Taste of Pride

The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 2

Taste of Pride When travel writer Marta Verner’s publisher folds, leaving her stranded in Savage Valley, Colorado, she takes a job as a waitress at Savage Hunger, the local diner. As soon as they meet her, diner co-owners and mountain lion-shifters Sam and Phil Pope know they’ve found their mate. However, the curse that gives them their shifting powers prohibits Sam and Phil from mating her right away. They must convince their estranged younger brother Mel to mate her, too. Sam finds a loophole that allows them to mate Marta without Mel—a loophole that involves selling their diner to corporate giant NormCorp and jeopardizing the future of the Savage Valley pride. When Sam and Phil discover that Marta has fallen for Mel, too, they must reverse their decision to sell the diner and mate her at once. Will her love be enough to reunite the broken Pope family before it’s too late? Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter Length: 48,107 words

TASTE OF PRIDE The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 2

Helena Ray

MENAGE EVERLASTING

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

TASTE OF PRIDE Copyright © 2011 by Helena Ray E-book ISBN: 1-61034-918-0 First E-book Publication: October 2011 Cover design by Les Byerley All art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Taste of Pride by Helena Ray from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Helena Ray’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Ray’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION To William Shakespeare, Michael Bublé, and the awe-inspiring women of Saturday afternoons and Monday nights

TASTE OF PRIDE The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 2 HELENA RAY Copyright © 2011

Chapter 1 “You swear it’s not too terrible here? Like, cross your heart and hope to die?” Marta Verner watched her best friend Chelsea’s bright-red hair bounce as she laughed. She looked happier and more relaxed than Marta had ever seen her, which boded well for her own stay here in Savage Valley, Colorado. Marta watched the scenery flash by as Chelsea turned onto Treaty Lane from Kwitakusix Cove, where Marta’s tiny new apartment was located. Get used to it. You’re going to be here for a long time. “If you say so, Chels.” Marta took a deep breath and attempted a smile at her friend. “Maybe this will make a great story someday.” “Oh, hush,” Chelsea said with a laugh. “It’s already made a great story for both of us, and you know it.” Chelsea was right about her stay in Savage Valley making a great story. She had met two handsome locals and was engaged to be legally married to one of them. The three of them were living in a ménage relationship, although Marta didn’t quite understand how it worked. But her best friend glowed day and night now, and that was all that mattered to her.

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And as for Marta’s own trip to the Valley, it hadn’t been quite as magical as Chelsea’s. She had originally dragged her friend here to accompany her on an assignment but left quickly to start a dream job writing a book about northwestern Colorado. Look how well that turned out. What had started as an idyllic journey quickly turned to a nightmare when Marta’s publisher folded and left her stranded in Colorado. Luckily, Chelsea was willing to arrange for Marta to stay in Savage Valley while she figured out exactly how she’d make it home to Memphis. Not that Memphis really was home anymore. Since her mother moved to Florida with her stepfather and Chelsea moved to Colorado, nothing was left for her there. She had even broken the lease on her apartment when she started her latest book. Stupid. Now, jobless and homeless, Marta was stranded. Chelsea had intimated that she could use her new small-town connections to secure Marta a job, but after this recent letdown, Marta’s spirits were certainly downtrodden. Chelsea turned the truck right onto Main Street, and they headed into the town center. Marta watched as they passed a small beauty salon, a gas station with a tiny grocery store attached, and a slightly dilapidated row of local shops—all the trappings of small-town America. They pulled into the parking lot next to the row of shops, and Chelsea cheerily hopped from the cab of the truck. Marta sighed and hauled open her door. She looked up at the neon sign advertising Savage Hunger, Savage Valley’s local diner, and despite her sullen mood, her stomach grumbled. Funny, she had been here only about two months ago with Chelsea, and their positions had switched since then. Now, Marta was the one reticent in the passenger’s seat, hesitating to enter the diner. Marta hurried after Chelsea as she burst through the glass doors to the diner. Several townspeople waved to her, and she embraced an older woman wearing a black-and-orange uniform.

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“Oh, Chelsea, honey, how you been? We haven’t seen you around as much since, well, you know,” the waitress said with a friendly wink. Chelsea’s cheeks flushed, and Marta knew exactly what she’d been doing for the past few weeks. Hell, she would have done the same thing if she had found two mouthwateringly delectable specimens like Chelsea’s men for herself. Not likely, she thought to herself. “Well, you know, I’ve just…been…” “No need to explain, honey! One look at Oliver and Roarke tells your whole story.” Chelsea’s blush deepened at the mention of her fiancés. “Now who’s your friend here?” “Oh! Rita, this is Marta, my best friend. You two met when I first came to the Valley, I think?” “That’s right, sug,” Rita said as she gathered Marta into her arms. Marta hugged the woman back enthusiastically, always appreciative of the multitudinous shows of affection in small towns. “How could I forget?” Rita motioned to a round booth beside the glass doors to the diner and retrieved menus for both of them. “You certainly get the royal treatment,” Marta observed as they settled into their places at the booth. “She seems to treat you like you own the town.” Chelsea giggled and closed the menu in front of her. “Well, I am mate—” Chelsea cleared her throat before continuing. “I’m engaged to the mayor and one of the town councilmen.” Her words came out in a rush, accompanied by a nervousness Marta didn’t quite understand. “And everyone’s treated like royalty here. You’ll see that. It’s, um, well…” Chelsea suddenly seemed to become very interested in the menu again. “Savage Valley isn’t like other towns. You’ll come to see that.” The journalist in Marta begged for release. “How so? It doesn’t seem that strange to me.” The bells on the door jangled beside Marta,

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and an older woman walked in holding hands with two men. One of them kissed her on the cheek as another attempted a thwarted grab at her ass. “Well, aside from the proliferation of ménages there seems to be in this town. How does that work anyway?” Chelsea’s blushes could never stay away for too long. “Well, um, what do you mean by ‘work?’” “I’m not talking about in the bedroom, Chels,” Marta said with a laugh. “I think I’ve read enough erotica to know how that works out.” “Shh!” Chelsea gesticulated wildly in an apparent attempt to silence Marta. “What? You’ve never read any? I would assume that with your newly open attitude toward sex, your curiosity might finally get the better of you.” “Okay, maybe a little.” Chelsea’s voice was only a squeak, and Marta couldn’t help but dissolve into giggles with her best friend, a reaction entirely inconsistent with her twenty-six years. “But seriously. How does the town react to the relationships? I read an article about a town that practices ménageamy in Texas, but I didn’t think the practice was so widespread.” “How do I put this?” Chelsea’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Let’s just say there are certain…qualities of Savage Valley that make ménage relationships particularly…advantageous.” Marta stared at her friend. “What in the hell are you talking about?” “Well, you see…” Chelsea began. Marta didn’t hear anything her friend said. An extremely tall man emerged from the hallway behind the counter at Savage Hunger and made his way to their table. “Hey, Chelsea,” he said before turning to Marta. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and his watery blue eyes locked on to Marta’s. She couldn’t move for a moment, couldn’t speak. Never before had she seen so handsome a man, let alone seen one this close

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to her and who was apparently on a first-name basis with her best friend. A strand of previously slicked-back blond hair fell across his eyes, breaking the spell he held over her, and a stunning smile broke across his handsome features. “Why, Chelsea, I don’t believe I’ve met your friend.” Oh, shit, his voice was deep and sultry, just as sexy as the rest of him. “You haven’t?” Chelsea looked back and forth between the two of them. “I would have thought you met a few weeks ago. Oh, well, this is—” “Marta. I’m Marta.” Her words came out in a hurry, and she found herself extending her hand up to him. He took it, and the warmth of his long fingers stroking her palm had her melting. He squatted next to them so that they made eye contact and continued to hold her hand. “Samuel Pope. It’s so nice to meet you.” He continued smiling at her, the expression lighting up his face. His eyes fixed on her even as she sat there mute, unable to recall the purpose for her visit to the diner. “So glad the two of you seem to be getting along,” Chelsea said, and suddenly the Adonis in front of Marta stood again, releasing her hand. “So, Sam,” she continued, “Marta’s in the market for a job. Any chance you have an opening at Savage Hunger?” His gaze settled on Marta once again, and she felt her insides heat. He turned his head to the side, studying her, then laughed and smiled back at Chelsea. “Right, Oliver mentioned that you might have a new waitress for me. For Oliver and Roarke’s girl, I’ll definitely give her an interview.” Sam straightened then lowered his substantial height to the rounded bench beside Marta and scooted closer to her. Were they doing this right now? The feeling of his closeness excited her, but she kept her distance. Best not to blow a job interview before it started.

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She tried school her features into a businesslike countenance, though she was pretty sure she couldn’t be wearing any look besides one of complete fascination and attraction. “Do you have a résumé?” “Résumé?” Marta couldn’t think while looking into his eyes. Luckily, Chelsea poked her in the ribs and handed her a copy of the document. “Right. Oh, oh, um, yes,” she mumbled. Sam raised an eyebrow and the corner of his lips kicked up in a smirk as he accepted her résumé. “Let’s see…You worked at Corky’s in high school—any chance you could fly in some of their pulled pork?” His affection for the signature Memphis barbecue comforted her a little, bringing back her confidence. “That depends on whether or not I get the job.” “Hmm, we’ll see.” “We’ll see what?” Sam stopped and studied her for a moment, the slight grin on his lips growing into a full-blown smile. “We’ll see plenty of things.” **** How on earth did Sam get so lucky? Just when he’d had a terrible morning attempting to figure out the Savage Hunger books, an angel of a woman showed up in his diner. He had to force himself to focus on conducting the interview. One glance at her résumé told him she was beyond qualified as a candidate. She appeared to have waitressed her way through high school, college, and the beginning of her writing career. His only question was why such a gorgeous, intelligent woman wanted to work in his small-town diner.

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“So why Savage Valley? Don’t get me wrong—you’re very qualified. I’m wondering why someone like you would want to stay here and work.” The hurt expression she wore clenched at his heart. “Someone like me?” “Oh, god, no. I don’t mean…” Her frown deepened, and he rushed to explain. “By someone like you I mean someone who’s done so much and could go anywhere she wants and…” Since when did he ramble like an idiot? Marta reached up and twirled a lock of her chocolate-brown hair around one manicured finger. Sam watched the gesture attentively, engrossed by her graceful movements and the quickening pulse beating against her wrist. He felt a tingling underneath his fingernails, signaling his inner reaction to Marta’s presence. A deep breath steadied him, and Sam continued the interview. “I only want to know why someone who clearly has a great deal service industry of experience and what looks like a bright future as a writer would want to work as a waitress in a diner in rural Colorado.” She appeared to attempt to pull herself together, but Sam could detect sadness in her wide green eyes. “To tell the truth, I was writing a book and my publisher folded.” Sam nodded, and she let out a breath that appeared long held. “And since Chelsea lives here, I thought it could work as a place to stay for a while.” “Well, then.” Sam glanced at her résumé once more, but his decision had been made the instant he laid eyes on her. “Welcome to Savage Hunger, Marta.” He extended his hand, and the feel of her cool skin against his shook him to his core. He wondered if this was what Oliver had spoken of when he first saw Chelsea. Every inch of him burned for her, needing her to be close to him. Sam had never had trouble with women, but he usually only felt lukewarm toward his conquests. Never had he felt such a strong desire to be with a woman, to see her, to hold her.

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“Really?” The glee in her eyes warmed his heart. She put her other hand in his, and he basked in the glow of her affection. “Thank you so much. Really. You have no idea how much this means to me.” He chuckled at her effusive reaction to the job offer and stood. She followed suit, and he got his first full look at her. The sight stopped his breath in his lungs. He never expected women to equal his six-foot-four stature, but Marta held her own in the height department. Her legs were long and shapely. In fact, all of her was rounded and womanly, just the way he liked his women. The swell of her breasts heaved, and he had to remind himself to rake his eyes up to her face, where her green eyes sparkled beneath long brown bangs. And you thought you wanted her before. She grabbed his hand again and shook it vigorously, a smile crossing her lightly freckled face. “Marta,” Chelsea said from where she sat in the round booth reserved for the Cash family, “do you still want something to eat? We came here for that, too.” The brown-haired beauty blushed, and her mouth formed an O. Reluctantly, Sam withdrew his hand from hers and nodded at Chelsea. “Chelsea’s right. You should definitely stay for lunch. On the house.” “Oh, you don’t have to—” “Nonsense. You need to learn the menu, and no time like the present, right?” Sam’s offer was rewarded by a beaming smile that lit up Marta’s eyes. God, he could get lost in those beautiful green orbs. “Right.” Marta still stood beside the booth, staring at Sam. He couldn’t help chuckling at her reaction. He felt the stirring of his body’s response to her, every inch wanting to touch her skin again, to run a finger down the side of her face and trace lower. “Well, take a seat, and we’ll get right to you.” His voice was deeper than usual and held an edge of some emotion he couldn’t yet identify. All he knew was he couldn’t let his body, his mind, or his

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inner lion run, at least not like this. He tried to assume the stature of a newly dubbed boss, but he knew the effort was futile. As Marta gracefully glided back into her seat at the booth, Sam turned and made his way toward the kitchen. After rounding the counter, he pushed through the door to the kitchen and looked around. Who was working? He only saw Dave leaned over the grill, flipping a flank steak. “Table five’s bein’ real noisy, Dave. Any word on when those steak and eggs will be ready?” Rita called as she leaned through the window separating the kitchen from the area behind the counter. “Hold your horses a minute, lady,” Dave shouted then returned to muttering at the grill as he abused the unfortunate piece of meat. “Who orders steak and eggs for lunch, anyway?” “Rita, hold on,” Sam called before the waitress and de facto Queen Mother of Savage Valley disappeared back onto the floor. “Do you know when Phil’s gonna be in?” “Sweetie, he’s your brother, not to mention your chef. I’d think you’d know better than I would.” Normally, Sam appreciated Rita’s maternal teasing, but today was turning out to be anything but normal. “Damn it, I didn’t have time to look at the schedule this morning.” “Well, excuse me, Mr. Hotshot.” “Sorry, Rita, just a little stressed right now.” Sam massaged his temples with his fingers. He needed to speak with his brother, or this Marta situation could spiral out of control quickly. “Oh, I’m used to you boys being little smart-asses.” Sam quirked an eyebrow, and Rita returned the expression with a smirk. “Anyway, I don’t think he’s supposed to come in until tomorrow morning. Something about needing to take care of some business in Steamboat Springs for Oliver and Roarke.” Sam sighed in exasperation. Although he appreciated Phil’s favordoing tendencies, they could sometimes make for a very tedious fraternal relationship.

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“Thanks, Rita.” He turned and stepped through the door that led from the kitchen to his office at the back of the diner. He closed the door behind him and leaned on it. Was this what Oliver had told him about? The overwhelming sense of need that pushed out all rational thought? He grabbed the clipboard that held the master schedule for the next week. As he started to rearrange shifts in order to have someone available to train Marta, he had to restrain himself from scheduling her all day every day. If she worked at the diner, Sam would see her plenty. The methodical work steadied Sam, and after he finished, he took a few deep breaths and headed back out through the hallway behind the counter. The sight that greeted him squeezed at his heart. Marta had finished her sweet honey burger and was leaned over the table, her dark hair tumbling down over her shoulders. Rita had the menu open in front of her, and the two studied it together. Sam leaned against the wall and watched for a moment, admiring the way Marta pushed her hair behind her ears as she read the menu, the way her mouth opened as if to say something then closed when Rita began another diatribe, the way a glance to Chelsea seemed to calm her. I’m in trouble. He crossed back to the table, and Marta’s head shot up when he stood across from her. The way she leaned on the table pressed her breasts together, and it took physical effort for Sam not to gaze at the cleavage revealed by the low neckline of her long-sleeved shirt. “I’ve got the schedule for the next week. As much as I appreciate Rita orienting you already, do you mind if I take a few moments of your time to go over the schedule?” Without missing a beat, Marta smiled and said, “Take all you need.” Chelsea and Rita both retreated, leaving the two of them together. As they went over Marta’s training schedule, the tension between them was palpable. Against his better judgment, Sam brushed his knee against Marta’s.

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“And so if I work a double, I go home at ten?” She didn’t appear to react to his touch, but Sam swore he felt her foot brush against his calf. “That’s right, unless you’re taking over for someone else.” He decided to see if he had indeed felt something and extended his leg underneath hers and wrapped it forward so their calves touched. He studied Marta’s face for any reaction. “W–Well, what happens then?” This time he was rewarded by her slight stutter and a flushing of her cheeks. Figuring that if he was going to hell, he might as well go all the way, Sam leaned forward, ostensibly to study the schedule, and ghosted a hand over Marta’s thigh. “As you can see, you’ll work both full shifts, but you’ll take an hour break in the afternoon instead.” The flush had spread to Marta’s lips, turning them a dark pink color. Something within Sam begged him to take her mouth with his, to claim her as his— No. Sam reined in the puma begging for escape and sat up straight, keeping his hands and his legs to himself. Marta cocked her head to the side as he sat up, but otherwise showed no sign of any chagrin. Damn it. He couldn’t imagine that her inner struggle could equal his. Unless the Shoshone curse was far more widespread than he believed, she couldn’t have a beast inside her heart attempting to claw its way to the surface. He cleared his throat and thankfully found his voice again. “I think that’s all for now, Marta. We’ll make sure we have a uniform for you tomorrow.” They said their good-byes, and Sam couldn’t help but study her every move, her every breath. Somehow, all his senses had sharpened to watch her. Finally, she and Chelsea took their leave, her tight ass wiggling from side to side as she strutted out the door. Yes, considering his circumstances, Sam was in big, big trouble, because he couldn’t see resisting Marta for a second longer.

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Chapter 2 “Sam, come on. Calm down. Our situation can’t be the first of its kind in the history of the Valley.” Phil unbuttoned his chef coat as he emerged from the kitchen. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, unwilling to cover his face with the flour on his hands. He shrugged out of the coat and used it as a rag. “I’m not sure, man. I can’t describe to you how it felt to see her. Just, each cell, every part of me—” “If you can’t describe it, then don’t try.” Phil leaned on the counter across from his brother. “Look, I believe you. I sat listening to Roarke’s attempts to describe the situation for hours on end after he met Chelsea.” “Right, but our situation is different.” Phil shook his head at his brother. Sam had a tendency to jump to conclusions. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” “What? What could I be forgetting? I called Oliver last night and talked about it, and he confirmed everything we’ve learned since birth. If all the male siblings in a mountain lion-shifter family don’t mate the same woman—” “Their offspring will die before three years of age, I know. But you do realize that’s not a concern yet, right?” “How can it not be a concern? The way I felt yesterday, I know she’s the one for me.” “I understand that completely.” Phil closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing his vain attempt to talk some sense into his hardheaded brother. “But how do I know she’s the one for me?”

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Sam stared at him blankly, as if never having contemplated that possibility. “Well, shit.” “It’s true that siblings tend to share attraction to one mate, but it’s not always that way, Sam.” “But say it is, Phil. Say it is. We’re fucking screwed.” Phil could do nothing but silently nod his head. They were, indeed, screwed if Phil had the same reaction to Marta. “Mel.” “Damn it, why couldn’t Mom and the Dads have stopped after they had you?” Phil shrugged his shoulders. “Well, they didn’t, and we’re bound to our youngest brother.” “Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot,” Sam roared, and Phil could see the glint of his lengthening canines. “I know damn well that Mel has to mate her, too.” “You and I both knew this day was coming.” “Damn right, we did.” Sam’s fully extended canines muffled his words. Phil flicked his eyes down and saw Sam’s nails extending and curling into claws and the skin around his hands darkening. Phil knew Sam was upset, but partially shifting? That usually only accompanied extreme anger unless— “She’s coming.” “Fuck!” Sam shot off the stool and ran around the corner toward the hallway that led to his office. Clearly, he needed some cooling down time before seeing Marta again. A mixture of anticipation and fear stirred in Phil’s stomach. If Sam’s reaction to her was this visceral and immediate, chances were that she really was their mate, and Phil couldn’t wait to see her. But at the same time, disaster lurked around every corner. If Phil felt the same way as Sam, they had to cope with Mel, something neither ever enjoyed particularly. And if Phil didn’t feel the same attraction to Marta, Sam would be the odd one out.

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Phil mulled it over as he put his coat back on and returned to the kitchen to take the morning’s batch of honey almond muffins out of the oven. Even though he hadn’t focused on pastries in culinary school, he was proud of his skills as a baker. The fact that his famous honey almond muffins sold out each morning was a testament to his prowess. The sound of a knock on the glass door to the diner interrupted his reverie. He looked through the opening in the front wall of the kitchen, and never before had a sight affected him so fully. A beautiful, curvy brunette with legs for days stood looking a bit confused in the early morning sun. As she pressed her face closer to the door, her breasts pushed through her partially buttoned denim jacket. The sight caused Phil’s cock to lengthen, pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of his pants. He felt his pulse racing and his blood boiling as heat rushed to his face. “Sam! She’s here!” He used his last breath to shout then ducked out of her sight. Shit. Now came the hard part. **** “I take my coffee black.” The unconventionally handsome man with a mop of blond hair sitting at the booth eyed the bowl of creamer Marta set on the table then looked up at her. “I’ll be fine, thanks.” He spoke with cool apprehension, but his demeanor couldn’t faze Marta this morning. She woke up determined to take on her new life with vigor. She had moved into her apartment last night and firmly decided to make the best of this adventure. Think of it as fodder for your future memoirs. Her dream of becoming a famous essayist was one of the very few things keeping her going, but she clung to it for dear life.

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“Sorry about that, sir.” She picked up the bowl and turned back toward the counter. She checked on a few other tables as she made her way down the aisle of booths. “My, my,” Rita said as she deposited a few dollar bills in the cash register, “he didn’t upset you, did he?” Marta shook her head. “I’ve handled drunken rednecks with grabby hands. It takes much more than a snitty attitude to faze me.” “Well, if you can handle Clayton, you can handle anything that’ll come your way here. I don’t think you need much more of my training.” “Oh, don’t be silly.” Marta smiled at the woman who presided over the waitstaff at Savage Hunger. “I’ll still need your help with the menu. I keep forgetting what comes with polenta corncakes and what comes with whole wheat jalapeño rolls.” “You’ll learn soon enough, sug. Phil does like to change it up all the time, though. I think he does it just to mess with me.” “Phil?” Marta had heard the name batted about, but had never had felt quite comfortable enough to inquire after him until now. “That’s the chef, right?” “You haven’t met Phil yet?” Marta shook her head, and Rita took off shouting into the kitchen. “Philip Pope, you rude little man, you haven’t even introduced yourself to your new employee.” “Wait a second, Rita,” a soft male voice called from the kitchen. “I need to start the batter for—” “Not important!” Marta heard shuffling and the clanging of pots and pans followed by several muttered curses. Rita emerged through the swinging door to the kitchen grasping a disembodied elbow. “Now Marta, I want you to meet—” A body followed the elbow Rita held in her death grip, and all sounds faded away. Marta had thought Sam was gorgeous, but she had never expected her luck to double like this. Phil looked down, and a slight blush stained his chiseled cheekbones. His face was all flat, masculine planes except for his full, sensual lips. He raised his head,

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and blue eyes identical to Sam’s pinned her to the spot. He wasn’t as tall as Sam, but he still towered over Marta. His lips spread into a smile as he ran a flour-covered hand through his slightly curled light brown hair, leaving a white streak in his locks. “You’ve got a…” Marta gestured to her own hair in an attempt to alert Phil to the streak through his own hair. “Excuse me?” He looked at her uncomprehendingly. “Your hair.” She pointed up at where the streak was settling into his brown locks. “You have flour in your hair.” His cheeks stained with the same endearing soft blush of before, and he ran his hand through his hair again, leaving an identical white stripe on the other side. “Better?” Marta heard herself giggling and inwardly chastised herself for her schoolgirl behavior, but she couldn’t help her reaction to him. Gingerly, she took a step closer to him, lifted a hand, and gave him a questioning look. “May I?” He stilled for a second, and Marta worried she had pushed too far. He smiled, though, lowered his head, and nodded, raining a dust of flour on Marta. She laughed as she tangled her fingers in his hair and shook out the flour. His hair was soft in between her fingers, and even once she was sure any sign of flour had disappeared, she kept her hand there. They made eye contact again, and Phil smiled wider at her, the corner of his eyes crinkling in a display of his habitual mirth. Marta felt a stirring in her upper thighs, and warmth spread from her pussy. She coughed, breaking contact with Phil and stepping away. “Thanks,” he said quietly and then took her hand in his. The friendly gesture felt intimate, and the sparkle in his eyes told her the feeling was mutual. “We’re glad to have you on the team.” “Glad to be here.” Boldly, Marta winked after her comment. “I’ll leave the two of you for a second,” Rita said, backing away and hitting the counter. If what Chelsea had told Marta last night was

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true, the whole town would get word of her flirtation with Phil in less than half an hour. Marta was about to speak when the door to the kitchen flung open, and an older man clad in an apron came storming out, gesticulating wildly with a white towel in his hand. “Steak and eggs! Everyone wants steak and eggs! Everywhere I look it’s steak, and then it’s eggs, and then it’s steak, and—” “Good job today, Dave. With Norman breathing down our necks, we really appreciate it.” Dave gave Phil a dirty look as he rounded the corner that led to Sam’s office and the emergency exit. Marta wondered what exactly he had against steak and eggs, but Phil broke into her thoughts by taking her by the shoulder and directing her in the direction Dave had gone. The small corridor muffled some of the noise of the diner’s midmorning rush. “Sorry, just wanted to get out of the path of any disgruntled employees.” “Completely understandable.” Marta rested her shoulder against the wall, and Phil delighted her by mirroring her action. “So, you used to live in Europe.” How did Phil know about her stint in Europe after college? The confusion must have shown on her face because Phil laughed and said, “Your résumé, remember? I looked it over after Sam hired you, just to be sure.” Marta shot him her best smirk. “Be sure of what?” Phil hesitated for a moment, and Marta remembered who he was. He was her boss, too, and she shouldn’t be initiating any sort of flirtation with him. Shit, shit, shit. She grasped for any threads of professionalism left within her. “Oh, you know, the usual.” Phil gave a kind smile, easing Marta’s embarrassment a bit, but only a bit. “Yes, I lived in Europe,” Marta said in a rush, eager to get their conversation back on an appropriate track. “I interned with Condé Nast after college, just making coffee at various international offices, but it was the time of my life.”

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“Where were you?” Phil seemed to respond to Marta’s newly businesslike manner and added, “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” “Not at all.” Damn it, now she had really done it. She was about to blow her business relationship and her personal relationship with all her flip-flopping. “I spent most of my time in Hungary, the Czech Republic, Switzerland, and—” “Switzerland? Where were you?” “Zurich, mostly.” Phil’s expression and stature relaxed, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “I love Zurich. After culinary school, we went on a trip to Europe—I was only there two weeks, no big deal— but we studied chocolate making at the Confiserie Sprüngli. I fell in love with that city.” “Me too! I didn’t work that far from Sprüngli, and it was always so tempting to go over and indulge.” “Really? Where did you work?” “On Dreikönigstrasse, near—” “Bürkliplatz? God, I loved it there. We also worked at the Mövenpick Restaurant on Beethovenstrasse, and sometimes we would take our lunch there.” Marta rested her head against the wall and smiled up at Phil. “Okay, so you worked there. Can you tell me what it is with all the Mövenpicks in Zurich?” “I don’t know, I mean, there’s the restaurants—” “The hotels—” “The ice cream shops—” “They’re everywhere!” they exclaimed in unison and then dissolved into laughter. Whatever her professional or personal relationship with Phil, Marta secretly rejoiced at having found a fellow Switzerland enthusiast in Savage Valley. Knowing she would have some sort of intellectual company for the foreseeable future went a long way toward soothing her.

