Two females were circling a silver-tipped bitch. He knew that one. Although old she had the righteous strength of a top bitch. Either her challengers were poor fighters or their hearts weren’t in it. One then the other charged her, snarled, flashed their teeth but jumped back in fear when the silver-tipped female snapped at them. He watched with rising anxiety as the golden-brown bitch ran toward the silver-tipped one. Instead of offering a fresh challenge though, the younger female stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the older. She took on the next challenger to step forward.
Owen’s wolf growled. Part of him respected the protection the younger female offered an older, venerated member of the pack. Part of him recognized that the gesture announced the top bitch was no longer physically able to fend off challenges. However his instinct was to trust the golden-brown female and if she declared those challenges would wait for another day, so be it.
The next challenger, a dark-brown female with long sturdy legs, tried to take a bite out of the golden-brown’s belly. The challenger was soundly repulsed when the golden-brown spun and used the momentum of her body to drive her larger opponent into the ground then bit down on her ear.
Yelping and shaking her head, the larger female broke free and ran off.
Owen’s wolf wanted to trot over to the golden-brown bitch, nuzzle her, trumpet her victory by bumping his chest into her shoulder. Two more challengers, one that squared off against him and another that started running toward the black male at Owen’s side, yanked his focus away from the golden-brown female.
He and his packmate accepted their respective challenges, ran toward the fights, struck hard and struck first. Both fights were over quickly and when they were he heard the golden-brown female’s growl. A second bitch was circling her. This one seemed canny and experienced as she looked for weaknesses in the golden-brown’s confidence and stance. Owen’s wolf could see none but he heard the black male whine when the two females tore into each other.
The fight was vicious but quick. Again the golden-brown female was victorious, although she limped through the first two steps she took afterward. The limp righted itself quickly.
Tension in the clearing, as before, diffused. Groups of wolves resumed their play, chased each other, rolled and rubbed their backs into the dirt with luxuriant focus.
Owen’s wolf, with the black male at his side, headed for the golden-brown bitch. Other wolves bounced across his path, smiling with their tongues lolling out. Owen ran around them, accepted the invitations to play but only for a moment before continuing on. He stopped short when he came across a small, trembling female. From the corner of her eye she glanced up at him shyly then looked away. Her rich red coat shimmered in the moonlight. A wolf this timid was as good as asking to be humped by any member of the pack looking to flaunt their dominance. Owen growled at a nearby young wolf who smelled of careless aggression, sending it running off in another direction. He stood beside the female, nudged her snout with his, leaned some of his weight into her. When she shied away he walked around her and leaned into her other side.
This time she understood he was offering protection. Friendship. Tentatively, as if she was expecting a reproach, she licked his muzzle. The black male stuck his face in hers and wouldn’t back off until she licked him too. When the golden-brown bitch strode up to them, as if by unspoken agreement the males dropped their chests to the ground. She did the same then spronked, accepting the invitation to play. They watched and waited for the small red female to do the same.
She did, eventually, although it took a second invitation. The four of them ran around the clearing, dodging and carving tight, fast curves across the turf. Owen’s wolf and the two wolves he considered his pack left the small female with a group of older wolves who were doing more sniffing then playing. He jumped, turned on his hind legs and led them out of the clearing. At a dead run, he chased the freedom and exhilaration he sensed waiting for them in the forest beyond.
“Do you have any more frozen peas?”
Tom, putting a Band-Aid on his elbow, looked up from his perch on the sofa.
“In the freezer downstairs,” he said and watched Suzanne head for the cellar door. He never could resist watching her ass when she moved, even if she was limping a little.
Beside him Owen grunted as he repositioned a bag of peas, the ones from the refrigerator freezer, over his ribs. Suzanne had already iced her knee before handing the bag to Owen. Apparently her knee needed more. He would have offered to get them for her but his ankle was throbbing and she was handling the stairs better than he could.
Tom’s chuckling brought Owen’s head around.
