Green ivy intertwined white orchids around the pew pillars and the tendrils floated in the strategically located standing fans' drafts. The strains of "Morning Has Broken" filled the church. Toby, a tow-headed moppet with great big blue eyes and a plump red mouth, wore a serious expression as he carried the pillow with a pair of gold bands to the altar. Behind him, his sister, the flower girl, scattered rose and daisy petals in the air, beaming broadly and squealing greetings to anyone she recognized. "What's that noise?" Tony had his gaze fixed on Toby. "What's that imp up to?" "I don't hear anything," Candi replied. "Listen," Tony directed tilting his head. "I know that sound." Two seconds later the flower girl's feet flew out from under her. The three bridesmaids and the maid of honor who trailed her wobbled, one grabbed for a pew's pillar, missed, and fell but didn't stop; rather, she rolled forward as if the aisle was a fast flowing river. "Marbles," Candi whispered. "The brat's peppered the aisle with marbles." The organ had begun the first notes of the wedding march. Bridesmaids fell like bowling pins, the maid of honor screeched as she went down in a spectacular flailing and 36

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wind-milling of arms, and her intricate bouquet of pink and white roses and lilies skated across the heads of seated guests. A man's voice thundered, "Toby Bellows, you are dead meat." "He's just a child, for chrissake," an indignant female barked. Candi looked back to see Sandy Bellows crawl-walking in her long dress, snatching colored marbles from the floor, and dumping them into an open clutch purse. "Where is Toby?" Candi recognized Max's voice and her gaze swept the front of the church, the aisle where she'd last seen the boy, and she spied the discarded pillow. A quick check revealed the gold bands had vanished. She tugged on Tony's sleeve. "The pillow's over there but the rings are missing." "They're under the third pew," Tony said. "Stay here, I'll get them." Whoa, Max's youngest brother had superhuman eyesight to spot those rings. Even squinting Candi could barely make them out. While Tony darted up the aisle, Candi tried to comfort the flower girl, Cassie, who was vowing in between very theatrical bouts of sobbing to harm Toby in amazingly creative ways, nailing his ass, making him sit on an anthill, gluing his lips together. Candi gladly handed her over to her mother, Sandy Bellows, who said, "Heard about the wall and you and Max. You know what you're in for?" 37

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"What?" Candi cupped a hand over her mouth, wishing she could glue Carnation Rosa's lips together. "This whole town's certifiably insane." "And this is the tip of the iceberg, sweetheart." Diego smirked at her, slumped lower on the church bench, and folded his arms. "Wake me up when they've sorted things out." And within thirty seconds his chin met his chest and he was asleep. "Certifiably," Candi repeated. By the time she looked up, order had been restored and the restorer, Max, stood beside Reverend Foley issuing directives and orders. Her pussy clenched, causing all her sex parts to catch on fire, nipples burning, her labia swelling and pulsing. You're in a church. Stop this right now. Maybe I'm certifiable. I must be. I intend to make love to Maximilian Lobos for as long as he'll let me. Why does he want to know which vibrator's my favorite? Why does it matter? What does he mean by we're an item "Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today." Tim Foley's ringing voice jerked Candi from her worried musings. At the altar everything looked in order; bridesmaids flanked the bride who looked unperturbed and had eyes only for the man standing next to her, Nick Gomez. The men in Sleeping Dog had a monopoly on sex pheromones. In all her twenty-three years, Candi had never seen so many men with bulging muscles who oozed testosterone. And their height and girth. Weren't Hispanic 38

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males supposed to be short and wiry? Not those who lived in this town. Nick Gomez stood a couple of inches shorter than Max, who Candi estimated to be six four. Max had a good twenty pounds on Nick, though at around two-forty, but neither man had an ounce of fat, not even in their pinkies. Candi missed the rest of the ceremony too caught up in studying Max. Every few minutes he glanced her way and gave her a wink or a smile. She shivered each time, the tingling sensation riding her neck and shoulders prompting images of Max cupping her sex in the dry cleaners, and when the organ player pounded the notes of the wedding march, she reluctantly abandoned her sexual daydreaming. Max paid the photographer to draw out the picture-taking, figuring Toby and his cohorts would burn off energy in the heat while the party was busy in the park chosen for the event. Dusk lingered, the sky light and hazy, and the guests weren't seated until around eight thirty. By then Toby had run out of steam and most of his clothes. He, his sister, and the other kids the same age had been corralled into the church's basement for hot dogs, hamburgers, and fries. Max bribed two deacons to lock the doors until the kids were fast asleep. He had one task left, the traditional best man speech, and then he meant to devote every second to devouring Candi. Impatient to hold her and get the two of them alone and behind locked doors, he stood and tinkled a spoon on his flute the second the wedding party sat down. The toasts took the whole dinner. He gave his speech during dessert, pleased to 39

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see a couple of hankies dabbing at cheeks and eyes before he finished. When the first song played he ambled over to where his brothers and Candi were seated, and invited her onto the floor halfway through the song by extending his hand. She colored delightfully, ducked her head, and he helped her to her feet. "I've been waiting for this all night," he murmured, nuzzling one ear. His arms tightened around her, one palm sliding to the curve of her ass. "Miss me?" "Um. I guess," she replied, but her breathing hitched, and she tilted her head to give his lips more room to slide across her nape. "You'll have to work on that answer," Max told her. "I expect nothing but desperately as a reply." Her lips curved against his cheek. "Desperately," she whispered. "I missed you desperately, Max." Her sweet and total compliance proved more intoxicating than tequila. "Nick and Becky are taking off early tonight. We'll leave as soon as they do." "Where are they honeymooning?" She drew back and he drank in the spring smell of her hair, the light touch of perfume that heightened the scent of her woman's musk, and his dick wept as the aroma of her excitement filled his nose. "Cabin in the mountains," he replied. "You're all wet, aren't you?" She gasped. "I—- no —-." Shaking her head, she sputtered, "You have a way of freezing my brain." 40

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Catching and holding her gaze, he twirled a fast circle, another and another, taking them to the balcony and into the fresh air. The temperature had dropped and a pleasing coolness touched their skin. "Show me," he murmured not allowing her to avert her eyes. "Take off your panties and give them to me." "Max," she said, her voice shaky as she drew out his name. "I..I..I'm not that kind of girl." "Yes, you are, querida. You are that kind of woman. You're creaming more with every word I say." He scanned the immediate area, tugged her into the garden courtyard, and whisked her behind a ring of tall pines. "Take them off for me." "If you take off yours," she retorted, and he could see the bravado it had taken to say that collapsing when she swallowed rapidly, blinked, and stared at his chest. "Wearing none," Max said. "Check for yourself." Her head whipped down. He had undone his jacket, and his erection strained at the wool trousers. Max trailed his fingers along the V of her dress before setting his thumb at the pulse leaping erratically in the center of her collarbone. "Panties, querida." He held out a palm and cupped her shoulder, waiting expectantly. "I can't believe I'm going to do this." A delightful shade of desert rose skittered across her cheeks and throat. She twisted and lifted her skirt, the back not the front, and the demureness of the gesture revived his determination to initiate her gently. 41

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Entranced by the evidence of her innocence and shyness, he stared when she balanced on one foot, steadying her by sliding an arm around her waist, and all the while envisioning her high rump, smooth thighs, and dewy pussy folds. His throat clogged when she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, head bent, and thrust a triangle of sheer black held together by three ribbons into his palm. The wolf in him commanded his actions. He brought the fabric to his mouth and inhaled, letting her pussy spice fill his senses. The crotch was soaked and his tongue roughened and lapped at her cream. Mate, mate, mate. The refrain thundered in his brain. Max hauled her against his chest, aware of her tight, knotted nipples poking through the silk lilac, and he buried his face in the sweet curve of her neck, his nose flaring, canines lengthening to scrape a slight marking, but knowing the time wasn't right. No mating until after midnight. His Candi wouldn't be in heat for another few hours. "Maximilian." Diego's voice came from the balcony. "Trouble." Max gritted his teeth. He'd hoped against hope for no more catastrophic interruptions. He lifted his head. "Who?" "Juanita," Diego answered. "She showed up with John Green. They're plying Rosa with passion-fruit wine and you know Rosa when she's tipsy. She has verbal diarrhea." "Great. All we need is Rosa blabbing about wolves and John Green pushing everyone's buttons." 42

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Sherriff Green represented the ultra-conservatives of Sleeping Dog and his campaign promises included repealing the wolf sanctuary the Lobos brothers had established three years ago. He and three council members had a proposal before elected town officials for ending the moratorium on hunting wolves. Stuffing Candi's thong into his inside jacket pocket, Max murmured, "Nick asked me for only one favor tonight. To make sure he and Becky made an early retreat before their respective parents started bickering. I'm going to have to be the buffer between the mayor, Green, and the Gomezes. Let me take you back to the table." In rapid Spanish he addressed his brother. "Tell Tony to keep my mate dancing. I need you to distract everyone." "Am I drunk?" Diego replied in the same language. "Whatever. Just do it fast." He heard the crunch of Diego's shoes on the graveled path. Max framed Candi's face and kissed her slow and shallow, letting her taste her cream on his lips. When he broke the contact she licked the seam of her mouth, and spiking desire had widened and darkened her eyes to a rich sapphire. "Later, querida. I promise you." Lacing their fingers together, he tugged her into motion and they walked through the middle of the Church's courtyard on a path lined with rose beds. Crickets called, frogs croaked, and, in the distance, a wolf howled. Max should've known that Diego intended to pick a fight, given his earlier mood. He glimpsed Sherriff Green and his brother standing in the back of the hall. Both men displayed 43

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belligerent stances, legs spread wide, hips thrust forward, arms akimbo, lips set, and brows gathered. After he gave Candi into Tony's care, Max headed straight for Nick and Becky who were swaying on the shadowed edge of the dance floor deep throating each other. Nick sensed him approaching and broke the intimate contact. "What's up?" "Green was on the guest list?" Becky groaned. "My mother must have done that." "Wanna do the bouquet throwing and the garter pronto?" Max directed his question to Becky. "Diego's cornered Green and the two of them are in a heated discussion about the hunting issue." "Sure," Becky replied. She knew his brother's volatile temper only too well, having been his doubles tennis partner during high school. "I hope Diego decks him or worse." She winked at Max and he grinned, knowing she wanted Diego to intimidate Green in wolf form. He hoped Candi would accept his wolf heritage the way Becky had Nick's. But Nick had been upfront with Becky and Max had no plans to tell Candi anything until after they mated. Amused when Candi caught the bridal bouquet and he caught the garter, Max waited until Nick and Becky had their final dance and drove away in the traditional tin-can clunking trail punctuated by hoots, lewd comments, and whistles. Rescuing Diego before he and Green came to actual blows, Max ordered his two brothers home, and then hustled Candi into his truck. 44

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"Where're we going?" she asked after they'd been driving for a few minutes. "My place," Max replied. "I want you in my bed tonight. I want your scent tangled in my sheets. I want you to be the last thing I taste before I fall asleep. And tomorrow morning I want to wake up inside of you." She made a strangled noise, but he sensed nothing but heat and desire. A mere hint of fear hit his nostrils, but her sex bloomed, drenching her folds and thighs. He drank in the aroma of her cream, his dick engorged beyond any prior experience. "Speak, querida," Max growled, the need to mate swamping his human side. "Tell me why you're scared." "This is happening so fast." She rushed the words out. "I..I..all my other boyfriends said I was cold. And I can't make myself come. Vibrators don't work with me." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five Oh gawd, what did I just say Candi buried her face in both hands and shrank into the corner of the truck. All he has to do is stare at me with those hypnotic eyes and I blurt my thoughts. Puhleeze don't let him change his mind. "The men you've been with are idiots." Max yanked the handbrake on the truck and the V8 engine went silent. He pried one hand from her face and brought his mouth to her wrist. "Here is clear evidence of your arousal." He rested his tongue on the vein pounding at the base of her palm. "This morning I cupped your pussy and your clit throbbed, your nipples begged for my mouth. Trust me, after tonight you'll climax to my command." On his command? Max smoothed the frown Candi didn't realize she wore. "I love the way your face is so expressive." He outlined her open mouth with his tongue. She blinked, and her jaw went slack as his words penetrated. That can't mean what I think it does. "Hold that thought," Max ordered as he opened the truck's door. Jolted out of her daze, Candi stared through the cab's windscreen at the dwelling the circular driveway fronted. The brick walls of a wide porch reflected the color of the three46

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quarter moon hanging in the midnight sky, a dazzling cream with golden shadows. She'd expected Max to live in town in one of the gated communities she'd seen on the outskirts. "Welcome to Lobos Ranch," Max said, lifting her from the car. The air smelled clean, sweet, and tangy. City heat and lights had vanished during the twenty-minute ride and a stiff wind with a hint of ice raised goose flesh on her arms and shoulders. Max shifted his hold scooping one hand under her knee, the other her mid back, and he hugged her high and close to his chest. Candi opened her mouth to protest, but his scent invaded her nostrils and dizzied her thoughts. She relaxed in his allencompassing embrace. "It's lovely," she whispered, not wanting to intrude on the soft sounds of nature, the rustling leaves, the hoots of owls, the crack of a branch under some nocturnal creature's tread. Climbing the four steps to the porch, Max grinned down at her, his eyes and nose shadowed and then revealed, when they reached massive double-doors hewn from tree trunks. Every inch of the imposing, intimidating structure pulsed with raw power and a primordial strength, a primitive stake of territory. "I can walk, you know. Two working feet." "Everything about you works for me, querida." His hold changed and he supported her with one arm, using the other to open the door. Once they cleared the entrance, he kicked the door shut, strode to a panel on the wall, slid two fingers 47

