Starr, Ellen - Wolf's Passion [The Joined] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) (3 page)

Andre advanced toward him. Jean-Paul stood rooted to the spot, phone forgotten, for what felt like eternity.
Mon Dieu, run you idiot
. He snapped out of his shock. With a start, he jerked his hand out of his pocket and made a grab for a dining chair. An insignificant gesture, but he threw the chair anyway. Slinging it at Andre, he hoped to buy himself a few precious seconds. Jean-Paul ran.

Marie leapt at him, blocking his way to the door. Jean-Paul caught a double fistful of her dress. With a heave, he shoved her toward Andre. The two of them stumbled backward from the unexpected force of her slamming into Andre. She screamed. He heard Andre grunt with surprise. Remembering the outstretched knife in Andre’s hand, Jean-Paul wondered if Marie had been stabbed. He hoped so. Jean-Paul didn’t stop to find out. He slowed only long enough to open the front door.

Outside, he pulled his car keys from his pocket. He pressed the button that unlocked the car door. It clicked. Jean-Paul threw himself into the vehicle, pressing the button that locked all the doors.
What the hell is going on?
Taking deep slow breaths, Jean-Paul forced himself to calm down as he pressed the OnStar button on the mirror.

When the operator answered, he requested she send the police. He described his attackers, agreeing to remain in his locked car while the operator called the police. Jean-Paul stayed on the line with the woman until the officers arrived.

“I fear they have escaped through the back alley,” he told the dispatcher. Silently, he cursed himself for letting his guard down. He was getting soft. He would have spotted something wrong immediately in the old days. A police car pulled in behind his car, lights flashing. Jean-Paul thanked the woman and disconnected before he opened the door to speak to the police officer coming toward him.

The reality of the attack hit him full force as he explained what happened to the officers. Jean-Paul’s hands began to shake. Thank heaven he sent Cora to complete the deal for the ranch. He realized that things would have been very different had she been there. Weak-kneed relief washed through him tempered by the worry of not hearing from her.

Jean-Paul followed the police into the townhouse. Both attackers were gone as he expected. A trail of blood drops led to the French doors and across the garden patio. His phone lay on the floor where he had dropped it. Discreetly he picked it up when the officers were not looking.

He watched the police conduct their investigation until they released him. Cora still had not called him back. When he got home, he would call her again. The more Jean-Paul thought about it, the more he believed something was terribly wrong. His attackers came from Paris, recommended by his old friend Remy. After he called Cora once more, he would call Remy. He needed to find out what the hell was going on. Then he would close up the business here and join Cora. It was obvious they had stayed far too long in New Orleans. The attack proved that.

Jean-Paul unlocked the door. Inside, he stopped in the archway that led to the living room. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. There was so much to do, but he would collect as many of Cora’s things as possible. Before he began packing, he went into the kitchen. He needed a drink.

He tossed the empty container in the trash. Cora hadn’t called back. A glance at the clock told him hours had passed. Jean-Paul reached for his phone with shaking hands. He dialed her number and hit send. Her phone rolled over to voice mail without ringing. At the beep he spoke. “Call me,
mon amour
, I am becoming concerned.”

Jean-Paul frowned. With a soft curse, he snapped the phone closed. He stuffed it into his pocket. In their bedroom, he dragged the overnight bag off the closet shelf.
First, I will pack, and then I will search out my “clients.”
He allowed himself a grim little smile. It would not go well for them when he found them.

With a deep sigh, Jean-Paul began to collect Cora’s things, her jewelry, the small packet of pictures she thought he did not know about, her diaries. He moved to the drawer that held her lingerie. The silk slipped through his fingers like cool water. He selected a few favorite things she’d not taken with her. Most he would have to leave behind. “I am sorry,
mon amour
; we will buy more when we are together.” His voice sounded lonely in the empty room. He began to work with single-minded efficiency.

Chapter Four:

Miracles

Cora saw her miracle ahead. She began screaming for the old pickup to stop, waving her arms, trying to get the attention of the driver. The snarling behind her sounded louder. She reached the cleared shoulder of the highway as the red truck stopped in a cloud of smoke and dust. The passenger door swung open. Strong hands grabbed her, pulling her into the safety of the vehicle.

“Thank you,” she sobbed, bursting into tears of relief.

“You’re safe now,” a quiet male voice whispered in her ear as the driver pulled her across the passenger to the middle of the seat.

“Hang on,” the driver shouted. She slammed back into the seat as the driver of the truck floored the gas pedal.

“Why are they chasing you?” the man who pulled her in asked.

She shook her head, unable to stop crying. “I don’t know.”

“Get the gun. They’re gaining!” The driver tried to get more speed out of the truck.

The man in the passenger seat opened the glove compartment, pulling out a wicked-looking pistol. He pushed her down as he turned, straddling her, slamming open the back window. Something made the truck jump as if it had been stuck. He fired several times. Cora cringed at the loud screech of pain that followed his shots. The truck’s gears caught, giving them the speed they needed to get away.

“Sorry.” The passenger’s velvet soft voice sent a shiver through her. With a start, she realized she had her face buried in his chest. She had her arms wrapped around him. She jerked her hands back, her face burning with embarrassment. The scent in the cab of the truck made her feel a little light-headed. Her clit tingled. He smelled like sex, a combination of male sweat with something that reminded her of cinnamon candy. The driver gave off the same tantalizing scent.