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“Well, fuck me up the ass.” Marta turned to find the speaker of the vulgar words and saw Sam slamming the door to his office. He stormed forward, his eyes darting only briefly in her direction as he approached Phil. “Norman’s on his way.” Phil closed his eyes as Sam strode out onto the main floor of the diner. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and rested a hand on her shoulder. Her skin seemed to burn through her uniform where he rested his hand. The softness of his face was still there, but marred by a streak of concern furrowing his brow. “Don’t mind Sam. He’s about to have a very difficult confrontation.” “What sort of confrontation?” Phil looked behind him toward the front of the diner then squeezed her shoulder. “It’s hard to explain. It’d probably be best for you to go back to work now.” Confused by the sudden shift, Marta swallowed the lump growing in her throat. She tried to turn away, but Phil kept his grip on her shoulder. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Maybe next week?” When she looked into his eyes, she thought she saw tenderness, but he still seemed preoccupied. “I have to go away for a few days.” She mustered a smile in return. “Okay, next week.” He let go of her shoulder but let his hand slide down her arm, leaving a trail of frenzied nerve endings where his fingertips brushed over her skin. She watched his hand, slightly embarrassed at the way her hairs stood on end in the wake of his touch. Finally, he disappeared back into the diner. Marta took a breath to steady herself and then returned to the coffeepot awaiting her. She returned to the man she now knew as Clayton Abbott. “No creamer this time.” She let a small smirk play at the corner of her lips. “But an hour and a half to get my coffee.” Marta was in the process of formulating a clever, typical smalltown-diner response when a hush fell over the diner. The music, a

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classic country tune she quite enjoyed, stopped, and she turned around to protest. The intimidating presence of the man who had entered Savage Hunger trapped her words in her throat. Rita gingerly stepped toward him, robbed of her usual uppity demeanor. “Hi, Mr. Norman. Would you like a table today?” The bald man dressed impeccably in a designer suit and shiny leather oxfords smiled at Rita, revealing a set of synthetically toowhite teeth. The smile did not reach his eyes, though, and looked more like a primal display of aggression. Sam pushed past Rita, though, showing none of the sudden reticence of the diner’s patrons. He used his body as a shield in front of the older woman and looked his visitor square in the eye. “Ulysses, you know what my answer is.” “Why, Samuel, you didn’t even allow your lovely hostess to seat me. What sort of a greeting is that?” “It’s a greeting given by a man who’s goddamned exasperated, that’s what.” The bald man narrowed his eyes at Sam. “It was a rhetorical question.” Sam quirked one eyebrow. “I know.” Something flashed over the corporate type’s features, turning his otherwise unremarkable features into a twisted, sinister countenance, but it faded quickly. “Samuel, if you we could talk about this somewhere more private, I could show that financially—” “Anything you want to say to me can be said in front of my patrons.” “Really?” The man smirked, revealing his shark teeth once more. “Really.” Sam narrowed his eyes, his muscles tensing like a predator about to attack. “Calm down, Mr. Pope,” he admonished. He straightened his suit jacket and began a slow circle around the front area of the diner, taking in the framed pictures and newspaper clippings that adorned

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the walls. “This place does have a certain rustic charm, but if you want the real money—the luxury-chalet crowd—you’ll need to do some improvements.” “We don’t want any different crowd. These people are our family, Norman. And family takes care of each other. No way in hell would we abandon these folks.” Sam’s comment was met with several murmurs of appreciation from the patrons. Marta looked to the kitchen to see if any orders were up, but the kitchen staff appeared as enthralled with the interaction as everyone else. Norman stopped in front of a faded snapshot showing two men with their arms around a young woman. The size of everyone’s hair indicated it was probably taken in the early 1980s. “Huh.” Norman turned to face Sam. “It’s funny that you claim to be a family business. I would never bring my precious Jamie to an establishment such as this. Most would agree that bigamy hardly qualifies as a family value.” Norman’s statement clearly upset the diners, and sharp whispers punctured the silence. Sam, however, remained impervious to whatever slight Norman thought he was making. “If you’re here to convince me that you have my best interests in mind, you’re hardly doing a good job.” The blinding flash of white shone from between his thin lips again. “Oh, but I am, Sam. No matter how much I disagree with the lifestyle your family has chosen to lead, I have a great appreciation for what you’ve done with Savage Hunger. My company only wishes to enhance the results of your work.” “Bullshit.” Sam crossed his arms and took a step toward Norman, his impressive height dwarfing his nemesis. “If you wished to enhance Savage Valley, you wouldn’t have had your goons damn near kill my best friend’s fiancée in a fire.” “Oh, that?”

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“Yeah, that.” He spit out the word like an arsenic-laced watermelon seed. “Rest assured that the men who perpetrated that despicable act— not on my command, by the way—have been transferred to a different branch of NormCorp.” “You didn’t fire the bastards?” “That action is pending the results of their criminal trial.” “And yours?” Sam’s words appeared to sting Norman, for he flinched at their utterance. “My trial has little to do with this proposition, Mr. Pope,” he said, once more straightening his jacket, visibly shaken by Sam’s remark. “I hope that you will consider my offer on its own merits and not on hearsay regarding my company’s actions.” “Please leave my restaurant, Norman.” He raised a hand to his chest in what even Marta could tell was feigned offense. “But Mr. Pope, I was hoping to sample some of Philip’s infamous flank steak with polenta corncakes.” “He can whip you up something to go.” Sam took another step toward Norman, and the bald gentlemen turned toward the door. “There will come a day when the business that comes through here won’t be enough, and NormCorp will be glad to take the diner off your hands. One call to my secretary, Mr. Pope. That’s all it takes.” When the door to the glass door to Savage Hunger shut, the patrons burst into noisy chatter. It took a few moments for the entire interaction to register in Marta’s brain, but a few words stuck out, something about Norman nearly killing someone in a fire. Oh, god. The horror of the situation sank in. This was the man behind NormCorp, the business Chelsea had told her about. Only a few weeks earlier, an ordinance to prevent

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Norman from developing a part of Savage Valley’s wilderness was gaining support from the town. When it was about to pass, two of his cronies set fire to the Woodland Den, the lodge at the western edge of town, a tragedy that nearly took Chelsea’s life. Okay, now she understood the tense resentment that settled on the diner when he entered and why Sam had been so upset about the offer to purchase the diner. With Chelsea and her handsome bosses the targets of the pretentious suit’s rage, Marta shared in the anger. This was personal now.

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Chapter 3 “Seriously?” Marta examined the dollar bills and coins she had dumped onto her bed, the only piece of furniture in her one-room apartment, save for the chair jammed against the makeshift kitchen counter and a tiny writing desk. She counted the scant cash that made up her first two weeks’ tips once again and cursed when she came up with the same paltry figure. She rose from her bed and crossed to her virtually empty kitchen. However, a single bottle of cheap red wine, a housewarming present to herself, stood in a lonely cabinet. “There you are.” She took the bottle down from the cupboard and rummaged through the drawers for a corkscrew. Leftovers from previous tenants filled the drawers, and the best Marta could find was a flimsy corkscrew attached to a can opener. “Hard times call for hard measures,” she muttered to herself as she worked to pull the cork out. After several tugs, the damned thing wouldn’t budge. She gave one final tug, and the corkscrew dislodged itself from the can opener with a soft click. That was the final straw. Everything had gone wrong for Marta that day. After initially loving the small-town feel of Savage Hunger, the monotony of the job had started to feel confining. Marta abandoned the bottle of wine and flung herself with great flourish onto her bed. She curled into the fetal position and stared at the pink glow cast on her wall by the single floor lamp that lit the space. When she was completely honest with herself, she knew that the diner wasn’t what was behind her ennui. No, it had more to do with

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the owners of the diner than the diner itself. On her first few days at Savage Hunger, Sam and Phil had been friendly, outgoing, attentive, and if Marta wasn’t mistaken, quite flirtatious. But quick as a railroad switch being pulled, they closed off to her. Phil had limited his interactions with her to only the necessary barked orders from the kitchen, even finding excuses to run away when she offered to reminisce about the wonders of Zurich. Sam, on the other hand, had transformed into a ghost. She only saw him when he rushed in and out of the diner, always running out the door with an armful of papers. Perhaps naively, Marta had imagined a new life for herself in Savage Valley that involved one—or maybe even both—of the Pope brothers. Sure, Chelsea had been an invaluable resource since Marta moved, visiting her and showing her around, but her fiancés kept her busy, and Marta’s extra shifts at the diner made ladies’ nights impossible. But that vision of new life coming to fruition seemed highly unlikely. Shouting outside Marta’s apartment interrupted her rumination, and she pulled her pillow over her head to block out the noise. Her attempt at thwarting the sounds proved unsuccessful, and she cursed to herself as she pulled herself out of bed, slammed her feet into slippers, and tossed her hair in a messy ponytail. Today was not the day to mess with her. She pulled open the door and marched out onto Treaty Lane where it met with Kwitakusix Cove. “Excuse me, but there are—” Her words were cut short by what she saw. Three men stood in the empty lot next to her rickety fourplex surrounding what appeared to be some sort of large copper pot with a series of twisting tubes on top of it. It wasn’t the oddity of the sight that stopped her in her tracks, though. No, it was the three men themselves. Two of them were around Marta’s height with dark hair, bright blue eyes, and chiseled cheekbones. They had to be brothers, if not twins.

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But the most impressive of the trio had to be the tallest. He appeared the classic rebel, wearing a faded black leather jacket over a tight white T-shirt and dark-wash jeans that hugged what Marta immediately identified as a delectable, tight ass. He was bent over the strange contraption that appeared straight out of a Victorian industrial fantasy, and shaggy jet-black hair hung around his face, providing a striking contrast against ruddy cheeks. One of the shorter men jerked on a thin, copper tube that rose in spirals from the larger vessel. He went stumbling backward, cursing to himself as he landed squarely on his ass. “How are we supposed to salvage the parts if they keep breaking off?” the other shorter man said as he held out a hand and pulled his probable twin to his feet. Marta was about to sneak back into her efficiency to see if she could continue to spy on them through the single window in her apartment, but the man who had just plummeted to the ground spotted her. “Well, well, who do we have here?” It was only at the sound of his slurred voice that Marta noticed the brown glass bottle clutched in the other twin’s hand. She laughed a bit to herself when she saw the white label on the bottle, visible even in the pale purple of dusk, with “X X X” written in black marker. That certainly explained the copper pot. A whisky still. She should have known. “I don’t know, but we should introduce ourselves.” “After all, it’s only small-town hospitality.” “What’s your name, gorgeous?” “You single, pretty lady?” Their leering comments overlapped each other, and Marta backed toward her door, wondering what exactly she had gotten herself into. “Damn it, guys. Cut it out.” With a clang of metal, the tallest of the three raised himself to his full height and turned toward Marta. If she had thought he was impressive before, she now thought he could

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blow the socks off any of the perfectly coiffed models she had met in Europe. His smooth skin was peppered with dark stubble that framed full, luscious lips. His eyes, though, nearly stopped Marta’s heart. Their ice-blue color was unlike anything Marta had seen. She found herself suddenly unable to breathe as he walked toward her, a cross between an apologetic expression and a smirk across his classically attractive features. “Don’t mind Ezra and Cleve, the Yeats boys. They’ve been drinking a bit too much of the product.” Despite the slightly shady circumstances, Marta couldn’t help but indulge her curiosity. “When you say product, do you mean…moonshine?” She whispered the last word and darted her eyes toward the copper still. His expression turned fully into a smirk, and he quirked one eyebrow. “Why? Are you interested in purchasing some?” After a moment of hesitation, she decided to play along. “Maybe. How much are you guys selling it for?” “Well, this is some very, very high-quality whisky. We can’t just give it away.” “Why couldn’t I just go buy some at the Savage Convenience?” “You’d be hard pressed to find such a fine liquor.” “Sweet or sour mash?” “Sour, of course.” “Then what keeps me from going to Steamboat Springs and getting a bottle of Woodford Reserve?” His eyebrow quirked again. “A woman who knows her bourbon. I like it.” Marta shrugged. “What can I say? It’s my drink.” “That’s because you haven’t tried our stumphole, gorgeous.” One of the brothers staggered toward them. Without looking, the taller man held out a hand and stopped his advance.

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“Stumphole?” Marta couldn’t keep the incredulity from creeping into her voice. “Great marketing term there.” Her conversational companion mocked offense. “Well, excuse me for using one of the several traditional names for the coveted beverage. If you’re not interested, then I believe we’ll—” “Wait.” Marta couldn’t let her sarcastic tone push him away. “I’m interested.” His full lips curved into a smug smile, and his eyes glinted with unmistakable mischief. “I knew I had found a fellow adventurer.” He stepped closer to her, and she could smell an intoxicating woody, spicy male musk. Her heartbeat raced, and she realized she didn’t care if he noticed her body’s visceral reaction to his nearness. God, since when did she ever want someone so badly? He closed the distance between their bodies so that he stood less than a foot away. She backed onto the small porch in front of her complex, and he continued his pursuit. His smell overwhelmed her as he took her hand in his. “I’m Mel.” His long fingers stroked along her palm, and she had to suppress a shudder. “M–Marta. I’m Marta.” “Well, M–Marta,” he mocked, and Marta crinkled her nose in response, “I do so enjoy welcoming newcomers to Savage Valley.” “How do you know I’m a newcomer?” she challenged before realizing the answer was plain. Mel looked at her blankly for a moment. “A bit fewer than three thousand people live in this town. Trust me, we notice new faces.” “And new other things, too.” The two brothers stumbled forward at the interjection. Mel closed his eyes and sighed deeply before opening them. “Allow me to introduce my inebriated companions, Cleve and Ezra Yeats.” He acknowledged each as he spoke.

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“Believe me, we’re quite delighted to meet you,” Cleve said before stumbling a bit and breaking Marta’s contact with Mel. A bizarre pang of longing pierced her gut as soon as his hand retracted. “I apologize for their behavior. Unfortunately, I must admit they’re always this uncouth.” Marta chuckled at the exasperation in Mel’s voice. He shook his head, allowing his black locks to fall over his forehead and provide a sheer curtain for the brilliance of his eyes beneath. His gaze found hers, and for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes pinned her to where she stood. “So were you serious about wanting some white lightning?” Ezra’s question shattered the invisible force holding Marta and Mel. She felt herself blush, a rare occurrence. Something about the men in Savage Valley completely transformed her behavior around the opposite sex. She would have sworn she saw a faint pink tint to Mel’s cheeks, but he turned away before she could confirm her suspicion. “Well, do you?” he asked, turning back to her, mischief glowing in his expression. “You never forget your first.” Cleve put an arm around her shoulder and held up his bottle. It swished, indicating only a few drops left in brown bottle. “A fifth, Cleve, really? You two finished a fifth?” “Hey, we can always make more.” Mel gestured to Marta. “But the lady wants the ’shine now.” He caught her eye and gave a small nod. She caught on to the conspiratorial gesture. “Oh yes,” she started, “I want some of the schlump…dump…what did you call it again?” “Stumphole!” Cleve and Ezra exclaimed in unison. Cleve released his grip on her and joined his brother in a near sprint up Treaty Lane toward the mountains.

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Mel laughed as he watched them run. “Looks like they’re not too worried about salvaging parts from the still.” He turned back to Marta. “Why don’t you go ditch the bunny slippers and we’ll head on over to stumphole world headquarters.” **** The fumes from the brown glass bottle she held in her hands burned her nostrils, and Marta had to shake her head to clear it. Damn, she already had a buzz, and she hadn’t even tasted Mel and the Yeatses’ concoction yet. “You said you wanted to,” Mel reminded her with a laugh in his voice. “This is a good batch, too.” Ezra sat on a wooden barrel across from the one Marta perched on. They had walked to the northwest corner of Savage Valley, at the intersection of Treaty Lane and Creek Road, and were in the middle of a ramshackle industrial building. “I don’t know how you can tell good rubbing alcohol from bad rubbing alcohol.” She swished the liquid in the bottle again. “You’ll never know if you just stare at.” Mel’s eyes glowed even in the darkness of the warehouse. Only a few clerestory windows near the roof allowed the last embers of dusk’s glow to shine into the warehouse space. Mel stood and crossed behind Marta. She felt his hair brush against her shoulder and then his hot breath on her neck as he spoke softly. “You can certainly talk the talk…” Oh, hell no. No one would accuse Marta of chickening out on anything. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered and brought the bottle to her lips. She took a deep swig and, before she could register what had happened, felt a sizzling burn in her mouth. The burning crept down her throat and then her esophagus as the liquid fire branded itself into her insides. Marta registered a faint doughy taste before the effects of the liquor really hit her.

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She swayed a bit on her barrel, and Mel wrapped his arms around her to hold her in place. Emboldened by the alcohol, she rested her head on his chest. He stilled for a moment before relaxing and brushing a wayward strand of hair from her face. “Gentlemen, I think our novice has just imbibed her first sip of the ’shine.” He set her upright on the stool, and she shook her head clear. “Woo!” Marta shot the men her best smug smile at their disbelieving looks. “What, didn’t think a lady could hold her moonshine?” “That’s yet to be seen,” Ezra said as he took the bottle from her hand. He took a sip and let out a satisfied sigh. “The nose on this batch is particularly oaky. Wouldn’t you say so, Cleve?” “Yes, almost with a hint of a cigar box.” The two brothers burst into laughter as Mel took a seat on the barrel next to Marta. “Hey, pass the bottle.” Ezra handed the bottle to Mel, and he took a long drink of what Marta strongly suspected was rocket fuel. “Glad to see you could back up your claims.” “I told you bourbon’s my drink.” Mel lifted one eyebrow. “This ain’t hardly bourbon, little lady,” he said with a feigned Southern accent. Marta let out a giggle at his impression. “You know what I mean.” “Do I?” He leaned in closer to her, and their knees touched. Marta looked into his eyes, tinted purple by the faint glow of twilight, and snaked her hand between them. “Well, I mean that…” She snatched the bottle from his lap and took another swig, this time prepared for the scorching trail down her esophagus. “You little minx.” Mel grabbed for the bottle as she finished her drink, but she held it over her head, out of his reach. “Don’t you dare! This one’s mine.” Her sense of victory was short-lived. Cleve snatched the bottle from her hand and took a swig. “Hey!” Mel laughed as Marta reached for the bottle, bobbling a little on her barrel.

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Mel hopped to his feet and wrapped a steadying arm around her waist. The warmth of the moonshine was erasing Marta’s inhibitions quickly, and she held his hand against her stomach, humming her appreciation for the gesture. “I take it you like the ’shine then,” he purred in her ear, and something at the top of her thighs tightened at his voice and the feel of his stubble on her neck. “Mmhmm.” She turned to him, their faces only inches apart. “’Snice.” He squeezed around her waist, drawing her to his chest, and the rumbling in his chest as he laughed echoed in her body, tightening her nipples and dampening her pussy. Marta loved the feeling, thrilled to be free of her judgments of her own action. Her eyes met Mel’s, and the depths of the orbs drew her forward, closer to his warm breath. “Hey, hot stuff.” Ezra’s voice sliced through another of their moments, snapping the tension. “We gotta get back to the Herald!” Mel shook his head as he clucked in an exaggerated show of disapproval. “Going to work drunk? Very bad form, boys.” “Don’t call us boys,” Cleve slurred. “Yeah, we’re only a year younger than you are.” “But inches shorter,” Mel said as he stood and removed his jacket. “Damn it, we can’t argue with that one.” Ezra snagged the bottle back from Cleve and headed toward the large sliding doors that marked the exit. “Come on,” Mel said as he extended his hand to Marta. She happily placed her hand in his and hopped off the barrel, stumbling less than she expected. “I’ll walk you home.” She looked up in his eyes, but they showed no hint of wariness or disapproval. Only acceptance and willingness burned in the icy depths. She looked around and saw that the warehouse was nearly pitch black, the illumination of dusk having completely disappeared. Mel led her through the warehouse, and although Marta had expected

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to trip over barrels and the industrial detritus that littered the floor, no such obstacle fell in their path. After somehow reaching the door without incident, the Yeatses— whom she had now come to know were twins—hauled open the sliding door, and a blast of chilly night air hit her skin. Still only clad in her pajama pants and a T-shirt—the twins had neglected to give her a chance to change—she shivered under its force. “Here,” Mel said softly from beside her. He released her hand, walked behind her, and draped his faded leather jacket over her shoulders. He rubbed her upper arms as she settled into the garment, still warmed from Mel’s body heat. His scent was embedded in every fiber, and Marta suddenly couldn’t distinguish whether her intoxication came from illegal grain liquor or the tangle of spicy aromas coming from the jacket and warm body beside her. They stepped outside, and only the nearly full moon illuminated the night. The twins hurried ahead of them then turned, walking backward as they spoke to Marta. “It was lovely meeting you.” Cleve nodded at Mel. “Especially for him.” “Seriously, though, if you need moonshine—” “Or an obit in the Savage Herald—” Ezra interrupted his brother. “Just give us a call, pretty lady.” With a leering grin, the twins took off down a dirt path that deviated from the road and wound behind a seedy-looking motel at the top of the hill on Treaty Lane, just visible from Marta’s apartment. Marta looked up at Mel to ask where they were going, but he smiled down at her, his shaggy hair providing a curtain around his face, and her words caught in her throat. Instead, she contented herself with leaning her head against his shoulder. They started on the short walk along Treaty Lane back to her apartment. As they neared her apartment, he brushed the back of his hand against her knuckles, sending a delicious tingle down her spine. She returned the innocent touch, and he took her hand in his, entwining his fingers through hers.

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All too soon, they arrived at her apartment. He walked her to the door and held both her hands. Marta laughed inwardly at the cross between James Dean and Wally Cleaver standing before him, a rebel and the boy next door rolled into one. “Well, this is me,” she said unnecessarily. “Yes, it is.” He dropped one of her hands as he raised the other to his lips, all the while never breaking his scorching stare. “Good night, Marta,” he whispered against her knuckles. Emboldened, Marta took a step forward before he could release her hand. She tilted her face up to his, and he smiled and pressed his hand against the small of her back, flattening her against him. She felt a bulge against her stomach, and the evidence of his reciprocal excitement sent even more sparks flying through her body. He closed the space between their faces, and Marta closed her eyes, eagerly anticipating the taste of his mouth. Her taste never came. Instead, he halted just as their lips brushed. “Good night,” he whispered again, his hot breath shooting into her mouth. She couldn’t react as he placed another kiss on the back of her hand and walked away, throwing glances back at her over his shoulder. “Wait, Mel,” she called out when the power of speech returned to her. He stopped at the edge of the street and turned back to her. “You forgot your jacket.” “Keep it.” “Won’t you—” “I’ll get it when I see you again.” He turned and disappeared into the blackness of the night. Marta stood stock-still on the porch of the rundown fourplex. Slowly, she turned and fished her key from the pocket of her pajama pants. She closed the door softly and leaned her back against it. After a moment of silence, a high-pitched squeal escaped from her throat, the enduring sound of a woman in the throes of a new passion.

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Dancing to the small desk, she clicked the space bar on her laptop to start the music. Appropriately, Michael Bublé crooned from her computer, and his passionate voice perfectly scored her elevated mood. She collapsed onto her bed and let the sensations of the night wash over her—the fury, the curiosity, the excitement, the moonshine, the beginnings of something she wanted to see through. Her eyes drifted closed, and a fleeting thought passed through her head, reminding her she had work in the morning. A few sips of the so-called stumphole couldn’t get her that hungover, right?

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Chapter 4 I really thought a few sips wouldn’t hurt? Marta slumped against one of Savage Hunger’s orange booths, physically depleted. Thank god she had passed out at around nine o’clock last night. Otherwise she never would have awoken for her eleven o’clock shift at the diner. The double shift nearly killed her, but the hard work had eased her hangover. While her physical condition dampened her spirits throughout the day, not even the worst morning-after blues could have dispelled her good mood. Her thoughts returned to Mel all day long, to his touch, to his lips feathering against hers, to his ice-blue eyes and lean, muscular body. She didn’t even know his last name, but his memory had spread over every moment of her day. Only thoughts of Sam and Phil served to drag her down a bit. Sam had been at the diner all day, a rare occurrence. They had met in the hall outside his office right before the dinner rush, and Marta could have sworn she felt something there, something real. He had asked how her day was going, and she had given a soft smile and a shrug in response. Nothing out of the ordinary, but as Marta had started to walk away, Sam rubbed between her shoulder blades. The relief on her muscles was exquisite, but his hand had wandered downward, shooting tension to other, more intimate parts of her anatomy. But just as the side of his palm had landed on the swell of her ass, he withdrew it and walked away abruptly, leaving Marta confused and more than a bit turned on. “Rough night at Letty’s?”

