Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures

WEREWULF JOURNALS 3:

HUNGRY PLEASURES

Camille Anthony

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This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

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Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures

Camille Anthony

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © September 2007 by Camille Anthony

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-540-1

Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Maryam Salim

Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter

This one is for Sue Seeley, mother of my list and friend of my heart.

Thanks, hon, for all you do!

Fast Food

“Pavel, my love, sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe the traffic!”

A wry smile stretched Pavel Janecek’s lips as he stood and watched the striking blond man sweeping toward him. As usual, those sparkling blue eyes were trained only on his. The other man never noticed the slack-jawed stare of their waitress as he breezed right past the unmoving woman whose sturdy body blocked his path.

Pavel bowed in respectful greeting. “No problem, Highness. I’ve only just arrived,

myself. Good to see you, as always.”

His prince never changed. He didn’t mean to be rude, but a lifetime of having people

move out of his way had conditioned him to arrogance. Pavel couldn’t help the welcoming smile widening his lips, so he settled for an admonishing shake of the head before bowing lower. A playful buffet on the shoulder demanded he rise and he did, to clasp hands with the man chosen six years in a row by Time magazine as the World’s Richest and Most Eligible Bachelor.

The man pursed his full lips and made a tsking sound. “How many times have I ordered

you to drop the title? If you will not use your own, you can hardly expect me to answer to mine.”

A thousand responses flooded his brain, but Pavel settled for an offhand shrug and a

bland answer that wouldn’t have his sovereign up in arms. “You know me…I like to play it safe. And one never knows what your mood is going to be.”

The man snorted. Lifting an expressive eyebrow, he quipped, “Like you’d ever allow

me to get away with being moody for long.” Blue eyes twinkled as he added, “Are we calling what you do safe nowadays?”

2 Camille Anthony

Their shared laughter dissolved into soft smiles and an exchange of intimate glances

acknowledging their long acquaintance and total acceptance of each other.

“The traffic was hellacious today and the taxi service was atrocious. Reminds me why I prefer the services of a driver whenever I come to New York. I don’t know why I didn’t bring Yanaff this trip.” Grinning, the prince brushed full, yielding lips against Janecek’s clenched cheek in a pretend casual kiss before seating himself at the table.

To minimize public fallout, Pavel turned his head at the last moment, allowing the

caress to fall on his cheek instead of his lips. He contented himself with raising a brow at his prince's antics, knowing it would do no good taking him to task for that public kiss.

Americans thought men kissing meant only one thing. Rickard forgot this wasn’t their

homeland or else he deliberately ignored the possible homophobic reactions of the watching patrons.

“I imagine you didn’t want him hearing anything about this new venture until

everything was in place. You’d want to slant the publicity in just the correct way. I daresay few will learn of this until you’ve finished orchestrating it to your liking.”

Retaking his seat, Pavel met his prince’s glacier blue eyes across the table, noting the mischievous glint in them, his own narrowing at the quickly concealed calculating look he’d surprised in his friend’s gaze. What devilment is brewing in that devious mind of his now?

“How well you know me, darling.” Rickard lowered his gaze, glanced down at the

table, and smiled. His eyes lit up at the sight of the food-laden plates the waitress had been delivering as he arrived. “Ah! I see you’ve been here long enough to already order for me.

Thank you, darling.”

Stabbing his fork into the penne pasta and marinara sauce, the prince wolfed down a

huge mouthful. Jaws working, he spoke around the mass. “I really am glad to see you, but I’m squeezing this meeting among about six others. I’m starved and I’ll barely have time to chew before I need to leave in order to make my next appointment.”

“I know well your hatred of tardiness, sire. Our discussion shouldn’t take long.” Pavel lounged back against his chair, studying his friend and employer’s bent head, admiring the lusty way he ate. Rickard did everything with gusto, lived his hedonistic life to the fullest, yet managed to conceal his true self from all but his oldest and most trusted friends.

There were times Pavel marveled at the closeness that still held the two of them

cemented in a relationship that had once been sexual in nature. Today was not one of those times. Today, he’d been given ample evidence to support his continued love for Rickard.

First and foremost was his prince’s unwavering loyalty. Fidelity ruled Rickard’s heart.