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into a slot, and gazed into what seemed to be a scanning device. "Wow. That's fingerprint and cornea activated, isn't it?" Curiosity piqued, Candi tapped his chest. "Can I take a look?" "You're interested in security systems?" One eyebrow lifted but he didn't put her down as she expected. "Sort of," she replied. "I use a similar system at work." "You constantly surprise me, little Miss Prim." Max swung around and headed across the room to a wide stone stairwell built into the side of the house. "I'm not sure I like that nomenclature," she muttered, her eyes narrowing at the amusement in his voice. "It's meant as a compliment," he quipped, then added when she pursed her lips, "because it's the last thing you are. And that pleases me enormously. Not to mention the effect it has on my dick." "Oh." Not certain what giddied her brain, his casual sexual references, or the way his aftershave took on a heady tang as they reached the top of the stairs. Or maybe it was those eyes, which now seemed more green and yellow instead of amber and milk chocolate. The black of his pupils seemed to expand and contract as he trapped her gaze. A wave of luscious sparks flashed up her spine, skittering around her bare shoulders, and strung tightness from nipples to sex. Until the moment Max set her down gently on a firm mattress did Candi realize she was in his bed. Anxiety reared and her fingernails dug grooves in her palms when he shrugged off his jacket, worked his tie loose, and threw it to a chair to the left of the bed. She rose onto her elbows. 48

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"Max," she mumbled, and her mouth went dry and she forgot to breathe when he ripped his shirt open and that garment flew in the direction of the tie. "Oh." His clothing had concealed the true size of his enormous chest and shoulders, and his height hadn't been so intimidating at the wedding. "I've waited six months for this, querida." His voice had deepened into a growled rumble and her belly muscles contracted with each word he spoke. Waves of the wooziness that always attacked her at a cliff's edge crashed the edges of her mind. "I hunger for you. Will you trust me to pleasure you? To show you that you are not cold?" He crossed the distance and joined her on the bed. How can I trust you? You scare me. No, you make me feel things that scare me. Her lungs kept starting and stopping, breathing no longer a reflexive function. Candi wet her lips and opened her mouth. Before she could speak, his tongue slid across the lower ridge of her teeth, a hot flurry of zesty air made her nostrils expand to draw in the giddying aroma of Max. When he nibbled the corner of her mouth, she fell back her head hitting a pillow. His kisses fed her lust-intoxication, each one dragging her closer and closer to full surrender. No one had ever worshipped her mouth the way he did, his hot tongue avaricious, his lips greedy, his teeth claiming and taking her to a point where pain and pleasure merged. The sharpness of 49

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a nip he then soothed by his ravenous suckling had her squirming on the covers. She moaned his name when the texture of his tongue coarsened. He scraped the roof of her mouth. The sensation pinged at her clit, and her vaginal muscles clenched hard and fast, once, twice. Candi fisted her hands in his hair when he lifted his head. "Don't stop, please don't stop." "I promise," he said and his eyes had changed once more, the corneas disappearing, and she fell into the strong glowing. "Will you trust me, Candi? Give over to me this night?" "I want to," she blurted. "I do." But the words wouldn't come. Max's fingers slipped under the straps of her dress. The silk skidded down her bare arms, and sparks tindered across her flesh. "I know you're feeling things you've never felt before and it scares you." The back of his hand slid down her cheek while his fingers undid her belt and flicked the leather off the bed. "If I do something and you don't like it, all you have to do is say no." Too distracted to notice he'd slipped the dress over her shoulders and bared her bra, she stared at him, trying to read his expression. "Lift up, querida," he crooned, nudging her hips. She complied. Her bare bottom met the soft satin sheet, and a lick of panic made her blurt, "Max." "All you have to say is stop," he repeated, his eyes meeting hers. 50

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Her disbelief must have showed on her face for he offered an alternative. "If you can't speak, can't get the word out, then touch me like this." He took her hand, laid it flat on his chest, and his heartbeat pulsed beneath her palm. "Anywhere. Here." He moved her hand to the cusp of his shoulder. "Here." His cheek felt grizzly from a dark sheen of stubble, his skin hot, his jaw rock-hard and throbbing with male vigor. "Here." He lowered her hand to his ribs, the planes of his bones reassuringly strong and real. All the knots in her muscles slackened and a rueful smile tugged at her mouth. "One touch?" "All it takes," he replied, skimming her dress over her hips. "One touch, one word." He must have known she veered on the point of capitulation for he added. "And the only way my pants will come off is if you take them off." Max gritted his teeth, waiting for Candi to yield. "I'll trust you," she said, meeting his eyes. He wanted to howl until his throat was raw. Announce to the world his mate had given over to him. His mate-need grew too great to control the wolf changes as his canines grew, too desperate to breed to prevent a slight furring, and he knew he had to risk drastic action. Rolling off the bed, he considered her reaction to what he intended to demand. Too much, too soon. I need to take her to climax fast. Keeping his back to her, he struggled for control, his fingers flexing and curling as he conquered the wolf in him, regaining tenuous hold on his primitive nature, for now. 51

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Opening the bedside drawer, he drew out the sleep mask, and slipped the silk into his hand, fisting to conceal the blindfold. The lights in the master bedroom were controlled by the switch on the wall two inches from the headboard, so Max dimmed all the bulbs to a faint glow, creating the effect of a quarter moon in a night sky scattered with hazy clouds. The second the room darkened her breathing hitched and her supple, relaxed posture changed. A slight scratching accompanied the straightening of her legs on the satin sheets he'd directed his housekeeper to use tonight. She swallowed two, three times, and one hand reached up to squeeze the edge of the pillow. He shifted to lie on his side next to her and cupped her jaw with one hand, gliding his thumb along the crest of her cheekbone. "You don't know how many nights I've lain with in this bed fantasizing about having you here." The pearl white of one tooth showed as she worried her lower lip. He let the moment draw out, and finally she blurted, "Why didn't you do something before?" "You weren't ready. When did you buy the vibrators?" Her flesh warmed beneath his palm and she opened her mouth then clamped her lips together before saying, "You knew all along? How?" "What do you think I knew?" "Do I have to say it?" Her voice took on a petulant note. When he didn't answer, she huffed and the hot air slid past his upper lip filling his nose with the citrus of the sangria she'd drunk at the reception. 52

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"Three weeks after I first came into Tres Lobos. But Max, they didn't work, and I bought every type I could find on the internet." She shifted to face him. "When I see you I get all achy and tight. After this morning I really thought one would work." "Are you ready to trust me?" he asked again. "I told you already. Yes." "You need to feel, not think," Max explained. Capturing her wrists with one hand, he stretched her arms to the iron bars of the headboard and used his thigh to roll her onto her back. "Curl your fingers around the bar." When she hesitated, he guided her into place. "Keep your hands there unless you need me to stop. Are you ready to go on from here?" She nodded then, thinking he couldn't see the movement, whispered, "Yes." Dangling the sleep mask from its satin ribbons, he positioned the object so she could see it. "A sleep mask?" Her forehead creased. "To heighten your senses. Shall I put it on?" Again, she nodded then said, her voice wavering, "Yes." Max let out the exhale he'd been holding after the mask was in place. On his indrawn breath his dick steeled, the aroma of her musk so intoxicating he had to tense every muscle to contain the wolf in him. He licked his lips, the urgency to taste her sending his brain into a tailspin, and his fingernails lengthened, digging deep groves in his palms. "Max?" His name sounded warbled and thready and the question held a note of panic. 53

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His mate's fear peppered the air and the fervent need to take care of her overpowered his primitive urge to mate. Max took a deep breath and edged closer, slowly letting her feel and hear his movements before he trailed his fingers, claws sheathed, up her ribcage. He licked the tip of her ear and she turned her head to him. "Right here." He skipped his lips over the ridge of one cheekbone. "You make me wild, Candi. I've wanted you for so long." "Oh," she whispered. "Really?" "Really," he murmured, licking her plump earlobe, then letting her feel his teeth as he bit down on the sweet flesh. "Omigod," she moaned. He closed his eyes against the temptation of her vulnerable nape and grasped a handful of her thick, silky locks, angling her head to one side, so he could drink in the scent of that spot. "I love the way you smell and taste here." Never would he be able to control the roughening of his tongue around her, so Max dragged the coarse surface along the curve where neck met shoulder, and his balls went heavy and ached when she whimpered. He unsnapped her bra and pushed the fabric aside, sucking in his breath at the sight of her pouting nipples. She gasped when he blew into her ear and turned her head in his direction. His control slipped, mouth taking hers hungrily, and he moved to position himself between her legs, nudging her knees apart. The woolen trousers abraded his weeping dick, 54

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the head so afire, so primed, he gripped the sheets with both hands, broke the kiss, and bent his head to her breast. She jerked when he drew in the nipple and laved his tongue around the areola, and Max growled and nipped the taut point when she rubbed her foot on his ankle. "Don't stop," she pleaded, and he bit down harder, sawing her heated flesh, relishing the way she squirmed and wriggled, her pelvis grinding his greedy dick into twitching spasms. "Never," he rasped and slip-slided his way to her other breast leaving a trail of moisture marking every inch of naked skin. He'd grown too needy, too primal, and when his mouth clamped down on her nipple, he reached between her legs to find her drenched and slick, fingered her creamy folds apart, and pinched her clit. Candi shattered, her thighs clenching around his hand, legs crossing around his ass, grinding her mound against his erection. She screamed his name, and he surrendered his dick, jetting semen as the climax coursed through his veins, all the blood pooled in his groin, and any remnants of rational, human behavior splintered into shards. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Six When her body and brain reconnected and her breathing approached a normal cadence some undetermined time later, Candi grew aware of two things: the blindfold was off and Max's broad palms stroked her spine, pausing to curve over a vertebra. The move curled her closer and closer to his heated body. She sighed and breathed out a vocal exhale, snuggling into the steely planes of his chest, and trailed her fingers over the ridges of his ribcage. "Okay?" he asked, his voice gravelly and low, and she felt the rumble vibrate against her cheek. "Mmm," she replied unable to find the words to describe just how okay she felt. He shook her shoulder, palmed his way up her neck to her chin, and tipped her head back so their gazes engaged. "If that dreamy smile's anything to go by, okay may be the understatement of the year. Did I rock your world, Candi Wagner?" Rock wouldn't be the word she'd choose; maybe demolish, detonate, discombobulate, but not simply rock. She knew from the waves of warmth crawling across her face she had turned pink and for the ka-zillionth time wished she were more like Juanita Lopez, Sleeping Dog's sexpot who would know exactly what to say and do right this minute. Not able to meet his intense stare for a second longer she concentrated on the faint sheen of moisture glistening above his upper lip and muttered, "You know you did." 56

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"I like the way you blush." He thumbed the soft underside of her chin. "And we've barely begun your sex education." Deftly he clipped her black bra back together. "I can't wait to see what color you'll turn when I lick your honey pot. By the way, you can put your hands down now." His wicked grin and the horrified realization that she still had her fingers wrapped around the iron posts made her squeeze her eyes shut and this time the heat lashed from scalp to curled toes. Hastily she threw her hands down, one fist hit her hip, and only then did his words register. Omigod. Oral sex. She had dreamed about oral sex forever, trying to imagine the smells and textures. Flustered, Candi stared over his shoulder and focused on her pink toenails. Every pulse point did twirling somersaults as she pictured his inky curls, her blonde pubic hair, and his mouth there. "What're you doing?" she yelped when he wrapped his body around hers and rolled them off the mattress. "I'm sticky." He swept her feet off the ground, "You're sticky. We need to get clean." Candi spotted the arched entrance to the bathroom, glimpsed a round tub, and craned her neck when Max stomped in the opposite direction. She bit her lip. "Um, isn't the bathroom the other way?" "It sure is." He walked down the hallway. Before he took the first step, he nuzzled her neck and said, his lips singeing her nape, "Though the thought of washing my scent from you goes against every instinct, I know you'll be more comfortable being all squeaky clean when I eat your sweet pussy." 57

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Wetness slicked the drying remnants of cream on her folds and her belly muscles pulled taut one by one with each word as Max the violin maestro plucked all her strings. The cusp of one massive shoulder made her mouth water and she had the insane urge to bite him right there. Hard. She yearned to lick the salty beads of sweat outlining his collarbone. Suck on his flat nipple. Maybe even bite it the way he had hers. Engrossed by the vivid images popping into her head, Candi didn't notice they'd exited the house until a cool breeze soothed the mini-shocks zapping at her flesh. She swung her head from left to right. "Oh my." Nestled into the back of a boulder-strewn mountain was what looked to be a wide, curving lagoon. Rows of pine trees, all lush and green, enclosed the pool and the house. The landscaping made her breath catch, tall grasses, irregularly shaped shrubs, clumps of wild flowers, daisies, azalea bushes, the greenery collaborating to enhance the grotto-like ambiance. "You like?" "It's beautiful," she whispered. "My favorite part of the house." He marched straight into the pool, taking the stone steps one at a time. "Max, you're still wearing your pants." She gave his neck a pat. He lifted a shoulder. "Taking them off would mean putting you down and I'm not ready to do that. 'Sides you're still wearing your bra. And don't even think of taking that off. I've been dying to see those pink nipples behind that black seethrough lace, Miss Prim." 58

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"I'm not sure I like that nickname." "You'll learn to love it." She squeaked when her feet slapped the water, expecting the swirling liquid to have the same chill as the air raising the hairs on her nape. "It's almost the same temperature as a hot tub." "When were you in a hot tub?" He halted on the spot and turned to stare at her, his lips set in a flat line. "And with whom?" At that moment she spied a floating flower near the waterfall cascading over the huge boulders stamped into the mountain's side. "Are those lilies?" "Yes." Max jiggled her in his arms. "The hot tub? Who was in it?" "It was during spring break in college." Candi ducked her head, remembering the disastrous four days in Mexico. "A group of classmates." "Male and female?" Fervently hoping to change the subject, she said, "Those are tux pants, Max. You're going to ruin them." "How do my pants come off, woman?" One eyebrow lifted. How could a lopsided smile dazzle his lascivious intentions so clearly? By this time Max was chest-deep in the lagoon and the lapping water felt like a warm, cozy cocoon. Overhead, dark wispy clouds floated over the middle of a three-quarter moon. Shadows from the tall pines and trees composing the landscape dappled the pool's reflection of the moon's luminescence. 59

