Wolf at the Door: Salvation Pack, Book 1 (10 page)

He brushed aside a lock of hair. “You need a bath. A soak in a hot tub of water will help ease your aching muscles.”

Gwen knew he was right. “Okay. You go on and do whatever it is you do around here and I’ll get a bath.” She needed some alone time to figure out her next move. And that was next to impossible to do with him sitting next to her half naked and looking all sexy and rumpled.

He shook his head. “That’s not how this is going to work.” He rolled off the bed and adjusted the front of his jeans. That had to be uncomfortable.

“How is it going to work?” She didn’t take orders well. He’d better understand that quick or they were going to clash even more than they already had.

“I’m going to run your bath for you. Stay here and rest and I’ll be back in a minute.” He leaned down and planted a quick kiss on her lips. She could taste herself on his mouth and she licked her lips, savoring the unusual flavor. It was odd, yet strangely arousing.

She watched him saunter out of the room, admiring the way his jeans cupped his taut butt like a second skin. Jacque moved quickly and smoothly for such a large man. Seconds later, the sound of running water reached her ears.

Okay, so she could get behind this idea. She tugged the edges of the shirt around her and let herself drift on a wave of contentment and exhaustion. Now that the sexual excitement was over, her body was making its various aches and pains known once again. Surprisingly enough, the bruises on her torso, the ones that he’d licked, didn’t hurt nearly as much as they had earlier. Had he done something to them or was it simply the endorphins from great sex making them feel slightly better?

Either way, she supposed it didn’t really matter.

She must have dozed, for the next thing she knew she was being carried out of the room and into the attached bathroom.

“I’ve got you.” His words penetrated her sleep-muddled mind and made her relax, which really didn’t make much sense. She had no idea why she trusted Jacque so much, especially considering what he’d done since they’d met.

Maybe she was really having one of those psychological reactions that they wrote papers about—Stockholm syndrome or something. But it didn’t feel like a syndrome. It felt real.

He let her feet touch the floor, waiting until she was steady on her feet before stripping off her shirt. That woke her in a hurry. She was clad only in a pair of men’s sweat socks. And how sexy was that. Not. She didn’t even know why she was worried about looking sexy. She didn’t want him to think of her that way. Did she?

“Stop thinking so much.” He picked her up and sat her on the edge of the vanity. The cool marble made her jump when her bare butt hit it. She glared at him but he ignored her as he swept off the socks. When she was totally naked, he picked her up again and lowered her into the tub of steaming water.

He was constantly lifting and carrying her, and at five-eight she wasn’t a small woman. It was a novel experience for her and made her feel feminine, almost delicate. Maybe it wasn’t politically correct to admit that she liked it, but she didn’t care.

His muscles rippled as he removed his arms and stepped back. The steam had his bare chest gleaming. She wanted to touch him, to sink her teeth into his scrumptious flesh and take a bite out of him.

“Gwen.”

“Hmmm.” The hot water was beginning to relax her.

“Stop looking at me like that or I’m going to drag you out of that tub and fuck you against the wall.”

His powerful words startled her, but she wasn’t as opposed to the idea as maybe she should have been. Her nipples pebbled and her sex spasmed at the thought of having Jacque’s hard cock buried inside her. She licked her lips and he swore.

“You’re hell on my good intentions,
chère
.” Jacque braced his hands on either side of the tub, leaned down and kissed her hard, plunging his tongue inside for a quick taste.

She was thinking about inviting him in when he raised his head and snarled. “We have company.” He kissed her again and stood. He planted his hands on his hips and stared at her, his eyes devouring her breasts and the thatch of hair between her thighs. She didn’t even try to hide her body from him. What was the point? He’d seen every part of her. Seemed a bit foolish to be worried about him seeing her naked at this point.

“Who is it?” Fear rushed through her and she started to stand. It was one thing to be naked in front of Jacque, another thing totally to be vulnerable around other people.

He gently pushed her back into the tub. “Relax. You’re safe here. All you need to do is sit back and let the hot water ease some of your aches and pains. You can come on out to the kitchen when you’re done with your bath or you can go back to bed and rest. Whatever you want.”

“But I’m a prisoner,” she reminded him.

His eyes grew dark and she read regret in them. “You have to stay here, Gwen. It’s for your safety.” He rubbed a hand over his chest. “And I can’t let you go.”

He spun on his heel and left, his loping gait one of a predator about to go hunting. She swallowed hard and stared at the door. It was almost closed, but not quite. She should get up and lock it. Heck, she should get out of the bath, get dressed and try to make a run for it.

Instead, she sat back and relaxed in the steaming water. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, and if she were feeling stronger she’d be able to make better decisions. It was the sensible thing to do and had nothing to do with a certain overbearing, cocky werewolf who’d just given her the most amazing orgasm of her entire life.

Gwen picked up a cloth and started washing her arms and legs, leaving the more tender parts for last. The water was cooling by the time she’d finished.

She carefully stood, using the towel bar next to the tub to steady her and then stepped out onto the bathmat. Now that her head was a bit clearer, she took a good look around. The bathroom wasn’t huge, but it was well designed. The walls were rustic wood and the floors were slate tile, which matched both the shower and tub surrounds. The vanity was a gray marble and the fixtures were brushed nickel. It was a masculine space, yet Gwen didn’t feel out of place.

Jacque had left a huge, fluffy white towel on the vanity for her and she used it to dry off before wrapping it around herself. She picked up the clothing she’d worn earlier and dumped them into the wicker hamper. She wanted clean clothes now that she’d had a bath. She’d raid Jacque’s dresser drawers and closet again.