“Nobody said sorting out the challenges for leadership would be easy.” He closed up the tube of Neosporin and wiped his fingers off with a tissue. “We look like a bunch of invalids.”
“Maybe but the other guys look a helluva lot worse.”
“
Touché
, buddy.” Tom lifted his half-finished bottle of Snake River Lager then took a long drink. “Skip Walters has got some moves though. Thought he had me for a moment.” He thought back to the furious but short fight with Skip’s white wolf. “Guess being a ranch foreman keeps him in fighting shape.”
“Yeah. Just your luck. You kicked ass though.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Tom answered with a satisfaction he couldn’t contain.
“Watch your left flank next time.” Suzanne grimaced a little as she climbed the final step from the basement. “You turn to the right every time and there’s a moment when you leave yourself exposed.”
“Do I?”
“Absolutely.”
“Huh. Thanks.” Moving over, Tom made room so Suzanne could sit on the sofa. He lifted her leg gingerly and settled it across his lap. “Here?” he asked after he took the peas from her and laid them on her knee.
She sighed and nodded.
Tracking Owen as the big were stuck his head in the fridge, Tom liked the way the male’s shoulder swelled beneath his pressed shirt, the hard line of his lat. The male body had never appealed to him. He’d always loved the softness of women, the way they smelled, the sound of their voices. Still did. Suzanne especially and he smiled to himself as he adjusted the bag of peas on her knee then massaged her ankle. When her toes curled and she sighed with obvious contentment he felt more of his heart cede itself to her. As much as he loved being with her, as much as he, well, loved her, they were stuck in this damn holding pattern. They’d stay that way until Owen made up his mind, one way or the other, to stay.
He was the shining star, the strength they were drawn to. He was also the only male Tom had ever wanted. Maybe it was because Owen didn’t work at being a leader. He wore it with an almost dismissive ease. That kind of strength was seductive. Whatever it was, Tom still couldn’t quite believe his luck at hooking up with not one but two blond hotties who treated him like he was the center of their happiness.
“Before Piper left she gave me a key to her house.”
Tom made himself focus on what Owen was saying and not the way the hard curve of his jaw worked as he spoke.
“I’m not comfortable setting up shop in her house though.” Gently Owen lifted Suzanne’s shoulders, sat down and cradled her head on his lap. As he spoke he held the frozen peas to his ribs with one hand and ran the fingers of the other across her hair, almost absently. “When she and the boys come back this summer it should be their home, not an administrative facility.”
When his chuckle drew a scowl from Owen, Tom wasn’t surprised.
“For somebody so smart, you’re pretty obtuse sometimes.” Tom shook his head. “You keep telling yourself you’re not the male to lead this pack then you go and demonstrate your gift for it. Again.” He sighed in frustration and shifted the makeshift icepack on Suzanne’s knee so it covered the inner curve of the joint. “You’re not staying in Cory’s house, effectively cocking your leg outside the front door and overriding what’s left of Cory’s mark. You’re looking out for the interests of a widow in the pack—affording the mate of our former Alpha respect and dignity. Yeah I know,” Tom pressed on when Owen opened his mouth to interrupt. “These aren’t concepts in your conscious vocabulary but they’re innate parts of you. Fight it all you want but this pack needs you and you need it. From what I’ve seen being Alpha sucks almost as much as it rocks. You’ve got it in you to be an Alpha and when there’s a void nature gives you no choice but to step up.”
“What he said,” Suzanne added then grabbed Tom’s beer off the coffee table. She took a sip then another and handled the bottle to Owen.
Frowning at the two of them, Owen accepted the beer, drank what was left and grimaced. “If you’re hell-bent on pursuing this topic you should know I respond best to browbeating if there’s decent beer involved.”
“Decent?” Tom barked. He snatched the bottle back and cradled it to his chest. “The Snake River label is one of the finest brews in Wyoming. Hell, in the entire U. S. of A. Just ’cause you’re in love with that elitist, imported crap… Huh. Might as well piss on rodeo.”
“Don’t get me started.”