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The setting, the soothing insistent rhythm of the water coursing around her body, the safety of his embrace rallied the boldness so long dormant in her soul. "Can I take off your pants, Max?" A wolf howled in the distance, drowning the melody of night noises. The sound was not mournful as she expected, but triumphant, like a predator bellowing victory. Max's nostrils flared and a muscle in his cheek twitched, his arms tightened, and when he answered, his voice was a growl. "What you do to me, Miss Prim." He rested his forehead on hers. "Go for it." Slowly he slid her down the length of his body and she flinched when her pelvis rubbed against the tumescent ridge of his erection. Only by staring at the base of his neck did she not glance down to inspect the organ tenting his trousers. Candi worried her lower lip and inhaled deeply, smelling the tang of his aftershave and the feral spicy scent he radiated. Laying her palms flat on his chest, she asked, "You'll tell me if I do something wrong?" He cupped her ass and squeezed the cheeks. "There's nothing you can do that would ever be wrong for me, querida." The buoyancy of the eddying water made her drift sideways a tad. Max caught her loosely around the waist and settled her so her feet rested on the tops of his. Reassured she'd stay in one spot, Candi bent to her task, fingers shaking as she undid his pants' button. "Oh," she mumbled, when she could no longer resist glancing down. The head of his penis fascinated her as she 60

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slid the zipper down to expose his thick, large cock. Her breathing hitched and waves of heady excitement flashed through her veins like molten lava racing down a volcano. She tugged at the waistband of the trousers, dragging the cloth over his hips, suddenly impatient, curiosity erasing fear in a heartbeat. Her vaginal walls pulsed; the fast jerks and clenches were almost too much to bear. God, what will it feel like when he's inside of me? Please, please, God let it happen. I don't care if it's only once The water resisted her efforts to free him of his clothing and she muttered a curse. Max trailed a finger from the V of her bra to her throat. "We've all night, Candi, and all day tomorrow." All day tomorrow? She peeked at him through her lashes. "Tomorrow too?" And cursed her inability to prevent words escaping her mouth. "And the following night, and the one after that, and then the next." He smiled as he spoke, not the devilish grin, but one that held a note of tenderness. Tenderness? Maximilian Lobos? I must be more far gone than I thought. Is he telling me this isn't a one-night stand? Candi nibbled on her lips and studied his navel, the flat ripples of his belly. "Querida, either you take that off entirely or I put my pants back on." His eyes had narrowed and a shiver skated across her shoulders when she met his gaze. The color of his pupils mirrored the amber in the boulders and the intensity of his stare. The rampant desire emanating 61

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from those glowing eyes notched her confidence to new levels. "I want to see it," she said pushing at his hips. Obliging her, he stepped back until the water circled around his knees. Candi skimmed the soggy trousers down. The material clung to his cock, resisting her efforts. Giddy, unable to suck in any oxygen, shyness vanishing in the face of her mounting excitement, Candi muttered, "Screw this," knelt, and dragged the pants down his legs. His freed cock jutted up, almost hitting her nose. "Omigod." She couldn't get enough of the visual of Max's sex. His cock glistened in the moonlight, the slick head and slit beaded with liquid, tiny drops hanging like translucent pearls along the pulsing purplish length. Globules of water clung to the sable pubic hair nestling the base of his genitals, and his testicles hung heavily between his thighs. Sitting back on her heels, she feasted on the bounty he presented, and her mouth watered. She licked her lips, and a smile curved her mouth when his cock danced and twitched. He growled, her chin lifted, and their eyes met. Alarm had her lurching to her feet. "What's wrong?" Lips bared, teeth gleaming in the flickering shadows cast by waving branches, he looked as if he was in agony. Muscles in his cordoned neck jerked, his biceps bunched in spasms when he clenched and flexed his fingers into tight fists. His hips were thrust forward, sinewy quadriceps spread wide, head thrown back, black curls backlit by moon rays, and a frisson of excitement skipped up her spine. He looked like a 62

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demonic god from another universe, a thrilling sexy hunk from another world. Candi's bones went into meltdown. "You're in heat," he rasped. "The smell of you is driving me insane. Querida, I need you to go inside." In heat She shrugged the thought away. "Inside?" He doesn't want me. Noooo. Nooo. She gritted her teeth and stepped between his legs, curling both hands around his penis. It pulsed like a living, breathing entity in her palms and she had to look down. Mesmerized by the sight of her fingers touching him, by the way his cock engorged, growing fatter and longer, intoxicated by the scent trapped in the hair furring his chest, by the sounds of his ragged breathing, she couldn't think, couldn't talk, and had to do. Her tongue snaked out to flick at his nipple and she grazed her teeth around the peak. He let out a strangled snarl and she closed her mouth around the taut nipple and sucked hard, greedy to taste him, delirious to savor every inch of his flesh. Unconsciously her grip on his cock tightened and she slid one hand down to the base. "Enough," he snapped, grabbed her hands, pried them off his penis, scooped her high against his chest, and stalked out of the pool splashing water onto the stones lining its edges. He moved so fast her vision blurred and she couldn't discern when, where, or how they'd reached his master bedroom. A wave of dizziness had the room dancing as he turned them in a circle and paced up and down the room. 63

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"Listen to me carefully," he said and she heard the steel in his voice. "The first time for a woman is supposed to hurt. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you touch me. I need to be in control to make this wonderful for you. If you touch me, I'll lose it." Halting abruptly, he ordered, "Look at me, Candi Wagner." "You're scaring me a little," she whispered but obeyed him and met his stare. "I'm going to use the mask again," he stated. "But this time instead of having you hold the bars I'll tie you to them. I need your hands out of the way. Understand?" Understand? The image had her reeling and her inner walls spasming out of control, drenching her thighs. Some devil had taken possession of her vocal cords, so she nodded. "Any time you need me to stop just say the word." He swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed. "Your safe word's stop. With me?" She'd surrendered to him completely and he'd brought her to her first orgasm. The tip of his tongue tracing her mouth made her giddy, the feel of his lips and teeth nipping and drawing on her breasts made her dance on the edge of sanity, his fingers pinching her clit had sent her careening, and she knew she balanced on a precipice with the answer to his question. Oh God, can I do this? Lord knows it's everything I've dreamed of since I first set eyes on him. Can I give him complete control? [Back to Table of Contents] 64

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Chapter Seven "I'm frightened," she whispered, her eyes widening to flying saucer proportions. "Don't ask me. Just do it." "No," he stated, willing her to answer. "From this point onwards I will just do it. But first you have to give over to me." "This isn't just for the one time, is it?" The tone of her voice told him she both wanted and feared his confirmation. "No." Max didn't intend to divulge any more information. "Decide now." She blinked rapidly, the thick fringe of her brown lashes casting dark, wispy shadows on her pale cheeks. "I should like to see your face when you...you know." Dipping her chin, she focused on a spot above his nipple. She took a deep breath, the mounds of her breasts rising and spilling over the lacey black demi-bra. Max didn't dare inhale deeply, the aroma of her ripeness too intoxicating, too arousing, too delicious for his overheated balls and dick. The mere sight of her flushed cheeks and throat, her moist lips, that perfect upturned nose, had his testicles jamming tight and hard against his aching flesh. "I promise, querida, the first time I enter you, every time I enter your sweet heat all you'll see is me," he vowed, knowing that he had to see her face, drown in those blue eyes when he first breached her pussy.

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The hint of a smile curved the corners of her mouth, and the pink in her cheeks deepened to a cherry hue. "I so want you to be the first." First and only. No man will ever touch you save me. The wolf in him bucked and kicked, and sheathing his claws took every ounce of his remaining willpower. Gritting his teeth, he walked over to the bed, shifted her in his arms so he could draw back the covers, and settled Candi in the middle of his bed. Mate. The word waltzed around his brain. Mate He had found his mate. Yearning to howl his declaration in the still night, wanting nothing more than to plunge his dick into her pussy and put a cub in her womb, Max worked his jaw and let his canines pierce the underside of his lip. The coppery taste of his blood brought back a slight semblance of sanity. Savoring the image before him, imprinting the picture of Candi lying in the center of the mattress, letting his eyes feast on the treasure trove of his destiny, Guilt reared, but he shoved the emotion aside. She would accept the wolf in him, he'd make it impossible for her not to, and so not telling her before he claimed her wouldn't make one iota of difference. The muscles from navel to thighs contracted viciously when she raised her hands above her head, fingers laced, and slid a sideways peep at him. In that instant the rational human in him splintered, her shy submissive gesture fueling his alpha wolf. He growled, hit the dimmer switch, snatched 66

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the sleep mask they'd used earlier, grabbed a silk tie from the bedside drawer, and, not giving her a chance to back away, quickly slipped the mask over her head, and bound her hands to the headboard. When one pearly tooth snagged her lip, he licked the seam of her mouth insistently, letting his roughening tongue absorb the taste of her, paradise, heaven, fate all rolled into Candi, his mate. He'd never grow tired of kissing her, smelling her, marking her, and he surrendered to the need to do so. Slanting his mouth over hers, he explored every crevice, relishing the way she whimpered when he stroked the inside of one cheek, the way her hips shifted restlessly as his tongue tickled the roof, and he inhaled the sharp pungent scent of her creaming pussy when he bit down on her plump lower lip. "Max," she said, her tone pleading. "Oh, Max." "Mine," he muttered against her mouth, drawing in the hot breath from her parted lips. His tongue swirled around hers. He nipped the tip, and her choked groan rumbled through their joined mouths. She touched his tongue with hers, the tentative caress fired his balls, and they slammed into his groin. Slowly he retreated, coaxing her tongue into his mouth, persuading her to explore, to learn him. Her gentle, hesitant flickers drove him crazy, a quick trace of a tooth, a fluttering tango with his tongue, a cautious sucking of his lip. "More, querida," he ordered. "Let go. Give to me." Her uneven panting hitched. She leaned into him and claimed him, her mouth greedy, her tongue stroking boldly and lingering on a canine, which had lengthened into a sharp 67

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point. She outlined his lips, sipped at the corners, and suckled the center, grazing the underside. Fisting his hands, fighting for control, he allowed her exploration, and when he sensed the change in her from timid to confident and daring, Max staked his jurisdiction. He ate at her mouth, demanding her passion, reveling in her fervor, in the frantic thrashing of her legs on the bed, wanting to howl when she hooked her calf over his hip and arched her hips, her pussy searching for his dick. He broke the kiss tangling one hand in the silk of her hair and tilted her head to one side. "Mine," he grunted and nipped and suckled a path from her jaw to one fat earlobe. His tongue left a wet trail in the whorls and he blew on the dampness thoroughly enchanted when she blindly turned and licked his cheek. "Please," she begged. "I need you." "Soon, soon," he promised. His dick engorged to bursting, blood pooled in his aching cock, and his entire groin became a pulsing inferno. Skating his lips down her neck, he bathed her nape, his tongue now coarse and heavy, his mouth salivating, his brain fuzzy as he stamped her with his scent. He held her skin between his teeth and sawed the canines lightly over her flesh. She cried out, her ass lifting off the mattress, and the perfume of her climax drenched his nostrils intoxicating him. His hunger intensified and his wolf instincts ruled his actions. He tore apart her bra and cupped her breasts, allowing the claw on each forefinger to unsheathe. 68

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Leisurely he sketched the slopes of her mounds to the pink circles, but avoided her nipples watching them bud and darken, growling when she twisted and squirmed. He smiled knowing she was desperate for him to graze his claws over her aching peaks. She unhooked her leg from his hip and tried to roll onto her side. Max counteracted by settling between her legs nudging her thighs apart, and leaning on his elbows not for a second breaking his slo-mo clawed caressing. Bending he licked a circle around her breast. "Max, Max," she whimpered and bowed her back, the folds of her sex slicking his groin. "Now, please." "Soon," he crooned, his tongue tracing smaller and smaller circles on the one breast, all the while using his claw on the other in a mimicking motion. Her heart thundered beneath his hands, her ragged gasps and moans accelerated, and she tilted her pelvis, thrashing her mound along the rigid length of his dick. Max slipped lower down her body and let his weight still her frantic writhing. He opened his mouth and suckled her nipple and areola, laving her nipple with his tongue at the same time he grazed the other peak with his claw, and then he sawed the throbbing peak between his teeth. She screamed his name and her juices coated his groin, her legs wrapped around his ass, and she ground her sex on his erection. Licking her gently, bringing her down from the high, he moved down her body. He clamped his hands around her hips and buried his face in her folds inhaling her musk. He moved his head from side to side, coating his mouth, his lips, 69

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his nose with her cream. He grew drunker and drunker on her taste, on the feel of her satiny skin, breathing in her spicy smell, feeding on the vision of her swollen pink labia and the reddened clit poking out from under its hood. The second her thighs began to tighten around his shoulders and he scented her desire spiking, Max cupped her sex with one hand and slid up her body, relishing the way her taut nipples rasped the hairs on his chest. Slipping the mask off her head, he met her gaze and froze. His heart battered his ribcage. The blue of her eyes had darkened to a deep sapphire and she stared at him with such trust, such adoration, her lips curving, that a fierce ache spiked in his chest. She sighed, her breath feathered his mouth, and his desire spiraled out of control. He shifted the pillow angling her face so the moonlight bathed her flushed features with a silvery incandescence. "Mine." Max moved quickly, snagging her ass in his palms as he lifted her off the mattress. "Look at me, Candi," he commanded and she complied, lifting her chin and meeting his wolf-stare without hesitation, without blinking, giving over to him completely. One quick thrust, he didn't trust his control, knew he'd fracture if he tried to take her slowly. He closed his eyes, praying once he was inside that he'd be able to freeze, to not move until she was ready. He plunged into her slick channel, stopping when his dick was fully sheathed in her clamping heat and he leaned his 70

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forehead on hers. "Mine. Candi Wagner. Say it. Tell me. Who do you belong to?" Instantly she answered, "You, Max. For as long as you want me." "Mi amor," he rasped. Sweat peppered his brow, and he ground his teeth, tensing every muscle waiting for her response, praying for her clutching pussy to adjust to his burning, needy dick. She filled all his senses to overflowing, and he couldn't get enough of his mate. He licked her lips and stroked her tongue, slicking the tang of her pussy cream into her mouth. "Taste your honey, querida. Suck my tongue." She obeyed his order, eating at his mouth voraciously, any reticent timidity evaporating when her lithe tongue traced the line of his teeth and he groaned as a shudder wracked his body. She wriggled her hips and his dick steeled. He broke the kiss and asked against her lips, their breaths mingling, "Hurting?" She shook her head. "Aching. Do something." "Thank the gods," he said, his voice fervent, and rocked his pelvis, a testing shallow thrust, studying her face intently, grunting when she blinked and one toe rubbed his calf. Her walls clasped his dick; her muscles pulsed around him, squeezing his throbbing shaft, mercilessly clenching the head when he slowly withdrew, leaving only the crown at her entrance. Her ankles crossed around his buttocks and she pressed her heels into his ass cheeks. Reaching up he unsheathed his claws and sliced through the silk restraints holding her to the bed, and snapped his nails to human length before massaging her hands with his. 71

