Bonded To The Pack (Military Werewolf Menage FMMMM Steamy Romance)

(MILITARY WEREWOLF SHIFTER MENAGE FMMM STEAMY ROMANCE)

By Nikki Wild

Copyright 2015 Nikki Wild

All Rights Reserved

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–Nikki Wild

BONDED TO THE PACK

(MILITARY WEREWOLF SHIFTER FMMMM EROTIC MENAGE ROMANCE)

Jenny's husband had returned from his deployment and there is something...different about man she loves. And the three men who insist on staying with him, even when she takes him home are different too.

Michael was the perfect husband, but now there is something...animal about him. Jenny is shocked to find out that he nearly died in a rocket attack, and the only way his unit could save him...

Was to change him into something
more
than a man.

Now she is going to find out that unit cohesion is everything...especially when your husband is an alpha werewolf and his unit is his pack… And all of them have their eyes on you.

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"I just want you to be prepared, dear. When men come home from war, sometimes they're…changed."

I smiled tolerantly. "Of course I know that," I said dismissively, and turned my eyes back to the hangar door.

Michael was coming home, and that was all that mattered. I wasn't about to let some fear-mongering old soldier's wife get me down. My perfect Michael, with his perfect face, and his perfect personality; he was the perfect husband. And seven months of deployment wasn't about to change his perfection, not in my eyes anyway. She could take her warnings and counsel to someone else. Jenny Whitman didn't need her advice.

The MPs had set up barriers for us to stay behind. They said it was for our own safety, but I think it was more for the safety of the returning battalion. All around me were crazed family members, delirious with the promise of seeing our men again. We pressed against each other in a hot mass of shoving and grappling, each one of us wanting to be the first to spy our loved one as he deplaned.

My height was a disadvantage of course. It always was. I was starting to feel claustrophobic in this throng. I couldn't see over the shoulders of the father dancing in front of me, and the people behind me were shoving to get past. I felt panic starting to rise in my throat, some of my confidence ebbing away. What if the woman was right? What if Michael had changed?

We had done the best we could, staying in contact is often as his schedule allowed, but between the vagaries of satellite phones, and Michael's own responsibilities, in the past few months our contact had been few and far between. I looked down at the snapshot of the two of us together, the last picture I had taken before he was deployed. It was getting crumpled in them crowd, and I clutched it to my chest.

When the drone of an approaching aircraft vibrated through the hangar, a shout went up and the whole crowd thronged forward as one. I felt myself lifted, my feet several inches off the ground, carried forward by the crush of bodies pressing from behind. The MPs shoved and shouted, but it was pandemonium. None of us were going to risk not being the first to see our boys return home.

When the massive hangar door rolled upward, the barriers gave way, and we all spilled out onto the rain slick tarmac. I expected to see a cargo plane, but it was actually a commercial airliner filled with Marines.

When they rolled the stairs up to the plane, I jumped and twisted trying to spy my husband. The first Marine exiting the plane didn't look familiar. Nor the next one, nor the next one, nor the next one. The panic that had lodged itself in my throat began to rise even higher. Had I been wrong? Was he not actually on this plane?

Finally I spied a familiar, broad-shouldered figure. His hair was longer after seven months deployed, his beautiful face more etched with care and worry. But it didn't matter. That was my Michael. He had come home to me

Behind him trooped three other Marines I didn't recognize. They seemed to move in lockstep, sticking together almost shoulder to shoulder. Strangely, I didn't see anyone launch themselves at those three men.

But I launched myself at my Michael. "Baby!" I screamed throwing elbows at the crowd and shoving my way to him.

He turned in the direction of my voice, and his lips curved into a wolfish smile that stopped me in my tracks. The way his eyes raked up and down my body, with frank and unadulterated lust was so unlike my private, almost prudish Michael that I stared at him in confusion.

"Jenny," he said, low and dangerous.

"Michael?" I said it like a question, even though my eyes could clearly see that this was my Michael. But the way he held himself, the way he looked at me, the way he said my name like he was tasting every letter on his tongue, that was all different somehow.

"Come here," he rasped, opening his arms.

I went to him, trying to hide the slight quiver of my hands.

He folded me in to his strong embrace, crushing me against his chest. Seven months deployed had whittled his body down to only the essentials; rock hard muscles and lean animal strength. He squeezed me almost to the point of pain, crushing a little yelp out of my mouth, which he silenced with a bruising kiss.

I melted into him, my momentary hesitation washed away with the curve of his tongue against mine. He snaked his fingers into my hair, gripping tightly as he explored every inch of my mouth.

His kiss was different too, rougher, more dominant. His tongue tasted sweeter in my mouth, and his lips burned with an intense heat. I parted my lips wider, throwing my arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer. This right here was the reunion I had dreamed of, the thoughts that had kept me awake at night, touching myself gingerly as I imagined my husband's lips against mine. But in all of my fantasies, I had never known him capable of such passion.

He was making a low sound, ignoring all the people around us. It was like a growling coming deep from his belly, sustained vibration that rippled through me. I began to feel the slow thrum of desire course through my veins, and I pulled away with a gasp.

"Michael, there are people around," I protested.

"I don't give a shit," he rasped into my neck. He pressed himself full against me, and I could feel the evidence of his desire for me. My panties flooded in response, and I flushed beet red.

"Let's get out of here then," I murmured.

"Yes ma'am," he grinned.