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Sam’s voice broke into her thoughts, and she looked up to see the imposing, devilishly handsome blond standing over her. “Where?” “Ah, that’s right. You probably haven’t made it out to Catdaddy’s yet. Letty, the owner, she’s a real hoot.” Sam took a seat across from her, kicking his long legs over the side of the booth as he leaned his back against the wall. “I’ll have to take you sometime.” He’ll have to take me sometime? That positively sounded like a plan for the future, an odd remark from someone who appeared to have studiedly avoided her for days. She looked around and saw that the diner was now empty save for the two of them. “Yes, you’ll have to.” Even with her thoughts of Mel, she couldn’t deny her attraction to Sam. Oh well, she thought. Being perpetually single has its perks. “But why do you think I was there?” Sam laughed and ran a hand through his thick blond hair. “I grew up in the service industry, beautiful. I know a hangover when I see one.” Oh, shit. She had forgotten he was her boss for a moment. Her stomach twisted, and she said a small prayer in hopes that he hadn’t cornered her alone in the diner to fire her. “I’m so sorry. I mean, I didn’t think that it affected my performance today, but…” The smile that broke over his face silenced her. The expression illuminated his handsome features, and his eyes crinkled, showing little lines that hinted at many such grins through the years. “I’m not here to fire you, Marta.” She blew out a breath of relief. “I’m here to see if you want a ride home. Chelsea said you were staying at Treaty and Kwitakusix?” “You talked to Chelsea?” “Well, yeah. That first day you came in here.” Sam looked at her as if the answer were obvious. Shocked at his recollection, Marta needed a moment to gather her thoughts. “It’s not far out of my way. I can take you by, no problem. I know that walk’s a monster if you’re

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not feeling so hot.” He swung his feet around so that he sat upright at the table and leaned closer to Marta. “And what sort of gentleman would I be if I let a lady walk home alone this late at night?” While Marta certainly appreciated the gesture, the feminist inside her had to protest. “I can take care of myself, I’ll have you know. Anyway, animal attacks won’t be a problem.” “Not a one since 1846.” “Right, so…” Marta shrugged, unable to verbally turn down his offer. “So you’re coming with me,” Sam finished. “I don’t doubt that you could handle yourself just fine, beautiful, but what if I’d like your company on my drive home?” Marta’s heart did a small flip at his words. He wanted her company! Her intuition hadn’t led her astray. “Well, in that case, if you insist, I’ll accompany you.” Sam shook his head at her exaggerated haughty intonation. “Come on, jokester. I need to lock up, and then we’ll get on our way.” Marta waited outside the diner as Sam locked up. The flickering neon sign clicked off, and a few moments later, Sam joined her. His hand rested on her back again as he guided her toward the parking lot and slid lower, exactly as it had earlier. This time, though, he didn’t withdraw his hand when it landed at the top of her ass. Instead, he kept it there as they walked to his white sedan and he unlocked the car. He reached to open her door, but Marta was quicker and got to the handle first. Sam held his hands up and laughed, shaking his head. They rode in silence, the tension too thick to allow any conversation to pass through it. Marta studied the glowing dashboard as her heart raced. All too soon, Sam reached her apartment and pulled his car into the dirt parking lot next to it. He turned to her, and Marta nearly

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gasped at how classically handsome he looked in the low light. The shadows playing along the planes of his face made him look like a heroic figure from a Renaissance painting, distinguished and intent. She concentrated on his one hand that still rested on the steering wheel, his long fingers curling around the smooth ring. “Marta, I know I shouldn’t say this.” She looked into his eyes, expecting hesitance but not finding it there. He gulped, and the roaring of the engine only heightened the silence that followed his remark. “What is it?” He opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it, looked down, and shook his head. “I’m your boss, I shouldn’t…” He looked back at Marta, and just enough light shown from the dashboard to illuminate the pleading expression in his eyes. “We’re not at Savage Hunger. You’re not my boss now.” “It could affect our professional relationship.” His voice had lost some of the determination it held, and Sam dropped his hand to the keys in the ignition. “We don’t have to let it.” He killed the engine. “You might start expecting your pick of shifts.” “I’ll behave.” The headlights flicked off. “The town gossips would have a field day.” “Let them.” With a click, Sam unfastened his seatbelt, and Marta followed suit. For a long moment, they held each other’s stares, only the moon’s glow casting light into the car. Sam lunged forward and tangled his hand in Marta’s hair. Her heart raced as he pulled her face to his. Their lips crashed together, and Sam licked along Marta’s bottom lip. She opened her mouth,

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allowing him to bite her lower lip as she grazed her teeth along his top lip. She plunged her tongue into the wet heat of his mouth, and her pussy clenched as he groaned his approval. His other hand went to her back and plunged downward, this time clutching and kneading at her ass. Her clit throbbed from the sudden intimate contact and begged for some kind of friction. Sam answered her unspoken plea as he used his hand on her ass to pull her forward. She clambered over the gearshift, never breaking contact with his mouth, and straddled his lap. His other hand traveled to her ass and pressed her against his crotch. The feel of his erection against her tortured clit was too much for her to handle, and she broke their kiss to let out a moan. Sam moved his lips to her neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin. Each bite sent waves of pleasure flowing to her pussy, and she could feel the dampness gathering there. When he reached the base of her neck, he traced his nibbles over her collarbone then back to the base of her neck. He dwelled there, allowing his tongue to roam down to her chest, then traced his nibbles back up the other side of her neck. As he dragged his tongue along her jawline, she shivered and bucked her hips forward, needing more friction, more pressure, something against her quickly dampening pussy. Sam responded to her needs by pushing his hips up, rubbing his twill-clad cock against her, and caressing one of her breasts as he reclaimed her mouth. She whimpered into his mouth as his thumb traced over her nipples through the thin fabric of her sweater and bra. More, god, she needed more. She tried to scoot closer to him, press her pussy more fully against the line of his erection. He squeezed her breast harder, and her hips moved forward of their own volition, crashing against him. As Marta bucked backward, her ass made contact with the steering wheel, and the blaring beep! of the car horn sounded. Marta couldn’t help but chuckle against Sam’s lips at the absurdity of the

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situation, and soon his chest heaved with his own laughter. Marta broke the kiss as she threw her head back in hilarity. As she came down from her laughter, she looked into Sam’s sparkling eyes. Clearly, he was just as amused as she was. She concentrated on the heaving of his chest as she tried to regain her composure. “So,” she started as she thrust a hand in his blond locks. He turned his head to the side and kissed her palm then nuzzled his face into her hand. “Are you worried about what people will say?” He chuckled, the musical sound warming her very soul, and shook his head. “Not a bit.” “Good,” Marta whispered, and she began moving forward to taste Sam’s full lips again. She stopped once she was a breath away from his kiss and feathered her lips against his, looking into his deep blue eyes glazed over with arousal. Her eyes drifted closed, but before her lips could land on his, a slight whiff of spicy male musk filled her nostrils and stopped Marta in her tracks. Mel. She smelled what she had yesterday on Mel. Is it on me? Guilt washed over her, stilling her advance. Her heart raced, but now for a different reason. Ideas played in her head. Was she really straddling the lap of one man while she still had a scent of another lodged in her senses? She couldn’t comprehend how Mel’s spicy scent, distinctive as it was, had stayed on her through a double shift at the diner, but she couldn’t dispute concrete sensory evidence. “What’s wrong?” Sam’s hand rubbed her back, and the action only intensified her guilt. “Nothing,” she lied. “Still a little hungover, that’s all.” Not entirely false, but the hangover she referred to had little to do with alcohol. Sam eyed her with skepticism but nodded anyway. “Good night.” Marta swallowed the lump at the back of her throat and forced herself to focus on the man in front of her. She had gotten

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what she’d thirsted for since she first laid eyes on Sam. That would have to be enough for her for the time being. “Good night, beautiful.” Sam’s voice was soft as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. Her lips tingled at the soft touch, and her worries lessened as she opened her mouth to welcome him, to savor one last taste before she went. With a light nip on her bottom lip, Sam pulled back. Reluctantly, Marta reached for the car door and clicked it open. A rhythmic, highpitched beep—the signal the keys still dangled from the ignition— was the only sound as Marta dismounted from Sam’s lap and exited the car. She placed one hand on the top of the car door and looked down at Sam. His expression was earnest and open, indicating he expected nothing. While the throbbing between her legs addled the sensible part of her brain, she managed to override her arousal. “Good night, Sam.” She couldn’t move. She could only stare into his handsome face, wondering what exactly she thought she was doing. “You already said that.” “I know.” The two of them laughed, providing a much-needed release for Marta. “Good night,” Sam said, still laughing. She watched him close his car door, start the car again, and pull away, waving as he steered down Treaty Lane. For a moment, she felt paralyzed, the tension of the past two days holding her in its grip. Funny, how her jubilation was so easily tainted. No longer could she concentrate all her daydreams, her feminine fantasies on Mel. No, the taste of Sam’s lips saw to that. She lifted one hand to her mouth and ran one of her own fingers along her bottom lip. No solo dance parties to Michael Bublé tonight. The night only promised a long vigil as Marta tried to unravel one feeling from another and figure out whom, exactly, she was falling for.

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**** “Fuck the legends.” Sam slammed the door to the one-room cabin behind him and stormed in. “That’s quite a change of pace from your opinion last week.” His brother, Phil, turned from the computer on his desk in the corner of the cabin. “Last I recall, you were all aflutter about attempting to get Mel on board.” “Yeah, well, I hadn’t spent two entire weeks trying to get a hold of that motherfucker then. I hadn’t spent a whole fucking week dealing with NormCorp bullshit and letting all of the stress just—” Sam stopped suddenly as he felt a sharp tingling beneath his fingernails, the telltale sign that his anger was near to the boiling point, to prompting his shift into mountain lion form. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then blew it out. Never a particularly talented shifter, Sam had to work harder than the rest of the pride to keep his lion at bay. “Hey, don’t get too worked up about it,” Phil said as he jumped to his feet and crossed to Sam. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have any problem stopping the shift.” “Regardless, you don’t see me getting so worked up over Marta.” “Yeah, of course not. You’ve avoided her all week. I may not have been at Savage Hunger, but don’t think I haven’t heard about what you’ve been doing from Rita.” Phil looked away and made his way back to his desk. “Being around her is impossible.” “That’s why I’m ready to fuck the legends, fuck the treaty, and fuck Bo’s rules.” “Bo doesn’t make the rules, Sam. The Shoshone tribe—” “Fuck the Shoshone!” Sam’s words were more roar than intelligible language, but he didn’t care. “I’ve spent my entire adult

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life worrying about what Mel was going to do to our chances at happiness, and after meeting Marta, the worries have become obsessions. He won’t answer my phone calls, he’s not at the Yeats cabin, and frankly, that’s fine by me.” Tension hung in the air around the two brothers. Phil turned and finally broke the silence. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Sam only nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak. “We invoke the infertility clause.” Phil ran both of his hands through his hair and moved to the leather couch across from the fireplace. “No one’s ever done it successfully. Not with a family splitting like this. Do you really think that sharing Marta will work without the Shoshone power binding us together?” Phil’s words stung. Sam hadn’t considered the possibility that breaking away from Mel could also mean losing his brother and closest companion. He swallowed his doubt, letting the memory of the heaven he found in Marta’s mouth block out logic and rationality once more. He needed her, his lion self needed her, and nothing would stop his pursuit of possession. “Look, I’ve thought it all through.” Sam sat on the edge of the fireplace, across from Phil. “If the pride approves it, and then Bo approves it, we can break the curse.” “Sam, it’s been one hundred fifty years. Do you think you’re the first one to think of this? The pride always votes it down. Savage Valley is too big and too complex for four lion families to protect.” “Yes, that’s always been the case before.” What Sam was about to say sickened him and twisted his gut, but he didn’t see any other way out. “But now there’s NormCorp.” His brother’s face went white. “No, you can’t…” Sam nodded slowly. “We sell out to Ulysses and his cronies. They’re desperate enough we can specify that they have to protect our sector in the deed to Savage Hunger.” “Since Savage Hunger is technically in the neutral zone.”

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“Exactly.” “Sam, it’s a deal with the devil. Have you thought about the future? Have you thought about our legacy in the pride? We’re fucking over our best friends, the people who have surrounded us our entire lives.” “We’re not fucking them ov—” “Can you think past your Faustian plan for just a moment?” “Ulysses C. Norman isn’t the devil.” “Sam, what are you thinking? Norman is Mephistopheles incarnate.” He knew Phil was right, but damn it. He couldn’t find a way to make this work. Not without his estranged brother. “Look, I’ll call Mel.” “It’s not your duty, Phil.” Sam dropped his face to his hands and muttered, “It’s my duty, and I failed.” “Give me my goddamn phone,” Phil said as he crossed to his desk and picked up his cell phone. “I’m calling him, and that’s that. Your drama’s getting old, you know.” Sam only grunted in response. “Hi, Mel?” Phil pointed at the phone and gave Sam a smug smile. Sam returned an unenthusiastic one-fingered salute. “Hey, Sam just told me to call you about—don’t hang up.” Phil sat on the bed and nodded as he presumably listened to Mel. “Okay, but it’s about our mate, Mel. We’ve found her.” Sam’s heart stopped in his chest as Phil quieted. He studied Phil’s face, searching for something in his expression that would indicate what Mel was saying, but Phil kept his features stoic as he listened. “I see,” Phil said after an infuriatingly long wait. “Well, think it over, okay? No, don’t talk to Cleve and Ezra about it. Why not? Because they’re—Okay. Just say you’ll think about. Okay, man. Go see Mom and the Dads. They miss you. Bye.” “So? What’s the verdict?”

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Phil gently placed the phone on the bed and took a deep breath before speaking. “He met someone.” “Shit.” Apprehension, anger, doubt, and desire seized Sam’s throat, rendering him incapable of continuing the conversation. He needed out. Without a word, he walked to the door and pulled it open, delighting in the cold night air hitting his face. The pitch-black night spoke to the beast inside him that tore at his resolve. Silently, he removed all of his clothes, his skin turning to fur as each blast of cold hit it, prompting his transformation. His canines extended, and the shift was almost complete. Coherent human thought slipped away, freeing the leonine imagery and desires to commandeer his mind, surrendering the human control over his brain to the basest fight-or-flight urges. As he grasped to the last human thoughts, an overpowering sensation took hold of his senses—desire, unfettered by human inhibition. And Marta. All he saw was Marta.

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Chapter 5 Damn, it’s cold. Phil’s first human thoughts reminded him how frigid the earlymorning Colorado air could turn in October, especially when he was out naked. He scampered behind the Dumpster out back at Savage Hunger and prayed that Mel and the Yeatses hadn’t played another one of their tricks and hidden his spare set of clothing. Holding his breath, he felt for neatly folded pile of clothes and released it when he found them. The last patches of fur receded into his skin as he hopped into his pants, chef’s jacket, and tennis shoes. He entered his personal code into the keypad to gain admittance to the back entrance to Savage Hunger—the first improvement he and Sam had installed when they remodeled the diner a year ago. Reentering the diner after shifting into lion form made such technological advances necessary, especially with a little brother fond of stealing spare keys. He closed the door behind, thankful to be out of the wind. Once he fired up the ovens, he knew he wouldn’t need to worry about heat. Blindly practicing his morning ritual, Phil flicked on the lights and made his way to the walk-in freezer to grab the ingredients needed for the morning’s breakfast. The ten-pound bag of frozen strawberries plummeted to the tile floor from Phil’s shoulder as he froze in the middle of the kitchen. There, in the middle of the cavernous room, stood a brand-new stainless steel oven range. Phil dragged his hand along the cool metal as he circled the standalone unit. He knew his mouth was dangling open in awe, but he couldn’t help his astonishment. When he and Sam

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had remodeled the diner a year ago, other improvements pushed new kitchen appliances to the bottom of their list of priorities. Phil had made do with his father’s equipment but secretly hoped for something new. Sam. Phil stood back and shook his head at the unit. Was it a gift from Sam, an apologetic gesture for his behavior a few nights ago? Phil wanted to believe it. He desperately wanted to believe that his brother hadn’t meant what he said. Phil had had to travel into Denver on pride business the previous day, so their paths hadn’t yet crossed. He began preparing the honey almond muffins for the morning, and thoughts plagued him as he worked. The idea of leaving the pride kept him up all last night, and dreams of persecution by the Shoshone and the rest of the pride infected his brief moments of sleep. But when he lay awake, he saw Marta. Her verdant gaze seemed to hover over him, staring down on his sleeping form from the ceiling of his cabin. His body had such a visceral reaction to her presence, but he couldn’t stand being near her knowing that she couldn’t be his, at least not yet. Phil held more hope for Mel than his brother. Maybe it was the fact that he was closer in age to the youngest Pope, but Phil hadn’t ruled out his brother joining in their ménage. Sam had never taken the time to understand how deeply Mel hurt and how alienated he had always been. Their little brother had always been a precocious hunter, and Sam had never grasped how Mel could be as intelligent as he was himself, but in an entirely different way, as a hunter instead of a businessman. It tore at Phil’s heart to withstand the stalemate between the two that had stretched throughout the past two years. Maybe, just maybe, Marta would finally break through his brothers’ hubris. A knock on the glass door to the diner drew Phil’s attention back to the moment. “Coming!” he shouted as he took one last look at the new oven range. A note on the side of the unit drew his attention. “Just a second.” His heart dropped into his stomach when he picked up the

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note that was taped on the side of the appliance. “Fuck.” Its text was simple. I so look forward to doing business with you, Philip. –Norman Emotions fought for dominance in Phil’s chest—anger, shock, disappointment—but none of them won out. Instead, he just stared at it, numb. It was a gift meant to persuade Phil to entertain the notion of selling out to NormCorp, but not even something of this magnitude would win his affection. More disturbing, it signaled that Sam hadn’t stopped the transaction, even when Phil objected. Fuck. The knock sounded again, and Phil dropped the note on the ground. As he emerged from the kitchen, his heart jumped from stomach to throat. Marta stood outside with her arms wrapped around her chest. He hurried to the door and opened it. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said as she stepped into the diner. “Not at all.” Phil smiled at her and couldn’t help but step back to admire her as she took off her jacket. Even if he hadn’t felt the pull to her, that overwhelming desire that rushes through a mountain lionshifter’s body when he first spots his mate, he would have found her beauty utterly intoxicating. Her soft body was womanly, with curves that he wanted to run his hands over. Her breasts pulled against the fabric of her T-shirt, and his mind filled with thoughts of taking them in his hands, running his fingers over the hardened tips, sucking a deeply colored nipple into his mouth. “Sorry, I just couldn’t sleep.” He dragged his gaze up to her face, his cheeks warming at the realization he had been overtly admiring her feminine assets, and he found confirmation of what she had said. Dark circles stained the pale skin under her eyes, and she raised a hand to stifle a yawn. “I know what you mean. I haven’t had such a terrible night’s sleep since my first night in Europe.”

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“Yes!” Marta’s eyes lit up, dispelling some of the sleepiness. “Jet lag is the absolute worst. People say not to sleep when you get to Europe—” “But after spending eight hours on a plane, who could possibly resist a nap?” “Certainly not me.” Marta laughed, and color flooded the round apples of her cheeks. Every cell in Phil screamed for him to run his hand over her face, to feel the heating of her skin as she laughed. Realization dawned on Phil. Why couldn’t he? If Sam and Mel were going to continue their show of stubbornness, he might as well benefit from it. But Phil hadn’t inherited his fathers’ charm like both of his brothers had. “So,” he started, suddenly bashful in the presence of the brunette beauty, “how do you feel about smoothies?” Marta looked startled, shaking her head and causing the thick brown waves of her hair to dance tantalizingly over her shoulders. “I guess I feel…positively.” She smirked and nodded her head. “Yes, my feelings toward smoothies would all fall under the category of positive.” She used a stiff voice, but her growing smile belied her amusement. “Indeed, I share these feelings.” Phil followed her lead, joining in her sarcastic play. “Thusly, I prepare them each morning for my guests.” Marta’s eyes brightened with realization. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Her sudden enthusiasm endeared her even more to Phil. “If you think I’m saying that I’d like your help hauling bags of frozen fruit out of the freezer, then you’re absolutely correct.” “Are there any smoothies in it for me?” Phil smiled and turned back to the kitchen, praying that he had interpreted her flirtation correctly and she would soon follow. After an excruciatingly long moment, he heard her footsteps behind him. “Freezer’s that way,” he said and pointed to the corner.

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Marta crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not helping unless there’s a smoothie in it for me.” “We’ll see.” Phil shrugged then boldly winked. When she gave an exaggerated sigh and headed for the freezer, a wide grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. They worked in companionable silence for a while, Marta removing bags of fruit while Phil prepared the ingredients for the breakfast menu. “And why, exactly, do so many Savage Hunger customers order smoothies in the middle of fall?” Marta slammed the last bag of frozen peaches on the island and leaned her elbows on the countertop. Phil walked around the island and mimicked Marta’s action, leaning on his elbows across from her. “Starbucks. I blame all bizarre beverage preferences developed in recent years on Starbucks.” Marta threw her head back and laughed, revealing the creamy skin of her neck to Phil. Every inch of her seemed to beg for his touch, for his fingers to run over what had to be velvety softness. The small freckles on her neck called to him like a map of where his mouth should land, where he should kiss her ever so gently. “What?” Phil started at Marta’s words and realized she must have noticed his open admiration. The countertop suddenly became quite interesting to him, and he mumbled as he stared at the surface. “Nothing, uh, just thinking about how much cornmeal I need to…” He trailed off as he saw her stand up and move away from him. “Well, if that’s all”—he looked up as she spoke, and she caught his gaze with hers—“I guess I’ll just go grab my uniform and—” Now or never, Phil. Time to man up. “Wait.” With purpose that shocked even him, he strode around the island and stood across from Marta. A wave of brown hair fell across her cheek as she turned her face up to him. “Come here.” He took a step toward her, holding her gaze the whole time. Her look was quizzical, and he prayed what he was about to do would

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dispel any doubt she may have had about his intentions. When the mounds of her breasts brushed against his chest, he stopped and cupped her chin lightly with his thumb and forefinger. Tilting her chin up to his face, his eyes closed, and he began his slow descent toward her lips. Their lips met in a soft brushing, but Marta’s body stilled when Phil wrapped his hand around her upper arm. His heart stopped beating for a moment. Had he pushed too far, asked for too much? Without Sam or Mel’s talent with the opposite sex, maybe he had misinterpreted Marta’s signal. Damn it. He’d been certain she was flirting with him. Defeated, he started to pull away from the soft whisper of a kiss that had so enchanted him. But Marta halted Phil’s retreat. Her hand shot to his waist and curled into a fist around the fabric of his chef’s jacket. Her lips sought his, and Phil couldn’t keep a hold on his lust for another instant. His fingers tangled in her hair to hold her face steady. He opened his mouth, so eager to taste the morsel of his mate’s lips, and swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, savoring both the softness of her mouth and the light, sweet taste of her flesh. Her mouth instantly opened to his, and he was able to delve further into her hot, wet depths. Marta explored his mouth with matching enthusiasm, raking her teeth over his lips and smoothing over the bites with tiny licks. They moved in synchronicity, turning their heads from side to side, and Marta matched each of Phil’s advances. He smoothed his hands down her back, pressing her closer to him and relieving some of the pressure on his now painfully hard dick. She thrust her hips forward each time he pressed his hard cock against her soft body. Lust overrode any sense Phil may have had. He opened his eyes and broke the kiss with Marta for a brief moment. Just before she bit into his neck and chased away rational thought for another lustful moment, he located the island behind her. He took the flesh of her earlobe between his teeth and pulled, eliciting a moan from Marta.

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Her open mouth presented Phil the perfect opportunity to claim her mouth again. She kissed him back with eager passion as his hands ventured further south. He roamed his palms over the small of her back, then over the swell of her round ass, and finally to her ass cheeks. He squeezed her against him then used his grip to lift her up. He heard a clanging of pans as he set Marta down on the island countertop. Her legs curled around his waist, and he could feel the heat from her pussy flowing out through her jeans and spreading over his stomach. God, he needed to be inside of her, needed to push his cock all the way into the steaming hot— “Good morning, you two.” The sound of Sam’s voice halted Marta’s writhing against Phil, and he felt his erection deflate as she pulled away. A lump formed in his throat when he saw the look of horror on her face. She turned her head from side to side, mouth agape as she looked between them. “I gotta go to work.” Her voice was only a squeak as she hopped off the island and headed toward the door of the kitchen. Sam stood there, smug, as he rested one shoulder against the doorjamb. When Marta approached the door, she didn’t raise her eyes to look at him, just stood stubbornly in front of him. “Hey, don’t be upset,” Sam said with an apologetic tone in his voice. “Look, we can talk about it.” He made the mistake of standing upright as he spoke, and Marta instantly darted through the opening he created. The silence in the kitchen weighed on Phil’s shoulders as he turned slowly to glare at Sam. Anger unlike any he had ever felt boiled under Phil’s skin, and despite his tightly held control over his lion form, at the moment, he wanted to shift and rip Sam’s throat out. “What the fuck, Sam?” “What?” Sam shrugged his shoulders as he walked into the kitchen and audaciously hopped onto the island, right where Marta had been seated.

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Phil squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples. “Whether or not we mate her, she wasn’t ready for that.” “She’ll have to accept it sooner or later.” Phil glared at his brother. “It should have been later, Sam, and you know that. We can’t expect her to accept that she’s mated to a family of ménageamous shape-shifters instantly. We have to expose her to it gradually. Have you even listened to any of the stories previous generations have told about taking their mates?” “Chelsea accepted it right away.” Sam shrugged his shoulders and opened the bag of frozen peaches beside him. He started to take one out, but Phil swatted his hand away. “First of all, no, she didn’t.” Sam opened his mouth to rebut, but a glare from Phil silenced him. “Roarke’s told me about it, and they gave her plenty of time to get used to the idea.” “Yeah, but they’re friends. You know how girls talk. Maybe they—” Phil felt his claws burning beneath his fingernails, and it took all his concentration to keep from shifting. “Sam, listen to yourself. Are you really saying that Marta will accept all of this? That she’ll welcome a situation that must sound to her like the plot of a bad romance and horror movie crossover merely because her best friend did under very different circumstances?” Sam had taken advantage of Phil’s tirade to sneak a peach and was chewing on the frozen fruit. His brother’s flippant attitude toward Marta’s reaction boiled Phil’s blood, raising it closer to the hotblooded furor of his lion form. “Well?” Finally, something resembling the appropriate gravity required in the situation settled over Sam’s features. “It doesn’t really matter, though, does it?” “Don’t say that.” Phil needed to believe they had a chance, that Mel would come around and that Sam hadn’t just blown it for them. “Mel didn’t say no definitely. We could still make this work.” He

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nodded at the stainless range. “That is, if you haven’t already said yes to Norman.” Sam winced briefly, pain flashing across his features, then shook his head as he hopped off the island and started toward the door. He placed his hand against the swinging door and turned back to Phil. “You have more faith in Mel than I do.” “And you have more faith in Ulysses Norman.” **** Now Marta was the one doing the avoiding. All day long, both Sam and Phil had tried to get her attention. Marta had come to dread retrieving orders from the kitchen. Each time she did, Phil was there. If not handing off the food himself, he would smile with her from across the kitchen. He came out to greet some of the guests, even hugging Chelsea. He had gazed at her from across the diner, and she swore he was using her best friend to bait her. No, that would not happen. Instead, she stayed with the interminably grumpy Clayton Abbott, preferring his pointed comments about the quality of the coffee to facing what had happened that morning. She replayed the morning in her head as she started on her walk back to her apartment. Phil was so enchanting. Their easy banter comforted her, providing some solace in her situation. The way his hair curled around his face and offset his high cheekbones and aquiline nose never failed to fascinate her. This morning had been so easy, so fun until that one moment. She relived the moment over and over and over again, the brush of his fingers beneath her chin as real then as it had been that morning. When their eyes had locked, Marta had taken leave of her senses. Something in the back of her mind screamed at her and reminded her what had just come to pass with his brother. But his lips had choked that voice and sent her into a frenzy. When his mouth and his hands

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and his hips worked in concert, Marta climbed toward a dangerous cliff of ecstasy. Suddenly, the bite in the chilly night air was welcome. She was certain her skin would burn through her clothing without it. She felt the muscles in her pussy clench as she remembered how he had taken what he wanted when he palmed her ass and threw her onto the countertop. All senses vanished, and she only lived in that moment with Phil. Then Sam walked in, and reality shattered the glass box of lust and fantasy that had held both of them. No, the Pope brothers were too dangerous. She wished that Phil and then Sam hadn’t monopolized Chelsea that day. Girl talk would certainly help dampen the rising anxiety inside of her. She couldn’t come between brothers. She would be gone soon, anyway. Marta stuck her chin out as she turned off Treaty Lane and onto Kwitakusix Cove. Much as she loved her best friend, she wasn’t the kind to stick around and play wife to one man, let alone two. Marta had achieved everything in her life on her own, and she didn’t see that stopping anytime soon. When she was sixteen, she had started working as a delivery driver at a Chinese food restaurant in order to help her single mother pay their rent. Her work on her high school debate team and her straight-A average earned her a full scholarship to Rhodes College in her hometown of Memphis. While there, she had worked tirelessly as a waitress for all her spending money and still managed to graduate summa cum laude with degrees in English and Communications She would make it through this road bump, like all the rest. Even as she tried to convince herself that she didn’t need a man’s support, the knot in her stomach tightened. This town had done something to her libido. She had never really craved sex, but since arriving in Savage Valley, her nights had been filled with torrid dreams involving her two ridiculously attractive employers. As she approached her fourplex, a figure outlined by the low light above the porch stood outside her apartment. Ah, yes. The third man

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who haunted her dreams stepped into the light, and even in the dim glow, his perfectly formed features and tall, muscular frame sent waves of pleasure coursing through Marta’s body. The moonshine she imbibed with Mel must have affected her sensory memory somehow because even from her position several feet away, his spicy, woody scent seemed to envelop her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, an alarm sounded, reminding her of the wariness she felt only a few moments ago, but her hesitance dropped away at the intoxicating aroma. It grew stronger with each step toward him, reminding her how it felt to lean against his hard chest, the prickling of his black stubble against the sensitive skin of her neck. “It’s getting colder,” he said as she stepped onto the porch across from him. Heat rolled off him in waves, and Marta could no longer feel the chill he mentioned. “I guess it is.” She stood right in front of him, not bothering to open the door to her apartment. “You have my jacket, remember?” How could she forget? It sat over her desk chair in her apartment and reminded her each night of how she would see its owner again. With the way their last interaction ended, Marta’s hopes were high for this inevitable encounter. “Oh, that old thing? I’m not sure if I threw it away or not.” Mel smirked, quirking one eyebrow at her. “Well, I hope you didn’t.” He took a step closer to her, and it took all Marta’s control not to run her hands over the muscular chest outlined against his T-shirt. “Why’s that?” “Because…” He trailed off as he closed the distance between himself and Marta. Her breathing hitched, and for the second time that day, overwhelming need had her cunt pulsing. He lowered his face to hers, and his hot breath danced over her face. “It’s cold.” He suddenly stood up straight and walked to Marta’s door, leaning on the wall beside it. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

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Marta took a deep breath to steady herself, then turned to him and folded her arms over her chest. “Oh, you think that’s how it goes? You just demand entry to a young lady’s apartment and expect she’ll let you come waltzing in?” “I don’t know.” The smirk on his face belied his words. “Will it work?” Marta straightened her back and stuck her chin in the air. “A young woman must be courted,” she teased in an over-the-top British accent. “I don’t even know your last name.” Mel raised his eyebrows at her, and for a long moment, they were both silent. Something flashed through his expression, and he stood up straight, taking the few steps needed to stand in front of Marta again. “It doesn’t matter what my last name is. My family and I don’t really get along.” One of his hands landed on her waist and slowly glided backward around Marta, settling on the small of her back. “What matters”—his other hand tangled in Marta’s hair—“is how much I want to do this.” Mel used his grip on Marta’s hair to pull her head back then crushed his lips against hers. Every last drop of sexual tension Marta had fought since that morning poured out of her as she responded to his kiss. She ran her hands over the smooth muscles of his chest then wrapped her fists around the thin material of his T-shirt over his pecs. She pulled him closer to her, and her hips pressed against his legs. Her clit throbbed as she felt his matching attraction, the hard bulge of his cock pushing into her stomach. She couldn’t grab her keys from her pocket fast enough. Not breaking the kiss, she moved backward toward her door. Mel was with her every step of the way, pushing her back against the door once they reached it and grinding his hips against her. Marta snaked her hands behind his back to steady herself as she wrapped one leg around his thigh, in desperate need of some sort of friction on her clit, some sort of relief.