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She wrenched out of his grasp, looped her arms around his neck, and tangled her fingers in his hair. "Max, Max," she whispered and her tongue snaked along his jaw. She suckled his shoulder and grazed her teeth on the curve. The little pants between her nipping drove him nuts, and his thoughts splintered, wresting any remnants of his discipline into scattered fragments. He drove into her, imbedding his dick to the hilt, withdrew to the tip of her pussy, and plunged deeper lifting her hips, seeking her hot spot. "Oh," she cried out when his dick hammered the soft tissue at that bundle of nerves halfway up her channel. "Omigod, omigod." Unable to stop, he pounded into her, cupped her bottom in his palms, rocking in and out, rubbing from side to side, his pelvis grinding on her clit. She drenched him in honey and her muscles convulsed around him. She sank her teeth into his biceps, her passionate response goading him to plunge deeper, faster. "Mine," he declared. "Mine. Mate." His lungs were afire, his breathing turbulent and ragged, his balls contracted, slamming up hard and fast. Brain and body separated and his wolf instincts claimed victory. He took her mouth, his invading tongue matching the cadence of his furious thrusting and he erupted, jetting streams of semen, clamping his mouth and teeth on the curve between neck and shoulder, stamping her as his. 72

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When the delirious throes of his climax receded to the point where rational thoughts began to form at the corners of his mind, he lifted his head and inspected her features. The alpha in him crowed, and he devoured the vision of her swollen, ruby lips, her flaring nostrils, and her half-shuttered eyes. He brushed her mouth softly with his. Her lids fluttered and he grinned when her unfocused gaze met his. "Oh, Max," she whispered, those luscious lashes casting flickering shadows on her pinkening cheeks, her blush deepening when he chuckled. "Oh, Candi," he echoed, scrutinizing her face for any sign of distress or pain, the tension in his muscles seeping away when he found none. "Did I hurt you?" He didn't think it possible for her color to rise, but a ruby hue washed from collarbone to her temples. Drowning in the aroma of their joining, he listened to the thumping of her heart beating against his chest, vowing to hold and protect her with every fiber of his being, knowing he would never be alone again. She shook her head, but avoided looking at him, staring instead at chest. Tilting her chin with one finger, he fitted his thumb into the dimple below her lips and directed, "Look at me, Candi." Her lips flattened into a thin line, and, for the first time, he noticed the stubborn cut of her jaw, and the defiant squaring of her shoulders as she shifted under his weight. Hackles formed along his neck vertebrae and his gut churned. [Back to Table of Contents] 73

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Chapter Eight "What's wrong?" Max demanded, his tone clipped and gravelly. Candi wanted to sink through the mattress into another universe. For six months she'd craved this very moment, the sweet aftermath of Max making love to her, dreaming of a future she could never have. But I can have now. I can snatch every moment with him. Setting aside any thought of the catastrophe certain to explode when her father finally discovered her whereabouts, she closed her eyes and pictured the wildness in Max's expression as he took her virginity and claimed her with that one word, "mine". He shook her shoulders. "Candi." "I'm overwhelmed." She met his stare directly assuming her bland board meeting facade. A shiver crept up her spine at the intensity of his narrow-eyed scrutiny, and she knew he didn't believe her not for an itsy bitsy second. "Never lie to me, querida," he stated his voice even and without a hint of anger. "Especially when I'm inside of you. What's wrong?" When he knuckled the side of her cheek and kissed the tip of her nose, all her brain cells went haywire. How did he do it? Make her feel she could trust him? Make her believe he'd solve all her problems?

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"I don't know how long I'm going to stay in Sleeping Dog," she blurted and regretted the impetuous admission immediately. That crooked grin that made her bones melt kicked up the corner of his mouth. "Is that what you're worrying about?" His finger traced the whorls of her ear and she automatically leaned into the caress. "Did I cause you much pain?" His gaze locked hers and she had to answer honestly. "No. It was like a little pinch and it all went away when..." "When I did this?" He rocked his hips forward. Her eyes widened and she tried to wipe the shocked look off her face. "I...Max?" Unable to stop the reflexive action, Candi glanced down along their joined bodies. "You didn't?" "Every time I think you can't possibly turn any pinker, you do," he muttered, "and your blushes go straight to my dick. To answer the question you didn't ask, yes, I did climax." "I must seem an awful ninny to you," she mumbled. "Never," he vowed. He suckled her lobe and then grazed the flesh with his teeth. She closed her eyes, blocking out her other senses, giving over to the pain-pleasure of his biting caress. "You do me in." "I do?" she whispered and met his stare loving the way his irises seemed to glow amber with desire. "I never thought...I mean you were with Juanita..." She glanced at her breasts and for the umpteenth time wished she could fill a C cup. "I'm...you..." She didn't want to finish her thought—you like women who are voluptuous and radiate sex and I'm neither. 75

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"I ended it with Juanita the day you walked into Tres Lobos Dry Cleaning." She knew from the crinkles bracketing the corners of his eyes and the way he clenched his jaw that he spoke the truth. A shiver of sheer pleasure sailed up her spine. "Six months ago." He grinned again and rocked from side to side his sex grinding against hers. "I'm not letting you out of this bed for the next twenty-four hours." And what happens after that? What will you do when you find out the truth? Every bone in her body went mushy, she surrendered to the mischief in his twinkling eyes, and all of a sudden, she recognized what had bothered her about him. "I know this sounds crazy, but I swear your eyes change color all the time." She traced the line of his dark brows and a surge of confidence spiked by the lust in his gaze made her blurt, "Did you really break it off with Juanita because of me?" A muscle in his cheek twitched. "The only woman I'm interested in is you." The only woman he's interested in is me The words echoed in her brain sending spirals of delight over her skin, making her feel like a precious jewel, a diamond sparkling white and blinding in a noonday sun's brilliance. I love you, Max. She had to bite her tongue to prevent the words from flying out of her mouth. Yearning to squeeze him close, to wrap her arms around that muscled back, to kiss him until her lips hurt. The desire to take him into her so hard and fast 76

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and often that she would be bereft when his cock didn't fill her, the urge so potent, so all-encompassing, she had to do something, anything. "I've never wanted anyone before." "Mine," he growled. "You're mine, Candi Wagner. I claim you now." "Yours," she whispered. A new aroma filled the air, all male and spicy and pungent, and she grew drunk on the scent of Max. His irises glowed, the color morphing from milk chocolate to the moss of Texas riverbanks, and the heat in his dilating pupils sank into her chest like a hand-made down quilt creeping warmth over frozen limbs. "Mine," he agreed and brushed his lips against hers. She wanted to savor whatever chance at magic she had tonight and refused to let thoughts of tomorrow intrude. "Are you sore?" he asked. "It's hard to tell. It's all so overwhelming." She trailed a finger over the tip of his collarbone. His cock flexed inside of her and she shivered at the delicious sensation when her inner walls clenched around his hardness. "Any soreness?" He thrust into her and studied her face. "I don't think so," she replied, wriggling her hips on the cool sheets, sliding a tad up and down, testing the feel of him. She squirmed and circled her hips and had to stifle a gasp when his cock steeled inside of her. "Omigod, not sore at all." "From behind, mi amor." The words seemed ground out and his voice had changed from his normal smooth tone to 77

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one carved out of mountain boulders, rough and coarse and heavy. He rolled her onto her stomach. She looked back over one shoulder and when she met his gaze, hers faltered. He slipped his tongue between her lips, licking her like he would a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer's day. Her bones went limper than overcooked noodles and she angled her head on the pillow to give him full access, parting her lips, and meeting his stroking caresses frenetically, giving over to the passion taking control of her body. His hot palms slid under her stomach, he lifted her off the mattress, and arranged her on all fours. "Mine," he growled gripping her tightly around the waist. When he entered her, the fierce plunge bowed her back and she met his furious drive, lifting her bottom to his groin. He bit her neck, his teeth clamping down on that sweet spot between shoulder and nape, grazing her flesh in a painpleasure pillow, and she smelled him all around her, his musk and the tangy aftershave filling her nose. His cock hit a spot that made her cry out and he repeated the action, pounding at the tangle of nerve endings pulsing inside her channel. Her pussy convulsed, clamping and clenching around the rigidity of his erection, milking his essence, and she collapsed on the bed when she felt his release, and the heat of his semen filled her womb. "Mine," he whispered against her ear his hot breath tickling her flesh. "Yours," she concurred. He rolled onto his side, taking her with him, disengaging their joined bodies, and he adjusted her position centering 78

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her on the pillow. "You belong here." He lifted a strand of her hair. "In my bed." I so don't Memories reared, bucked, and skittered all tender emotions aside. "Max," she said her tone conciliatory and pleading. "There's a lot you don't know about me." "That you have a Mayflower background," he stated, and cold goose bumps peppered her shoulders. "That you jilted your fiance six months ago and disappeared? That your name is Candace Lindsey Wagner? That you stand to inherit a trust fund the worth of which I can't even begin to imagine?" Her shoulders ground into the mattress. "How do you know? Have you known all along? Omigod." She buried her nose in the sheets. "I am such a fool." His fingers curved around her nape, and he angled her head so she had to meet his stare. "Why are you hiding out in Sleeping Dog?" Her insides went mushy, her stomach hollowed, and the saliva coating her tongue soured. She wanted to howl and bray and scream and rail at the unfairness of the world. "How long have you known?" Studying the way his cheeks hollowed when he worked his jaw, she waited for the inevitable deference that always followed when someone learned of her wealth and status. "I can't reconcile your two identities. The meek, shy Candi who blushes at the drop of a hat, and the woman who scandalized Boston society by jilting the pick of the litter and firing an entire board. Will the real Candi please stand up?" 79

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For the umpteenth time she wondered about his velocity. He moved and arranged them so fast and quick, that Candi couldn't figure out how she ended up tucked around him, one arm curving her waist, and his fingers circling her navel. "Please don't hold my money against me." She hated the begging tone in her voice. "Tell me why you left Boston." Bile rose and swelled in her throat and mouth. She forced the bitterness down. "How do you know that I'm from Boston?" "You hid your trail well, but only an expert can hide everything on the Internet." He threaded his fingers through her hair. Her muscles went from stiff to pliable, and she fought to concentrate on his words. "You should've picked another social security number. Using your mother's wasn't a wise move." "But it was in her maiden name." She lifted onto her elbow. "My dad erased her past when they got married." "Not entirely, obviously," he quipped and cradled her head with one palm. "Tell me why you left the city you grew up in." She squeezed her eyes shut. "My mother was a Vegas show girl. My dad can trace his ancestors back to King George. I'm the mistake that made them marry." He stroked her shoulder, the motion soothing, but she heard his sharp hiss. "Your mother died when you were a newborn." "Did you investigate me?" She couldn't control the peevish tone of her question. 80

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"Of course, querida. A wise man arms himself when preparing for battle." "Battle?" she sputtered. "Hush," he said. "Boston. Why you left?" "I don't remember my mother," she said. "And there are no pictures of us. I heard my aunts say over and over that she was trashy and common and that they were lucky I hadn't inherited her vulgar taste." Angling her chin so their gazes locked, he declared, "You know, don't you, that you are the vision of elegance and propriety. The first thing I thought when you walked into the store was that I wanted to muss you up, mess up your straight-laced world." "You did?" Candi had a hard time believing his words. "You mussed me all right. I wasn't planning to stay in Sleeping Dog. I was heading for Los Angeles." "Good thing your dry cleaning took so long then." He grinned and she rolled her eyes. "I'm guessing that the presses were working just fine." "I had to give you some excuse for three pants and a suit to take a week to clean." Max shook her shoulder. "Go back to the reason you left Boston." "My father had my whole life planned from the second I was born. You don't know what it's like to have every minute of every day pre-programmed for you." "You and your father don't get along?" "No. Yes. We do in some ways. When we're sailing, everything's perfect. We used to go sailing four, five times a 81

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week. We'd talk and laugh. That stopped when I entered my teens." Her stomach felt as if snakes had invaded her insides curling her belly into tight knots and bends, and she couldn't talk about her dad anymore. She searched his dark eyes, her intestines cramping under his intent stare, and finally blurted the bald truth. "I can't be who my dad wants. I've tried." "That's not why you ran away," he stated. "I couldn't marry Barry. I couldn't let him...you know... he was like an uncle to me. I should've been brave and told him to his face, but I couldn't. Dad has a way of wearing you down. If I'd stayed, I'd have ended up married and miserable." "From what I've read, you've managed two large charities from the time you were eighteen," he said, the lines creasing the corners of his eyes deepening as his grin widened. "You're made of sterner stuff than you think." "I'm not," she mumbled. "I'm so uptight I couldn't even masturbate." "You've got to start using euphemisms," he muttered. "The word masturbate has too many clinical connotations." "I couldn't make myself orgasm. Do you prefer that?" She scowled at him. "I couldn't come even with the chocolate." "Who ate your chocolate, Candi?" He wore the expression of a savage, white teeth bared, brows gathered into a tight T, his expression as fierce and wild as a Texas storm. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nine "No one." She avoided meeting his gaze. Turning her jaw so she faced him, he studied her fluttering lashes. "You went to Dallas last weekend." Her lips flattened and she tried to shake off his grip. "It isn't what you're thinking." "What am I thinking, Candace Lindsey Wagner?" Her mouth took on a mulish cant and she huffed. "You didn't seem in the least bit interested in me. And I know Dad's closing in on my whereabouts. He's hired scads of private investigators. I was not going back to Boston a virgin." "What happened?" He gentled his tone. "I went to one of those bars with the mechanical bulls. The kind you ride." She picked at the pillowcase. "I went home with a guy I met. He seemed nice enough. I made sure he wasn't taller than me and he wasn't all hard and muscled like you. I figured I could overpower him if..." She shrugged. "He was a lot stronger than he looked." "Are you insane?" Rage cascaded over him. He shook her shoulders. "You don't just go home with a stranger you met in a bar. A Dallas cowboy bar." "Please stop shouting." She patted his neck. "Nothing happened. He wanted me to use the chocolate cream on him, to you know, suck it off him. I wouldn't, so then he tried to put it on me, you know, there. I sprayed mace in his face and left." 83

