Wolf at the Door: Salvation Pack, Book 1 (6 page)

“Don’t keep me in suspense. I can tell you’re dying to enlighten me.”

“She’s a writer.” Louis rocked back on his heels as he gave his brother the rest of the news. “She writes about the paranormal for all kinds of magazines and publications.”

“Shit.” Jacque rubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath. “So she knows more about us than she let on.” For some reason, he was hurt and angered by that when he had no right to be. She didn’t know him or his people. Why should she care if she hurt them?

“I don’t think so,” Armand interjected. “From what I can tell, she’s met and interviewed a bunch of people like Hector, folks that believe in all kinds of things. Hell, from what I read, I think she might have interviewed a vampire, a real one. I didn’t think those reclusive bastards talked to anyone. But I don’t think she actually believes in any of it herself.”

“Then why does she write it?” Jacque couldn’t quite understand that.

Armand shrugged. “It’s a way to make a living. Louis drove us back and I spent those hours going through her laptop files and some of her papers. Like most people, she’s fascinated by the thought of the paranormal but she doesn’t seem to buy into it.”

Louis laughed. “She obviously got more than she bargained for.”

“What do you plan to do with her?” Armand asked.

Jacque wished to hell he knew.

Gwen woke slowly, as though climbing through a thick fog. She hurt all over. She bit her bottom lip to stifle a moan as she rolled onto her side and stared at the blackness surrounding her. She was in a bed. That much was clear. But it wasn’t hers. The sheets were crisp cotton whereas hers were flannel. She shivered and pulled the covers more firmly around her to try to stave off the chill.

She blinked and slowly the outline of furniture became clearer. There was a window not far from the bed and the moonlight filtered in. Within seconds, her eyes had acclimated, making the room appear somewhat lighter.

Where was she?

She swallowed hard and ordered her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was being in a truck with Jacque heading down the highway. This must be his home, and since she obviously wasn’t dead, he must not be planning on killing her anytime soon. The fact that she wasn’t locked in a basement or creepy cellar was also encouraging.

“If you get out of this you’ll have tons of ideas for your book.” Whispering made her feel not so scared and alone. She pushed herself upright, trying not to groan aloud when her muscles protested. The car accident had left its impact on her but she knew she was lucky. She could have easily been killed.

Her head throbbed and she raised her hand to touch her forehead, frowning when she felt a small bandage there. A long sleeve flowed down her arm. Gwen froze. She wasn’t wearing her own clothing. She yanked back the covers and stared down. She was wearing a man’s shirt and she was naked beneath it.

She swallowed hard. Surely he hadn’t assaulted her. She would have remembered that. Wouldn’t she? Common sense came to the fore to assure her that hadn’t happened. The only physical effects she felt were from the crash.

But someone had stripped her clothing from her and put her in this men’s shirt. Someone had seen her naked. Had touched her arms and legs and probably more. The idea of being that vulnerable to a virtual stranger made her stomach queasy.

She rubbed her hand over one of the sleeves and a woodsy scent rose from the fabric.
Jacque.
It was his shirt she was wearing. She recognized the smell and it made her toes curl. She should take it off on principle alone, but she wasn’t sure where to find her clothing. Better to be wearing something of his rather than have to run around butt-naked.

It was time to figure out what was going on. She shifted her legs over the side of the bed and waited until a bout of dizziness passed. No doubt about it, she had a slight concussion. She hoped it wasn’t a serious one because she needed her wits about her.

The ends of the sleeves fell over her hands so she took a moment to fold them back until they were cuffed halfway down her forearms. It took her longer than she thought it would to manage such a simple chore. She was so tired. All she wanted to do was lie back down on the bed and go to sleep.

“Time to move,” she ordered herself. She eased her feet onto the floor and used the bed for support as she stood. Her knees wobbled slightly but held. The cold from the wood floors seeped through the soles of her feet and she wished she had a pair of socks.

There was a rather large dresser off to her right. Not a bad place to look. She felt no qualms about carefully opening the dresser drawers and looking through them. There wasn’t nearly enough light to see by and she didn’t want to risk turning one on and attracting attention. By feel alone, she found a pair of sweat socks in the second drawer and some silk boxers in the third.

She wanted to cry at the thought of having to bend over to put on the items, but better a pain in the head than a bare butt and cold feet. Yes, the shirt covered her and fell to mid-thigh, but Gwen still felt exposed.

She carefully perched on the edge of the bed and drew on the boxers. They were big and fell to her hips when she stood. She grabbed them by the waistband and held them up. This wasn’t going to work. She thought for a moment and then twisted the fabric, knotting it at the side. It wasn’t perfect but it would do for now.

The socks were harder to put on. By the time she’d finished, she felt like tossing her cookies and her head was spinning so badly she could barely see straight. But she gritted her teeth and waited for the worst of it to pass.

This time when she stood she was ready to face whatever waited beyond the door. She shuffled over, using the furniture and wall for support. It was only when she got there she realized it wasn’t even closed all the way but was opened the barest crack.

She held her breath and drew it open enough to slip through. Male voices drifted down the hallway and she froze. How many of them were there? She’d seen the two brothers, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more of them.

Werewolves.
They were real. Or at least she thought they were. Her poor brain was so scrambled she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. What she did know was she’d been kidnapped and needed to escape. Not that she was in any shape to make a run for it. She had no idea where she was and she needed something more substantial to wear. And shoes. Shoes would be good.

She barely breathed as she inched down the hallway, grateful for the thick socks that muffled her footsteps.