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Keys. Get the keys. At least some part of her consciousness was wise enough to remind her not to give herself over to Mel right there on her porch for all of Savage Valley to see. Reluctantly, she broke the kiss and whispered against Mel’s lips, “Let’s get your jacket.” He clearly understood her meaning because he loosed his grip on her enough for her to turn and work the lock. But apparently he wasn’t able to restrain himself from touching her. As she fumbled with her keys, his hands shot to her breasts, palming them as she tried desperately to unlock the door. She yelped at the feel of his stubble brushing across her neck as he moved her ponytail out of the way with his face and laved at the back of her neck. Her errand was delayed as she moaned and pressed her chest forward, allowing Mel more access to her rapidly sensitizing breasts. One of his hands journeyed lower, following her curves down to the waistband of her jeans. She heard the deadbolt click open but couldn’t find the coordination to turn the handle when Mel’s hand ghosted over the front of her jeans then closed over her mound. Her hips bucked against his hand, and he pushed back, pressing his middle finger right over her clit. Luckily, he could manage some sort of coordination, and the door flew open in front of Marta. She quickly turned around and snaked her arms around Mel’s neck to balance herself, her lips finding his immediately. She stumbled backward as he navigated the two of them into her apartment. Marta heard the door slam shut, and an instant later she found her back pressed against the hard wood. She stood on tiptoes, trying to get closer to Mel, trying to will the intimacy she needed into existence. His hands began their descent from her shoulders, down over her upper arms, and tantalizingly slowly over her waist. They lingered at the hem of her T-shirt, and he lifted it only enough to stroke her sensitive skin there. She moaned into his mouth as he finally, finally moved his hands over her hips and took her ass in his hands. As if performing choreographed movements, his hands moved even lower,

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and he broke their kiss and moved his lips down to her chest as he hooked both his arms underneath her thighs. Marta curled her arms and legs around him, rubbing against him as he carried her to her bed, his face buried in her cleavage. He threw her onto the bed and pounced after her. He climbed on top of her, and she took the opportunity to grab the hem of his T-shirt and pull it up. She needed to see the chest that his tight T-shirts had hinted at. Once she had pulled it halfway up his stomach, he understood and sat up, pulled the shirt over his head, and tossed it aside. He started to lower himself again to her chest, but she placed one hand on his waist. “Wait,” she whispered. God, the outline she saw hadn’t done justice to the real thing. She ran her hands over the smooth muscles of his stomach and up to the hard planes of his pecs. She ghosted her hands over the dark circles of his nipples and was gratified with a hitch in his breath as she did so. What most fascinated her most were the hard indents over his hips and pelvis, which hinted at another muscle Marta very much so wanted to explore. With a brazen motion Marta hadn’t expected of herself, her fingers toyed with the button at the top of his jeans. “Now you wait.” Mel’s hand closed over Marta’s, and his watery blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “This isn’t very fair.” “What’s not?” Marta panted. “You still have a shirt on.” The words were spoken at the same instant Mel plunged back toward Marta, and this time, his hands pulled at her T-shirt. He had her topless with one smooth motion, and suddenly, his hands were everywhere. Her neck, her breasts, her stomach, the soft skin of her sides blazed when he traced his fingers over them. One hand snaked underneath Marta’s back and had her black bra unsnapped in an instant. Before she could even move her arms to wiggle out of the garment, Mel had already pushed a hand underneath and pinched one very hard, very sensitive nipple. As he twisted it, she squeaked and opened her mouth in a silent scream of

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pleasure. He soon tossed her bra aside and moved his mouth to her chest. As his mouth closed over one nipple, Marta moaned and pushed her hips upward. God, she wasn’t going to last long. Just writhing against him already had her at the brink of coming. Mel seemed to sense this as he traced his mouth lower, leaving a trail of scorched flesh in the wake of his tongue and teeth. Soon his hands were unfastening her jeans. “Not fair,” she breathed, but there was no conviction in her words. Marta lifted her hips to allow Mel to slip her jeans over her hips then pull them off of her. His hands smoothed up her legs, and she watched his face as he studied her. Marta had never thought of herself as particularly attractive, but she thought she may need to revise that notion in the future. She watched Mel’s eyelashes as his gaze raked up her naked flesh, open admiration visible on his face. Finally, his eyes locked on hers. For that one moment, time seemed to stand still. Marta could hardly believe what was happening to her, but nothing had ever felt as real, as completely vivid and visceral as that very second. “Do you really want me to stop?” It took Marta a second to register Mel’s words. She merely smiled and tangled her hand in his shaggy black hair. He laughed, allowing her to push his head downward, and the feeling of his hot breath against the damp crotch of her panties only served to propel her need higher and higher. She could only moan in response and push her pussy closer to him, closer to what she needed. One finger ran along the cleft between her pelvis and her inner thigh, starting at her hip. When it reached the point closest to her soaked folds, Mel dragged it over her panties. Marta yelped a little as it traced over her clit. The sound must have signaled to Mel that she could wait no longer because next thing she knew, that finger hooked underneath her panties and dragged them down. As the elastic waistband raked over her thighs, Mel’s other hand covered her

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mound. Marta pushed against it and was rewarded with a single finger pushing into her folds. “More,” she breathed. “God, please, more.” “You can call me Mel.” His words were spoken inches from her pussy, and she could feel her underwear being pulled over her foot, leaving her completely available for Mel’s taking. “Bastard.” Her insult had no venom to it, instead spoken reverently. His finger penetrated then, and her pussy muscles clenched around the welcome invasion. It was quickly followed by a second finger, and Marta’s hips involuntarily bucked in rhythm with his finger-fucking. Her orgasm felt so close, and if he’d only add another finger, she knew the erotic stretching would force her over the edge. As she opened her mouth to whimper her plea, a cold, sharp sensation silenced her. Mel laved at her clit, sending her close, so close to the launching pad for her orgasm. He continued his relentless finger-fucking as he teased the stiff bud with his tongue. Marta heard a loud moan escape from her throat as he hooked his fingers forward inside of her right as he sucked around her clit, pulling all the triggers that sent her rocketing into the stratospheric ecstasy of her release. Cream pulsed from her cunt and onto Mel’s fingers and mouth as she found the climax she had needed since her arrival in Savage Valley. Mel withdrew his fingers from her and rubbed once over her sensitive mound, eliciting a soft moan, and pulled himself up to lie next to her. “Did I earn my jacket back?” Marta gave a breathy laugh, all she was capable of in her postorgasmic state. “So you just get a girl off and take what you came for?” She turned her head just in time to see him shrug and give her a beaming smile that lit up his gorgeous eyes. “Are you objecting?”

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“Oh, hell no,” she said with a laugh in her voice. “I was just clarifying.” She rolled onto her side to face him and ran a hand through his hair. His smile turned from mischievous to sweet, and Marta marveled at the stark contrast between his alabaster skin, his dark eyebrows, and his sparkling blue eyes. Even if he didn’t have the body of a male model, he would be indisputably attractive. Lucky for Marta, he was the whole aesthetic package. He placed his hand on her waist and pulled him to her for a soft kiss. Marta could taste her flavor on his lips, the sensation marvelously erotic. He pulled away and ran his fingers delicately over her face, using his thumb to stroke her bottom lip. “You know”—the sarcastic edge to his voice was gone for the first time—“I’m really glad you decided to try the moonshine the other day.” “Why? Because you got to see me all silly and drunk?” “No.” His voice was completely sincere and his expression earnest. “Because I got to see you, period.” His fingers danced along her jawline then tangled into the hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “I’ve never met anyone like you.” Marta felt warmth rising to her cheeks. Either she had turned into Heidi Klum in the past few weeks, or the men in this town were crazy. “I’ve never met anyone like you, either,” she confessed. “I thought the leather-clad rebel died along with Dennis Hopper.” Mel laughed and looked down, his hair falling over his face. “I appreciate the comparison, but I’ve always thought myself more the Kerouac type.” Marta studied him for a moment then cocked her head to the side. “I can see you hitching a ride cross-country.” He looked away suddenly and stilled his caress, something dark flashing across his features. The moment ended quickly though, and Mel continued his soft touch.

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“I’ve read On the Road more times than I can count.” “Really? That’s my favorite book. It’s what made me want to become a writer.” Marta ran her hand over his face as she spoke, feeling the muscles of his jaw as they pulled into a smile. “Mine, too.” He took her hand in his and held it against his chest. Marta could feel his heart racing. “That’s what it is about you, Marta. You’re one of the ones Kerouac talked about. You don’t shy away from life. You live it to its fullest.” “Why wouldn’t I? I want to do everything, experience everything that a mere human can experience.” A wide smile spread across Mel’s face at her remark. “I’m very glad to hear that.” “Why? Did you have something in mind?” Mel dragged her hand down across her chest. He gave her a questioning look when their joined hands reached the waistband of his jeans. Marta nodded, granting him the silent permission he sought. He tugged at her hand, bringing it only an inch lower to where the material of his jeans began to tent with his erection. Marta finished the journey for him, releasing his hand and softly brushing hers against his cock. He hissed as she continued to run her fingers up and down the flesh, outlining it through the fabric of his jeans. Marta wiggled closer to him on the bed and closed the space between their faces. “Time to make things fair.” She popped the button on his jeans and unzipped them. He groaned as she dragged them downward, and she saw that he had neglected to wear any sort of undergarment today. “Were you expecting something?” she whispered with more than a hint of mischief in her voice. “Expecting, no. Hoping, y—” He couldn’t finish the word when Marta closed her hand around his cockhead. She created a ring with her thumb and middle finger and ran it from the head to the base and up again. Mel broke her contact as he kicked off his jeans, but Marta

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quickly resumed her caress. He lay on his back, displaying his perfectly formed cock to her. It was long and framed perfectly by the defined muscles of his hips. She bit her lip as she examined it, wondering if she could take all of his impressive length inside of her. Mel then resumed control of their encounter and rolled Marta onto her back. He straddled her, and she could feel his wet pre-cum on her stomach and his heavy balls against her pelvis. She took his cockhead in her hand again and stroked along the sensitive ridge. “Marta.” She looked up at him and stilled her hand’s ministrations. He captured her lips with his as he pulled his hips back. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and she felt his impossibly hard cock against the slippery folds of her pussy. He lifted his head up and looked at her with a gravity she hadn’t expected from him. “I want to make love to you.” The combination of his hovering on the brink of penetration and his frank admission had her completely flustered. She couldn’t speak and responded to him by ghosting her lips over his, lightly licking his bottom lip as she lowered her head back onto the bed. Slowly, she nodded. He pushed forward a little bit, closing his eyes and hissing as his head popped into the sheath of her cunt. Marta lifted her hips, and he penetrated her fully. He opened his eyes again and stayed still for a few seconds, allowing Marta to adjust to his long, thick cock. A small smile played at the corner of Mel’s lips, and he quirked an eyebrow. “And I want to fuck you, too.” He started moving then, at first slowly, each stroke a gentle embrace. Then he sped up, pounding harder and harder into Marta. She felt her need climbing, her pussy dampening with each emphatic thrust. His eyes had drifted closed again, and a look of sheer ecstasy took hold of his features. He pulled out completely, sat up, and took Marta’s hips in his hands. At that moment, he thrust back into Marta, shocking her and filling her and pushing closer to the brink.

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The changed angle meant he hit her G-spot, that little button inside Marta’s pussy that robbed her of her senses in favor of allencompassing bliss. His fingernails dug into her sides, and groans escaped from his throat as he continued pounding into her. The pace of his fucking escalated, driving his cock into her pussy over and over and faster and faster, and his nails dug deeper. “Oh, god!” She felt a sharp sting on her side, and Mel’s grip on her hips loosened. He fell forward again, and the movement caused the angle of his hips to change and brush against her clit. That was it. That was all Marta could take. Her heart pounded as her entire consciousness focused on where she and Mel were joined, where her cunt clenched around all of his substantial length. Colors of light burst in front of her eyes, and her spasming pussy must have driven Mel to his breaking point, too. He groaned in ecstasy as her cunt milked his release from him, absorbing every last drop of his hot seed. Mel’s chest crashed onto Marta’s when reality finally pulled them back into its clutches. They lay silent for a moment, their panting breaths and the choking of the heater turning on the only sounds in the apartment. After several long moments in silent, sensual embrace, Mel pulled himself out of Marta, and she sighed, suddenly bereft. He fell to her side, and Marta realized that she missed his touch. Fortunately, he took one of her hands in his, dispelling her anxiety. Even after what they had just done, the simple touch felt impossibly intimate. Staring at the ceiling, Marta finally broke the silence. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting to happen tonight.” Mel released her hand and rolled onto his side. He propped his head up on a crooked elbow and looked down on her, long locks nearly obscuring the smile on his face. Nearly. “To be honest,” he said, lazily tracing one hand over her stomach, “I didn’t expect it, either.” “You liar!” Marta gave his hair a soft pull, and he crinkled his nose in response.

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“I’m not lying.” Any joking left his voice. “I came over here because I couldn’t stand not seeing you for another day.” Marta’s heart did a backflip at his words, and she tried—quite unsuccessfully—not to show it. “You hardly know me, though. How could you want to see me so badly?” Mel sighed and took Marta in her arms, giving her the opportunity to snuggle into his hard chest. His spicy male scent overflowed her olfactory senses, and she swore it spilled into her taste, her sight, and that she could nearly feel it against her cheek. If she had thought it robust before, it was positively potent as her naked form melded against his. “Like I said, you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met. From the moment I first saw you, I knew I would never forget you.” Without warning, his muscles tensed, and he went rigid. “What’s wrong?” She looked up into his face, which was now creased with concern. “Um, we didn’t use a condom. Are you—” Marta breathed out a sigh of relief. That was all he was worried about? “Don’t worry. I have an IUD, and I’m clean.” He breathed a matching sigh. “Oh, thank god.” He froze again. “Not that I wouldn’t—I mean if you did, I would be—” Marta’s chuckle interrupted his rambling. “You just don’t want anything to come between us right now.” He relaxed again, pulled her hair out of its ponytail, and ran his hand along the thick locks. “I just found you. I would be devastated if I lost you so soon.” Marta could only bury her face in his chest again and smile. Regardless of what was going on with Sam and Phil, Marta knew that she had this. Something occurred to her. “Mel?”

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“Yeah, baby?” His use of a pet name sent a flurry of butterflies loose in her stomach. “Is your name short for something?” “Guess.” She lifted her face to his and studied it for a moment. That smug smile had settled across his lips again. “Melvin.” “Nope.” “Mel…lificent?” “No, silly.” He tickled her with the hand resting on her side, and she giggled in response. “Okay, okay. I give up!” “Melbourne.” “Like the city in Australia?” He nodded, but his thoughts seemed to race to somewhere far away. “I think it was an aspirational naming by my parents.” “Have they ever been there?” “No,” he said as he shook his head solemnly, “but they plan to.” In an attempt to draw his thoughts back to the apartment, back to the two of them, Marta wrapped a hand around his chiseled bicep and used her grip to pull herself up to his face. Her eyes sought his gaze, and she explored his rough black stubble with her fingertips. Her touch seemed to bring him back to the moment, and his hands smoothed down her back. Before she could register the action, his mouth had claimed hers. But this was not a kiss of sexual abandon. No, Marta thought the kiss more…tender, a promise as opposed to a conquest. His lips moved deliberately over hers, and she responded in kind, trying to put all of the feeling even she couldn’t verbalize into the sensual touch. “Stay.” She breathed the word on the end of the kiss. “What do you mean?”

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“Don’t go, not yet.” “I wasn’t planning to.” “Good.” She snuggled into his chest, the emotions of the day finally wearing her down completely. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right here.” Mel’s words sounded far away as blissful unconsciousness beckoned. She had begun her slow glide into sleep when she thought she heard a breathy whisper come from Mel’s lips. “I’ll always be right here.” **** Sun streamed from slats in between the blinds. Mel blinked his eyes, wondering when exactly Cleve and Ezra had sprung for a home improvement as practical as blinds. The warm figure tangled in the blankets beside him reminded him that he wasn’t at the Yeats cabin. No, he had awakened in a much, much better place. He rolled over and saw the sleeping beauty snuggled beside him. He pushed the bangs back from her forehead and studied her delicate features. Her high cheekbones and cute, little button nose contrasted to give her a striking appearance that would catch any man’s attention. She had certainly captured his. It was a tale passed from generation to generation of Savage Valley mountain lion-shifters. Every thirty or so years, when a new generation took over protecting the land, their fathers would speak in hushed tones about the overwhelming experience of finding their mates. Mel had known without even seeing her. When his ears registered the click of her deadbolt as Marta walked out of her apartment that first day they met, every sense lit up. He knew something monumental had happened in his life. And when he glimpsed her—oh, when he first glimpsed her—he had known beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had found his mate. Her pink lips, her dark hair, and her lush, feminine body called to him

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in a way no woman had before. He knew, and he knew he had to claim her. When Sam and Phil had called claiming they’d found their mate, the feelings warring within Mel’s chest forced him to turn them away. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Mel still competed with his brothers, and locating their mate was the ultimate boon. He had found their mate, and they would have to learn to live with that. She stirred next to him and opened her eyes then squeezed them shut again. “Shh.” Mel ran a hand through her hair then leaned over and kissed her sleep-swollen lips. Her arms wound around his neck, and she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. It took all the strength he could muster to pull away from the heavenly softness of her lips. “Marta, I have to go.” “Don’t go,” she whispered, still with her eyes closed. “Please, stay as long as you can.” “Believe me, I want to.” She would never know exactly how much he wanted to stay and indulge in the carnal pleasures of last night. “But I have a…” How could he explain his clandestine hunting mission to her? He looked to the blinds again and saw the sun intensifying. He only had a few hours to hunt before the tourists would be out at Adam’s Point, scaring away the deer and distracting from Mel’s leonine mission of completing his contractual obligation to kill. “I have a…commitment,” he finally said, “and I can’t break it.” Her eyes blinked open then, and the forlorn expression on her face twisted his stomach. He wished he could explain it all now, but he would have enough difficulty convincing her to believe he was a shape-shifter, let alone explaining the politics of covenant killing. Damn it, if he didn’t need the money right now, he would tell Cleve and Ezra they could go fuck themselves. “Am I going to see you again?”

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“How can you even ask that?” He sealed his words with a quick kiss. “You’re not the kind of girl that a man fucks then walks out on.” Her breathing hitched, and Mel suddenly felt the need to relieve his morning erection. No. If I do that, I’ll be here until the damn curse calls me to the next pride hunt. “Tell you what. I won’t take my jacket.” Marta’s lips curled into a smile. “Good.” With a sigh of deep regret, Mel sat up and crawled out of the warm, alluring bed with its even warmer, more alluring occupant. Funny, sex had never given him this warm glow, this feeling of complete satisfaction before, but Marta deserved that and so much more. She deserved all a man could give, and she deserved the protection of the pride. He reached the door and turned back to her. “I’ll be back. Soon.” Marta only made a sound of contentment and turned over to go back to sleep. He nearly started back to the door when a mark on her otherwise unblemished skin drew his attention. Four parallel long, red cuts on her side had scabbed over, but the irritated flesh on either side of the incisions indicated they were freshly made. Mel held his breath as he found the strength to open the door and exit the small apartment. After gently closing the door so as not to disturb the soporific angel inside, Mel leaned against the front wall of the apartment. His breaths rose in billowing clouds, reduced to steam by the chilly morning air. He watched as the sun crested over the Mukua Mountains and cast light over the jagged landscape. Only an hour or two now. He knew that Cleve and Ezra needed him for the unauthorized hunt, but his mate beckoned him from her den of iniquity. His mate. Though he hadn’t formally mated her, that was what she was. And not the pride, not the curse, and most certainly not his brothers would stop him from having her.

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The image popped into his head of the scratches cut into Marta’s soft flesh. Yes, he would mate Marta. After all, he’d already marked her.

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Chapter 6 A knock sounded on the door to Sam’s office. He looked up from his laptop, grateful for the interruption of his biweekly payroll duties. “Come in!” The door opened, and Rita Copely marched into his office, hands on hips. “Samuel Zachariah Pope, why in the good Lord’s name is there a suit out there talking about Savage Hunger—and I quote—‘becoming a part of the NormCorp empire?’” Well, shit. Sam hadn’t planned on telling his employees about the sale until it was final. As it stood, Sam had only spoken with Norman’s receptionist over the phone about setting up an appointment to draw up the papers. Nothing had been signed, at least not yet. Rita continued looking at him with an accusatory expression. Although hesitant to discuss the situation with anyone, Sam considered making an exception for Rita. The woman had worked for his family most of her life, and since one of her sons had married a Yeats woman, she knew plenty about the pride. “Sit down.” Sam closed his laptop and gestured to one of the chairs across his desk. “Don’t you give me orders, Sam. I’m going to Haven after my shift, and I’ll give your mother a piece of my mind.” Sam reluctantly recalled that Rita and his mother shared everything as they received their routine manicures and pedicures and engaged in assorted womanly beauty rituals at the Haven, Savage Valley’s beauty salon. He and his brothers had long since learned that

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if any of their behavior was reported to their mother, there would be hell to pay, even as adults. “All right, all right,” he conceded. “Why don’t you please take a seat, Rita?” “There’s that infamous Pope charm.” Sam blew out a quick breath of air. Any mention of the Pope charm, a legendary family trait, reminded him of his generation’s other Byronic son. “Well, what do you want to know? I know you’ll just ask around until you find out anyway.” “You bet your ass I will.” Rita winked at him as she took a seat, crossed her legs, and leaned over the desk. “And you bet your ass that you’ll tell me why you’re selling out to that cue-ball-headed Norman. I’ve talked to your mother, and I know you boys aren’t hurtin’ for cash.” “The business has done well, yes,” Sam said as he nodded, delaying confessing everything. “Phil’s cooking is becoming nearly as infamous as the singles nature walks at the Woodland.” “Sam, tell me.” “Well, you see, there’s—” “Out with it, sug.” Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t relish having to tell another soul why he was about to jeopardize Savage Valley’s future. “We found our mate.” “That’s wonderful!” Rita clapped her hands together, and her eyes shone with excitement. “When do we get to start planning the wedding?” “Not yet. You see, by ‘we,’ I mean Phil and me.” Rita’s face fell. “Not Mel.” “No, not Mel. We’ve reached out to him, but he won’t accept our overtures. He’s claiming that he’s found someone else and that he

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needs to be with her. And you know how he is, Rita. He won’t even live in the cabin with us. And you know that I believe that if the curse didn’t compel him, he wouldn’t even participate in the hunt.” “Oh, hon.” Rita’s tone became gentle and nurturing, a sign she was about to invoke her rights as a woman who damn near raised Sam and his brothers. “Don’t be so hard on him. He’s a good boy, but he just has a hard time fitting in with the rest of you Popes. You know that.” “The reason he doesn’t fit in is that he doesn’t want to.” “Oh, hush. You know that’s not true. Growing up, you and Phil had Oliver and Roarke. The four of you were inseparable. Mel never resonated with the Cash boys, and it doesn’t help that families with three shifters are so uncommon. In this generation, it’s only you and the Sullivans, and you never got along with them. Maybe Mel felt a little—” “I don’t want to have this conversation.” The last thing Sam needed was another discussion of how his actions had contributed to drive away the youngest Pope. Rita pursed her lips, looking as if she held back a nasty comment, but nodded anyway. “Okay, Sam, but you still haven’t explained why that wool-clad slimeball outside thinks Ulysses Norman is going to buy up my place of employment.” “I was getting there.” He gave her a pointed look and then continued. “Since we can’t get—” Rita narrowed her eyes at Sam. “If we can’t get Mel onboard with taking our mate, then we’ve talked about invoking the infertility clause in the treaty.” “You wouldn’t,” Rita gasped. “We’d have to,” he said solemnly. “But what does that have to do with selling Savage Hunger to NormCorp?” “It would ensure some measure of protection for the land and for the Pope sector of Savage Valley. Otherwise Phil and I staying unmated will just drain the pride of much-needed strength. I truly

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believe that selling to NormCorp, leaving the curse, and ending our line would be a better decision for us and for the pride.” “But the infertility clause means Marta won’t be able to have children. What if she wants them?” “Maybe that’s just a sacrifice we’ll—” Wait. He hadn’t mentioned Marta, had he? “Rita,” he continued slowly, “how did you know it was Marta?” The meddling but endearing older woman grinned from ear to ear. “Sug, it’s more than obvious. You and Phil have been falling over yourselves since she waggled her pretty little ass into this joint.” Sam felt his jaw drop. Once able, he closed it and spoke. “If I did anything, Rita, to make you feel uncomfortable in the workplace or showed favor to her in any way, you—” Rita threw back her head and howled in laughter. Sam looked from side to side, wondering what exactly had caused her hysterical outburst. “Sorry, sorry,” Rita said as she returned from her fit of hooting merriment, and Sam swore he saw her wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “But Sam, honey, you’re an excellent boss. And you haven’t shown any sort of professional favor to Marta. It’s just so damn clear in the way you and your brother look at her you’re completely wild for her. Honestly, your mother and I have been waiting for you boys to ’fess up for days now.” Sam could only laugh dryly at Rita’s comment and shake his head. “If only it were that simple.” “It could be, you know, if you would only patch things up with—” “No,” Sam interrupted. “Even if Mel, Phil, and I were able to magically work out all our differences, it wouldn’t matter. I killed our chance.” “Oh, hush now. Any girl’d be salivating to have a nice young man like you.”

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“My attractiveness aside,” Sam said with a laugh, “I think we pushed her a little too hard. Honestly, growing up amongst the pride, I sometimes forget how odd ménageamy appears to outsiders.” Clucking, Rita shook her head, rose from the desk, and walked around to where Sam sat. She placed her hands on his wide shoulders and swiveled his chair so that he faced her. With Sam seated, she almost saw eye to eye with him, a rare occurrence. “Sug, you just hit upon what’s been plaguing this town for the past hundred and fifty years. Your mother accepted it right away, and so did little Miss Chelsea, but you’re talking about a different woman.” Rita turned and walked back to the chair then sat emphatically and crossed her legs. “Now, do you have any paper?” Perplexed, Sam nodded. “Good. Now take this down.” Sam opened his mouth to object, but the look on Rita’s face made him think the better of it. “Here’s what you need to do. The three of you boys need to have a good, long talk first of all and work things out—” “As if that would happen,” Sam grumbled under his breath. “—and then you need to talk to Marta. Whether or not you want to tell her first about the Pope family’s tradition of all the brothers taking the same woman, or about how the three of you are…that you expect her to…” “That she’s walked into a fucking Animorphs book?” “Well, that’s one way of saying it, I guess.” The metallic taste of blood danced across his tongue, and Sam realized that his canines had begun to extend and pierce the skin of his lip. “Shit!” The overly large teeth muffled his voice. “Rita, could you give me a moment?” Having witnessed one of Sam’s partial-shifting episodes before— he couldn’t shift fully around her—Rita hopped to her feet and went to the door.