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For long seconds he envisioned finding the weasel, bringing him to the ranch, giving him a head start, and then hunting him to the ground. "Consider this weasel your first and last fling," he said through gritted teeth, mentally re-arranging his schedule and planning a visit to Dallas within the month. "What was the name of this bar?" "Rocking Horse Saloon." She patted his neck again. "I did all the right things. I took a picture of him on my phone. Talked to the bartender before I left and mentioned my name and Sleeping Dog. I looked up safe bar hookups on the Internet." The fury that had been settling into a dull red haze blazed into an inferno. "Where's your phone?" "Max. Something's happening." She sank into the mattress and her eyes grew big and round and he scented fright. "Your teeth are all pointy and you're hairier all of a sudden." The waver in her voice and the little squeal she emitted brought him back from doing a final shifting. He rolled off the bed, stalked to the bathroom, turned the shower on full cold, and stuck his head under the frigid stream of water. "Are you okay?" He heard her bare feet slapping against the marble. "Wait for me in the bedroom," he commanded. "Why?" "Don't go there. The thought of tanning your backside's way too appealing right this minute." Max stepped into the icy spray, squeezing his eyes shut and fisting his hands, but the effort to rein in his temper failed. "Do you know what a hare84

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brained thing you did? What if this asshole had a gun or a knife?" Suddenly Candi's small hands curled around his waist, and her nipples scraped his back. "Stop shouting please." He thunked his head on the shower tiles, the temperature of the water changed from icy to near frozen, and the sound of her chattering teeth demanded his attention. He whirled around, scooped her up, stalked out of the shower, and grabbed a towel from the rail. "I didn't mean to scare you, querida. The thought of what could've happened —-" Max snapped his teeth together and bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood. Rivulets of water washed off her skin, making the tiled floor slippery, so Max slowed his pace. He threw the towel on the bedcovers and folded the plush terry around her body. "Your hair's wet. I need another towel. Stay put, mi amor." In the bathroom he dried off quickly, gathered a few towels and marched back to her side. Candi lay on the bed, fingers clutching the blue towel together under her chin, and she turned her head to look at him. "They talk about the Lobos brothers in town. I heard people murmuring after church. They say that you're part wolf." She rose onto her elbows. "Your teeth getting pointy, your eyes always changing color, the way you can move in a snap. I may be a ninny sexually, but I'm not dumb, and I know what I saw." He sat on the mattress and studied her features. No hint of panic reared in her eyes. The dark pupils were dilated but not 85

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overly so, her scent hadn't changed, and he couldn't discern any signs of fear. Taking her hand, he traced the outline of her palm and used his thumb to test the pulse beating at the underside of her wrist. Steady and firm. "And how do you feel about what you saw?" He held her gaze, willing her to answer honestly. "You're not afraid, that much I know." "How can you know I'm not afraid?" she asked. "My sense of smell. I can tell you every time you've been afraid with me. I also smelled another man's scent on your red dress along with the chocolate. Why do you think I flipped out in the shop?" Flipped out was the understatement of the century. He'd been enraged and on the verge of taking her right there and then. "Oh," she muttered. "What else can you smell besides my fear?" "I can scent changes in your mood. I know the moment your pussy creams. I can smell the slightest change in you hormones. I can identify your sweat in a heartbeat." Max studied her reactions. "My sweat?" She wrinkled her nose. "That's not something a woman wants to hear. What else can you do?" "I can mark you as mine and I have. By tradition I should've told you about being a werewolf before marking and claiming you. You seemed so shy and timid I decided not to take the chance." He snorted. "I certainly didn't nail that one on the head." "I am shy," she protested. 86

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He didn't even try to disguise his cynicism. "Any woman who can go to college full-time, assume control of a fortune, and fire an entire board is not shy." "I'm a business woman. I'm shy in other ways." "I'm an alpha werewolf, the prime of my pack. An alpha like me finds one mate in his lifetime. When you walked into Tres Lobos Dry Cleaning six months ago, you turned my world upside down. Wolves mate with wolves. Not me. I had to find a human mate." She didn't appear the least bit perturbed save for the furious fluttering of her eyelashes. "Am I the only one who didn't know? Is the whole town in on this?" "It's a closely guarded secret." She crimped the towel tighter and rubbed one bare foot on her shin. "You're freezing," he muttered. He sat against the headboard, hauled her into his lap, and began drying her wet hair. "An alpha like you?" Her head tilted to one side and she met his gaze. "Marking me? Claiming me? One mate?" "I'm the prime, born to be the leader, born to dominate." He carefully squeezed the dampness from her hair. "When I made love to you, I marked you with my scent." He shifted her so her back hit his chest. "Every wolf will know you're mine from tonight on. Human males won't touch you if they value their lives." "Do I have a choice in this?" She turned around and straddled him and her knees dug into the mattress. "I was 87

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planning to leave Sleeping Dog next week. I could've left and this would never have happened." "Not on your life, mi amor." His mouth curled at one corner. "I wouldn't have let you go." "How would you have known?" She squinted at him. "I wasn't planning to tell anyone." "You gave your landlord a month's notice." He waited for the truth to hit her. "Mrs. Cisneros?" She wore an adorable frown her brows gathering above her nose. "Mi abuela." She blinked. "Your grandmother's my landlord?" "No wailing, no squeals of surprise?" He raised his eyebrows. "No worries about making love to a werewolf shape shifter?" She ducked her chin. "All of the above, and more. Not the wailing stuff. Just questions about how this works. You didn't answer me—do I have a choice?" Max was a wolf with the stamina of a bull, Candi decided as they entered the diner two and a half hours later. Somehow he'd managed to avoid answering her question and they'd ended up going for a dip in the lagoon. The quick dip had morphed into a delightful interlude and she'd discovered making love in a heated pool proved the equivalent of finding a tropical island paradise. In one night she'd gone from never having an orgasm to literally coming on Max's command. "Yo, studly."

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Candi cringed at the sound of Cleo's booming voice. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed when she opened them neither Carnation Rosa nor Cleo Schmidt would be there. She worked her jaw, swallowed soured saliva, and let out a long sigh before gazing at the two ladies sitting at the center table of the crowded diner. The gods are against me "Miss Prim ain't so prim anymore, hey, Max?" Rosa declared, her gaze sweeping Candi from head to toe. "You're blushing again." Max dipped his head to whisper the words in her ear. "And you know what that does to my dick." "Max," she chided. "You're not helping." Every pair of eyes in the diner focused on the two of them. Tim and Jenny and their kids waved hello from a booth at the back of the diner. She returned the gestured greeting. Candi scanned the crowd and cringed when she spied Sandy Bellows snatching for the bottle of ketchup Toby had just up-ended on his sister's head. Said sister howled, jerked her arm against the back of Toby's knees; he collapsed from his standing position on the bench, and the bottle shattered against the opposite wall. "Get him, girl. Use the mustard," Rosa bellowed. "Nah, the relish. It's runnier," Cleo advised. Toby's sister apparently accepted advice for she promptly squirted the squeezy bottle of relish over her brother's neck. "You look like the Hulk," she boasted.

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"And you've been bitten by a vampire," Toby retorted, tying the napkin around his head. "I'm a Hulk pirate. And this is my sword." He waved a knife in the air. "Toby Bellows, sit down and wipe that stuff off your face," his mother ordered. "That little devil." Max tugged Candi nearer to Rosa and Cleo. "He reminds me of me when I was young. Sandy needs to keep him occupied. He's bored." "How can you be bored at six?" Candi speeded up her pace as they approached Rosa and Cleo's table. "Y'all hear about the private jet that landed on the airstrip?" Rosa's narrowed-eyed stare was focused entirely on Candi. The devil couldn't have had more mischief in his expression. Candi's heart stammered over several beats. Omigod, Dad's found me. "Private jet," she whispered, grabbing at Max's arm. "My father. It's him." "Let's not panic," Max said. "Rosa's not the most reliable source of information." "Well I never," Cleo bellowed drawing the back of her hand to her brow. "Did you hear what studly just said about you?" "Saw it with my own peepers," Rosa declared, one hand jammed on her hip, her expression affronted. "Just like I saw you trying to wall f—-" "Rosa," Max growled. "One more swear word out of you and I promise I will wash your mouth out with soap next Sunday morning after church." 90

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"I think we'll need an entire box of detergent." Tim Foley spoke loudly and his voice carried, silencing the snickers and hoots and cackles of the on listeners. "And I will not allow anyone in church who takes the name of the Lord in vain or uses inappropriate language." "Man of God can't turn away churchgoers," Rosa protested. "So my language is a tad salty. I was a marine. No one would say anything if I was a man." "Correction," Max stated. "Man or woman, no one cusses in front of a minor." "Or someone offended by vulgar language," Jenny Foley added. "What about the passion-fruit wine?" Cleo demanded. "We stop cussing, we need some passion-fruit wine." "What about it, Tim? It's a fair deal." Max addressed his question to Tim. The Reverend Foley surveyed the room and nodded. "Done. We'll throw a barbeque after service on Sunday and we'll break out a batch of the wine." The entire audience, comprised principally of Tim's congregation, cheered. "The wolves will howl tonight for sure. I heard them beasts get drunk on passion-fruit liquor." Rosa slid a sly glance in Max's direction. "And then they mate until they can't stand no more." Candi heard Max's exasperated sigh and she saw the way he squinted at Cleo and Rosa. Both women wore grins that made the skin at the back of her neck tingle. 91

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Max halted at a two-seater booth, waved his hand at the bench, and Candi slid along the worn leather. "I think Rosa knows about you," she whispered once he'd taken a seat beside her. "She's a smart cookie." Max snaked his arm around her waist. "She may suspect, but she won't say anything." "How can you be certain?" Candi shifted to face him. "Rosa and Cleo are really weird. Eccentric wouldn't even begin to describe them." "If Rosa and Cleo start blabbing about werewolf shifters— would you believe them?" Max shoved the menus to one side as a waitress in a checkered blue-and-white apron approached them. "Well, there is that," Candi agreed. "But if you look at things that way, the whole town's certifiable." "And what better place for a pack of wolves to hide out?" Max flashed his uneven grin. "We've nothing to worry about." "Hey, studly," Cleo yelled across the two tables separating them. "Did you hear the mayor and the sheriff got a special dispensation from the city council?" "Yeah," Rosa boomed. "Hunting licenses for wolves will be issued from Monday." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Ten Fuck, that's the last thing I need Max sifted through the city's council members. Juanita. Had to be. As prime alpha his responsibilities included ensuring the safety of the pack. Nick and Becky were in the mountains and Max knew that they'd timed their honeymoon for when Becky came into heat. Nick's elation would skyrocket once he put a cub in his wife's womb and he'd roam and hunt to celebrate. In werewolf form. He had to warn Nick and the council had to repeal the dispensation immediately. "That's bad news, isn't it?" Candi laced her fingers together. Max laid his hand on her thigh and she glanced up to find the waitress tapping a pencil on a pad. "You gonna order, Max?" They ordered and waited for the waitress to leave. "It's a hiccup. I can fix the situation easily. Don't worry." Max's hackles spiked and saliva coated his mouth in preparation for his canines descending. The smell of danger, pungent and caustic, overpowered his senses. The wolf in him reared in anticipation. Candi twisted to face the diner's entrance as a hullabaloo from that direction drowned the quiet murmur of conversation. 93

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Immediately Max moved down the bench, crowding Candi into the corner, all but hiding her form before he risked a quick glance over his shoulder. All the color had drained from her face. "What?" Max spun around and fixed his gaze on a throng hovering near the cashier's desk. "My father." She let out a choked sound. "And he's with Green." Max worked his jaw and flexed his fingers trying to loosen the sudden tightness coiling his muscles into knots. "He'll have the sheriff and the mayor with him. Dad always forms alliances with the powers-that-be." Max looked at her, worried by the dejection in her voice. She was back to the timid C. Wagner persona. He stroked her cheek. "Don't worry. There's nothing your father can do to separate us. You don't have a choice anymore. I took that away when I claimed you last night." "I don't know whether to be angry or happy," she muttered. "Are you sure?" "You're mine and I protect mine to my death." "Dad's not violent." "Trust me." He captured her hand, and kissed her palm. "I'll try," she whispered. "Good. Rosa, Cleo I need you," Max raised his voice to be heard above the racket. He crooked his finger. Both women marched over to them. Max stood. "Sit," he directed. "I'm putting the two of you in charge of making sure that no one comes near Candi." 94

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"You give her the big sausage?" Cleo asked. She winked at Candi. "You one lucky woman. What I wouldn't give for a piece of that." She stared longingly at Max's crotch. "One picture. One." She held up a finger. "How could that hurt? And you'll keep an old woman real happy. Yep, all's I need is one picture and my rabbit." Candi's eyes bulged and her complexion colored. "You have a rabbit?" "I'm partial to my Tantric Tongue," Rosa informed her. "But you got Max. I've heard about his tongue." "I heard it's got bumps that make you howl when he licks your—-" "Cut it, Rosa. You too, Cleo. I'm honoring you by asking you to look after my woman. She'd better not be red-faced when I come back." "Where're you going?" Candi's gaze swept from him to Cleo and then to Rosa. "To talk to your father." When she started to stand, he pressed her back onto the bench. "Stay here. And that's an order. I won't be as forgiving as I was about the saloon." He stared at her a minute longer until she huffed and folded her arms. "Don't underestimate my father." Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears and Max's throat clogged. He knuckled her cheek. "Don't worry." As he walked off, Max heard Rosa exclaim, "What saloon?" He stifled a groan. Max had investigated Sylvester Morrow Wagner VI to the hilt. A sixth generation descendant of the original Mayflower 95