The sound of male voices wafted down the hallway and into the bedroom as she dug through the dresser and hurried to get dressed. She wished she had her own clothes. That would make her feel more confident. But Jacque’s clothing was the next best thing. Wearing one of his shirts and a pair of ancient track pants that she’d rolled up several times so she wouldn’t trip on the hem made her feel as though he had his arms wrapped around her. False security, but it was all she had.

In the end, she was a virtual stranger and these men were his friends, his clan or pack or whatever they called themselves. She couldn’t forget for another minute that she was a threat to them, expendable. Hot sex aside, these creatures hadn’t stayed hidden all this time by being careless.

Gwen slipped on another pair of socks and wished she had her sneakers. She was tempted to open the window and make a run for it, which was probably why Jacque had taken them away when she’d been sleeping earlier.

“Get a grip,” she muttered. Playtime was over. The bath had revived her body and spirit. She was going to try to forget about the amazing orgasm she’d had, although she had a sneaky suspicion that was going to be next to impossible. It was time for her to do whatever it took to get her life back.

Chapter Eight

Jacque was not in a good mood when he entered the kitchen. Gwen was in his bathtub, naked with hot water lapping at her soft skin, and he wanted to be with her, not with his brother and friends. But duty called and her protection came before everything else.

There was no sign of Armand, and Jacque knew he was out patrolling their perimeter and would alert them to any trouble. The other three men were staring down the short corridor toward his bedroom. They looked at him and then back down the hallway. The unmistakable sound of water splashing almost made him groan aloud. Instead, he glared at one of the men sprawled on his kitchen chairs. “Did you have any trouble?”

Gator shook his head as he pulled his blue-eyed gaze away from the hall. “The car is a write-off. It’s not worth the money it would take to repair it.”

Jacque’s gut clenched. Gwen could have been killed. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. None of that mattered now. She was here, in his home, in his bathtub. Once again his cock stirred and he swore beneath his breath.

“Are you having trouble, brother?”

He shot Louis a dirty look, knowing his brother was picking up on his unsteady emotions. “No trouble at all.” He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “In fact, things are going quite well.”

It was Louis’s turn to swear, and Jacque had a brief pang at baiting his brother. But Louis had to understand that Gwen belonged to him.

“I think we might have had some company while we were loading up her car.” Cole crossed his right leg over his left knee and leaned back. The chair creaked ominously under his massive bulk.

“Who?” Jacque knew who it was before he even asked.

“I didn’t see him, but I caught a whiff of Cajun scum.” Cole tapped his fingers against his knee.

“Andre.” Andre Dubois was his father’s flunky, the one he called in to do his dirty work. Jacque had known the other wolf his entire life and had never liked him. Andre enjoyed stalking innocent people. He enjoyed hurting them and he especially enjoyed killing.

“Fuck.” Louis raked his fingers through his short-cropped hair. His eyes were dark with worry. They all knew what Andre’s presence meant.

“He’s been watching us and we led him straight to Gwen.” Jacque freely admitted it even as he cursed his carelessness. He didn’t care if his father had some cur watching him and his small pack. They could take care of themselves.

But Gwen was different. For one thing, she was human. When Jacque had gone looking for her he hadn’t given a thought to her life, only to protecting his own. Now that was all changed. He’d do anything to protect Gwen. Anything.

As if he’d summoned her, he heard the gentle patter of her feet against the hardwood floor. He smelled her before he saw her, a fresh welcoming scent of his soap mixed with her unique perfume.

He swallowed a smile when she stepped into view. She was wearing another of his shirts but she’d paired it with an old pair of gray track pants. She’d had to roll the bottoms up several times to keep from tripping on the hem. It should have made her appear child-like. Instead, it emphasized her femininity, the delicate lines of her body hidden beneath the male clothing. The neck of the shirt was open in a V, letting him catch a glimpse of the curve of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts swayed gently with each step she took. He licked his lips, still able to taste her cream, and it made him hard.

She hesitated for the briefest of moments when she entered the room, but then her chin went up and she squared her shoulders. Pride filled Jacque as she studied the other men in the room. He knew she was cataloging their appearance and committing details to memory. He’d have done the same.

Her blonde hair was damp from her bath and had curled slightly at her nape. He wanted to play with the golden locks while he nibbled on the curve of her neck. The muscles in his legs clenched and his balls tightened.

She smiled at Louis and Jacque wanted to punch his brother in the mouth when the bastard went to her and took her hand in his. “How are you feeling,
chère
?”

“Much better, thank you.”

Louis touched the small bandage on her head and trailed his fingers over the bruises on her face. Jacque took a step toward his brother, intending to pound some sense into him.

Gwen’s smile wobbled and she took a step back. Louis’s hand fell back to his side, and Jacque heaved a sigh, pulling the tattered remains of his control around him. This wasn’t like him at all. He didn’t like not being in control of himself and his environment.

“Gwen, I want you to meet Cole Blanchard and Gator Rollins.” He indicated the two men who were watching her so avidly. “Cole is the large one and Gator is—”

“The good-looking one,” Gator interrupted. He stood and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Gwen stared at Gator, glanced over at Jacque, and then took the proffered hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Jacque could see Gwen was conflicted about shaking Gator’s hand, but curiosity won out. After all, they had kidnapped her. Somehow he had to get her past that. His chest tightened and his heart began to race as he realized what it was he wanted from Gwen. He wanted her to want him. Hell, he wanted her to love him. And wasn’t that a kick in the ass.

With his people, attraction was everything. Didn’t matter if you loved someone. If the animal attraction was there and the chemistry was right, you mated. But Jacque wanted more than that.

He had far too many memories of his mother’s sad eyes and fading beauty, clothed in worn housedresses more suited to a woman from fifty years ago. She was a gentile lady with refined tastes, while his father was rough and uncouth. He hadn’t even tried to accommodate his wife but had done his best to kill any spirit she might have possessed. Jacque didn’t want that to happen to Gwen.