“What do you plan to do with her?” she heard a man ask. She didn’t wait for a reply. She boldly stepped into the light, blinking when it hurt her eyes. Better to take the offensive than to cower in the shadows.

“Yes, what do you plan on doing with me?”

Chapter Five

Jacque swore when he caught sight of Gwen leaning against the wall, her face pale, her limbs trembling. Obviously, she’d been up long enough to pilfer through his dresser drawers. She hadn’t been wearing socks when he’d left her.

Not that he minded. She looked cute as hell wearing his shirt, and it settled the wolf prowling inside him to have her wrapped in clothing that belonged to him. It was almost as good as having his arms wrapped around her. It was a pronouncement to the other wolves in the room that Gwen belonged to him.

The long white dress shirt he’d put her in fell to midway down her thighs, leaving a nice stretch of leg uncovered. Bright blue boxers showed through the light fabric. She must have found them in his dresser drawer since he knew he hadn’t put them on her. He bet they looked better on her than they ever would on him.

She edged into the room, keeping one hand on the wall. Her shoulders were thrown back and she squinted as the light hit her eyes. Lines of pain bracketed her sweet mouth. He went to her immediately and swept her into his arms.

“You should still be in bed.” He strode to the table and set her down on one of the chairs.

She pushed aside his arms and gave him a look that would have withered a lesser man. He fought back a grin, knowing it wouldn’t endear him to her if she thought he was laughing at her. And he wasn’t. But her damn-the-torpedoes attitude sure did make him smile. She was one hell of a woman and she was all his.

She frowned and then glanced behind him. Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard. He followed the ripple in her slender throat and wanted to lick the delicate skin.

“Who is he?” Her question was low, almost a whisper. He barely suppressed another smile. She was bold one moment and shy the next.

“That’s our cousin, Armand LaForge.”

Armand stepped forward and smiled at her. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jones.” He held out his hand and waited until she slowly reached out and took it. Instead of shaking it, Armand slowly brought her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles. Gwen’s breath hitched and her eyes widened.

Jacque wanted to smash his fist into his cousin’s pearly whites. The bastard was purposely taunting both him and Louis by turning on the charm. Women loved Armand. Young and old, pretty or plain, it didn’t matter.

He had an innate gentleness about him when it came to the opposite sex. They sensed that about him and responded to it. They also took advantage of it. Armand had been hurt more than once in his life by some bitch that used him to get what she wanted and then cut him loose. In their world, a female werewolf would see gentleness as weakness even as she exploited it for her own gain.

Gwen tugged her hand back and let it fall to her lap. Jacque used his forefinger to tilt her head back. She winced and then scowled at him.

“Does your head hurt?”

“What do you think?” she retorted. “Of course, it hurts.”

Behind him, Louis gave a snort of laughter. Jacque ignored his brother as he studied her pupils. They were dilating properly. That was a good sign. “How is your stomach?”

She sighed. “It’s been better, but I don’t think I’m going to throw up on your kitchen floor if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The corners of Jacque’s mouth curved slightly upward as he gently touched her hair. It was short and sassy and incredibly soft. “Do you want something for the pain?”

“God, yes.” She put her elbows on the table and leaned her head into her hands. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” The white bandage on her forehead and a bruise on her cheek gave her a fragile air. She was putting up a good front, but he knew she was hurting.

Louis went to the cupboard, pulled down a plastic bottle and shook two tablets into his hand. He sauntered over to the table and crouched beside her, nudging Jacque out of the way. “Here you go,
chère
.”

She pushed her head upright and stared down at him. Louis offered her the pain pills while Armand filled a glass with water and brought it over. Louis took the glass and held it out to Gwen. “You need to take these.”

“What are they?” Jacque could see her brain working as she reconsidered her earlier position of “taking whatever they had.” She didn’t trust them one bit.

“Just over-the-counter medication.” Louis stood and pointed to the counter where the bottle sat.

Gwen took the pills and studied them. When she was satisfied they weren’t trying to poison or drug her with something nasty, she tossed them into her mouth and reached for the water glass. She emptied it before she handed it back.

“Are you hungry?” She hadn’t eaten in hours and it probably wasn’t a good idea just yet, but Jacque didn’t like the thought of her being hungry.

“No. I couldn’t eat anything.” She leaned back in her chair and studied them one by one. “Where are we?”

“Home,” Jacque answered before either of the other men could. “Our home.”

“And where exactly is your home?” Her gaze flicked away and traced a path around the room. He knew what she was seeing, the rustic wood walls and the homemade wooden furniture. It was very male and comfortable.

“North Carolina.”

Gwen hoped the pain medication kicked in soon and slowed the wicked pounding in her head. It was unnerving to sit there with three men staring at her—three very large, very powerful men. The cousin wasn’t quite as large as the LaForge brothers, but he was just as intimidating. Straight black hair fell to his shoulders and several wicked scars on his left cheek gave him an almost demonic appearance. Yet, there was something about him that put her at ease.

And wasn’t that totally insane. If he was related to Jacque and Louis then he too was a werewolf. Not only that, they’d taken her across state lines from Tennessee to North Carolina. She was quite a ways from home.

She tugged the hem of the shirt down as far as it would go. Three sets of eyes went straight to her bare legs. Great, she needed to distract them from her lack of clothing. “So what are you going to do with me?”

Gwen took some comfort from the fact they’d offered her food and pain medication. Not the actions of men getting ready to kill her anytime soon. Then again, what did she know about the inner workings of the mind of a killer? Maybe they wanted to give her false hope. Maybe they were trying to put her at ease so she’d be easier to handle.

Louis hovered off to one side with Jacque on the other. They were crowding her and making her nervous.