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pilgrims, the man supported and managed a horde of trust fund Boston-based relatives. All pedigreed, some ivy league educated, some diligent and hard working. Most enjoyed high society party circuits and lived from one trust fund check to another. Max figured he had the element of surprise in this battle. Sylvester's PIs couldn't possibly know about their mating last night. He and Candi hadn't dated, hadn't interacted before, save for the shop. As he approached the crowd, Max spotted Juanita tiptoeing to whisper something into John Green's ear. All the adages about a woman scorned popped into his brain. How can I get Juanita to reverse her vote Candi's father wasn't what he expected, and Max knew that from the second their gazes met. The newspaper shots didn't do the man justice. A full head of salt-and-pepper hair, more on the white side than the other, and a tanned complexion that spoke of a love of the outdoors. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, a pinstriped suit obviously hand-tailored to his form, a crisp white shirt, and a navy tie. "You are?" Sylvester crooked one eyebrow. "Maximilian Julio Lobos, your daughter's fiance, and the father of her child." For half a heartbeat Sylvester reacted, anger slashing scarlet over his cheeks, then he schooled his features. "That's quite an introduction." At the edges of his mind he noted Juanita's hiss. "Best to get the cards on the table upfront." 96

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"The mayor was kind enough to inform me that you and Candace are dating." Sylvester's glance swept from Max's scalp to his boots. "We're somewhat beyond that stage, sir." Neither man had extended a hand to this point. "Candi's going to be on pins and needles. And I don't want anything to upset her during these first months of her pregnancy. " Max held out his hand. "For my daughter," Sylvester stated and the two men shook, each taking a measure of the other. "She lets you call her Candi?" "Lets?" "Her grandfather, when he was alive, and I are the only two people who can call her Candi. Few people even know that's her given name. She's known as Lindsay Wagner outside of our home. Is there a bar in this town?" Sylvester scrubbed a hand through his immaculate hair. "Italian pizza place with a wine and beer license down the road. Nothing else is open. Shall we adjourn?" Sylvester's gaze flickered in Candi's direction. "You plan to leave her here?" "She's perfectly safe. I'd stake my life on it." "I'll hold you to that." They didn't converse on the stroll to Big Mama's Pizza. The owner, Daphne Raine, greeted them and Max asked for a booth in the back of the restaurant. Both men ordered beers. "How long have you and Candi been dating?" 97

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"Officially?" Max couldn't suppress a grin. "Almost twentyfour hours." "What the fuck?" Sylvester's brows snapped to his hairline. "And she's pregnant?" "I said officially. I met her six months ago." "I find it hard to believe that Candi would be so irresponsible about birth control." Sylvester's eyes narrowed and his brows gathered. "Unless you were the irresponsible one?" "Neither of us was irresponsible." Mentally wincing at the muddying of the situation, he plowed on nonetheless, "We plan to marry right away." "Let me make one thing clear. Candi is my life. Her happiness is all I'm after. If you plan to treat her in a slipshod manner, I'll have your hide. What do you do for a living, Mr. Lobos?" "My family has a dry cleaning business in town." Max admired the tactical change. "Are you aware how wealthy my daughter is? The amount of money she will inherit? "Definitely. I took the liberty of having my lawyer draw up a prenuptial agreement. It's in your inbox. It clearly stipulates that in the unlikely event of a divorce, I waive the rights to every dollar of hers. As an FYI, we will live on my money. I take care of my wife and children. No one else." Daphne arrived with the beers. "Here you go. I added a couple of limes."

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"Thanks." Max waited for Daphne to leave before adding, "In addition to that email you'll find another detailing my financial resources." "Which are?" The man wore a sneer when he asked the question. I'm going to enjoy this Max would bet his last silver dollar that Sylvester Wagner didn't interact with Texas oil wealth. Too nouveau riche for Mayflower descendents. By the time Max finished answering the question, Sylvester's attitude had retreated from adversarial to resigned resentment. "If what you're telling me is true—-" "One more thing. Tomorrow I'm changing my will. My portion of our finances will go to Candi and our children." "Are you in love with her?" "Completely." A peculiar odor wafted to his nostrils, and it took Max a few seconds before he recognized the unique scent: sorrow. The aroma of sorrow had been his constant companion for the immediate eighteen months after his parents had been killed. Sylvester thought he was about to lose his daughter. "Ten to one Candi's always been the perfect daughter," Max commented. "I'll give you any odds you never had to check her homework." Sylvester flinched. "She gave herself a curfew, graphed her marks on Excel, and showed me what subjects she needed to improve. My wife, Candi's mother, was a hell99

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raiser. She loved life and lived it to the fullest. She laughed all the time." "Candi thinks you're ashamed of her mom. She says there are no pictures of her. From what I gather, her aunts make disparaging remarks about her mother all the time." The shock etched on Sylvester's face showed in his dropped jaw and the wrinkles in his forehead. "This may be hard for you to understand, but to this day I can't bear to look at pictures of my wife. It feels like yesterday that she died." "I think Candi would appreciate seeing some pictures." "I'll send them. And I'll have a word with my sisters, her aunts. I had no idea." He shook his head again. "Why didn't she tell me?" "Why don't you ask her?" Max swallowed a mouthful of beer. "Candi told me how much she loved sailing with you when she was growing up. I'd like my kids to learn both their heritages. Maybe we could discuss spending part of the summer in Boston." The other man gave a little shake of his head and then sipped his beer. "You seem to have thought things through. I'm assuming Candi's okay with all of this?" "You went to a saloon?" Rosa asked sometime later having been distracted by their food arriving and the slight quarrel that erupted over dividing Max's plate. "In the city?" Candi's appetite had seeped away. She forked a tomato cube. "Dallas." Where did they go? What are they talking about? Why are they taking so long? 100

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"Concentrate, Miss Prim." Rosa snapped her fingers in front of Candi's nose. "Why did Max have to forgive you? Did you fu—- have marital relations with another man?" "Forget that, I want to hear about Max's tongue." Cleo leaned in, sliding her arms along the table. "And his claws." "Shush," Candi muttered since Cleo's whisper could drown the roar of a plane. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about." "Sure you do, girl. Juanita told us he can fu—-" Rosa rolled her eyes. "Have marital relations all night long. He gets hard like that." Rosa snapped her fingers again and this time hit Candi's nose. "Ouch," she yelped. "Did it occur to you I do not want to know what Juanita and Max did? And I'm not going to discuss our sex life with you." "You're no fun," Rosa muttered. "A tongue isn't sex," Cleo crooned. "All I wanna know is what it feels like." Trying to buy a few minutes of silence, Candi forked egg and tomato into her mouth and chewed. She almost gagged on the lumpy, cold food. "What's it look like?" Cleo asked. "A tongue," Candi snapped and gulped down half of her orange juice. "Not that," she said. "His, you know, ding-dong." "Is that actually a euphemism?" Candi couldn't remember ever hearing a cock referred to as a ding-dong. "Truly it's 101

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kind of comical. His ding-dong was aroused. Does that sound right?" "Dong, then? We can't say any of the other words or else nada on the passion-fruit wine. I mean there's the c word but that's out. Hey, did you realize that men and women each have a c word?" Cleo's jowls jiggled as she became more animated. "Well technically, women have two c words, but men have only one." Omigod, they've got me thinking like them. Rosa kicked her shin. "Ouch. What?" "Max is back." She slid out of the booth, heart hammering in her chest, palms growing damp, lifted her chin, and squared her shoulders. Scanning the waiting line and the people milling around, she searched for her father's familiar features to no avail. Where's Dad? Why didn't they come back together? Candi swallowed once, twice, and took a deep breath. Her father had been the one who had urged her to go to Mexico for spring break. She cut the trip short, too taken aback by the wild partying, and not prepared to bare her breasts like most of her other classmates. When he'd asked her reasons for returning and she'd told him, he'd laughed and said that every college kid had a couple of wild parties in their past. It was a rite of passage. Dad isn't the one expecting things of me, it's me. I've tried so hard to be a proper Boston citizen, to live to my aunts' 102

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expectations. The thought made her stumble and she cupped the edge of a bench for balance. "Candi," Max said, his hands framed her face. "You look like you've seen a ghost." "I'm a coward," she whispered. "I blamed everything on Dad. But it was me. All me." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eleven "Your father's waiting for you at the ranch." Max didn't give a shit that every single Sleeping Dog resident in the diner had their gaze glued to the two of them. Waves of distress radiated from her blue eyes. "It's going to be okay, mi amor. I won't promise we'll be friends, but, right now, your father and I respect each other." "Kiss her," Rosa called out. "Slip her the —- tonsil. Yeah, that works. There's nothing wrong with tonsils. They get taken out every day." Candi gifted him with a faint smile. "Those two." She gave a little shake of her head. "Good souls. Bored and want to spice up life. But they're good people." "Are you coming with me?" "If you want me to. But I think you should speak to him alone." She'd stopped blinking rapidly and her breathing had calmed. "Ready?" "Yes." Max worried about her silence in the car. He captured her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Deep thoughts?" "I think I had an aha moment in the diner," she replied. "For so long I blamed Dad for me being pre-programmed. But I did it to myself. He always seemed so sad, except for when we were sailing, and he worked so hard. I didn't want to cause any trouble. I didn't want to add to his burden. My cousins and aunts and uncles come to him for everything. 104

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They're always wanting more money and he has to get them out of trouble all the time." They reached the house. He pulled up in the driveway, switched off the car, and shifted to face her. "I know about your Uncle Charlie, the perpetual drunk, your Aunt Beatrice the kleptomaniac, the two cousins who're now in a tough-love program." "You understand, then." She touched his shoulder. "How much he has to bear." "And you want to be the perfect daughter." Max stroked her cheek. My mate will be an amazing mother. "I told your dad if he wanted we'd spend part of the summer in Boston." "I want to continue managing the charities." She ducked her head and intertwined her fingers. "How far does the alpha dominance thing go?" "Oh, I think we'll be arguing about that for the rest of our lives, except in the bedroom." A wash of pink crept up her throat. "Say it, mi amor." "I like it," she whispered. "I liked being tied up. I liked the mask. I like you knowing better than me what I want." "Hold that thought," he ordered and brushed his mouth over hers. "To answer your question, I'd never stop you from doing what you want provided I consider it safe for you to do. The same will go for our children. Protecting you and my cubs is vital to me." "Cubs," she repeated. "I'm glad we have time for me to prepare for that one. This..." She waved a hand between them. "...us, is overwhelming as it is. I'm definitely not ready for motherhood." 105

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Max winced internally but kept his stoic expression in place. He opened the door and went around the hood to help her out. How the hell do I broach this with Sylvester? Max sifted different approaches while he opened the door and re-locked it behind them. He laced their fingers together, and they ambled to the back porch. They reached the lagoon just as the sun bridged the far horizon and through a narrow clearing wispy clouds danced haphazardly across a pale blue sky. The still air held a hint of frost. Sylvester had his cell stuck to his ear and he paced the ridge of boulders lining the blue-green waters. He looked up, smiled, and slipped his phone into a jacket pocket when he saw his daughter. She released Max's hand and ran to him. "Dad," she cried out and looped her arms around his neck, tiptoeing to do so. "Are you very angry?" "Furious." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. "You led me a merry dance, young lady." "I did send you regular emails," she protested, reaching up to adjust his tie. The ache in Max's chest that he felt for no other but Candi intensified at this obvious display of love and friendship between father and daughter. The problems they both faced had mainly to do with a lack of communication, and hopefully time and nudges from him would set them on the right path. He figured now would be a good time to exit and strolled nearer to his mate and her parent. Smelling no anxiety, seeing no signs of nerves, he said, "I'll leave you two to visit. In a bit I'm going to defrost a couple of steaks. Holler when 106

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you're ready to eat and I'll throw them on the barbie. Sylvester, you up for a baked potato, broccoli, and a salad?" "Appreciate the hospitality, Max. Over dinner there're a couple of matters I'd like to go over with you." Sylvester couldn't seem to let go of Candi and even though Max knew his behavior was completely irrational, he couldn't wait for her father to leave. "Sure." Max forced a smile. Although assured Candi'd be safe, the knowledge he'd put a cub in her intensified his protective urges. "Sylvester, could I have a second?" The other man quirked an eyebrow and his eyes narrowed as he studied Max's face. Candi cocked her head to one side. "I'm okay, Max." "Of course you're okay. You're with your father," Sylvester snapped. "A minute of your time, sir." Adding the last word was as close as Max could get to an apology. "Of course," Sylvester said and kissed his daughter's forehead. "Back in a flash, honey." "What's the problem?" Candi's father assumed an aggressive pose, legs spread, arms folded, head thrust back. Max clasped his hands behind his back. "There's no other way to say this. Candi doesn't know she's pregnant." Sylvester's stared at Max as if horns had sprouted from his skull. Slowly her father's stance relaxed. "She's concerned that she's not prepared for being a mother." Max had rehearsed the lame explanation. "I'd appreciate it if you don't mention anything while you're here." 107

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Much to Max's shock, Sylvester nodded. "So typical of her. She's going to want to be the perfect mom. How long before she finds out?" God, Max could've kissed the man. "I'm not certain. I promise yours will be the first phone call she'll make." "Prepare yourself for parenting classes and every self-help book on the planet faintly related to being a mother and father." Sylvester grinned. "You've no idea what I went through when she decided to take over the charities. As for when she fired the board..." He rolled his eyes. "British board procedures, American, Canadian. She has to learn everything about a problem before she can resolve it." A great note to make a fast exit. "Thanks, Sylvester. I appreciate your understanding." Dinner had proved fruitful in setting the standard for an amicable relationship with his future father-in-law, but he'd become edgy when the farewells dragged, and he'd wasted no time getting to where he wanted. "How'd did your talk go?" Max relaxed once they were seated on the couch in his study. He had his mate in his lap, naked but for the necklace he'd just given her, he had a new tube of edible chocolate stashed in the master bedroom, and all her vibrators stacked in the bathroom cabinet. "It's lovely. Are you sure she doesn't mind?" She fingered his abuela's silver heart pendant. The simple silver chain sparkled against the faint tan she'd acquired during their morning play in the lagoon. "It's handed down from one alpha mate to another. It was my mother's. And no, she doesn't mind. She gave it to me to 108