All this time the three Marines had been standing behind him, almost at attention, like they were waiting for orders.

I waited for him to say his farewells, but instead he motioned for them to follow.

"Michael… they're coming with us?"

"Yes," he said shortly, in a tone that brokered no argument.

The crowd had broken up, and the hangar was almost deserted. Michael took me firmly by the arm. Even though he had no idea where we were parked, I still couldn't shake the feeling that he was the one leading me. The three Marines trooped silently behind us like an honor guard.

I should have been more discomfited by their presence, but I found it strangely endearing that they did not want to leave each other. I had done a lot of reading about battle trauma, and I knew how important unit cohesion was. So I took a deep breath, and tried to be sensitive to my Michael's desire not to let them go yet. I tried to tell myself that he didn't belong completely to me anymore.

As we stepped out of the hangar, into the lot where I had parked, the full force of my exhaustion hit me. It was the dead of night, on a lonely base. Thick clouds obscured the stars, reflecting back the sickly orange glow of the town that seemed still so far off.

"I'm over there," I pointed to our minivan.

"That's new," Michael remarked.

I smiled shyly. "Since you're home now, I thought maybe we might start trying for a baby."

Michael made a low sound. "We'll talk about that later," he barked.

I snapped my mouth shut, wondering what it was that had set him off. But just as I was about to ask what was wrong, the thick blanket of clouds disintegrated, allowing a single pale moonbeam to illuminate the darkened lot.

All four of them growled at once. "Get back, Jenny!" Michael cried, his voice thick and strangled.

With a frightened yelp, I backed away from the four grunting men. They all seem locked in a battle with themselves, writhing and twisting and tearing at their clothes. I blinked in horror as I watched their faces change; eyes glowing, noses lengthening, teeth bared in razor sharp points.

I screamed as Michael threw back his head and howled, the lonely sound echoing off the metal hanger so that it reverberated in my ears for what seemed like forever.

The clouds closed back in again, hiding the face of the moon, and just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The four men stood in front of me, breathing heavily, panting with exertion, but otherwise no worse for the wear.

I on the other hand felt like I was going crazy. "What the fuck was that!" I shrieked, climbing up onto the hood of the van.

"Jenny...," Michael said soothingly, spreading his hands wide.

"You stay back!" I demanded, tears gathering the corners of my eyes. "You scared the shit out of me, what the hell was that?"

"Can we please get inside, before it happens again," he gritted through clenched teeth.

"Why would it happen again?" I gasped weakly.

Michael didn't say anything, only pointed at the sky. The edges of the clouds were glowing with moonlight, ready to reveal its pale face again.

I scrambled down from the hood of the van and unlocked the vehicle. All four men jumped into the safety of the back seats, just as the bright full moon emerged once more.

I stood there, panting, my mind refusing to accept what it had just seen. Unsure of what else to do, I slid into the driver's seat.

"Jenny," Michael's voice was far calmer than his face. "I'll explain if you'll just let me."

"So go ahead and explain," I said, voice trembling.

Michael gestured to the three silent Marines. "These are my men, my unit," he began. His hand moved to close over mine, his fingers tracing idle circles around my knuckles, the way he used to do when we would sit next to each other. It was always this way, with him unable to keep his hands off of me, and the familiarity helped to soothe my frazzled nerves as he filled my ears with utter horror. "I got hurt…badly. So badly that there was only one way to save me."

He looked at me, the pull of his blue eyes magnetic, holding me there. "In order to save me, they had to change me."

"Change you?"

"I'm not completely human anymore," he said, his voice low. "I'm something…more."

I knew that. I had seen it the minute that I laid eyes on him when he first walked off the plane. He was changed, and yet he was still my Michael. The two thoughts lived side-by-side in my head, unable to resolve into one. "Are you like, a werewolf or something?"

I had thought the question ridiculous, but Michael only nodded gravely. "It's not really the right word," he said, "it's considered an insult. "

One of the men in the back of the van finally spoke up, his voice gravelly like he wasn't used to using it. "Shifter," he said. "We prefer the word shifter."

"But essentially," Michael interjected, shooting the man a look, "yes."

I looked back at them. "All of you?"

"All of us," said a second man.

"Where more than a unit now," Michael explained. "We are a pack."

I clutched the steering wheel, trying to make sense of what I had just been told. "What does this mean…for us?" I stammered.

Michael turned sharply around in his seat. I saw a flash of movement, and suddenly my face was gripped in his iron grasp. He gently turned me to face him, his movement soft, but his grasp on me firm. "Listen to me," he commanded, and his words thrilled through me in a way they never had before. There was such an authority in his voice, such a command in his bearing that I felt myself straighten up in my seat in spite of myself. I nodded slightly - as much as I could with his hand cupping my chin - indicating that I was ready to hear what he had to say.

"That whole time in the field hospital, I dreamed of you Jenny. When the wolf's blood flowed through my veins, it was almost like I could feel you there with me. My senses are sharper, my instinct is keener, and everything inside of me wants to be with you."

"Michael," I whispered, in a trance. "Oh Michael, you are here, you're really here!"

"I'm here," he growled, his face inches from mine. His eyes glowed unnaturally bright, "and I'm going to make you feel how much I've needed you." He covered my mouth with his, rough and dominant, prying my lips open with an insistent stab of his tongue. He swept past any defenses I still had up, claiming my mouth with that new, searing heat.