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“You take a minute, sug. I’ve only got a short spell left on my shift. But think about what I said. You need to let Marta make the decision for herself. Don’t go sellin’ off the family business just because you’re afraid things won’t work out.” Sam looked up at her and mouthed a completely heartfelt, “thank you,” while trying to keep his canines from showing as Rita slipped out of his office. He dropped his head to his hands and ran his fingers through the tangled locks of his hair. It appeared as though all his demons were conspiring to turn this day against him. Upon waking, his morning erection instantly wilted when he realized that he had ensured that he would never wake with Marta’s warm body curled against his. His words and his actions when he walked in on her with Phil had so alienated her that Sam worried he could never win her back. Every single morning since he laid eyes on her, and especially in the short span of time since his first taste of the sweet berries of her lips, he had looked around to ensure Phil had made his morning run to the Savage Hunger then stroked himself to completion by imagining Marta waking up beside him. Each morning the hallucination returned— waking with his cock pressed against her luscious ass, the swell of her breasts heaving as she rode him, the cries of exquisite agony as they came together—but not this morning. His actions had ensured his fantasy would never make it through the transformation to reality. And once he had dragged himself to the office to perform the loathsome duty of payroll, Rita had marched into his office and reminded him once more that he was the root cause of his family’s woes. He knew the feud with Mel was ridiculous, and he knew that he was the one stoking the fires of their inimical relationship. But Sam’s pride could never allow him to acknowledge his servitude to his brother, especially to the youngest Pope’s face. Finally, even the heavens tangled themselves in the conspiracy against Sam. The waxing gibbous moon would shine upon the Mukuas tonight and, as it had for his forefathers, transform all the

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members of the pride into their lion form for their hunt. Sam leaned back in his chair as he imagined the agony and humiliation he’d endured for the past two years since Oliver, the pride alpha, hit thirty years of age and their generation had come to dominate the pride. Sam’s size made him intimidating in human form, but clumsy as a lion. Over the years, he’d become a formidable tracker, but he never developed the talent for killing, for stalking their prey and sinking in his teeth. No, Mel was the hunter in their family. Being the oldest, Sam had used his seniority as a child to coax Mel into covering for him when their fathers would gather the boys for hunting practice. Now, no such luxury existed. Instead, Mel’s rebellious nature had led him away from the family and into a life of vice. Sam shuddered to think that one of his own family had become a covenant killer—one of the lions who hunted for hire when other lions couldn’t fend for themselves, despite the harsh punishments outlined in the treaty. The only thought more disturbing to Sam was how often he patronized Mel and the Yeatses’—also covs—clandestine operation. Yet another knock interrupted Sam’s thoughts, this one as welcome as the last. “Rita, you can just leave your things in the kitchen, and I’ll have Dave come get them,” Sam called to the door. Luckily, his fangs had retracted, and his voice was once more clear. “Uh, it’s not Rita.” His chest contracted at the clear, ringing voice that penetrated straight to his soul. Marta. He cleared his throat before giving her a quick, “Come in!” Marta’s usual attentiveness was gone, and her mind appeared elsewhere as she walked over to the row of lockers on the south wall of Sam’s office. After she retrieved her uniform, Sam noticed a sloppy grin across her face. Never making eye contact, she waved to him casually before exiting his office again.

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Something occurred to Sam that he had never dared contemplate before. Another had claimed his beautiful mate. A mixture of anger, regret, and possessiveness toiled in his chest, leaving Sam too dizzy and light headed to return to work right away. Mates were normally loyal to their shifters because the strength of their attraction overwhelmed any urge to look elsewhere. But as the truism echoing in Sam’s mind reminded him, it was the exception that proved any rule. Why had he dragged his feet? Why had he let his damned ego get in the way of marching over to the Yeatses’ cabin and demanding Mel meet Marta? At least he hadn’t sold the diner, he consoled himself. Nothing, however, could provide consolation for the hole in Sam’s heart that widened with each passing second. **** Phil pulled Sam’s car up to the abandoned buildings at the northwest edge of Savage Valley. No other cars surrounded the building, although given the late hour, Phil was certain the entire pride had already assembled. Most of the shifters preferred the transportation of their paws hitting the earth at a gallop. He killed the engine and hopped out of the car, but his brother didn’t follow. Through the windshield, Phil saw Sam still belted into the car, staring straight ahead and white as a ghost. While Phil’s lion relished the bimonthly hunting ritual, Sam always made the day quite difficult for the fully sentient, human Phil. He knew how hard it was for his brother. Earlier, Sam had left Phil in charge of the diner while he made his pilgrimage out to the Yeatses’ cabin. The whole family knew of Sam’s patronage of the covenant killers, just as they knew of Mel’s only discernible source of income. Sam finally exited the car and joined Phil on the short walk to the abandoned stillhouse. Because of the recent satiation of his appetite, it was too risky for Sam to shift on his own before the hunt. If he shifted

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back into lion form now, after he had shifted earlier to feast on the mule deer he purchased clandestinely from the Yeats brothers, he may have stayed in his lion form. Without the rest of the pride compelling him to shift to perform his duties as tracker, the taste of blood from his lion’s earlier feast may have forced him to stay in his lion form, unable to become human again, until the end of the hunt. If he appeared at the pride hunt in lion form, everyone would know he had patronized the covs. He stood in front of the heavy sliding door, hesitant to throw it open. Opening the door meant seeing Mel, something neither of the older Popes was too thrilled about. Luckily, Sam took the initiative, and the sound of metal creaking echoed against the Mukuas. Covering his nerves with bravado, as he always did, Sam marched into the dark, cavernous space and greeted the rest of the pride. “Sorry we’re late, boys. The cruel mistress of payroll strikes again.” “I’m with you, man.” Clayton Abbott stepped forward out of the group, and thanks to his shifter eyesight, Phil could see his long, blond hair obscuring his expression in the dark room. “I only got Jack for it, but with NormCorp and the IRS breathing down my back, I can’t afford to be a penny off.” “What? NormCorp?” Sam turned to Clay, and Phil was thankful to see his brother’s eyes glow with interest in anything but avoiding the hunt. “Yeah, fucking NormCorp. You know Ulysses had the gall to come into the Ninth Time last week and try to sell me on signing over the deed to him?” “No offense,” Phil chimed in, “but what would Ulysses want with a secondhand store?” “Real estate,” Jack Abbott, Clay’s brother, answered. “Plain and simple. I told him he couldn’t have it and that we provided a real service for the town, and the bastard just laughed in my face.”

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“And then had the gall to come round to the back of the store and sell me on the idea.” Clay shook his head and stared at the ground. “Problem is he’s got connections at the government, and I’ve heard more than a few tales of him using those connections to financially ruin businesses.” Phil took that opportunity to give Sam a pointed look, silently expressing his disapproval for Sam’s handling of Savage Hunger. They each owned one half of that business, and Sam had no right trying to sell it without Phil’s consent. “But why do we have to fight it?” All eyes were on Sam. “I mean, we don’t have to give in completely, but what would it hurt to make a few little concessions?” “Sam Pope, have you lost your ever-loving mind?” Oliver Cash, the pride alpha, stepped into the middle of the group of men. “I damn near lost my mate to that bastard’s ambition.” Before Sam could respond, the metal of the door scraped again, and in walked Mel, flanked by Cleve and Ezra Yeats. “We’re here. The festivities may begin now.” Mel stopped before reaching the rest of the men. “Oh, wait. It’s you guys again. Never mind about that festivity part.” Maybe it was the fact that the hunt was only minutes away, but Phil felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as his inner mountain lion clawed at his control. “Hey, man, wait just a little longer before you shift,” Phil’s best friend, Roarke Cash, said quietly beside him. “It’s Mel, isn’t it?” Phil only nodded in response. “Get through tonight, and we can talk about it in the morning, okay?” Phil was about to respond when Oliver’s voice echoed throughout the room. “11:59 p.m., guys. Circle up!” All of the men began removing their clothes, stripping to only boxer shorts as they formed a ring around the alpha. Phil performed

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the movements mechanically, the curse and muscle memory already starting to take over for higher-level thinking. Phil had never particularly relished the ritual since the curse compelled him to return to Savage Valley for the bimonthly hunt, but tonight, he hungered for the release. The room grew silent as Oliver closed his eyes, and the softly spoken ancient Shoshoni words pierced the chilly fall air. “Deegai-doyadukubichi’, mukua.” Phil couldn’t even register the others shifting before fur sprouted from his skin and claws from his fingernail. The colors, smells, and tastes that dominated his leonine consciousness once more grasped Phil’s brain. Only one sensation from his human mind remained, and it permeated every aspect of his cognizance. Possession. The drive to possess every inch of Marta Verner’s being. **** He blinked his eyes open and saw his brothers lying strewn across the barren ground. Wait. It had to be two o’clock in the morning, long before dawn. Without light, Sam shouldn’t have been able to make out every feature—the dirt streaked across Mel’s face, Phil’s mouth dangling open in his stupor. The enhanced night vision in human form that many of the pride experienced had always eluded Sam. But he couldn’t deny what he saw. The cold ground outside his cabin burned Sam’s flesh as he came to, human thoughts ruling his mind once more. After scrambling into a pair of boxers he had stashed for his transformations, he braced himself for the wave of nausea that hit him after a pride hunt. In his experience, running with everyone after he had satiated his appetite earlier in the afternoon left him with a cold, clammy feeling that refused to leave for days, diametrically to the sense of relief his pridemates felt. Any minute now. But the nausea never came.

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His insides started roiling—a sure sign the nausea was seconds away—but another sensation took hold of him. Adrenaline. It wrapped around his heart and squeezed, thrilling him from the inside out. With the adrenaline came a wave of memory, another sensation experienced by other lions but never Sam. Images from the hunt suddenly flashed into his mind. He had run with Phil to meet Mel near the Yeatses’ cabin. All three of them needed to be together for their control of the Popes’ sector. He could sense Phil’s discomfort as they ran and knew that Phil felt his reluctance. Mel had joined them, begrudging even in shifted form, and they started toward the Popes’ sector. Sam had led the way, his duty as eldest, and his lion had not registered Marta’s rejection. No, he wanted to see his mate, smell her, touch her, and bask in the glow of her beauty. The pull had been too great to resist, and Sam led them out of their way to Marta’s apartment. It happened at once. All three sensed her presence at the same time. Every inch of their beings ached for her, and they had collectively known that they must mate her and soon. Sam, Phil, and Mel all felt the pull to Marta, all knew she was the Popes’ mate. Mel. Mel had experienced the exact same thing as Sam and Phil! The blood coursing through his veins heated, and he suddenly knew the source of the snake of pure exhilaration that entwined around his chest. Holy shit, had they really been that lucky? His brothers both came to, and Sam watched with cautious optimism as the same epiphany played across their faces as they scrambled to clothe themselves. He stood, feeling stronger than he had ever felt after a hunt, not depleted but energized by his shift. “It was her.” Mel looked up, and Sam realized it had been years since his brother looked him straight in the eye. “You found Marta, too.” Phil joined Sam looking down at the youngest.

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“She’s our mate.” Mel shrugged, as nonchalant as ever. “I told you guys I’d met someone.” The excitement bled into anger, and Mel was the nearest target. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you give us a name, a hint, anything to let us know who you’d found?” Visions of his brother with Marta played in his mind, tinged not with jealousy, but with a deep regret that the three of them had been too wrapped up in his their inner turmoil to see what was right in front of him. “We could have avoided this whole mess, but as always, you were only thinking about yourself.” Sam’s voice had become a roar. “What the fuck?” Mel bellowed back to his brother as he sprung to his feet. “How do you know that I wasn’t thinking about you? And excuse me, it’s not like you ever furnished me with the name of your mate. All you did was call and demand I take the woman you selected. Hopefully you’ve learned over the past two years that you aren’t infallible, golden boy.” “Not like you’ve given me any—” “Stop it!” Phil pushed his way between his brothers. “Why are you two fighting? We just got the best news we could have possibly received.” He turned to Mel. “You probably don’t know this, but our idiot of a brother was just about to sell Savage Hunger to NormCorp and invoke the infertility clause. And now that doesn’t have to—” “The infertility clause? You were going to do that to Marta?” Fury pulled at his chest, and only thoughts of his mate kept him calm. “It was the only thing we could do,” Sam said. “When you walked out, you left us with no other option. There would never be any way to continue the line, so—” “So you thought you’d let that douchebag Ulysses Norman buy the diner and then take away Marta’s ability to reproduce?” “It wasn’t the best plan,” Sam admitted. “But, Mel, we were desperate.” A tense silence hung between the brothers.

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“You know what we need to do,” Phil said, breaking the silence. Mel quirked an eyebrow and smirked. “Not that, not right away at least.” “We need to go to her, and we need to tell her,” Sam said. “It’s time for her to make a choice.

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Chapter 7 “Marta! Marta, open up!” Sleep still tugged at the edges of her consciousness as she blinked her eyes open. “Marta, we need to talk to you. Please, let us in.” Her senses went alert when she realized that she recognized the voice pleading with her. Phil. She glanced over at her clock to see it was three o’clock in the morning. Shouldn’t he have been starting the honey almond muffins over at Savage Hunger? “Baby, come on. I need my jacket.” Everything inside Marta froze. Mel is here, too? Her brain raced, and when it dawned on her what must be happening, her conscience sagged under the weight of her guilt. Mel was here with Phil. They had found out about her trysts. The only thing that could make it worse would be— “Marta! Open up!” Sam, too? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Her three liaisons, the ones she had imagined while rubbing herself to orgasm mere hours ago, all stood at her door. Entirely awake now, she tried to think of a way out of the situation. Damn it, why did the only window leading out of her apartment have a broken lock? Blind in the dark, she scurried around, looking for something, anything to aid her escape. An air vent, maybe? “Marta, we just want to talk. Let us in, honey.” Phil’s always-calming voice rang from the other side of her door. Banging into the counter and hissing a few select curses, she halted her frenzied searching in the kitchen and took a deep breath. They

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didn’t claim to be angry, but Marta knew that she would be if the situation were reversed, if she had found out that one of them was out cavorting with not one, but two other women. Mustering every ounce of her courage, she took the few steps to her front door and opened it. What she saw at least put a smile on her face. Sam, Phil, and Mel all looked like they’d been rode hard and put up wet. Sam and Phil’s chins were dotted with stubble, and Mel’s stubble was thicker than she’d seen it before. Their hair was matted, dirt was streaked across their faces, and all three sported dark circles under their eyes. But something else burned in their eyes. Not anger, she thought. No, the look in their eyes was entirely unfamiliar. Despite their shouts for Marta to open the door, now the three men now didn’t make a sound. She searched their expressions, hoping for some clue as to their purpose since they all three appeared to be trying the strong-and-silent tactic. Much as she hated to admit, it was working. Each man held such alluring sex appeal, all three of them with tall, lean, muscular bodies that— Holy shit. Marta felt her jaw drop. Mel had the exact same figure as Sam and Phil and the same clear, bright blue eyes that pierced straight through to her soul. Despite the contrast of Sam’s blond locks and Phil’s wavy chestnut hair to Mel’s jet-black tresses, the family resemblance shone through. How had she not seen it before? The high cheekbones, the chiseled jaw, the full, luscious lips—Mel shared so many traits with his brothers that Marta felt like an idiot for not seeing it before. “You’re brothers,” she whispered. Sam and Mel each quirked an eyebrow—god, how had she not seen that?—as smug grins crossed their faces. “It would have been much more convenient for you to figure that out earlier,” Sam drawled. “But we got it in the end.” “Why would it have been more convenient? Because then you all would have known that I—” They hadn’t yet mentioned any knowledge of Marta’s dalliances with each. She knew Sam was well

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aware of what went on between her and Phil, but other than that, she had no proof that anyone had kissed and told. “I’m afraid it’s a very, very long story.” The warmth in Phil’s smile helped to ease the tension. “And that’s why we’re here in the middle of the night. You’re working breakfast, after all.” Dumbstruck by the revelation, Marta found herself completely unable to respond. “Are you going to invite us in?” Mel asked, breaking the silence. Backing away from the door, Marta switched on the lights and headed to the kitchen. She would be needing coffee for this, she was certain. The Popes, as she now knew all three were, entered her small efficiency apartment. Sam’s head appeared to nearly scrape the ceiling with his extreme height, and neither of his brothers was too far behind. Just as she closed the lid on her coffeemaker, warm stubble scraped across her shoulder. Without thinking, she leaned into the sensation, pleased when an arm wrapped around her waist. Then a second stubble-covered chin scraped across her cheek. Marta jumped and turned around to see Sam and Phil both standing directly behind her. Even more disturbing, Mel stood right behind Phil, his arm extended as if reaching to touch Marta. “What…How…Do you…” Marta trailed off, not capable of finding the words to even inquire as to what, exactly, was happening to her. “We all know, baby.” Mel stepped around Phil and offered his hand to Marta. She stared at it for a moment then looked into his eyes. He nodded, a barely visible gesture, and she hesitantly placed her hand in his. He squeezed it, reassuring Marta a bit. “They know about what went on between the two of us.” Marta attempted to steal her hand back, but Mel held it tightly. “And I know what happened between you and Sam in his car,” Phil added. “And the kitchen? That’s hot.” Mel’s eyebrow shot up.

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“You’re not…” Marta took a deep breath then found the words to speak. “You’re not angry? I mean, I feel terrible, really terrible, about what I did and how I—” The deep rumble of Sam’s laughter interrupted her. “We are as far from angry as possible.” He closed the small space between himself and Marta, and Mel dropped her hand. As from the first moment she saw him, her body responded to Sam’s nearness. As his face lowered to hers and his eyes drifted shut, she involuntarily rose to her tiptoes and met his lips in a light but passionate kiss. He broke the kiss ever so slightly and whispered against Marta’s lips. “We’re happier than we knew we could be.” “We are,” Phil chimed in. “I know it’ll be a while before you really believe us, but you falling for Mel is more than we could have ever hoped for.” “Hey.” Mel’s arm snaked around her waist and pulled her close to him, and Sam released her with a sigh. “I resent that. It can’t be too hard to fall for me.” Mel landed a playful punch on Phil’s shoulder, and Phil responded with a brotherly shove. “Let’s just say, all three of us couldn’t be happier.” Phil paused, and his expression nearly imperceptibly darkened. “But we need to have a talk, and I promise you will think we’re completely nuts in a few minutes.” “What? I would never think that.” Marta then looked up at Mel. “Well, at least not about all three of you.” Mel took her upturned face as an opportunity to place a peck on her nose. “We can talk about that remark later.” His raised eyebrows told Marta it’d be quite a pleasant conversation. “Phil and Marta need to get to the diner by six thirty,” Sam called from where he now sat on Marta’s bed. “It’s time to get this show on the road.” Mel guided her out of the small kitchen area to the bed. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, his long legs extended in front of him. “C’mere.” He reached for Marta, and Mel released her, allowing her

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to tumble onto Sam’s lap. His strong arms encircled her, cradling her to his chest. The way the three men had worked together when they handled her amazed her. Even though each had their own distinct style of interacting with her physically, tonight they moved as one, passing her from embrace to embrace. The bed dipped on either side of them, and Mel and Phil each sat on either side of her and her protector. Marta nuzzled her nose against the soft tuft of blond chest hair that escaped from the top of Sam’s shirt. That same spicy scent, the one that had enveloped her when she and Mel made love, oozed from Sam’s core. Given the absolute improbability of everything that had happened in the past fifteen minutes, this time, Marta didn’t question its source, just let the woodsy musk filter through her awareness. “Well, I guess it’s best to start at the beginning.” Phil’s voice drew her attention and she looked up from Sam’s chest. Marta’s legs faced Phil, and he wrapped his arms around her knees and pulled her forward so that her legs lay across his lap. A soft yelp escaped her throat when the sudden motion made her fall backward, but two strong arms caught her. She tilted her head back to see it was Mel’s chest she now leaned against. She couldn’t explain it, and everything she knew about relationships told her it was wrong, but never had anything felt more right to Marta than being caressed by these three men. “First, a bit of a history lesson,” Phil continued. “I don’t know how much you found out when you were researching the town for that article you were writing, so some of this may be repetition.” He seemed to hesitate then, and Marta followed his gaze to see that something passed between him and both of his brothers. “In 1846, five families were travelling west on what came to be known as the Oregon Trail. They faced some pretty rough terrain in Wyoming, and by the time they made it to Colorado, nobody’s wagon was in very good shape.”

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“And so,” Sam said, taking over for Phil, “those five families decided to settle down. Luckily, they happened upon an abandoned fur-trading post—the building that’s the bank now—” “I knew that!” Marta interjected, proud of her small bit of Savage Valley trivia. The rumbling of Sam’s laugh combined with Mel’s hands rubbing her back lit a small fire in her pussy. They’re all serious about this. Keep it together, Verner. Her arousal abated a bit at her selfadmonition. But only in the slightest. “Told you she was smart.” Phil rubbed her legs as he spoke, doing nothing to calm her growing excitement. “Anyway,” Sam continued, that deep laugh still in his voice, “the five families conveniently found five abandoned cabins and settled in. In case you’re wondering, those would be the Cashes, the Popes, the Abbotts, the Yeatses, and the Sullivans.” “Wait. That’s you! And they’re all still in Savage Valley!” “Patience,” Phil cooed. “It’ll all be clear soon.” Sam kissed the top of her head before he went on. “Now keep in mind, this was the middle of the 1800s. The pioneers were all about westward expansion and claiming the land and all that crap. This was even back before the gold rush, so the most compelling reason for sacrificing everything and heading west was the promise of a totally fresh start. The five families of the Valley were most certainly of that mindset, and they began clearing the land to establish a new metropolis.” “Only that didn’t happen.” Mel spoke this time, and Marta twisted in Sam’s lap to see his beautiful face that not even streaks of mud could mar. “At the time, Savage Valley was under siege from all manner of animal attacks. You’ve seen the sign, I’m sure, about No Animal Attacks since 1846.” Marta nodded, and he continued. “Well, there’s a very bizarre reason for this. Before we continue our tale, let me clarify one thing. None of us has had any moonshine as of late, and this is definitely not a stumphole-induced hallucination.” Marta

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laughed, but Mel’s affect stayed grave. “When the five families, including our great-great-great-great-grandfathers, started making real progress on clearing the land and killing the animals, they ran across a Native American man named Cameahwait.” “And let’s just say Cameahwait was none too pleased with the settlers.” Marta turned back to Phil when he spoke. “He was one of the Bannock Shoshone tribe that still lives in the southwest corner of Savage Valley, across the creek from the Woodland Den. His tribe had kept watch over the valley and the Mukuas for centuries, and he felt it his personal duty to make sure the settlers treated the land with as much care and reverence as the Shoshone.” “Remember,” Sam said, interrupting Phil, “Colorado Territory wasn’t even organized until 1861. White settlers were few and far between, and the native tribes had more authority then.” “But our ancestors didn’t respect that authority,” Phil continued, “and they paid the price for it. Cameahwait told the settlers to stop their hunting and to stop clearing the land, but they all laughed at the man. He warned that their spurning would have dire consequences—a warning our ancestors most certainly should have taken seriously. “They continued on with their hunting and their chopping, seeing their dream of a modern city in the west coming to fruition until one day when—” “Let me tell this part, Phil.” Marta turned and saw an oddly sincere plea on Mel’s face. “It’s always been my favorite.” “Okay,” Phil said slowly, “but I’m stopping you if you start exaggerating.” “Seriously?” Mel’s eyebrow shot up. “You really think this story needs exaggeration?” When Phil didn’t respond, Mel continued their tale. As much as Marta enjoyed a good history lecture, she really hoped the compelling meat of the story was to come. Apparently Mel could sense her agitation. “Don’t worry. We’re getting to the good part now. So the settlers thought they’d successfully overruled Cameahwait with their bluster and were going

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about their merry way. Then on one night, when a shadow was just beginning to creep across the moon, all the men were drawn to the northwest corner of the town, where that”—Mel’s eyes shifted between his brothers—“abandoned stillhouse stands now.” Glancing to Sam and then Phil, she saw that neither of them believed his assertion of the stillhouse’s obsolescence. “And they found themselves all standing there at the foot of the Mukuas at midnight, staring at one another and seriously contemplating if a lake of fire would open in front of them and they’d be taken up to heaven. “According to legend, each man experienced a series of truly bizarre sensations that they assumed at the time were sensory hallucinations. Their skin began tingling, a sharp ache formed underneath their fingernails, and their teeth started to crowd their mouths. They didn’t have much time to contemplate these feelings, though, because next thing anyone knew, they were all lying naked in the woods, totally unaware of what had happened to them.” “Looking a little bit like we do right now,” Sam added. “Needless to say,” Mel continued, “the citizens of Savage Valley were freaked the fuck out. It happened again, a little more than two weeks later, and this time, one of them remembered.” All three men fell silent, and the tension in the room took Marta’s breath away. Her conscience kicked in, and the utter absurdity of what they might be about to say dawned on her. “Wait just a goddamn minute.” Marta launched herself out of Sam’s lap and to her feet. “I’ve read Twilight, and I know where this is going.” She attempted to burn her gaze into each of their innocentlooking faces. “You want me to believe you’re werewolves, don’t you?” The stoic looks they each wore unsettled her. Why weren’t they bursting into laughter? Oh, no. I found a family of inhumanly attractive men who actually think they’re not human. As they continued their silence, she edged backward, suddenly frightened of the men who completed her.

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“Tell me what’s going on, guys.” Finally, her words broke their trance. Sam turned the full force of his watery blue stare on her, taking away her ability to move and to breathe. “Marta, the settlers—our ancestors—they turned into mountain lions.” “O–Okay.” Although shaken to the core, her curiosity got the better of her. “Okay?” Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re okay with this?” “We’ll see.” She crossed her arms. “Go on.” Phil took over for Mel. “What was remembered, you see, is that they turned into mountain lions and hunted their prey. One of the men, the Sullivans’ great-great-great-grandfather Brock, recalled everything that had happened while they were in lion form. They tracked their prey, killed it, and ate together, and then each family took off on its own. They went to their homesteads, the area around each family’s cabin, and ensured nothing would harm their family’s land. They sabotaged building projects, destroyed saws for cutting down trees, and hunted any animal that might prey on the humans, which is exactly the reason not a single animal has attacked since 1846.” The buzzing of the fluorescent light in the kitchen was the only sound as Marta took in Phil’s words. Her logical mind couldn’t believe him. Human beings just didn’t transform into wild animals, and Marta was certain of that fact. But the niggling reporter inside her mind that pulled at her thoughts begged her to find out more, never to close her mind on any possibilities. Facts. It occurred to Marta that she couldn’t make any judgment yet. She needed evidence to build her story. Stick to the facts. Her journalism professor’s words rang in her head. Everything else is filler. “Show me.” Phil and Sam glanced at each other, wariness in their gazes. “Darling,” Phil began, “I wish that we could, but…”

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“It’s not that easy.” Sam reached a hand out, and Marta placed hers in it tentatively. As he closed his hand around hers, the tenderness of his touch reminded her that no matter if they were mentally stable or not, she had developed a rapport with these men, a real relationship. They deserved at least a chance to prove themselves. “I really do wish we could, but the lions signed a treaty with the Shoshone in 1869 outlawing shifting in front of humans. The magic in the curse changed then, and without getting permission from the Shoshone shaman, we can’t—” “You can’t.” Sam and Phil both snapped their heads to stare at Mel. “Oh, and you can?” Sam’s voice held some venom, and concerns formed in Marta’s mind about the stability of the Pope brothers’ relationship. After all, neither Sam nor Phil had mentioned having a brother, and Mel had clammed when she asked his family name. “Yes, I can.” Mel glared at his older brother. “Not fully, but enough to prove my status as a shifter.” “How in the hell is that possible? And why hadn’t you told us about this? You know that this could get us in trouble with—” “Sam.” Phil placed a hand on his older brother’s shoulder. “Can we save this argument for later? I sincerely doubt Marta will go running to Bo about this.” “Who’s Bo?” Marta asked. “See. Nothing to worry about.” “I hate to interrupt the brewing existential crisis, but I’d like to show her already.” Sam opened his mouth to speak but shook his head and waved a hand at Mel. “Go on, then.” “Marta,” Mel called to her in his deep, clear voice. “Come sit with me.” With a hesitant glance at his brothers, she lowered herself to the bed again, this time in Mel’s lap. “Remember the other night? When I spent the night?” A heated flush crawled up her neck. “Uh-huh.”