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give to you." He'd swear on a blood oath that she already sported the famous glow of motherhood. His dick swelled under her thighs. "Oh." Her brows winged up and he grinned knowing she'd felt his dick thickening. "Are you?" "I'm going to teach you euphemisms." He nipped her lobe. "Do you think you can actually say the word pussy without turning bright pink?" He couldn't stop chortling when the color washed her entire body. Giving her a little shake, he repeated, "From the way you and your father acted during dinner, I'm assuming your talk went well." "So well." She toyed with the hair on his chest. "He loved my mom. He told me that he put away her pictures because it hurt too much." Meeting his glance, she smiled and said, "He's going to put together an album, the old-fashioned kind, you know, paper-based, for me when he gets back. And he likes you. Although he promised to tear you apart if you hurt me in any way. Dad doesn't trust easily. I told him that he'd learn to love you the way I do." Max's lungs went on strike, and all the oxygen in the air evaporated. "Say the words." He had a tenuous hold on his shifting. "I love you, Max." He drowned in the light in her blue eyes and said, his voice feral and coarse, "Tell me again." "I love you." She beamed at him. "I love you, Candace Lindsey Wagner." He bit his tongue, struggling for self-restraint. "Marry me next Sunday." Though 109

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he tried to make the words a question, the wolf in him refused to take any chances. "If Dad can make it." "He'd better," he growled. "Waiting a whole week will kill me." Savoring the fact he didn't have to be concerned about his speed or his reflexes, he showed off a little, sprinting up the stairs, scooting her onto the bed, and gathering and arranging his tools. Her eyes grew and grew, dominating her face when she spied the tube of chocolate, and then she turned scarlet when she saw the vibrators. All at once she frowned ferociously. "Rosa has something called a Tantric Tongue. She has to be at least sixty-five. And Cleo has a rabbit! Why can they do it and not me?" Max blinked away the vision of Rosa with a Tantric Tongue. "Because I'm the one responsible for your orgasms. I'm the one who makes you come. We don't need these dildos." He wrapped her hands around his aching erection. "This is what you need." "What if you're gone on a business trip?" She pouted and seemed inordinately pleased at her reasoning, tilting her head and giving him a superior sex-kitten grin. "And I'm...horny. Yes, I'm horny." "We have phone sex." Her lashes did the equivalent of a fifty-yard dash. "Oh. I've heard about that." Max tried to stop his grin but couldn't. She was so intrigued and so wanted to try phone sex. "Tell you what. 110

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Tomorrow at the shop I'll close the store for lunch and call you on the phone. You'll do exactly what I tell you. Deal?" "Yes. Oh definitely yes." He surveyed her bright eyes, the sweet pants making her breast lift and fall in enticing little jiggles, the pink tongue wetting the seam of her mouth, and announced. "You're way too excited. Mask and restraints." "Please, no mask?" "Why?" Her entire body bowed. "Because it's amazing to watch. You will let me, you know, suck the chocolate off." She stared at his dick and licked her lips and he lost track of his planned seduction. "Only if you beg." She slanted him a saucy grin and peeked at him from beneath her lashes. "I think I'm going to become an expert beggar." He left the lights on and bound her hands to the headboard. The chocolate proved the consistency of hand cream and he squeezed a daub onto his fingers and traced tiny and tinier concentric circles around her breasts ending with a dollop on her pert nipples. She sucked in a breath and focused completely on his fingers. His mate liked the visual. Max outlined her lips with the cream, dabbed a fat blob on her lobe, and traced a path down her valley, drawing the chocolate around her navel, and then down through the nest of curls between her thighs. 111

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He coated her labia thickly and squeezed a thick pile over her clit. She shivered and moaned but her focus was solely on his hands. Oh yeah, his mate loved the visual. And he intended to give her an eyeful tonight. She climaxed the first time when he laved the chocolate off her right nipple, letting the wolf in him rise and take command. His mate loved his claws. Her hips wrenched off the mattress when he dragged the tip over her peaked bud. He battled his wolf, striving to pleasure her thoroughly and strengthen their bond. Max licked every trace of chocolate off her body and by the time he settled between her thighs his tongue had roughened to full wolf. Completely intoxicated, drunk on her spicy arousal, his instincts took control. Her pussy dizzied his mind. He tongued every fold, suckled the labia. The sweetness of the chocolate mingled with her tangy musk coating his mouth and nose. Nuzzling her sweet honey, he ate at her cream, then wrapped his lips around her clit and suckled hard. She screamed his name. Max let his tongue slide over her throbbing hood. Her thighs clamped around his neck and she cried out again, her spasms shuddering through the quadriceps, near-strangling him. Max lost it completely, moving so fast to untie her and position his dick at her entrance that he must have been a blur to his mate. He plunged into her and took her, his mind gone, only the animal in him driving his actions as he plundered her sheath. He came and came and came, his sperm hot and unending and his teeth clamped to her neck with the final spurt. [Back to Table of Contents] 112

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Chapter Twelve Candi woke to brilliant sunshine streaming through windows left bare by the drawn curtain. An even more brilliant memory of Max making love to her in the moonlight bathed her mind. She sighed and Max's arms tightened around her waist. "Life is perfect," she murmured. "Hmm. I second that." She studied his forearm, the defined muscles, the strong veins glowing a faint green below his tanned skin. With any other man her sanity would be in question; not with Max. Last night had been everything she could ever have envisioned. Watching her dad and Max chatting, debating business processes, having a heated argument over, of all things, the green movement, global warming, and the threatened extinction of several wolf species had calmed all her anxieties. "Were you testing Dad," she asked. "About the wolf stuff?" "Getting a feel for his opinions. Are you still worried we won't get along?" He cupped her chin, tilted her head back, and their gazes met. The changing hues of his eyes still surprised her and never failed to stimulate that achy spot in her chest. "Nope. I can see that you two will have to agree to disagree on some points, but we'll be okay. When do I meet your abuela? We didn't have lunch with her yesterday. Will she be upset?" 113

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"Did I mention that Abuela was in the same class as Rosa?" She shot into a sitting position and cuffed his shoulder. "Your abuela's like Rosa. Nooo. I've talked to her. She's softspoken and I've never heard her swear." "I once tried cussing in her vicinity. She tanned my ass black and blue. Just teasing you querida. Believe me, Abuela ruled her peers, her children, and her grandchildren. Hell, she rules Sleeping Dog. One word from her and gossiping mouths still." "How come?" Candi tickled the stubble on his chin. Max grunted and jerked out of range. "Could have something to do with the fact that the Lobos family owns most of the county." A sneaky suspicion niggled at the corners of her mind. "You aren't by any chance rich, are you?" He'd buried his face in the pillow so Candi couldn't tell if the noise he made was a strangled chortle or a choked grunt. "There's oil in Texas," she mused and trailed her fingernails up his spine while trying to remember the size of the county. Big. Texas big. And there was something about oil and gas reserves that wouldn't quite percolate to a full memory. "Max." She shook his shoulder. "Wake up." Turning his head on the pillow so he could glance at her, he winked and said, "I seem to remember we never got around to you painting me with chocolate last night." Her insides warmed deliciously. He hadn't given her any leeway in terms of exploring his body yet, so she wriggled her 114

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shoulders and flashed him what she hoped was a saucy smile. "No we didn't, did we?" He didn't move a muscle but his chameleon eyes followed her movements as she fumbled to retrieve the tube of edible chocolate cream from the bedside table. She worried her lips and pondered where to begin, then remembered the orgasm that had torn through her when he bit that point where bottom and leg joined. Since he lay on his stomach, she straddled his thighs and bent to lick the juncture of his quadriceps and glutes. He had the finest ass in the world, high, firm, with hollowed cheeks, and he obviously tanned nude in the lagoon often for his skin glowed a sexy bronze. Her mouth watered. She smeared chocolate on his rump, leaned in to smell the richness of the treat, and licked a strip of flesh clean. He grunted, his hips lifted, and he reached back to grab her hands. "Max, you can't stop me now," she wailed. "I just got started." "And it'll all be over if you continue there," he growled and rolled over, taking her with him. She ended up seated on her haunches between his legs, the tube still clutched in her hand. "Oh my. You are wonderful." Hefting his testicles in her palms, she weighed them, noting one was larger than the other, and that one rode higher than the other. "Mi amor. The sucking, por favor." Last night she'd discovered the wilder Max grew, the more Spanish he growled. 115

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"Aye, aye," she said, tipping him a salute. She squirted a round blob into her palm and dipped her finger into the soft cream. His cock twitched and jerked every time she touched him. He fisted his hands in the sheets, but didn't move while she decorated his throbbing organ in a series of swirls and squiggles. She grew wetter and wetter with each tortured grunt and groan he emitted, her cream flowing like a stream when she finally leaned in to taste him. Oh, God, there was such a thing as a chocoholic drunk for she was. He tasted of sweetness and musk and soap and heaven. Sheer ecstasy being able to eat the fudgy substance off him, relish his fierce reactions as his head thrashed from side to side on the pillow. Suddenly he grabbed her shoulders, his grip tight, almost painful. He lifted her high and lowered her onto his cock, the invasion swift, intense, stretching her sheath until she had to twine her fingers with his to bear the pain-pleasure. "Easy, querida." His hands spanned her waist and he held her still. "Wait, wait, for your ease." He seemed to know when her walls relaxed for he moved then in a fury, setting a pace that made her gasp, lifting and thrusting off the bed, holding her hips, and molding her rhythm to his. The cadence accelerated, her hair whipped from side to side, she knew nothing but Max, his smell, his touch, the fire flaring where their bodies joined, the sounds of her pants, his grunts, the cool air drifting in from an open window, the rising sun's rays highlighting the beauty of his bronzed flesh, magic, paradise, glorious love. 116

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She collapsed on his chest, smiling as her cheek encountered a film of hot sweat. She tasted the salt in his perspiration. His arms hugged her close and his lips brushed her forehead. "I love you." "My own mate." He ran his palms slowly up and down her spine. "My brain's gone on vacation," she muttered. "I thought it would be your pussy that went to paradise." Her smile widened. "Pussy paradise, cock cloud nine?" "Blow me down and send me to Hades. You just used two euphemisms and lookey here—you're not blushing. Giant steps." Candi hid her face in the crook of his neck, knowing from the heat in her cheeks that she was blushing once again. "Not sore, mi amor?" He threaded his fingers through her hair, working a knot out of the ends. "We've mated often these last few hours." She mumbled into his shoulder. "I get too wet to be sore." "That's your passion speaking, querida. I love that you're always ready for me." Candi stretched and her big toe hit a sharp point. "Ow." She pushed off his chest and spied the offending object. "What on earth is this, Max?" Balancing on her elbow, she reached back to grab the pink plastic. "That's Rosa's favorite toy, the Tantric Tongue. I got you one." Max wore the wickedest grin she'd ever seen. 117

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"It doesn't look like a dildo." Her mouth went dry. "That doesn't go where I think it does, does it?" Max howled. "Candi, you remember Nick and Becky," Max said as he let the couple into the ranch. "Of course." Candi smiled at the handsome couple. "Shouldn't you still be on your honeymoon?" Nick and Becky glanced at Max. "She knows. We're getting married on Sunday." Max draped an arm around her shoulder. "Abuela should be here any minute." "Rosa and Cleo?" Nick asked. He hadn't mentioned their coming to Candi, knowing how nervous she was about meeting his grandmother. "Why Rosa and Cleo?" she asked, her features pinched. "The Loboses own about two thirds of the land in the county—-" "Don't tell me," she interrupted. "Rosa and Cleo own the other third." "On the money, querida." Max squeezed her tight. She frowned and studied him for a minute. "Is this about the sanctuary?" "Yes. Come on in, guys. We're by the lagoon. I ordered food." Max and Candi held hands and led the other couple through the house. "How're the girls getting here?" Becky asked. "Girls?" Candi mouthed to him, her eyebrows quirking. "Rosa's new boyfriend's dropping them off." 118

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Candi stumbled and would've fallen if not for Max's support. "Rosa's new boyfriend?" "He's coming for the meeting too," Max explained. "She finally nailed Gus," Becky mused. "Well, well. That will keep tongues wagging." Max took pity on Candi's obvious confusion. "Gus owns the local bank and they hold the mortgages on most houses in Sleeping Dog." She blinked a few times, her mouth twisted, and she halfsmiled. "You're going to force Sherriff Green and the mayor to back down from granting licenses to hunt wolves using their mortgages as blackmail." "Ouch," Nick said. "That's such a harsh word. Persuasion's much gentler." "Smart woman, my mate," Max declared squaring his shoulders. "Drinks?" He looked to Nick and Becky. "Sangria for me," Becky answered. "Me too," Candi said. "Beer." Nick tugged Becky onto a plump outdoor loveseat adjacent to a rippling waterfall. "The bros coming?" "Both are tied up. Nick I had an idea about the presses. Want to join me in the study for a second?" "Sure." Once they reached the safety of the hallway, Nick quipped, "How long do you think that maneuver's going to last before Candi realizes you're hiding something from her?" "At the most the week. It's Juanita. She's the one who cast the swing vote for the hunting dispensation." Max shut the study door as soon as they cleared the entryway. 119

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"Think she suspects about us?" "No, it's a woman-scorned move." Max sat on his desk. "Your younger brother's always had a thing for Juanita. Think he'd romance her for a bit?" "He'll do it for the pack." Nick grinned. "And enjoy every fucking minute, literally." The doorbell sounded. "Abuela and the girls." Max straightened. "I'll bring them through. You head back to the lagoon." Max opened the door. Everyone started talking at once. Rosa nattered about the magic of new relationships and the joys of moving in together. Gus, clearly feeling trapped by the topic, exclaimed about the weather. Cleo lectured Rosa about obsessive conversation. "Abuela," Max greeted his grandmother cupping her elbow and then kissing her on each cheek. "Como esta?" "I am well, Max. And looking forward to meeting my late tenant." Rosa, Cleo, and Gus, who knew the house well, didn't wait for an invitation but strolled in the direction of the lagoon. "My mate's nervous about meeting you, Abuela. Be gentle," Max admonished. "Max," she protested. "I am always gentle." His grandmother was made of steel and concrete. She had to be to raise not only three children, but three grandchildren without a husband. That she'd outsmarted the big oil companies and garnered a fortune, no one would ever know from looking at the soft-spoken, diminutive woman. 120