She saw the look they exchanged as the younger man sat back in his seat.
These two are lovers
.
They’ve had sex recently
. Cora tried to squeeze her legs together to relieve the pure lust shooting through her at the thought.

The younger man stashed the gun in the glove compartment before he settled back in his seat, looking at the driver with concern. “Rafe?” he asked, his voice sounding puzzled.

“Later kid.” The driver, Rafe, kept his eyes on the road.

The tension in the truck grew thick enough to cut with a knife. Cora glanced from one man to the other out of the corners of her eyes. The one called Rafe looked to be in his forties. She could tell he smiled a lot from the tiny laugh lines by his dark eyes. He drove with a lazy grace she envied, his large work-calloused hands relaxed on the steering wheel.

Cora looked away quickly, hoping neither man saw her staring at their hands. She concentrated on watching the last of the sunset. She sighed. The desert was beautiful in the twilight. The mesquite trees turned into mysterious inky shadows as the orange faded from the sky. The sight of the stars turning the sky milky with their light brought back long forgotten memories of simpler times.

The men seemed to relax as they left the creatures pursuing her behind. Cora stopped looking for more of the horrors, letting herself relax a little. She caught herself wondering what these men would be like in bed, what their hands would feel like moving over her body. She bowed her head, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the jolt of lust that rocked her.

The younger man had to be the most beautiful human being Cora remembered ever seeing. She thought he might be in his twenties. His black hair looked like India ink spilling over his shoulders. He sighed, rubbing his face with smaller hands that showed as many work calluses as Rafe’s but were almost delicate where Rafe’s were large and strong. He licked his lips. Cora caught herself wondering what his mouth would feel like on her breasts. Her nipples tingled as they hardened.
Shit, could I get any needier?

“I’m Raphael Wilson, Rafe for short. The kid is Johnson Little Wolf. Everyone calls him Wolf,” Rafe said, holding out his hand.

“Cora Fuller.” She shook his hand. Rafe’s touch sent an electric current straight to her clit. She nodded at Wolf, swallowing hard as she took the hand he offered. Her clit throbbed again.

“So. How did you get way out here being chased by freaky-ass monsters?” Wolf’s tone was conversational. He flashed a brilliant smile at her as he adjusted the worn leather cowboy hat he wore.

“I’m on my way to Dead Man. I have some business there.” Her voice shook with desire, not fear, and her hand trembled as she reached up to wipe her eyes.

“What happened to your car?” Rafe asked.

“It’s back at the gas station. I know, a stupid thing to do. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly at the time.” Cora proceeded to tell them how she stopped at the rest stop to have something to eat. “The creatures arrived not long after I finished eating. I was already in my car getting ready to leave.” She waved her hands.

“Not a good idea to stop in these lonely places, lots of weird stuff in the desert.” Rafe shook his head.

Cora couldn’t think of anything to say. Her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. Neither man seemed the least bit disturbed by the creatures they’d seen tonight. “Why aren’t you—?”

“Well, it’s too late to go back tonight. They’re probably still there,” Rafe cut her off. He reached over, giving her a pat on the knee, sending another wave of desire through her. Her panties grew damp.

“But what about the girl?” Cora shuddered. The one called Wolf gave a disgusted snort. “Don’t worry about her.”
The
girl
is one of them
.

Cora stared at him in shock. The words echoed in her head when she looked into his dark eyes.
What the hell is going on here?
Am I hearing him in my head, or is it my imagination?
This stuff did
not
happen in real life
.
Did it?
She took a deep breath, shutting her eyes for a moment. She needed to get her bearings.

Take all the time you need
. The deeper voice of Rafe echoed in her head.

* * * *

Dolores watched the old truck slow. Her eyes narrowed.
That son of a bitch Rafe
. She ground her teeth together. The truck swerved and skidded almost to a stop. She made an infuriated noise in her throat at the sight of Wolf leaning out to snatch the woman into the cab. The sight of his arm around the woman made her see red. Trust her Pack to run some strange slut straight into Wolf’s arms and fuck up her plans. She lashed out, raking her long nails across the chest of the Werewolf beside her. “Idiots.”

Chapter Five:

Fateful Meeting

Damn, she has a beautiful voice.
Her Southern accent sent a thrill through him. He realized she must be the one they expected from the real estate agency.
Wolf drew in a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. The woman, Cora, smelled like heaven, too, although there was a hint of something odd as well. A telltale warm tingling curled through his belly to his groin. His dick twitched. He shifted his position, turning to smile at her. Maybe they would not have to sell the ranch after all.

He felt the physical pull of her presence like he was made of iron and she was a magnet. Irresistible, Wolf didn’t even try to fight it. All the old tales spoke about it when they described the
Joining
—the moment an Alpha met the one who would be his mate for the rest of his life.

She disturbed him. He did not think the physical attraction accounted for the odd feeling he got when he touched her. Her skin glowed with a luminous quality he had never seen before. He wondered briefly if the
Joining
caused the unusual effect. Wolf dismissed the thought. The way she stirred his senses was far more important.