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“And do you remember when I held you”—he placed one hand on her waist, eliciting a sharp gasp—“right here?” “Uh-huh.” The shock of Phil’s story had dispelled some of her arousal, but Mel’s light touch had it racing upward again. Without warning his hand slipped under the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. She thought to protest—the idea of her breasts exposed to all three Popes was as intimidating as it was tantalizing—but the cool air hardening her nipples to taut buds silenced any complaint. “And”—Mel’s voice was hushed now—“do you remember when I made this mark on you?” His fingers danced lightly along her flesh, and a slight, stinging pain accompanied the sparks of pleasure. Marta twisted so she could see his hand, and for the first time noticed for long, red scratches down her side. “When did those—” “Watch.” Mel laid his palm on her side. His whole hand rested in the place between the two center scratches, and she didn’t see how he could have made the marks. Then, as Marta studied his callused hands, his fingers began shaking. At first it was only slight, but the movements turned into harsh, jerking motions. The hair on his fingers grew, obscuring his light skin, and the most remarkable thing she had ever witnessed occurred. Mel’s fingers became shorter, but thicker, and his fingernails grew into long, curved claws. The vibrating suddenly ceased, and Mel flexed his—Marta couldn’t believe what she was thinking—his claws. The four sharp, hooked nails matched exactly the spacing of the four red marks on her sides. Mel had left his lion’s mark. “How did you…” Marta trailed off and looked into Mel’s eyes, hoping to find some sort of answer there. “I didn’t mean to.” He shrugged. “At least, my human mind didn’t want to. My lion has burned for you, baby. I’ve burned since the instant I saw you.”

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She looked down again, but Mel’s paw was gone. Now only his human hand—the hand that had driven her to such heights of ecstasy—rested on her side. “We’ve all burned for you,” Sam said, finally drawing her attention away from the fantastical transformation she had just witnessed. “Because we’ve known from the very beginning that you were our mate.” We? Our? “Hold on.” Marta leapt from Mel’s arms, landing on her feet again in front of the three men. The slight bounce of her breasts reminded her she was still topless, not that she had enough energy really to care at the moment. “Back up. Now, lion stuff aside, what is it with all this we talk? Aren’t the three of you upset? I mean, I essentially cheated on you!” A tear formed at the corner of her eye as she looked between them. God, how could she ever have so betrayed each man? “I cheated on all three of you.” Her tears began falling in earnest, the emotion of the early morning finally overwhelming her. She wanted them. That much she knew as fact. Each of them had won her over, Sam with his dry wit and sparkling smile, Phil with his intelligence and openness, and Mel with his independence and rebellious attitude. No way would she be complete without each one of them, but their revelation caused her stomach to turn. Luckily, Phil stood and held her to his chest because Marta didn’t think her legs could hold out much longer. Displaying impressive strength for his lithe figure, he lifted her and cradled her in his arms. Her sobs escalated, shaking her body and making her breath come in gasps. “Please don’t worry about hurting us, darling.” Phil pushed her hair back from her face and trailed a finger across her cheekbone. “You didn’t let me finish the story.” He sat gently on the bed and spoke to her softly. “You see, the curse that forced each of the pioneers to become mountain lion-shifters had another key

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component. The Shoshone revere the mountain lion as a sacred protector of the earth, and after the five families shifted, Cameahwait returned to Savage Valley. He informed them that it would be their purpose and the purpose of all their male descendants to keep Savage Valley safe from harm. They would shift twice during each moon, at the waning and waxing gibbous lunar phases, to hunt and protect, but the lions needed to patrol the area regularly to ensure the town and the environment stayed safe. “Then Cameahwait landed the blow that still stings many of us to this day. None of the male descendants of the five families could leave Savage Valley, at least not until their children took over their duties as protectors.” “So you can’t leave?” Her inquisitive nature began to chase away the tears. “Wait, but how did you go to Zurich?” “Well, actually,” Phil said as he looked to his brothers, “I can leave, but none of the other members of our pride can. One shifter born every generation, called a pilgrim, can leave between hunts. I was lucky enough to be this generation’s pilgrim.” “So that’s how you got to Europe.” “Exactly.” Phil smiled down at Marta. “But you must let us finish the story. I promise you’ll quite enjoy it.” Two strong arms wrapped around Marta’s torso and hauled her out of Phil’s lap. She found herself encased in Sam’s warm embrace. In the midst of all that was happening, she remembered exactly how much she loved the way Sam’s impressive height made her feel dainty and protected, quite an unexpected joy. “This was a lot of stress to put on five sets of brothers lost in the wilderness. By then, all the women that had started on the trail had been lost to dysentery and rattlesnakes.” Marta shivered at the idea of death by either gastrointestinal failure or envenomed wound. “The Shoshone knew that their curse had the power to split families. Hell, it still does.” Marta looked behind her to see Mel and Sam share a

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meaningful gaze. She would have to explore the exact nature of the Pope family’s rupture later. “So he added a very specific caveat to the curse,” Sam continued. “Each set of brothers could only take one mate to share between them.” Marta’s senses flared to life as soon as she heard the word “share.” Phil was right. She certainly enjoyed where this was heading. “If any shifter entered into a relationship without the other males in his generation of his family, any children resulting from that partnership would die before they reached three years of age.” “It’s happened,” Mel added. “One of Cleve and Ezra’s grandfathers had a child before he found his mate. He didn’t even live to see his first birthday.” “The consequences are grave, you see,” Phil said, drawing Marta’s attention to him. “So no, we’re not upset. You finding all three of us worthy of your attentions is the best damn thing that could have ever happened to us.” A proverbial lightbulb went off inside Marta’s head. “Wait, you said the Cashes were one of the founding families, right?” “Yes, indeed,” Sam said from above her, a slow smile crossing her face. She suspected the brothers had been waiting for Marta to reach this realization. “So they’re lions, too.” “Yes, darling.” Phil wore the same sly grin as Sam. “And that’s why Chelsea…” It made so much sense now. Why her best friend, always the shy, cautious one, had taken on two lovers. Chelsea had found the same bliss that was being offered to Marta right at that very moment. Phil crept forward, and Sam released Marta. Her hands found Phil’s soft brown hair right as he pulled her face to his. His lips wrapped around hers in a deliberate embrace, and his tongue followed soon after. She opened her mouth to allow him access, the wet heat of his mouth causing a very pleasant brand of shivers to wrack her body.

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As she began to tumble into the depths of arousal, she realized that a few things needed to be cleared up. With one last kiss on Phil’s full, decadent lips, she reluctantly pulled away from him. “Hold on.” “What is it, baby?” Sam cooed from behind her as he wrapped an arm around her waist, making it very, very difficult for her to concentrate. “I, uh…” Pull it together, Verner. This could possibly affect the rest of your life. “I need a few things cleared up.” Sam turned her in his arms so that she gazed up into his open, honest face. “Anything at all. Just ask.” “How does this work? All three of us”—she gestured up to Sam, then to Mel, and finally to Phil—“you know, together? Do I take turns sleeping with each of you?” Her three devastatingly handsome mates simultaneously broke out into hysterical laughter. “Oh, no,” Mel said between laughs, “that is most certainly not how it works.” “You were right about the together part,” Phil said from behind her. “All of us love you at once.” Sam put his hand underneath her chin and tilted her face up to his. “The only way to explain it to you is to show you.”

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Chapter 8 “Show me wh—” Marta didn’t have time to finish that thought before Sam’s hand traveled from her waist up to her breast and tweaked a nipple. He pulled and twisted, adding to a growing need deep inside Marta, then added a second hand to massage her other breast. As she let out a gentle moan, Phil’s lips landed on her neck, licking and biting at the sensitive flesh. Now goose bumps scattered over her skin, reflecting the excitement spreading throughout her body. Mel took one of her feet in his hand, and when she peered down at him, their eyes locked. He began rubbing her foot then dragged his massage upward along her calf, her knee, her lower thigh, and finally to the upper part of her thigh. By then, the nervous excitement had transformed into a growing arousal consuming her attention entirely. She gasped a sharp intake of breath when Mel’s hand pushed upward to the waistband of her panties. Never breaking eye contact, he flattened his hand over her lower stomach, riding her curves downward to the soft patch of curls over her mound. One of his fingers pushed aside her folds and pressed into her cunt, igniting furious need within her. “You’re wet.” The words sounded so intimate, and he spoke them with a tender affection she hadn’t thought possible. One of Sam’s hands left her breasts, drawing a whimper from Marta, but then shot to where Mel’s hand had been. This time, he hooked his thumb under the waistband of her panties and dragged them down at the same time he squeezed her breast and nipple. A bolt of arousal shot straight to her pussy, and before she knew it, she was

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lifting her legs to help Mel slide the white cotton panties from her legs. “God, that’s a beautiful sight.” He tossed her panties to the side, not bothering to see where they landed and instead gazing at her naked pussy. “Let me see.” Sam’s hands moved to her waist, and he easily lifted her and turned her to face him and straddle his lap. He moved backward so that his back rested against the wall. His crooked finger drew her closer, and his hands moved reverently over her body. “You’re even more beautiful than I thought.” He reached out to pull her closer against him, and the scrape of the cotton of his shirt on her nipples caused a shiver to run down her spine. This was more than Marta had ever thought she would have, a man as perfectly formed as Sam admiring her body. The need to show him how much she appreciated his affection overwhelmed her, and she boldly threw an arm around his neck, pulling his face to hers. Sam stilled for a moment as she kissed him, apparently surprised, but he quickly joined her in the passion and tangled his hand in her hair. Emboldened by his response, Marta wiggled her hands between them and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Allow me,” Sam said, breaking their kiss. Marta was about to protest, but then he pulled his shirt over her head, silencing any objection she could ever have made. Holy fucking shit. Sam’s was the most flawlessly formed body Marta had ever glimpsed on either man or woman. His chest was smooth, his pectorals wide, flat planes of solid muscle punctuated by two small, dark nipples. Raking her gaze even lower, she saw his sixpack abdomen, the two symmetrical sides separated by a deep crest of muscle. While she admired his chest, he had busied himself with removing his pants. With a deep breath, she leaned back and allowed herself to look even lower at the terminus of his torso. Oh, and how glad she

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was. The length of his cock matched his six-four stature, and her pussy muscles clenched at the thought of his girth stretching her wide open for his pleasure. She couldn’t help but lick her lips when she saw the slight curve of his throbbing dick, a curve that would ensure it could hit just the right spot inside of her. Another set of hands massaged her mid back, and she leaned in to the warm touch. Those hands began inching lower and lower and lower still until one hand rested on each ass cheek. “God, I want you,” Phil whispered, and she felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her ass. Every muscle inside of her tightened. Was he talking about taking her from behind? A secret, dark place inside her mind had always fascinated about that, about the amazing sensation of fullness that having an ass stuffed full of cock must bring. She looked behind her, and the sight of Phil’s naked torso took her breath away. A light dusting of brown hairs covered his hard pectorals and drew her eyes down to his hard abdomen. Even though he appeared tall and lithe, without a shirt, he had the perfectly muscled body of a swimmer who spent every waking moment in the gym. Damn, she thought to herself. All that running around in mountain lion form did wonders for their physique. She couldn’t dwell on the sight, though, because Sam’s hard cock bumped against her rapidly dampening pussy, distracting her in a most welcome way. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into his embrace once more. Once they were chest to chest, Sam rolled to the side, trapping Marta beneath the delicious warmth of his body. “Baby,” Mel said, and she turned her head to the right. He had moved so that his cock was hovering just in front of her, and she accepted his unspoken invitation. Her fingers encircled his wide shaft, and she began pumping up and down on his shaft, remembering the delicious sensation of that cock buried inside her. Sam placed a light, fluttering kiss on her throat, and she turned back to his breathtaking countenance. Without speaking, he lined his

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cock up with her pulsating cunt, and Marta’s hips bucked involuntarily, seeking out the solace of Sam’s dick. He rubbed his cock over her, and Marta couldn’t take it anymore, whimpering her need. “I am so glad you walked into my diner.” He pushed forward, filling her slowly until he was in to the hilt. She felt full, stuffed with his delectable cock. He pulled out just a bit, and she missed the sensation. Her hips shot forward again, pulling him back into her. He slowly stroked in and out, the excruciating pace driving Marta completely mad. She then felt something bump against her cheek, and she looked up to see Phil, now completely naked. She angled her head so that the slippery head of his cock could enter her mouth, and she reached up and pumped it at the same pace she was using on Mel. Suddenly, Sam’s pace sped up, matching her ministrations. It was all more than Marta could handle, and she felt herself already racing to the edge of sanity. Sam’s strong pelvis collided with hers, putting pressure on her clit and nearly pushing her across that line between excitement and all-out ecstasy. “Fuck, I’m—Ooh!” Warm seed shot onto Marta’s arm as Mel pumped into her hand, finding his release within her. She sucked harder on Phil then, focusing her attention on him so that she could last just a little bit longer. She ran her tongue over his slit, gathering the salty pre-cum, and sucked as hard as she could on just the head. He moaned, and she knew he was very, very close. At that moment, Sam shifted the angle of his hips, and his cock slammed directly into her G-spot, sending a shower of sparks flying over her body. She shivered as the tiny pricks of pleasure ran through every limb. Her arousal was only heightened when Phil’s thrusts into her mouth became more urgent. She felt the hot jets of deliciously salty cum shoot into the back of her throat and swallowed every drop of the evidence of Phil’s arousal.

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“Fuck, Marta, I’m gonna come,” Sam said through gritted teeth, his thrusts pounding mercilessly into her. “Come with me, sweetheart.” With one deliberate, forceful thrust, Sam pushed her past the horizon of ecstasy, into the beautiful void of release. Her spasming pussy must have pushed him, too. His strokes became long and slow as he bathed her pussy with his cum and finally collapsed on top of her. “Okay,” Marta whispered once she had recovered from her orgasm, “I think I get it now.” The rumbling of Sam’s laugh vibrated through her body before he gently pulled himself out of her. He edged down the bed so he could rest his head on her chest. “That’s not all of it.” Mel cupped her face with his hand. “It’s just a sampling, baby.” “There’s much, much more,” Phil said, and she turned to face him. “I can’t wait to show you.” Finally feeling as though her muscles hadn’t turned to spaghetti, Marta found the strength to push herself up on her elbows. She looked between her three spent…well, whatever they were. The idea had sounded titillating, but after that little demonstration, she thought her life goal might be mating these three crazy men. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s get down to it!” Sam looked up at her from her chest. “You need to think about it for a while.” “A while?” She didn’t like the idea of thinking about it for another second. She wanted to do something and soon. “We’re asking a lot of you.” Phil ran his hand up and down her arm in a soothing gesture. “You need some time to think it over, really weigh your options.” “How much time?” Marta was aware that she sounded a bit like a pouting child, but she didn’t care. She was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted and went out and got it. Phil exchanged a look with his brothers.

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“Tomorrow night?” “Tonight.” She would push for this one. “Okay, tonight.” At least Sam was on her side. After a moment of hesitance, Phil nodded. “If you still want to be our mate by, say, nine o’clock, come to Sam and I’s…” He trailed off as he looked across Marta at Mel. “Come to our cabin.” “You know I’ll be there.” She waggled her eyebrows at Phil suggestively. “You know I can’t wait to see you there.” His hand wandered up to her breasts, and he took a nipple between his fingers and squeezed. Her pussy flared back to life, and she rolled her head to the side, reaching for Phil’s lips. “Okay, you two. There’s time enough for that on your way to the diner.” Shit! Why did Sam have to remind her that she needed to go to work in— “Oh my god, it’s six o’clock!” Phil stood and helped Marta to her feet. God, how she wished she could stay there with the three men and show them all of her body, not to mention reveal all their flesh. But no, work called, and at least she and Phil needed to be at the diner in half an hour. She scurried around her apartment in search of clothes while her three men dressed leisurely. Her three men. They really were hers, weren’t they? And all three of them at once! Marta had envisioned being with more than one man at once so many times. While brushing her teeth, she thought of how many lonely nights in hotel rooms she had spent rubbing her clit and imagining the ecstasy to be found at the center of a ménage a trois. But she’d had so much more than that, she realized. A permanent ménage a quatre waited for her just on the other side of her bathroom door. It didn’t matter that they thought they could shift into mountain lions. Chelsea had bought into the illusion, and after witnessing Mel’s hand turning into a paw, Marta was damn near to hopping on the bandwagon. If insanity meant being

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in the middle of a sexy, three-sided lion sandwich, then she was ready to sign up for a lifelong stay at the loony bin. “Ready,” she said as she emerged, teeth clean, into the small apartment. “I bet you are,” Mel said as he took her in his arms. “God knows I am.” “Again?” “We’re all ready.” Phil took her hand and gently led her to the door. The three of them crowded through the door, Sam and Phil’s heads nearly grazing the doorframe, then onto the small front porch. “Tonight,” Sam promised. “If you really are ready for us, we’ll be waiting for you tonight.”

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Chapter 9 “Stop it!” Marta squealed as Phil’s soft lips landed on her cheek and his arms circled her waist, pulling her backward against his chest. “I can’t help it,” he breathed. “Tonight is too far away.” The door to the ladies’ room at Savage Hunger opened, and Marta tried to wrench herself from Phil’s embrace in an attempt to maintain some sort of sense of propriety. When Rita emerged, Phil’s grip tightened, preventing her from wiggling away. “Your break’s only fifteen minutes long.” The older woman wagged her finger at Marta. “Don’t have too much fun.” With a wink, she whipped past them, leaving Phil and Marta in passionate embrace in the all-too-public hallway off of the dining room. “Come on.” Phil released her and took her hand, leading her to the back exit. Using more force than Marta was accustomed to seeing from him, he pulled her through the open door. She only had a moment to register the blast of chilly autumn air before Phil pushed her against the back wall of building. Tiny bits of stucco dug into her back as his deliberate lips found hers. Most of her kisses with Phil had started slow and romantic, the tension building with each brush of lips, teeth, and tongue, but not this one. His tongue pushed open her lips, demanding entry that she gladly allowed. As their mouths danced, Phil’s hands roamed over her body. He pressed his palms against her breasts, causing Marta’s breathing to hitch with excitement, then lower, over the curves of her waist and hips, and finally backward to wiggle underneath her ass and press it to

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him. The outline of his rigid cock against her stomach told her exactly how much he enjoyed their little grope. His lips left her mouth at the same time that his hands dipped a little lower before heading upward and under her dress. Her breaths became sharp pants as he smoothed a hand over her ass, only the thin layer of her panties separating them. He leaned his forehead against hers, their lips only inches apart. “Marta, I want you.” He sounded nearly as out of breath as she was as he squeezed her ass. “If you come with us tonight, I’m just giving you fair warning.” He brushed his cheek against hers, only a few rough, short hairs scratching along her cheekbone, and whispered into her ear. “Someone’s going to fuck you here.” His hand squeezed again, accentuating his words. “Yes,” Marta moaned, heedless of any eavesdropping. “God, please, yes, I—” Her words were cut off by the sensation of Phil sucking her earlobe into his mouth. The tip of his tongue traced along it, and sparks of pleasure flew southward on collision course with her nowconvulsing pussy. She couldn’t help but think she was the luckiest woman in the world. Her men—plural—wanted to give her what she’d fantasized about, the forbidden sexual act that lit a fire inside her and she’d not yet dared try. “I’m happy you like it.” Phil withdrew his hands from her dress and caressed her waist again, eliciting a soft moan bemoaning the absence of his hands. “Because I can’t wait to—” “Hey, lovebirds, aren’t you supposed to be working?” A heavy door slammed, and Phil snapped his head to the right. Marta followed his gaze and saw Clayton Abbott heading toward them, large black trash bag in hand. “We’re taking a break,” Phil replied as he turned his attention back to Marta. He pressed a kiss against her neck, causing her to squirm in a mixture of delight and embarrassment. “Phil,” she said pointedly, “there are other people around.”

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“Don’t mind me.” Clay was now dangerously near them. “Just taking out the trash.” Phil was about to return his lips to hers when Clay interrupted them again. “I also thought you might want to know that Ulysses Norman himself called me today.” With an apologetic look, Phil released Marta and turned toward Clay. “What did he have to say? Trying to convince you to sell out again?” “Of course.” Clay shrugged as he hauled the trash bag into the Dumpster on the opposite side of the back entrance to Savage Hunger. “But that’s not news. What I wanted to tell you was that he’s pretty sure you’re selling to him. Said he’d be out in Savage Valley tomorrow to finalize the paperwork.” They were selling? This was certainly news to Marta. Last she heard, Sam and Phil were staunchly opposed to letting Ulysses Norman take control of their family business. “He’s just bluffing,” Phil replied, but Marta sensed an unusual stiffness in his manner. Something was wrong. “We won’t sell to him, and I hope you won’t either.” “I certainly don’t plan on it, but if he insists on coming out here again and again, I can’t stop him.” “You’re right.” Phil breathed a deep sigh and started toward the door. Was their break time up already? God, she wanted another taste of Phil. “Thanks for letting me know about Norman coming out here. I’ll give Sam the heads-up.” “Sure thing.” Clay then turned to Marta and nodded. “Hope you keep her around, Phil. I like her. She doesn’t bring me creamer.” “Is that your only qualification for high-quality waitstaff?” Phil asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Yup.” With that terse response, Clay disappeared back through the heavy door again. “After you.” Phil held open the door for Marta, and with a heavy sigh, she reentered. Damn, their break had gone so quickly. But

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before she had too much time to grieve their aborted rendezvous, he had gathered her into a gentle caress. “Only a few hours, beautiful.” His breath tickled the hairs next to her ear. “Only a few hours, and we can be together for a very long time. Forever, if you’d like.” **** Sam drummed his fingers on the desk as he listened to the tinny saxophone of the hold music. He cradled the phone against his shoulder and glanced at glowing red display of the digital clock on his desk. If this call lasted too long, it would make him late for his meeting with Oliver and Roarke, but that didn’t matter now, not when more important things hung in the balance. “Mr. Pope?” “Yup. Still here, still waiting.” “Please hold for Mr. Norman.” About damn time. Sam had been standing beside the desk listening to the elevator music for over half an hour. When Phil let Sam know Clay Abbott had heard Norman himself bragging about fucking owning the diner this time, Sam knew he had a call to make. He couldn’t let Ulysses Norman go on one more second thinking he had a snowball’s chance in hell of buying Savage Hunger. God, what had he been thinking? Selling out to NormCorp would not only have put the pride at risk, it would have forced Marta into a fate she didn’t choose. The little spitfire he knew would never want that. Marta. The memory of her cunt wrapped around him like a wet, scorching glove instantly had his cock tenting his cotton trousers, reminding him he’d be half-hard every second until he dove into that heavenly abyss again. A static click interrupted the hold music—a highly unwelcome disruption to his memory—and signaled that the moral nemesis of the entire town of Savage Valley had deigned to take his call.

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“Samuel, how lovely to hear from you. I’ve been awaiting your call.” “Of course you’ve been awaiting my call. I damn near fell for your bullshit.” Sam could envision the look of false shock on Norman’s face as he gasped. “I mean you no offense, but I don’t what bullshit you’re talking about. I’m merely extending an offer to you that I believe will be beneficial.” “Bull. Shit. And you know it.” “Oh, no, I’d never—” “Listen,” Sam said, not intending to allow himself to listen to another syllable of the crap Norman peddled, “I’ve thought it through, and there is no way that I can justify selling Savage Hunger. I can’t justify it to my brothers, I can’t justify it to the community, and damn it, I can’t justify it to myself. I am truly sorry if I misled you, Norman, but I only own half of Savage Hunger, and it’s not mine to give away.” “But you said that you could buy your brother out of—” “I’ve said a lot of things, but the fact stands that I have no interest in selling out to you. You’ll have to find another jackass in Savage Valley to swindle. But let me tell you, we’re on to you now.” Norman was silent for a moment then spoke carefully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t feed me that crap. I know you’ve been talking to Clay Abbott about buying out the Ninth Time, and I know that would give you the leverage NormCorp needs to buy out the entire town. Neither you nor your expensive gifts—” “I take it Phil liked the oven.” Sam’s stomach turned as he remembered the expensive, stainless bribe. It was the top of the line, but he knew he would never be comfortable with a physical remnant of his near abandonment of his

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family and his pride. And so he had arranged that morning to turn it over to some more worthy owners. “He loved it, Norman, and I hear they love it over at the Savage Valley Wildlife Center, too.” Sam grinned as he heard Ulysses choke on the other end. “Excuse me?” “Yeah, I had the Ashleys come get it this morning, and they said it’s just perfect for preparing the special diet for the baby squirrels that have been separated from their mothers.” For a moment, all Sam could hear was heavy breathing. When Ulysses spoke, his voice was hushed and laced with the hatred he kept concealed during most of Sam’s dealings with the man. “That wasn’t intended for anyone else, and frankly, I find it despicable that you would retain my gift after leading me on like that.” “There are more important things than business, Ulysses,” Sam said, letting some tenderness seep into his tone. The man may be pure evil, but Sam recognized the pain that caused him to lash out—the same sort of internal wound that caused Sam to alienate his brother for so long. Thank god he had a chance to make things right once again. “You have a daughter,” he continued. “Wouldn’t you do anything, sacrifice anything for your family?” “Don’t you dare talk to me about family, bigamist.” Ulysses spit out the words with enough force that Sam nearly felt the droplets of spittle through the receiver. “I suppose you and your brothers intend to carry on your parents’ tradition of fucking the same woman and daring to call it a family.” Sam expected his anger to rise, for the tingling underneath his fingernails that preceded an involuntary shift, but it never came. Instead, his temper stayed reined in, and he shocked himself with the kindness in his voice.

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“You’re right. Phil, Mel, and I have met a wonderful, beautiful woman who we hope will spend the rest of her life with us and complete our family.” “You disgust—” Ulysses halted, and Sam could hear his deep breaths. “I’m sorry we disagree on this matter, Mr. Pope. NormCorp will be sorry to lose the opportunity to do business with you.” “I know you don’t mean that, but thanks for saying it anyway.” “Well, we could—” Sam hung up the phone, cutting off Norman and his mistake once and for all, and collapsed into his desk chair. Yes, his meeting with Oliver and Roarke loomed, but he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. Today, he knew, would transform the rest of his life. The voluptuous, fiery woman that had sauntered into his life would be forever his. She would mother his children, and she would complete his family. Tonight would finally mend the rift between the Pope brothers once and for all. Sam shook his head as he remembered the years of rivalry between himself and Mel. He had been too proud over the years to make the overture to his youngest brother that would finally unite him. If Marta hadn’t come along, the tremors from that fateful afternoon would have continued shaking the foundation of their family for years to come. He leaned back in his chair, letting his mind play the pockmarked film of the memory one more time, of going to Mel and asking for him to kill in his place for the pride hunt. When Mel turned him down, Sam couldn’t cope, but apparently the Shoshone gods were looking out for him. He had found Marta, and with her beautiful face, her vivacious spirit, and her alarmingly open mind, and she would both reunite and complete the fraternal trio once and for all. ****

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Bo was already standing on his porch as Sam’s car bumped over the dirt road and came to a stop in front of the small, wooden house. Phil could hear the older man’s cursing before he even opened his door. “You motherfuckers! Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on.” His friendly tone belied the anger in his words, and he gave a quick embrace to each of the Pope brothers as they climbed onto his porch. “Boys, you know this is a small town. Think I wouldn’t know about the three of you being spotted with that new waitress?” “We know that’s not how you found out.” Phil couldn’t help but laugh at the shaman’s mock indignation. “Bryce told you, didn’t he?” Bo shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through his long, black hair with only a few scattered strands of silver. “What can I say? That little Sullivan boy remembers everything from when he’s in his lion form, including what everyone else feels. What kind of shaman would I be if I didn’t make him report to me after the hunt?” “The kind of shaman that has cold beer for his accursed shifters?” Mel asked as he stepped around Phil. For a moment, Bo didn’t say anything but shook his head and stared at Mel, long lines creasing his tanned forehead. “Melbourne Pope with Sam and Phil. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” “Yeah, neither did we,” Sam said, a hint of bitterness still in his voice. “How about those beers then, Bo? We got a lot to talk about.” With a start, Bo snapped out of his reverie and opened the door. “Come on in, boys, and I’ll get you boys those beers along with some real special…beverages.” Once the three brothers were settled on the low couch facing Bo’s fifty-seven-inch TV, he handed each a Dos Equis. As Phil drank, he looked around at the living room. Funny, he had only ever been in here with the entire pride, despite Bo’s closeness with Sam. It looked positively cavernous without twelve nervous adolescents eager to start their shifter training.