Though a multibillionaire and royal head of state, Rickard never hesitated to drop everything or rearrange a frenetic schedule to speed to Pavel’s aid.

Sated Pleasures was a case in point. The damned weight-loss program was sure to prove a massive cash cow simply because Rickard had the Midas touch. Every business venture he involved himself in turned to gold, due mostly to the thorough way he investigated every Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures

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aspect -- no matter how small or finite the detail -- of any project he contemplated putting his name to.

Rickard could have chosen anyone to lead the innovative weight-loss project. But

when the spies he had monitoring his wayward subject reported Pavel was again between jobs and hurting for money, he’d called begging for help. They both knew this job offer was charity -- Rickard’s sly way of getting around Pavel’s stubborn refusal to take the funds his prince kept pushing at him.

Knowing the lengths Rickard had taken to put this operation together, Pavel almost

felt guilty about bringing up his present concerns. Unfortunately, his conscious wouldn’t let him hold his peace. “As you suggested, I’ve spent the last two weeks going over the business plan and program modalities. So far, I’ve seen nothing that has changed my mind about the extreme nature of this venture. In fact, at this point, I am even more of two minds about having accepted this job.”

Rickard stopped chewing and glanced up, the moonlight pale strands of his hair

shifting with his movement. An indulgent smile widened his plush lips as he patted them with his napkin. “Pavel, my love, nothing is ever easy with you. Why did I think this situation would be any different?”

Pavel sucked in his breath, struck, as always, by that glittering smile, by the sensual splendor of his friend and sovereign, his one-time lover. If anyone could be called a specimen of true masculine beauty, it would be the man seated across from him.

His Royal Highness, Prince Wagner Rupert Rickard Orloffberg’s perfectly symmetrical

features were misleadingly angelic. Large, changeable sapphire eyes, deeply set between thick, light brown lashes, gazed out at the world beneath matched winging brows Brooke Shields would have paid good money for. A patrician nose bisected high cheekbones and balanced the full, pouty lips of a mouth that could have won a Mick Jagger look-alike contest. His air of natural leadership and his firm, masculine jaw line belied the otherwise feminine cast of his face, marking him an Alpha among males.

And what does that make me? Pavel pondered, speeding down a well-traveled road to

the night he’d held a weeping, shuddering, shattered Rickard in his arms. He’d soothed him and hushed him and later, he’d given his friend the love and acceptance he’d begged for…

With a smothered moan, he ruthlessly squashed that memory, banished it back into the

turbulent sea of forced forgetfulness. That memory, especially, had to remain buried.

“Despite the additional information you sent me, my concerns and reservations

remain.”

A long-suffering sigh lifted Rickard’s broad chest as he laid his fork down. “Pavel, I have told you these women want what we are offering and they’re willing to pay us a steep price to get it. Every one of the first fifteen potential clients has signed the papers promising they will instigate no reprisals, legal or otherwise. There’ll be no repercussions regarding the treatments they will undergo while at Sated Pleasures.

4 Camille Anthony

“Even their husbands -- where there are husbands involved -- have signed the consent

and release forms. Hell, most of them would pay double what we are asking to get their marital cows down in size. They want a trophy wife, not a trophy kill!” Finished, he picked up his fork and attacked the artistically swirled heap of steamed spinach, scooped up a mound of seasoned diced tomatoes and onions.

Janecek frowned, lips tightening as he scowled at his erstwhile employer. “That was

meanly said!”

Rickard gave a nonchalant shrug. “I didn’t say it to be mean. I am simply being truthful.”

Pavel tapped the stack of papers on the table before him. “I believe some of these

punishment modalities ride the line of sadistic. In some places, they leave sadistic behind and head straight for BDSM.” He shook his head, picked up the papers and ruffled them at his childhood friend. “Rickard, how can you not see that some of this stuff simply goes too far?”

“Then restructure the program any way you want. Turn it into what you feel it should

be,” his friend countered impatiently, between hurried bites. “That’s why I chose you, Pavel.

I, above all, know just how ethical you are. I know you would never allow any of the male staff to go too far. If anyone can make this a success, I believe it will be you. Therefore, I place the project totally in your hands. Do with it as you will. No one will question your judgment nor limit your spending. Just keep one thing in mind…” His intense gaze speared Pavel in his seat.