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Her fine-boned features had lulled many oil executives into a false sense of security. Abuela's inky hair had only recently begun to gray at the temples. Conservative to the core, she favored tailored dresses, pastel colors, and, her sole vanity, two-inch heeled Manolo Blahnik pumps. Max estimated she had over fifty pairs of shoes, and the requisite matching purses. Tonight, she wore a pale lemon scooped-neck dress, a strand of pearls, and matching earrings. The second after Max introduced Candi, Abuela requested her help in the kitchen and the two women vanished, leaving an anxious Max. He stared at the hallway, sorely tempted to hover and eavesdrop. Before he could surrender to the notion, the doorbell rang again. "Expecting anyone else?" Nick asked. "Candi's father. He's in town until tomorrow." Confusion reigned after Max escorted Sylvester to the porch. Cleo pounced on him, flirting like a teenager, Rosa counteracted, and Gus escaped to the kitchen. Nick and Becky enjoyed the show, but helped when Candi and Abuela, accompanied by Gus, began to lay out dishes and platters of food. Someone had tripled or quadrupled Max's Big Mama's order. Max stared at the quantity of dishes squeezed onto three circular tables. He hadn't ordered fettuccine or tagliatelle or sausages and peppers. The doorbell rang yet again and all of his instincts pinged. Max opened the door and frowned. "Tim, Jenny, how nice to see you." 121

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"Are we early?" Jenny asked, fiddling with a hair ribbon on one of the twins. A tad shell-shocked, Max answered politely, "Of course not, please come in." After that it was a total free-for-all. He gave up answering the door and Rosa and Cleo took over. Every time he tried to get to Candi or Abuela, someone waylaid him. When a mariachi band arrived and set up in the south corner of the lagoon, Max surrendered. One of the "girls" had organized this wingding and one of them would pay tomorrow. In the meantime, short of slamming the door in people's faces, there was nothing he could do but smile and hide his inner snarl. Then he spied Antonio and Diego huddled in a corner with Tim Foley, Abuela, Sylvester, Cleo, and Rosa, and his gut did a kamikaze dive. What the hell are they up to now? Nick joined the group and the pads of Max's fingers itched like they did before a boxing match. His attention was captured by the hollow echo of a finger tapping a microphone. Microphone? He swiveled in the direction of the sound to discover Sylvester on a square dais. What the fuck? "Thank you all for coming." Sylvester had a smooth, radio announcer's voice. "And my sincere thanks to everyone who helped plan this, Tim, Cleo, Rosa, Diego, and Antonio, and, of course, Juliana." 122

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It was only when Sylvester gestured in Abuela's direction that Max remembered his grandmother's given name. "When Juliana discovered that I'd be out of commission for a few weeks, she suggested moving the wedding from next Sunday to today so I'd be able to witness my daughter marry the man she loves." Max couldn't swallow around the obstruction in his throat. Out of commission "I see looks of concern. It's a simple knee operation scheduled for Friday. However, I won't be able to travel for a few weeks. I'll turn this over to the good reverend. Max, your brothers have looked after all the licenses. Everything's very legal." The familiar sounds of the wedding march filled the air and everyone turned to the north corner of the lagoon, to a path lined with rosebushes in full bloom. Roses planted by his mother and grandmother. Candi appeared. She wore the lilac dress and a crown of mauve roses in her hair. She filled his senses, he couldn't look anywhere else, and he swore his heart turned over in his chest. Tim Foley went to stand at a bower laid out in the east corner under an arch covered with a vine bearing white flowers. Nick appeared at his side and handed him a jacket and a tie. "Abuela's orders. You can maul me later if you want." "Look at her, Nick." Max couldn't take his gaze off his mate. "She's glowing." "Ah, crap," Nick muttered. "I should have known." 123

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"What?" Max asked, still unable to drag his eyes away from Candi. "Guess who's your ring bearer?" "What?" Max had to grit his teeth not to bellow and his wolf sight spied a familiar blue tux and a white pillow. "No. No. Not Toby Bellows." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Epilogue "How're you feeling, Candi?" Juliana asked. Winter had yielded to spring, and the breeze that blew over the lagoon proved balmy and scented with newly sprung grass. The afternoon sun hung low on the horizon, the brilliant gold of the globe a stark contrast to the powder blue of the cloudless sky. "Wonderful. If all my pregnancies are this easy, I'll have a dozen children." Candi studied Max's contorted features. "Don't you think twelve sounds perfect, Max?" Animal sounds heralded the dusking of the sky, the faint cry of a bluebird calling its mate, a parrot whistling a song, crickets chirping, and, in the distance, the howl of a mournful wolf. "You're never going to forgive me for not telling you that you were pregnant, are you?" "That's still up in the air," Candi declared, smiling sweetly when he winced. "What's wrong?" "Can't you carry that cub lower?" Max thumped his fist on his chest. "I don't get it. There's all these ads for heartburn remedies. One should work." "Ah, but it's male scientists who decide on what research is done, grandson. Pregnancy heartburn can't be high on their list." Juliana serenely counted her stitches and thrust her knitting into Candi's line of vision. "What do you think of the color?" 125

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"It's pink," Max growled. "I'm having a cub, Abuela, an alpha to take my place." He lurched to his feet. "Candi, you're three days overdue. No labor pains? No false contractions? I can't take this heartburn anymore." "Yowza, I wouldn't wish for labor." Rosa clacked her knitting needles together, then held up an uneven row of purple wool. "What can we make this into?" "A sheath for Gus's genitalia." Cleo pronounced each syllable of the last word. "Did you notice? Not a single cuss in nine months." "Woo-hoo," Max snapped. He slowly rose from his position on a love seat. "We broke up last night," Rosa announced and resumed her furious stitching, not bothering to count purls and knits. Holes appeared in the wool. "You break up every night," Cleo complained. "Jeeze. What the hell was that?" Max stumbled and leaned against a porch pillar. "You okay?" Candi jerked her rocking chair forward and back, waiting for that opportune moment to heave her ninemonth-and-three-days pregnant body out of the seat. Cleo leapt to her feet and snagged her arm around Candi's waist. "Okay, Miss Prim?" "Thank you." Candi grinned, straightened, and glanced at her husband. "Omigod. You're green. What did you eat?" "The cub's coming," he moaned. "Sit down. You'll need your strength." "I feel fine—- omigod." She doubled over and clutched her distended belly. "Oooooh, that hurts," she wailed. 126

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"She's right." Max grunted and rubbed his stomach. "Oh, boy. I thought the instructor said a contraction would feel like a strong cramp. That was a cramp on steroids." Candi sat on the edge of a chair and immediately twisted and moaned. After the second contraction subsided she glared at Max. "Forget natural childbirth. Where's the drugs? This better be fast, Maximilian Julio Lobos." Candi pressed her side and slumped back. "Oh God, something's happening." She stared at her damp dress. "I think my water just broke." "Shee-it." Rosa clambered out of her chair dropping the needles and the wool to the floor. "Hospital. Nine-one-one." "I'm not sure I can do this," Cleo moaned. "I didn't do the classes." Max kneaded his back. "Are you in pain, querida?" "Yes," she shouted. "Breathe in," he said, wheezing to mimic his instruction. "Jeeze, I can't breathe. Where did the oxygen go?" "Oh," she groaned and curled into her body. "This is just not good. Somebody's supposed to time this." "I need to lie down," Cleo declared, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "I feel faint." "That's because you had three martinis," Rosa argued. "You're looped, not sick." "Trust me—you don't want me here. The second I see blood, I puke." With that statement Cleo about jogged out of sight. "Sit," Juliana commanded. "Max, hold Candi's hand. Rosa, call Sylvester, he'll want to fly out. Max, you have the hospital's number on autodial. Call." 127

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Rosa peered at her Jitterbug cell phone designed for the elderly. "I got Sylvester's number. Here we go. Do ya think he'll fly out right away?" "He's the epitome of an overprotective father." Max huffed. "Of course he will. I wouldn't be surprised if his jet isn't en route as we speak." "I think that goes both ways, grandson, the over protectiveness." Juliana smiled. "The two of you compete to see who gets to coddle Candi more. The Lord alone knows what will happen with your daughter." Max's complexion went pale. "I keep telling you we're having an alpha. I'll kill the first man who touches my daughter." "You may end up in jail." "I need to get my bag for the hospital." Candi sat up. "Sorry, Candi." Max stumbled in her direction. "I'll get the bag and bring around the truck." "It's so sweet that he's suffering some of your symptoms," Julian mused once Max had disappeared. "It's the way of the alpha. They'll do anything to spare their mate pain." "Is it really a girl? If it is, I can't begin to think what a boy will kick like. I swear my pelvic bones have been sore since my second trimester began." Candi stared at her grandmother-in-law. "If Max hadn't insisted, I would've loved to have known if I was having a boy or girl. Ooomph. Here's another one." She squeezed her eyes shut. Eight hours later Max had paced a hole in the cement floors of the hospital. Or so his brothers commented. He'd fainted twice in the delivery room, so they kicked him out. 128

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The women had decided to sit on the opposite end of the waiting room and every so often they shot him what could only be described as a disgusted glance. His face heated. Werewolves didn't faint because their mates were in labor. What was taking so long? Sylvester Morrow Wagner burst into the room and, for the first time since Max had met him, the man looked rumpled and disheveled. A certain measure of gleeful satisfaction sank into the core of Max's soul. His mouth curved. Good. Let him experience a fraction of what Max had. Morning sickness for the first three months, surging energy for the next trimester, and the debilitating heartburn of the last quarter. Pregnancy was exhausting and precious. He remembered the feel of a little leg kicking under his palm, envisioned a knee or an elbow distorting her belly when his cub woke Candi in the middle of the night. "Nothing yet?" Sylvester asked. Too miserable for words, Max shook his head. "Nothing's wrong?" "No." "Why aren't you in there?" Max stalked out of the room, went to the coffee machine, and bought a cappuccino he didn't want. When he thought enough time had elapsed, Max returned to the waiting room. Minutes ticked by. He ignored Sylvester until the man sidled to his side. "I passed out too. When I woke up, the OBGYN was snickering. Bastard." 129

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Surprised by his father-in-law's astonishing admission, Max wondered if maybe there hadn't been too much competition for Candi's attention during the last few months. Both he and Sylvester had struggled to outdo each other to make her happy and content. "Still don't know?" "No, but the heartbeat's strong. I think it's a boy." He prayed it was a boy. Max loved listening to his cub's heartbeat, though the pulse seemed too fast to be healthy. The doctors had tried to persuade them to look at the ultrasounds, but they agreed from the start they didn't want to know. Unless there was a problem, they wanted as natural a birth as possible. So the sex, the poundage, even the name would be a surprise. Candi and he decided they couldn't name a baby until after they'd looked into his or her eyes. Oh sure, they had names in mind, but only the birth would cement that. Max glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned. "I can't do this anymore." He tunneled his hands through his hair. "Neither can I." Sylvester clamped his arm. "Take care with her driving after this." Sympathy surged in Max's veins. The guilt Sylvester must have felt at letting his wife drive six weeks after giving birth. Candi's mother had hemorrhaged, collapsed at the wheel and, before she could call for help, crashed into a wall. She'd died on the spot. "She won't drive if I can manage it. I hired a chauffeur." "Brilliant." Sylvester still didn't look convinced. "She won't go for it." 130

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"Plan B—I'll drive her everywhere until she starts screaming blue murder." Their gazes met. "Thank you," Sylvester said. "That eases my mind. She's all I have left, you know." The bitter feud of the last trimester faded and Max rolled both shoulders and smiled at his father-in-law. "According to Abuela, we're going to have two women to contend with. I can't tell you how much that scares the living daylights out of me. I'm constantly on edge with Candi. Fuck, Sylvester, what the hell will I do if I have a little girl? How did you cope?" "Candi's mother coped and I followed her example. The same will happen with you, I'm certain. Let Candi's instincts show you what to do." A doctor—Max recognized his status by the stethoscope around his neck—poked his head through the doorway. "Congratulations Mr. Lobos. You have a pair of perfect twins." Max's knees buckled and he grabbed a chair. "What the fuck did he just say?" His voice came out as a croaked squeak. "A boy, six and a half pounds, a girl, six pounds. Healthy and hale and bawling for their supper." "I'm screwed," Max blurted. Ten minutes later they allowed him into her private room and Max's heart lurched, and a poignant ache settled in his chest. Candi, seated against the rail headboard of the bed, held a green-swathed babe in each arm. She looked up and he saw her lips quivering, noticed the tears spiking her lashes, and he was at her side in a flash. 131

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"I love you." He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. "Look, Max." She shifted one bundle. "He's got black hair like yours." His son's tiny nose quivered, but other than that the babe slept peacefully in his mother's embrace. "Here," she said and held out the other bundle. "This is your daughter." Max clumsily enfolded the pink-cheeked, wide-eyed baby in his arms. A few wisps of auburn hair curled the top of her forehead. "She's awake." Candi grinned. "It's as if she wants to see everything." "Why's my son asleep?" "He fell asleep eating. You should've heard him howling before that." Max preened. "My alpha." "I don't know about that." Candi shot him an amused glance. "When he started bawling like a banshee, she cooed and he quieted." "There's no such thing as an alpha female." But the hackles on the back of his neck rose, and he had a sinking feeling he'd live to eat his words. [Back to Table of Contents]

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About the Author JIANNE CARLO'S an Iron Chef America and Law and Order addict who loves to cook, eat, read, and write. Her writing career began in 2008, and since then she's been lucky enough to have nine books published. Right now there are six more in progress, and one more, Lucifer's Choice, (a Hades Squad book) will be released in December. Nothing makes Jianne's day more than an email from someone who's read one of her books. Jianne loves to hear what tickles your fancy. So far, she's received emails from almost every continent on the planet. Almost... www.jiannecarlo.com

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