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Bo took a seat in his La-Z-Boy and studied each of them. “Okay. Out with it, you three.” Phil nodded at Sam, and his older brother began the narrative of their meeting Marta. “So you wanna change in front of her so you can ask her to mate you?” All three exchanged nervous looks, and Phil didn’t dare speak a word. The Shoshone shaman was not a man anyone dared to cross. “Boys,” he started slowly, his stare suddenly suspicious, “is there something you’re not telling me?” “Yes,” Mel said, drawing everyone’s attention. “There is. We’ve already revealed our secrets, and I’m relatively certain she’s damn ready to mate.” “Without asking me?” Bo’s voice lowered, a sign he was genuinely concerned. “Yes. Without asking you, and without the potion you made the Cashes down.” Mel’s glower looked like a challenge to Bo’s authority and to the ancient ways of the Shoshone curse. “We didn’t need to shift for her to believe us.” “That’s not true,” Phil interrupted. “Mel, show him what you can do. He deserves to know what sort of trouble you could get into.” Mel extended his hand, and without any apparent effort, his hand transformed into a mountain lion’s paw. Bo stared at the outstretched hand, and his jaw popped open. “And you can do that around anyone?” “Yes,” Mel said with more than a hint of pride in his voice. “Not just around people like me. ’Cause you know I could will you boys to shift if I wanted to.” “Yes, indeed.” Bo shook his head again, in visible shock. “So,” Phil began, “this means that we don’t have to drink that concoction you were talking about earlier, right?” Roarke told him about the muddy elixir he and Oliver’d had to drink to transform in

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front of Chelsea, and Phil had no desire to repeat Roarke’s experience. “We don’t need to shift before we’ve mated her.” Bo smiled a slightly sadistic smile. “Oh, no, all you lions need one to mate. You boys get a better one.” With agility Phil wouldn’t have expected from a man Bo’s age, he sprung from his chair and was in the kitchen behind them in a few steps. After the sounds of metal and glass clanking and Bo’s muffled cursing, he returned to the living room carrying a tray with three glasses containing watery gray mixture. As he took the glass from the tray, Phil smelled a variety of things his culinary training told him weren’t suitable for human ingestion. “Uh, Bo, I don’t mean to challenge your authority or anything”— Phil took another deliberate sniff, just to be sure—“but isn’t tea tree oil toxic to humans when ingested?” “Not for you boys,” he sang, far too amused by their having to drink the substance. “As you know, the shifting thing ain’t genetic, it’s the curse actively being applied to each little kitten, but it does change it so you boys have stomachs of iron. Now drink up!” “To our mate,” Mel toasted and downed the entire glass in one impressive gulp. Phil followed suit and tried not to taste the acidic substance as it burned down his throat. Unfortunately, the fiery sensation did not let up during its trek down his esophagus. He looked to his right and saw Sam’s pinched face as he set down his glass. “A bit heavy on the eucalyptus, but I really appreciate the fresh bouquet of cedarwood.” Mel sat his glass down on the table in front of him with a smug expression his face. “How on earth could you even stomach—” Sam started, but the answer must have occurred to him at the same moment it did to Phil. Right, he was living with the Yeats twins. In addition to his illicit career as a cov, their brother subsisted on a diet of mostly moonshine. Mel only smiled at them with a shit-eating grin on his face before turning back to Bo. “I quite enjoyed it, actually.”

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“Well,” Bo said as he rose and collected their empty glasses, “I guess that’s all you’ll be needing from me. You don’t need me to explain anything else? Please tell me your fathers filled you in on all the details of the process.” Images immediately danced across Phil’s brain of exactly how the process would go. Marta, his gorgeous Marta, would come to their cabin, and the three of them would— “We’re good on the details.” Sam hauled himself to his feet and shook Bo’s hand. “Thank you so much, man. You have no idea how happy this is going to make us.” “Eh, I might have some idea,” Bo said as he showed them to the door. “Now you boys don’t be strangers. I don’t want some war or treaty violation bringing you back.” Oh, god, the treaty. Phil looked over at Sam, who hung his head in shame. Fuck, they would need to unravel the mess with Norman quickly if they didn’t want to cause some very serious trouble with the pride. “No worries about that,” Mel said, blissfully unaware of the mess they were in. “We’ll bring Marta over soon.” As they said their good-byes and loaded back in the car, Phil grabbed Sam’s arm and said in a sharp whisper, “You’re going to take care of Norman, right?” “I called him this morning.” Sam leaned a little bit closer. “I told him not to go through with the sale, but you know Ulysses. This won’t be the last Savage Valley hears of this.” “Clay said he’s already after the Ninth Time.” “Fuck.” “What are you two whispering about?” Mel stuck his head through the space between the driver’s and passenger’s seats. “If I’m going in on this mating with you, you two can’t form your little olderbrother cabal anymore.”

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“You’re right.” Phil released his hold on Sam’s arm and rested back in his seat. “We’re in this together, and you two will have to settle this sibling rivalry thing on your own.” “Fat chance,” Sam muttered as he pulled the car back onto the dirt road that led to Treaty Lane. Phil had hoped that Mel hadn’t heard, but the silence in the car on the drive back to Savage Hunger said otherwise. **** Marta dug her cell phone out of her bag as soon as she closed the door to her apartment behind her. Only one person could help her out at the moment. Four rings. Maybe she wouldn’t answer. Damn it. If I’ve ever needed girl talk, it’s now. “Hey!” Chelsea answered breathlessly. “Hey, girl.” Marta had never been more relieved to hear the sound of her best friend’s voice. “Do you have time to talk?” “Uh…Hold on. Just a second.” After some commotion and muffled shouts of “Oliver! Not now,” Chelsea came back on the line. “Okay. Sorry about that. What’s going on? I feel like I’ve only seen you at Savage Hunger since you moved here.” “Yeah, it’s become a very big part of my life.” “Uh-oh.” Chelsea must have picked up on the wariness in Marta’s voice. “What’s wrong? Is Sam working you too hard? Because I can have Oliver give him a call and—” “No, that’s not it at all. Sam is a really great boss, and Savage Hunger’s a wonderful place to work. It’s just…You’re gonna think I’m crazy, Chels.” The line was silent for a moment, and Marta thought she heard a stifled giggle. “Go on.”

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“It’s…Well…You were right. It does have to do with Sam.” Marta took a deep breath. Not only was Chelsea the only person who wouldn’t immediately have her committed for what she was about to say, but according to Sam, Phil, and Mel, she shared in this strange fate. “It also has to do with Phil. And with Mel.” “Oh, Marta,” Chelsea whispered, a hushed excitement in her tone. “You have feelings for them, don’t you?” Ah, the wisdom of old friends. “I do. I have so many feelings for all three of them, and I can’t quite sort them out in my head. It’s just, last night, well—” “They told you.” So her men were right. Chelsea knew about the bizarre revelation. “Am I crazy, Chels? They told me they could change into mountain lions. Am I hallucinating? They said that you knew, too, and that Roarke and Oliver are—” Chelsea’s laughter interrupted Marta’s frantic questioning. “It’s crazy, I know, but it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” “What’s happening? Am I dreaming? I mean, this is one very, very twisted dream I’ve been having.” “No, you’re not dreaming. Trust me, I was just as freaked out as you are, maybe even more so. Remember that string of voice mails I left for you begging for you to call?” Only about two months ago, Chelsea had left several voice mails on Marta’s phone. By the time Marta got back in a service area and could hear the messages, her friend’s crisis was over. “I just thought that was about the fact that you were getting into a ménage. You know, you’re the last person I expected to do such a thing, but you seem so happy.” “I am so happy, Marta. More than I ever thought I could be. As for the ménage, yeah, I know it’s a more than a little outside what we were raised with, but it’s necessary.”

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A cold chill came over Marta at Chelsea’s words. She sank onto her bed—the bed where her three men had caressed her only hours before—and held her knees against her chest. “Is that why you did it? Because of the curse?” Chelsea was quiet for a moment, doing nothing to calm the uneasiness in Marta’s stomach. “Yes and no,” she finally answered. “The curse was part of what drew me to Roarke and Oliver. You remember how nervous and lonely and hurt I was when we came to the Valley in September. Without the call of being their mate, it would have been hard for me to get over my fear and anxiety and meet the two men who were made for me. You see, mates are sort of…hardwired for each other. I know it sounds silly, but when I met Roarke and Oliver, it was like we’d always known each other. We just…well, I just fit with them.” “So I’m just under some Shoshone spell?” Marta’s breathing hitched. “I’m not really falling in, well, I’m not—” “You didn’t let me finish, silly,” Chelsea said with a laugh in her voice. “Yes, the curse is drawing you to them and them to you, but they aren’t animals. They’re still humans, and so are you. All of you have free will. Everything you’re experiencing is real. “I didn’t agree to marry Oliver and Roarke because I was their mate. The shifters can mate just fine without being in a committed relationship. I agreed to marry Oliver and Roarke because they’re the loves of my life. The thought of a single day without them…I don’t even want to contemplate the idea.” Chelsea’s words vibrated in Marta’s head. Her best friend, always the voice of reason, believed all of it, the ménage, the shifters, the lions, everything. Even though she hadn’t known them for long, it seemed preposterous that any of the Popes would lie to her. No, Chelsea was right. Marta hadn’t stumbled into a bizarre dream universe. She had stumbled into something much, much better. “And did I hear you say that you’re falling in love?”

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Marta felt herself blush at Chelsea’s words. The L-word had always frightened her, but not now. “Um, maybe?” Unusual shyness crept into her voice. “Marta Verner! You’re in love! I always knew it would happen.” Chelsea sounded ecstatic. “Oh, and you’re part of the pride, too. You’re going to love it, I swear. Everyone’s so great. I bet you’ve seen everyone, what with working at the diner and all.” She suddenly went quiet. “Wait. You’re planning to stay in Savage Valley, right?” She had turned the question over and over in her head so many times that day that the words were losing their meaning. “I want to be with them. I know that. And what’s tying me to Memphis? My mom’s in Florida now, you live here, and my publisher went under. I have a chance at a new life here, and I think it might be a great one.” Chelsea let out a high-pitched squeal. “Oh, I’m so happy! We’re really going to be family now. You’re gonna love all the Popes so much, and I can’t wait until you really get to know Oliver and Roarke. Marta, you’ve made me an even happier woman.” Marta could only chuckle at her friend’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, well, I’m not mated yet.” Silence. “Drop the phone, Marta.” Chelsea tone lost any hint of giddiness. “They said I could come over anytime toni—” “I’m serious. Drop the phone and run over there. You’re in love, and that’s all that matters. Go over there and show those Pope brothers that you mean it.” Marta slowly climbed from her bed and went to her closet. “Okay.” She let out a long breath as she selected a powder-blue dress. “Nothing to lose, right?” “And everything to gain.

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Chapter 10 Marta’s worth it, right? Worth putting all the shit behind us and working together? A wide expanse of dusty, barren land stood between Mel and the Pope family cabin. He watched the flames from the fire burning inside casting waves of orange light onto the earth from the one window on the east wall of the cabin as he gathered the courage to enter. Phil paced by, anxiety creasing his normally still features. Always the levelheaded brother in a family of fiery tempers, Phil had only worn that expression a handful of times through the years. Or maybe only once, Mel thought. Two years ago, their first night since they moved into the cabin when theirs became the ruling generation, and the last time Mel set foot in his family home. That night, with their mom and dads’ help, they had cleared out all the fabric dividing walls and lofted beds that had previously divided the nineteenth-century abode into several small spaces. The cabin had only been built for two, and fitting a modern family of six into the cramped space had required a great deal of ingenuity over the years. That night, though, the space had seemed cavernous. It had also been the day Sam first came to Mel not as a brother, but as a client. And that had been the day Mel turned away his brother’s business. He knew now how stupid that was, but at the time, it had felt like a cathartic rebellion. All his life, Mel had picked up Sam’s slack when the brothers hunted. Sure, Sam was actually a pretty good tracker, but he had no taste for the kill. That had always been Mel’s strong suit. Time after time, Sam would take the lead, finding the perfect prey for the feast, and Mel would sulk in the

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shadows until the moment of attack. He loved the split second when his muscles would snap, sending him flying through the air. The deer would never expect it when he landed on their back and took their necks in his strong jaw. Although it repulsed his human mind, his leonine conscience delighted in savoring the meal he had made. But when they all came to and their fathers showered their praises, Sam would take the credit. Sam, with his blond hair and intimidating stature, had always been the golden boy of the family. While Mel spent most of his school career skipping class with Cleve and Ezra, Sam had been the perfect student, becoming the first of the Pope family to finish college. After Sam and Phil bought their fathers out of the diner, the split between the brothers deepened. Mel had no interest in business or in the diner. No, he longed for the day he could travel and could see all the places he wanted to see, meet all the people he would never find in rural Colorado. Watching Phil perform his duties as the generation’s pilgrim only intensified his distaste for his two brothers and the conflict that came to a head when Mel denied Sam’s business and Phil took his older brother’s side. **** Two years earlier… The three of them stood in the center of the cabin, eerily silent after the ever-present chaos that Mel had known all his twenty-five years. For a long time, none of them uttered a word to break the silence. The tension was too thick to allow speech. “Why didn’t you just take the money?” Sam asked. “You’ve been selling to all the lion-shifters for years. Don’t think that we don’t know about you and your motley crew of covs.”

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“It’s not like we have to answer to the Better Business Bureau.” Mel stared at his brother, silently challenging him. “We have the right to refuse service to whomever we please.” “You talk like you’ve actually refused a paying customer before.” “We have.” Mel crossed his arms, and Sam continued glaring wordlessly at him. “When we’ve run out of product.” “I saw the deer, Mel. I know you had plenty to sell.” “So what if I did?” Mel felt the anger mounting inside of him as he curled his hands into fists. One fingernail extended into a claw involuntarily, and the sharp sting on his palm snapped his tenuous rein on his fury. “I’ve been covering for you all my life while you go off and make Mom and the Dads proud.” Sam suddenly turned penitent. “And I am so grateful for that. You’ve been a real help in allowing me to do my duties to our family and to the—” “Not buying it, Sam. Not one bit. I’ve been out there hunting day in and day out my entire life. I’ve kept lions from dying. How does what you do compare to that?” “I think you’re forgetting that I’m the one who keeps you out of trouble. If I hadn’t convinced Oliver to turn the other—” “It doesn’t compare,” Mel said, ignoring Sam’s comment. “So what if your little diner business is sanctioned by government and pride law so everyone thinks you’re some fucking upstanding citizen? After what you did today, you’re just as much of an outlaw as I am. Don’t go around pretending you’re anything else but a pathetic, weak lion that depends on stronger lions to take care of your responsibilities.” Mel regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Sam’s hurt expression made his stomach twist in guilt and remorse. Phil, of course, tried to step in and resolve their conflict. “Okay, okay, calm down.” He stepped between the two of them and held out both of his hands. “I think everyone’s said some stuff

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that they don’t mean tonight. We’re probably just a little wound up about the first hunt tonight.” “I know Sam is.” “Fuck you, little brother. I don’t need you. Cleve and Ezra think that my money’s just as green as anyone else’s.” The shift was dangerously close. Mel’s skin tingled all over, and all of his fingernails had extended into claws. “You don’t need me. Really?” “No, I don’t.” Phil had stepped back, allowing the oldest and youngest Popes to square off. “Let me get this straight. You and Phil don’t need me.” “No, for all we care, you can go to hell or wherever it is you hang around with Cleve and Ezra,” Sam said without so much as a glance to Phil. “You don’t need me for anything? There is absolutely nothing, nothing that applies specifically to what we are that you need me for?” “God, Mel. No, I don’t need a goddamn thing from you.” “Well, then, I think college boy needs a refresher course on the treaty.” “Sam,” Phil said softly, “think about it.” “If you’re so insistent on my ineffectuality, then I’ll just leave.” “Fine. Leave.” Mel walked to his unmade bed, picked up his still-packed suitcase, and made his way to the door. Just before he opened it, he turned back to where his two brothers still stood in the middle of the room. “Good luck with your mating, then. Enjoy the dead kittens.” “Wait—” Mel shut the door on Sam, Phil, and his childhood. ****

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He hadn’t entered the cabin since. Every footstep on the hard ground seemed to echo around him, the vibrations from the sound signaling a new chapter in Mel’s life. Yes, there was technically still some doubt as to whether or not Marta would present herself for the mating ceremony, but Mel didn’t worry about that. Her adventurous spirit was what drew him to her and, if he was completely honest with himself, made him fall in love with her. Mating three shape-shifters presented the ultimate adventure, and his mate would never turn that down. Finally he reached the door. It opened before him, revealing Sam as tense as Mel had ever seen. The waves of anxiety rolled off of him, and even in human form, Mel could sense how much this moment meant to his brother. Hell, to all of them. “We need to talk.” Sam nodded as he stepped away from the door, allowing Mel access to what he knew would soon be his home again. Two beds had been pushed together along the back wall, creating a large surface for what was to come. Seeing the mating bed laid out before him, Mel felt a rare worm of doubt wrap around his intestines. This was it. This was a decision that affected the rest of his life, his children’s lives, his grandchildren’s lives. Decision? Who the hell do you think you’re kidding? From the moment he laid eyes on Marta, it hadn’t been a decision. It was his destiny. “How does it feel to be home?” Phil’s question drew Mel back to the present. “Odd,” he answered. “It feels like standing in the middle of a dream.” He glanced around the room. “Everything is familiar, but it’s not like I remember it.” Sam still hadn’t spoken. His desk chair squeaked painfully as he turned from his desk in the far corner of the room. Mel looked into his brother’s eyes—really looked—for the first time in years, and the

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feeling it created surprised him completely. He felt the same type of completeness he had felt when he first saw Marta, but without the bodily reaction. God, why hadn’t he realized it before? There was a reason behind the treaty, a reason why the Shoshone insisted that all brothers mate the same woman. His brothers were a part of him, too, and no matter what happened in the past, they’d always be there for each other. After this epiphany, there was only one thing left for Mel to do. “I’m sorry, Sam.” For what seemed like minutes, Sam said nothing, only cocked his head and stared at Mel. Phil, normally eager to dispel tension in situations such as this, stayed quiet. Finally, Sam stood and walked to where Mel still stood near the cabin’s entrance, never breaking eye contact. When he reached Mel, he nodded gravely and extended his hand. A wave of relief crested over Mel like he’d never known. Without even a conscious effort by Mel, his hand found Sam’s and shook it vigorously. “Thank you, man,” Mel said, shocked at his own vulnerability. “I never should have said those things, and I definitely made a mistake when I walked out of here.” “I’m the one who should be apologizing. It was wrong of me to say that I didn’t need you.” “Because we all need each other,” Phil broke in. “We’re family, and in a few minutes, we’re about to have our own family.” “And what makes you so sure she’ll be here?” Sam asked, releasing Mel’s hand. “Let’s just say, I may have persuaded her a bit this morning.” “Why, Phil, I didn’t know you had it in you.” Mel elbowed his brother in the ribs, sparring as if he were a kid again. “You two aren’t the only two Pope men of this generation, thank you very much.” Phil smiled smugly, and quickly sharing a glance, Sam and Mel burst out laughing.

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“Oh, that’s a good one,” Sam said between gasps of laughter. “This coming from the gangly teenager who took home ec instead of shop.” “Hey, I got to cook in home ec, and I never came home smelling like a sweaty piece of timber.” “What do you think, Sam?” Mel quirked an eyebrow at his brother, who responded with the same gesture. “Were Phil’s budding culinary proclivities enough to balance the fact that he had to sew an apron?” “Nope.” Sam punched Phil in the arm playfully, and Phil countered his attack with an equally friendly shove. Soon, the three of them riled in the same sort of tumbleweed of play fighting that they’d indulged in as young shifters—Mel refused to think of himself as ever having been a kitten. “I wasn’t that gangly,” Phil protested as they scuffled. “And at least I filled out.” “That you did.” The three of them halted midskirmish. Mel looked to the source of the words and heard the door creak open. It revealed Marta, beautiful as ever in a powder-blue dress and her denim jacket. Her hair was down, cascading over her shoulders in thick, brown waves. Her dress hugged her curves, accentuating that she was most certainly a woman, not a scrawny child. In the midst of the long-overdue roughhousing, Mel had missed his soon-to-be mate’s arrival. He jumped to his feet and took a few long strides to where she stood just outside the door. His brothers followed suit, but Mel was the first to wrap his arms around their mate. He forewent kissing her right away and instead buried his face in her neck. He released his mate and gazed into her surprised countenance. He couldn’t wait to glimpse her pretty mouth opened in shock again and again and again.

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They still hadn’t talked about the future, about whether or not Marta would stay with them, but Mel could sense it with every iota of his being. She would be in his bed every night and every morning for a very, very long time. Starting tonight.

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Chapter 11 “Hey, sweetheart.” Marta didn’t have a chance to respond before Sam lowered his face to hers and caught her lips with his. His tongue demanded entry right away, prying into her mouth and stroking against her tongue. She let her hands drift to his lower back, smoothing them over the hard, rippling muscles there. His teeth grazed her lower lip, and her pussy flared to life. She flattened her body against his, needing the pressure against her swelling clit and hardening nipples. Another body closed behind hers, pressing her closer to Sam, and two hands landed on her ass and began kneading. The lithe frame and soft touch told her it could only be Phil. He stepped forward, molding her body to Sam’s, and something very hard and very large pressed into her stomach. Shit, was there any way he could be as turned on as she was? She tore her mouth away for a breath of air, and Sam’s lips immediately went to her neck. He kissed and licked and nibbled down to her collarbone before changing his mouth’s trajectory to kiss toward the back of her neck. With Sam’s hands on her waist and Phil’s on her ass, it could only have been Mel’s hands that swept aside her hair to allow Sam to lave at the back of her neck. The sensation sent spirals of electric shocks soaring straight to her pussy that was now convulsing with desire. Mel sneaked a hand between her and Sam, and she found herself being turned around. Now, she faced Phil. He smiled at her, the expression accentuating his high cheekbones and setting his bright blue eyes ablaze. Funny, Phil could look like the friendliest, sweetest

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man in the world at the same time his gaze burned with predatory desire. His lips brushed against hers in a soft, gentle kiss. He parted them, allowing her lips to caress his at the same time. Just enough suction drew her lower lip into his, and the deliberate swipe of his tongue against her lip made her wonder what that tongue could do to other parts of her, other parts that were currently dripping wet. Eliciting a bereft whimper, Phil lifted his head and broke the kiss. “We’re so glad you’re here, honey.” Just then, Sam stepped back, and Mel took his place caressing her waist. “You can’t even imagine how excited we are.” He punctuated his words with a small thrust of his hips that pushed his cock against her ass. The memory of his long, large dick planted inside her caused a contraction deep in her cunt. Was she that close to coming already? Yes, she thought without hesitation. With these three, her libido kicked into overdrive. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t desired sex that much before. Maybe her body just needed Sam, Phil, and Mel. That was what Chelsea said, wasn’t it? That mates were hardwired for each other? She rested her head against Mel’s shoulder, and he planted soft kisses along the side of her neck as his hands encircled her waist. His wet, hot mouth nipped at her earlobe, sending yet another lightning streak of heat flying through her body. Marta hardly recognized the low moan that escaped her throat as hers, so wrapped up was she in the maelstrom of sensations that had flooded her body since walking into the cabin. She tried to look around and get her bearings, but Sam once more scooped her into his arms, thwarting her attempt at orientation. Phil walked beside Sam, his long fingers combing through her hair. The four of them crossed the one-room cabin, and once they arrived near the far wall, Mel’s open arms waited for her. Sam gently placed her into Mel’s arms, positioning Marta perfectly for Mel’s kiss.

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“Aren’t you getting a little tired?” Marta asked, wanting to break the heated tension that had settled in the room. “You don’t have to carry me all night.” “Oh, trust me,” Sam replied. “We won’t be carrying you.” “You need to save your strength, anyway.” The edge in Mel’s voice brought a fresh wave of liquid from deep within her pussy. “You’re precious to us, and you deserve to be treated like a princess,” Phil continued as he took her from Mel’s arms and finally placed her on the bed. She took advantage of the opportunity to look around. The peeling wooden walls and wood casement windows with distorted glass marked it as an old cabin, but it had been updated to modern standards, with hardwood floors and track lighting on the wooden ceiling. Sam lowered his long form to the bed—or rather, she noticed, two beds pushed together—and stretched out beside her. “Do you like it? Phil and I did it as practice for remodeling Savage Hunger.” “It’s amazing,” she replied honestly. “You should see the kitchen,” Phil said as he flanked Marta. She exchanged a laugh with Phil, but no one spoke. The tension in the cabin escalated, now a tight string that could snap at any moment. She looked up to Mel and saw his blue gaze scorching with desire. “Enough small talk,” he said. “I believe we had a purpose for tonight, didn’t we, brothers?” Phil reached across her body, took her hipbone in his hand, and used it to roll her to face him. “Yes, we do.” What Marta saw in Phil’s eyes could only be described as hunger, plain and simple. The Pope brothers would devour her tonight, and that idea squeezed at her heart, her nipples, and her cunt. “Then let’s get down to it.” Sam reached over Marta and rolled her back to him as Phil molded his body against her back. “You’re sure about this, right?” Marta almost responded automatically with a nod but stopped herself. This decision, this major life choice, demanded at least one

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more moment of contemplation. Looking back on her life since she arrived in Savage Valley, Marta realized that she had been more alive, more confident, and surer of herself than ever before. Chasing stories was fun, yes, but the thrill of the chase died as soon as she put pen to paper. What good were her adventures without someone to share them with? She wanted to share with the Pope brothers, each one of them. Sam, the brooding, wry eldest, would expect her best, and she would gladly give it to him. She had meant it sincerely when she told Chelsea he was a great boss. Never had she seen someone so artfully manage a group of people while maintaining the highest of standards. And Phil, sensitive and smart, would stay loyal always, and since he was the pilgrim of the pride’s ruling generation, he could accompany her on adventures around the globe. And then there was Mel, the sarcastic rebel, who would always be there to challenge her and make certain she was never bored. After all, what was waiting for her in Memphis? Her mother had remarried and moved away, and now Chelsea lived here. As a writer, she could live wherever she wanted and work as she pleased. Savage Hunger had come to feel like home, and the idea of leaving it saddened Marta more than she had ever expected. No, nothing waited for her there. That wasn’t home. This was home. Her men were home. “I’ve never been more certain,” she said as she stroked Sam’s cheek with her thumb. “I want this…and you.” “You heard her,” Mel said from where he still stood at the foot of the bed. “She’s ready, and we’ve already wasted far too much time.” That wicked smile tore across Sam’s face, strengthening Marta’s resolve. “Then let’s get to the main event.” “What’s the—Ooh…” Marta’s words were cut off when Phil’s hand slid over her waist then up, caressing one of her breasts from beneath. He began massaging it, and Marta’s hips began moving of their own accord.

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Luckily, Sam was there to push a leg between hers, giving her something to rub against and create the friction she so desperately needed. Phil’s hands left her breasts to trace downward, all the way to the hem of her dress. “I just want to see you again,” he whispered, pulling the hem upward. As she held up her arms to allow him to slip off the garment, Sam’s warm hands landed on her stomach and rolled her to face Phil. When she lay in front of him clad only in a lacy bra-and-panty set, Phil took a sharp intake of breath as he examined her. “You’re beautiful.” His hands traced up and down her figure, following every curve, every dip, every valley and leaving a trail of scorched flesh in their wake. “So fucking beautiful.” “Look,” Sam said from behind her, “her whole body flushes when we compliment her.” “That is so fucking sexy,” Phil said, just before ghosting his lips over her in a breath of a kiss. Her bra popped open, and Marta turned to see Sam, already entirely naked. His blue gaze burned, capturing Marta’s entire being for just an instant before her focus traveled downward to his long cock that twitched under her gaze. A droplet of pre-cum gathered on the head, and Marta leaned down, desperate to taste the salty morsel in her mouth. As her lips were about to ghost over the flared head, two hands grabbed her hips and dragged her away from Sam’s exceptional cock. She turned to look backward and saw yet another long, rock-hard prick for her taking. Phil’s cock was also long, longer than anything Marta had thought of taking inside herself, with a wide head and thick veins curling around the shaft. “Roll over,” Mel said, lowering his nude figure to the makeshift bed. She complied without debate. While she had been entranced by the expertly chiseled appearance of Sam’s naked body, Phil had moved between her legs, and now he massaged her calves as he spreader her wider, opening him for his taking.