Chuckling, Suzanne sat up, removed the peas from her knee and flexed it gingerly. Without a word she lifted Tom’s leg onto her lap—much like he’d done with hers—and put the bag on his ankle.
He couldn’t help but grunt with pleasure when the ache began to numb.
They sat there for some time, passing the bags of peas around, occasionally getting up to fetch another beer from the fridge. Owen picked up the TV remote, looked at it then tossed it aside. Outside frogs were croaking. Moths circled the porch light, casting hypnotic shadows on the railing. Tom had always liked this little house. It was quiet, his refuge from the ugliness of his job. But with Owen and Suzanne here it was more. It was the place where they were all safe from the things tearing his pack apart. With Owen and Suzanne, it was a home.
And
they
were his pack.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Suzanne announced quietly. He and Owen helped her to stand then stared at her ass as she padded toward the back of the house.
Owen got up next. He returned both bags of peas to the freezer, put the empty beer bottles away then ran a cloth over the already clean kitchen counter. Tom smiled. This would-be Alpha of theirs might have a few quirks but nothing Tom couldn’t live with.
“Coming to bed?”
Tom’s gaze shot up. He felt the pull the male had on him and his libido attached all sorts of sexy innuendos to the simple question. Maybe some of that showed on his face because Owen looked him over with the kind of intensity he usually saved for Suzanne. When the other male licked his lower lip, Tom felt his cock get longer.
“Absolutely.” Without another word, he stood up. Ignoring the twinge in his ankle. Tom shut off the kitchen lights and followed Owen down the hall. He didn’t even bother to disguise his interest when Owen unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the taut slope of his abdomen, the full symmetrical rise of his pecs.
When the shirt was finally tugged off Tom dearly wanted to lick the deep indentation beneath Owen’s triceps. Fully aware the other male knew he was being watched, Tom bit back a groan as Owen eased his belt clear of its fastening then opened button after button holding his jeans together. Beneath those boxer briefs he always wore Owen’s cock swelled into the gap in the denim over his crotch. With a decisive yank, with his gaze holding Tom’s, Owen dropped his jeans, underwear and all. Tom stood there for a moment, spellbound by the male’s height, the spread of his shoulders, those long, thick muscles in his thighs.
He inhaled so fast he made a hissing sound through his teeth when Owen palmed his rod, gave the head a rough squeeze then cupped his balls. He drew them up, making them look fat and full as they strained within his sac. His scrotum was pulled tight and shiny. And the sound he made, that deep, seductive growl as he ran his thumb across the orbs. Tom shook and couldn’t stop if he’d wanted to try.
With that mouth of his open just a little Owen let go of himself, crossed over to the bed, yanked back the sheets and sat up against the headboard. Blinking, Tom watched him arrange pillows behind his head then cock a finger in his direction.
Oh. Yeah. Without further invitation and with far less finesse than Owen had shown, Tom yanked off his t-shirt and jeans. He grunted when he pulled his sock off too aggressively and wrenched his ankle in a direction it so did not want to go in. Dropping down on the corner of the bed, he pulled off the second sock with a bit more care.
“You all right?” Concern echoed in Owen’s voice, in his gaze too. Tom looked down at the were’s strong, square fingers when they touched his forearm.
“I’m good. Just…”
“Me too.” Owen nodded slowly. “This is new and nothing I’d ever thought I’d want. If you ever, you know,
don’t
want—”
“I do,” Tom interrupted quickly then ran his palm across his face. “God help me but I do want you. As much as I want Suzanne. At the same time.
Not
at the same time. It’s all good. Too good.”
“Yeah. But too good’s okay.”
“Yeah.” Tom didn’t resist when Owen’s strong hand cupped the back of his head. He leaned into the kiss the other male offered. For the briefest moment Owen’s mouth simply grazed, pursed and tugged at Tom’s lips like he was asking instead of taking what Tom was so eager to give. He liked it…liked feeling courted, as if the opportunity to say no was being offered without condition or a need for explanation.