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Mel wrapped his arms around her torso and dragged her back against him, and Marta felt the hard length of his cock bumping against her ass. The sensation brought up memories of that afternoon, when Phil had hinted at their plans to take her from behind. The mere memory of that promise heightened her arousal, although Phil’s fingers tracing over her thighs did nothing to stop her building excitement. After what seemed like hours, Phil’s fingers finally swiped over the fabric separating her pussy from her lovers. He rubbed there, and Marta let out an involuntary yelp. “God, you’re wet already,” Phil said reverently as he traced his index finger up and down along the length of her slit. “Of course I am,” Marta answered in a breathy voice. “The three of you get me wetter than I’ve ever been before.” “Yeah?” Mel’s stubble scraped against her cheek. “Tell us more. Tell us about how excited you get when we’re around.” “I–I don’t even know,” she stammered. “Everything inside me just lights on fire. You’re all three so incredi—” A sharp gasp cut off her words as, with one fluid movement, Phil removed her lacy hipster underwear and sank a digit into the weeping abyss of her cunt. Ever so slowly, he moved his finger in and out, in and out, killing her with the excruciating slow pace. “More,” she whispered. “I need more.” “Like this?” Phil added a second finger and continued his stroking, this time harder but still as maddeningly slowly. Marta couldn’t find the words to respond when Mel lifted his hands to her breasts and began teasing both her nipples at once, pinching and pulling them into hard buds. “I think she’s enjoying herself.” Mel squeezed harder, and she moaned at the hot sensations that flew straight to where Phil was torturing her pussy. “Let’s make sure she has a very good time.” Sam’s hand on her right breast replaced Mel’s, and he quickly lowered his head to take

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the stiff berry into his mouth. He nibbled, and Marta’s hips pushed forward, driving Phil’s fingers even deeper inside of her to graze against her G-spot. “Oh, god,” she moaned as she felt her clit stiffening. “I’m so close.” As if taking her words as a challenge, Phil finally quickened his pace at the same time his tongue joined his finger’s ministrations. He laved at her sensitive clit, spiraling her need higher and higher. His fingers left her convulsing pussy, and his tongue took over their fucking, darting into her. The wet heat of his mouth on her already drenched pussy had her coasting at the penultimate plateau of pleasure, dangerously close to her apex. The tiniest bit more would have her there. Phil’s fingers returned, and his tongue focused on her clit. At the same time, Mel pinched one nipple and Sam sucked the other between his teeth. Marta was a goner. A ragged scream of pleasure tore from throat as she rode out her orgasm, thrusting into Phil’s mouth and Sam and Mel’s hands. Finally, her convulsions subsided, and she began her slide back down to her normal plane of existence. Phil gently withdrew his fingers from her pussy, and Mel and Sam helped her to lie horizontally across the big bed. Sam and Mel lay on either side of her, and Phil pulled himself up to lie on top of her with his head on her stomach. Here, nestled between all three of them, that strange scent— the spicy, musky one—filled her senses again, bringing warmth and comfort and a little bit of arousal already brewing. “I think I like the mating ritual.” “Oh, sweetheart,” Sam said, running his fingers through her tousled hair, “it hasn’t even begun.” “What?” She tried to sit up, but the three brothers held her to the bed. The idea of fighting them drifted through her head, but as they moved closer to her, that notion faded into the background.

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“It’s begun.” Phil shot a pointed look at his brother. “Just not officially.” “You see,” Mel said, his hot breath against her neck, “in order for the mating ritual to occur, our mate must be in a totally relaxed and happy state.” “Then I’d say we’re good to go.” Marta snuggled against Mel, and he held her tighter to his chest. On the opposite side of her, Sam sat up and offered a hand to Marta. She looked over at Mel, who nodded, then took Sam’s hand and allowed him to pull her up to a sitting position. Once again, this watery blue stare held her immobile, and the rest of the world seemed to fade away around them as Sam filled each sense. His Adonis body was all she saw, his breathing all she heard, his near warmth all she felt, the salty taste of his cum all she anticipated, and that smell—god, that intoxicating aroma—was the only olfactory sense that ever mattered. Both of Sam’s hands landed on her upper arms, and his fingers dug into her soft skin. “Marta Antonie Verner, my—” “How did you know my middle name?” In the vacuum of sensation, Sam’s deep laugh sounded even louder, and she felt the rumbling in her awakening pussy. “You work for me, remember?” “Oh, that.” His expression softened, any of the smugness or sarcasm she’d ever seen there gone and replaced by only a burning affection that rolled off of him in waves. “Marta Antonie Verner, my beautiful mate.” Everything around them faded to a blur. Only Sam’s face was in focus. “I have chosen you as my mate. As such, I will protect you with my entire being, lion and human both. And together, we shall protect the earth on which we live and the beings with which we share it. Do you accept my mating?”

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As he spoke the words, Marta felt a sharp sensation on her upper arms. His nails felt as though they had sharpened into claws and were digging into her flesh. But there was no pain present at all, only a warm, pulsing sensation that fed into the heightened sense of awareness and well-being that had eclipsed everything else in her world besides Sam. “Yes. I accept your mating.” She didn’t form the words, but they seemed to fly from her mouth as soon as she made her decision. Slowly, a smile began to form on Sam’s lips, pulling just at the corners first then bursting across his face. His long, blond eyelashes lowered over his eyes, and he leaned forward. When their lips met, the heightened awareness that had pushed everything but Sam’s face away extended to the sensation of his lips on hers. She felt as each of his facial muscles pulled to suck her lower lip into his mouth and drag his tongue across its surface. He broke the kiss, and in a moment spent suspended in his gaze, everything within her—physical, emotional, and intellectual—underwent a transformation. One by one, her intimacy issues she masked with bravado fell away. The wave of well-being washed through her consciousness, diluting her perfectionism and anxiety about her body until they no longer pulled at her. Sam looked away, and the world snapped back into focus. The vortex that had consumed Marta and Sam dissolved, leaving her breathless from its sudden departure. “Honey,” Phil said softly, and his long fingers encircled her upper arms. He pulled her to face him and held her other upper arm in his grip. Marta let out a small whimper as the same stinging sensation zinged through her upper arms. Again, she anticipated a spark of pain, and again, only warmth, comfort, and excitement emanated from the place.

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“Marta Antonie Verner,” Phil began, and Marta looked up into his eyes. Just like with Sam, all of his features sharpened to the point where she could see every individual hair and every individual pore and every smooth plane of pliant flesh on his full lips. The rest of the world was a blur, not at all relevant to the utopia she found in the crisp blue of Phil’s eyes, and no sound could compare to the ringing consonance of his voice. “I have chosen you as my mate. As such, I will protect you with my entire being, lion and human both. And together, we shall protect the earth on which we live and the beings with which we share it. Do you accept my mating?” “Yes. I accept your mating.” Again, the words spoke themselves, only needing the slightest conscious assent from Marta. She swore she could hear the blood rushing through Phil’s veins as it spilled into the tiny capillaries that cast a red glow along his elegant cheekbones. The muscles in his face twitched as his lips curled into a smile of confident happiness, the most beautiful expression Marta had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Phil leaned his forehead against hers, and the hairs hanging around each of their faces tangled together, joining them physically as they had just done spiritually. His nose nuzzled against hers as he kept her captive within his gaze. Without warning, he tilted his chin upward, pressing those full, magnificent lips against Marta’s. Little pinpricks of sensation gathered on her lips as Phil’s feathered lightly over them. He lifted his face, and this time Marta was prepared for the instant their capsule of bliss dissolved into the world around them. What she wasn’t prepared for was the forceful grip on her upper arm that pulled her against Mel’s chest. She felt the exact instant when his fingernails extended into their clawed form and punctured her skin. By now, the stinging had morphed into pulsing warmth that threatened to consume every inch of her being. Mel crushed her body

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against his, their faces only inches apart as the same sharpened sensory cocoon enveloped them both. “Marta Antonie Verner.” He lingered on each word, his voice as reverent as if reciting a creed affirming his faith in his mate. “I have chosen you as my mate. As such, I will protect you with my entire being, lion and human both. And together, we shall protect the earth on which we live and the beings with which we share it. Do you accept my mating?” “Yes,” she whispered with a laugh in her voice, “of course I accept your mating.” Mel did not hesitate one moment before closing the infinitesimal gap between their faces. As their lips collided in a simultaneous embrace of teeth and tongue, Marta’s awareness burst into a tangle of synesthetic nirvana. Each swipe of Mel’s tongue became a burst of light, every moan she heard dragged from her own chest a physical tightening inside of her. Never had anything consumed Marta as entirely, taken her from the inside and out. She didn’t realize how incomplete and how dull she felt before she arrived in Savage Valley and before she met each one of the Pope brothers. Even though it still sounded to her like a farfetched fairy tale, she had never believed in anything as fully as she believed in the utter fatefulness of her mating Sam, Phil, and Mel. This time, when her mate’s mouth withdrew from hers, Marta fell back onto the bed, overwhelmed by the sheer power of what had happened this evening. As she lay staring at the ceiling, the warmth from the bloodless wounds in her upper arms seeped through her veins, a syrup of happiness that permeated every atom. A hand raked through her hair, and she looked up to see Sam sitting by her head, still utterly naked. “Are you doing okay, sweetheart?” Marta gulped in a breath of air to calm her racing heart and nodded. “I’m doing way better than okay.”

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“Good to hear it”—he leaned down and ghosted his lips over hers—“because this mating is far from over.” All the awareness that had spread through her senses narrowed to only a few square inches of flesh and nerves. Sam’s grip tightened on her hair, pulling her head backward so that the wide head of his cock hovered only inches from her mouth. Her cunt lit on fire upon seeing the bead of pre-cum that had gathered on the tip. As she tried to tilt her head even further back to take the erotic delight between her lips, Sam disappeared, moving down the bed. She had no time to grieve the loss of his cock so close to her lips, though, because his massive prick bumped against her soaked pussy. She chased his cock with her hips, but Sam took himself in his hand and moved just far enough away to avoid Marta’s pursuing. His large frame hovered over her as he took his weight on one arm. “What we’re about to do is all part of the ritual.” That wicked smirk accompanied his one raised eyebrow. “I hope you have enough stamina for all of us.” “I think the question is, do all of you have the stamina for me?” “We’ve got a keeper, Sam,” Mel said from beside her. “Indeed we do.” He spoke no more words as his chest hovered nearer to her, his smooth skin brushing over her taut nipples. Using his grip on his erection, Sam dragged his cockhead up and down over her weeping slit. The languid ministrations drove Marta dangerously close to the edge, especially when Sam used one finger to separate her folds then pressed his cock against the frenzied bundle of nerves that was her clit. His gaze bored into hers, and its intensity only caused her arousal to heighten. Her pussy muscles clenched in anticipation, desperate to contract around the cock teasing her. Sam released his erection and brought his hand up to cup Marta’s cheek, steadying her for his plundering kiss. She opened her mouth to allow his tongue access to explore her depths. The wet heat of his mouth consumed her so much

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that the feel of his wide head pressing at her entrance caused her to shudder in shock. Her reaction did nothing to slow Sam’s bodily attack, and with short, rhythmic strokes, he sank his cock into her eagerly awaiting pussy. With one final stroke, he was buried to the hilt. He stayed there for just an instant and broke their kiss. While capturing Marta within his stare, he slowly pulled all of his substantial length out of her and then slammed back in, tearing an impassioned moan from Marta. In and out and over and over, he worked his cock into her, filling her cunt with his throbbing erection. She had no time to focus on his welcome charge into her dampening pussy because another hand tangled in her hair and turned her head to the side. There, bobbing in front of her was Phil’s long cock, a rivulet of pre-cum already leaking from the tip. She flicked her eyes up to meet his, hopeful that her attempts at giving a blow job would not be thwarted this time around. The fire she saw burning in his eyes was all the permission she needed to roll her head a bit more to the side and lick the salty fluid from Phil’s cock. His breath hitched at her teasing touch, and he moved his hips forward to push the head past her lips. She reached her hand up to wrap around the shaft and hold it steady, but Sam changed the angle of his thrusts, and her focus was torn away. His long, hard cock hit just at the right place, and Marta moaned around Phil’s dick as tiny electric shocks burst from within her. She was teetering on the edge now, the free fall into carnal satisfaction only seconds away. Sam’s breathing turned shallow, and Marta knew he was close to his breaking point, too. She tried to hold on, tried to savor a few more moments of having both Sam and Phil’s cocks fill her, when Mel appeared beside Phil and reached for her breasts. As soon as he tweaked her nipples, she was gone. Her pussy muscles contracted around Sam, and she had to release Phil’s cock as she let out an unintelligible moan of pleasure.

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While Marta still rode out the exquisite convulsions of her orgasm, Sam joined in her ecstasy, shouting out his mate’s name as he pumped warm jets of fluid into her awaiting cunt. In the last few thrusts of his release, his lips ghosted over her neck and his teeth scraped against her skin. The sharp penetration of his teeth into her skin felt as if it should have drawn blood and a stinging pain. But no, the love bite only added to her pleasure, extending her orgasm to lengths she’d never thought she would reach. Finally, both of them landed back on solid ground, panting from their shared journey. Sam kissed her gently and withdrew, leaving her pussy feeling painfully empty. But her men wouldn’t allow her bereft state to continue much longer. Phil’s hands landed on her hips, and he used his grip to drag her toward him. He leaned forward and placed one soft kiss on her mons, glancing up as if asking permission. Marta did nothing to stop him, and he placed another kiss just over her belly button. His trail of soft kisses continued upward, over her abdomen, through the valley between her breasts, and excruciatingly slowly over her sensitive throat. He placed a final kiss on her lips, and Marta felt his cock press against her pussy. She shifted the angle of her hips and impaled herself on the thick length of his cock. He released her lips and groaned as he began a steady rocking in and out and in and out of her sensitive cunt. Her arousal began climbing again, higher and higher, and she couldn’t believe that she was already coasting upward to the summit of her excitement. Someone tugged her hair, and her head fell backward. Mel’s face hovered above hers, mischief written plain as day across his features, and before she could register his presence, his lips had landed on hers. His blistering kiss worked in concert with Phil’s furious thrusts into her pussy to push her closer and closer to the edge. “Mel, move!” Phil’s lips shot to Marta’s neck on the opposite side from where Sam’s had scraped against her skin just as Mel broke his kiss and sat up. With one final thrust, Phil shot over the edge, his hot

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seed pouring into her with such force that she could feel it against the tightening walls of her pussy. At the same time, the same sharp sensation of her skin being broken filled Marta with an excitement so intense it had her quivering at the brink of release. “Phil, no,” she whimpered as he pulled his cock from her. So close, she was so very close to the orgasm that she knew would satisfy every part of her. If the mating ritual continued this way, Mel had to take her next, right? Sam gave her no time to contemplate where the evening might take her. As soon as Phil rolled off of Marta, Sam scooped her into his arms, pressing her bare chest against his. He rolled backward so that she lay on top of him. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” The vibrations from his deep chuckle flowed into the hard buds of her nipples and straight to her pussy, keeping her just on the edge of orgasm but not giving her quite enough to push her into the heavenly void she knew she could find. Just then, another set of hands landed on her hips and pulled her off of Sam. Stubble scratched across her neck, and she knew it was Mel who now molded her back against his front, his cock bumping against her ass. “I haven’t taken you from behind before,” he whispered as he rose to his knees, keeping Marta against his chest, then placed her gently on her own knees. One strong arm locked around her chest as he leaned forward and held his weight up with the other. Mel nudged his knee between her legs, spreading her open for his taking. His cockhead brushed against her damp opening and grazed over her clit, prompting a small squeal to escape from Marta’s throat. For a moment, Mel stilled completely. Marta’s eyes opened, though she hadn’t realized they were squeezed shut, and she noticed that all three brothers were completely still. Mel broke the silence. “We need you.” With one hard stroke, he impaled Marta on his cock, using his grip on her chest to steady her as he pounded into her with relentless

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thrusts. On only his third thrust, his head collided with Marta’s G-spot and finally—finally—gave her the release she sought. She moaned as he continued his thrusts, coasting through midair on her third orgasm of the night. As she flew, propelled into the heights of female arousal, she felt the almost familiar sensation of teeth grazing over her neck. And like before, they only intensified her excitement and allowed her to ride her orgasm just a little bit longer as Mel’s fangs dug into her neck at the moment of his own release. He collapsed forward on the bed, forcing Marta down as well. For a moment, the two of them lay there, a sweaty, panting mess. With a sigh, Mel pulled himself out of Marta, allowing her to roll onto her back and stare up at the ceiling once again. What she had just been through was damn pleasurable, but she needed a moment to catch her breath. “The mating’s almost done, beautiful,” Phil said as he pulled Marta into his arms. He lay on his back, and Marta rested her head on his chest, thankful for a moment to catch her breath. But as she inhaled, it wasn’t pure oxygen that filtered through her lungs. No, the strong, spicy smell of her mates’ bodies once more enveloped her in its haze. “What is that?” she finally asked, turning her head up to face Phil. “What, darling?” “That smell. Every time I’m around the three of you, it’s all I can think about. The odds are against all three of you wearing the same cologne, so I doubt it’s that.” Sam’s long, muscular form shaped against her back. “No, it’s not cologne,” he whispered into her ear. “It’s something much, much more intimate than that.” His erection pushed against her ass, punctuating his proclamation of intimacy. “You see, when a mountain lion-shifter finds his mate, like we did, he releases the mating musk. The only one who can truly smell the musk is his mate.”

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“Which is how we knew you were the one,” Mel said from the foot of the bed as he massaged her feet. “You responded to the musk, proving you were made for us.” “So what does it do for me? Anything?” “Remember when we met?” Sam’s hand wrapped around her waist, and his fingers splayed out on her stomach. “My behavior may have been a little…inappropriate, given the context.” His hand journeyed lower and brushed across the soft curls surrounding her pussy. “You see, even though it may have been unprofessional, I could smell how aroused you were and feel your heartbeat racing. I knew, Marta. From the very first moment, I knew.” The memories of that day crept back into Marta’s mind—the way her heart had sped up when she saw Sam, the feel of his knee brushing against hers and his fingers ghosting over her thigh, and yes, that overpowering musk. “I didn’t understand what the feeling meant at the time, but I think I knew, too.” She looked up at Phil and then down at Mel. “I think I knew the moment I met each of you.” Sam and Phil each pulled away a little as Mel slowly began to creep up her body until he lay above her, gazing down as he had that first night they were together. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers, sending a chill racing down her spine. “Before I met you, I didn’t know what I was doing with my life. I was lost, I was alone, and I was angry. But since meeting you”—he smiled and shook his head—“all of that is gone. I know what I want, and I know who matters the most to me. I’m not fucking this up. I love you, Marta.” Her breath stopped in her lungs, and all the world dropped away, leaving only her, Mel, Sam, and Phil. This was the defining moment of their relationship, and Marta knew her answer. Fuck conventionality. It had never held her back before, and it sure as hell wouldn’t hold her back right then.

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“I love you, too.” She smiled, delighted by the knowledge that she had never spoken truer words. “Marta, Mel’s not the only one,” Sam said, reaching for her as Mel climbed off of her. “I’ve been an ass to you, to my family, and to myself. I was the one keeping us apart. Mel had said he found someone, and it was stupid of me not to trust the curse and trust that it was the same beautiful, intelligent woman. But I promise, I will never be so selfish again. You’re too precious to me, and there’s no way in hell I’m losing you.” He leaned forward and kissed her nose. “I love you. Even though it’s been such a short time, I know that I love you.” “And I love you, too, even if you did keep me from getting laid for a while.” Sam’s eyebrow shot up. “Didn’t I hear something about you and Mel having a little secret tryst?” Marta felt the blush rising to her cheeks. “Hey, we totally would have done it in the car that night.” “Um, whose ass was it that hit the steering wheel a little hard?” “It ruined the mood!” She giggled, and Sam joined in her laughter. Moments like these were what made her certain she was making the right choice. “I guess that leaves me,” Phil said from above her. She scooted toward him so that she could lay her head on his lap while his back rested against the wall. He combed his fingers through her hair, helping her relax through the tension of the moment. “You make me comfortable, Marta. When we first met, it was like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. Suddenly, I could relax and be myself. Each and every instant I spend with you, that feeling grows. I can’t imagine living without that feeling, and I can’t imagine loving anyone else the way that I love you.” “I love you, too,” she whispered, a tear pricking at the corner of her eye from his confession.

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“So what’s the verdict?” She turned back to Sam. “Will you stay in Savage Valley? I know you have your career, and we won’t hold you here if you don’t want to stay.” “But I can travel with you,” Phil continued, “as long as we’re only gone for two weeks.” “And once our children become the ruling generation, I can join you on those adventures.” Mel took her hand and pulled her to a sitting position. She locked gazes with each of them before shaking her head and saying, “How can you even ask that? Of course I’ll stay. I love you.” The tear broke from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek. “All of you.” “Let us show you how much,” Sam said with a growl in his voice as he crawled over her, forcing her to lie on the bed again. He moved his hips so that the head of his long, impressive cock rubbed along her stomach. “For the mating to be complete, we have to all be inside you.” “But haven’t you already—” “At once.” Marta couldn’t help but gasp. The wave of excitement and arousal that rolled over her caused her pussy to convulse, churning out fresh cream. The idea of all of their long, hard cocks filling her completely full— “Ooh, yes.” Sam had climbed off of her, and Phil had reached a hand between her legs and rubbed against her mound. A single long finger separated her folds, and he brushed against her clit. Her hips beckoned for him to give her more, push harder, and he obliged. He sank two fingers into her sopping wet cunt, and she clenched around him, wanting to draw him deeper, but his fingers eased out of her. Phil trailed his fingers slowly backward over the sensitive patch of flesh separating her pussy and the forbidden hole behind. Ever so gently, he swirled

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her own feminine juices around the tight hole, and unexpectedly, his touch sent a burst of sensation straight to her clit. When she whimpered, Sam and Mel both rushed to comfort her. “Tell us how it feels, baby,” Mel said, brushing his thumb over one of her nipples. “It–It feels good, but in a totally new way.” “That’s how it’s supposed to feel.” Sam took her other breast in his hand and tweaked one of her nipples as Phil continued to massage at her hole. Their ministrations distracted her until one of Phil’s fingers pressed against the tight ring of muscle guarding her asshole. “Just breathe,” Phil whispered as his finger finally pushed into her. The erotic stretching felt more exciting than she ever could have imagined. She gasped as he pushed two fingers into her ass, stretching her for the sexual attack she knew was coming. Mel’s hand cupped her chin and tilted it upward, and she saw that he had moved so that he sat at the head of the bed. His cock was fully erect, twitching under her gaze, still glistening with her juices. He pushed himself onto his knees, and Marta took him in her hand, guiding him to her lips. She licked at the tip, savoring the taste of his pre-cum combined with her own erotic juices. Just as she sucked his cockhead into her mouth, Sam’s hand brushed against her pussy. She opened her legs wider, the action drawing Phil’s fingers deeper inside. “I want you,” she whispered against the tip of Mel’s cock, “all of you.” “You have us,” Sam said as he pushed his thumb through her labia and rubbed in tiny circles around her clit. She moaned around Mel’s throbbing prick, drawing a groan from him and causing his thrusts to speed up. Sam’s hand left her pussy, and as soon as she threw a leg over his hip, his cock replaced it. As he sank his cock into the tightness of her cunt, Phil’s fingers gently withdrew from her asshole, a good thing since she didn’t know how much more long, hard dick her body could take. Both Mel and Sam stilled their thrusts, and she felt something

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wet and cold drip on her asshole. Lube. Phil’s fingers returned, massaging the gel into her hole. But very soon, his cock lined up with her back entrance. “Remember to breathe, sweetheart,” Phil said as he pushed the head of his cock against her entrance. A sting of pain raced through her as he continued forward, stretching the tight ring of muscles to their limit. Beads of sweat accumulated on her forehead, and she wondered if this really was she something she wanted. Then, in one brief moment, Phil had sunk into her completely, and that pain instantly transformed to a warm pleasure that flowed through her veins and turned her into a writhing creature of pure want. Her men must have felt her tension float away, because they all restarted their thrusts. Sam and Phil quickly established a back-andforth rhythm, one withdrawing as the other thrust in, and Mel pressed his hips forward, sending his cockhead to the back of Marta’s throat. She swallowed him in time with each blistering pulse of carnal ecstasy that wracked her body. All her senses were filled with her men, their musk encapsulating her in its force. Every sensation felt clearer, more distinct than any she’d experienced, and her orgasm loomed just around the corner of every thrust, every pant, every moan of sheer bliss. With a shout, Mel poured his seed down her throat, and she gratefully sucked down every drop, relishing in the taste and feel of his steaming hot, salty fluid. He quickly withdrew from her mouth and shifted so that he lay just above her. Before she could register what had happened, all her long hair had been swept above her head, leaving her neck and the bites there totally exposed. Sam and Phil’s thrusting increased in speed and force, and she knew that all three of them would soon give in to the release that threatened to engulf them. They both moved, and all three men had their mouths on her neck, Mel and Sam on the sides near her collarbone and Phil at the base of her neck. As if guided by something greater than all of them, they bit down at the exact same moment.

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The feel of their fangs penetrating her skin joined in the tangle of sensations that finally overwhelmed her completely. She allowed her orgasm to sweep her away, and she felt Sam and Phil both joining her in the void of total satisfaction. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, they all floated back to the earth. While still buried inside her ass, Phil laid a soft kiss over where his teeth had torn her skin. “I love you, mate.” Mate. It sounded so improbable, but so right. This sense of belonging outweighed any doubts she may have had, any prejudice from society, or any hesitance at all. “And I love you,” Sam said as he brushed a kiss against her lips. “More than I knew I could love anyone.” “You know that I love you.” Mel used his grip on her hair to tilt his face toward his for a kiss. “I’ll always love you.” “So that’s it, huh?” Marta glanced between the confused looks on her men’s faces. “That’s everything? We’re mated?” “Well, that’s the ritual, yes,” Phil answered, “but there’s a lot to the relationship between mates. Hopefully, you’ll move in with us, and pretty soon we should start discussing children.” A grin pulled at Marta’s lips. “I can live with that.” “And how would you feel about working at Savage Hunger on a long-term basis? While you’re not writing, that is.” Sam’s expression was questioning, an adorable look on his chiseled features. “If it means I get to be around you three all the time, then count me in.” “You could also copyedit some of Cleve and Ezra’s work at the Savage Herald,” Mel chimed in. “God knows they could use a real writer over there.” Marta laughed, thoroughly amused by her mates’ eager planning for her stay in Savage Valley. “I love you guys so much. I’m sure we’ll find at least a few ways to pass the time.” “I can think of one way.” Mel’s mouth found hers, and the night did pass very, very quickly after that.

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THE END BOOKSTRAND.COM/HELENA-RAY

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Helena Ray has always maintained that the world inside her head is much more exciting than the real world. Growing up as an only child, she spent many happy afternoons dreaming up companions. These included her evil twin in Mexico, puppets that would pop up out of the ground, and many a talking dog. Born the daughter of a newspaperman and a lawyer, Helena has given words a vital role in her life. Over the years, her love affair with the written word turned torrid, and she couldn’t stop herself from following in her parents’ footsteps. She loves to travel, and her most recent adventures have included several trips to Paris, leisurely weekends on Lake Constance in Germany, and raucous nights in Dublin. She has traveled all over the United Kingdom and has lived in London and northern England. Currently, Helena lives in Texas with her very handsome boyfriend, his two cats, and her also quite handsome dog. She hopes that readers have as much fun occupying her imaginary worlds as she has creating them. Should any of her readers care to contact her, they can find her on Twitter under the name HelenaRayWriter or e-mail her at [email protected].

Also by Helena Ray Ménage Everlasting: The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 1: Mountain Pride

For all other titles, please visit www.bookstrand.com/helena-ray

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