Starr, Ellen - Wolf's Passion [The Joined] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six:

The Unexpected Guest

Jean-Paul stopped the car next to the dust-covered old truck. He raised an eyebrow. It might once have been red. With a deep sigh he pushed his black sunglasses further up his nose then stepped out of his borrowed Jeep.

Cora, mon amour, what have you gotten yourself into?
He shook his head. He would leave his bags in the car for the moment. At least until he saw what sort of reception he might get from Cora’s Werewolf lovers.

He slipped his hands into his jeans pockets and headed down the trail to the small house. Taking his time, he surveyed the property. The place, he thought, was beautiful in a wild, lonely way. The pictures on the real estate website did not do justice to the little ranch.

At the bottom of the trail into the canyon, Jean-Paul stopped. He took a deep breath of the clean desert air. The heat of the sun was still pleasant, but he needed to get into some shade soon. He hoped Cora stayed out of the sun. She did not look lovely at all with a sunburn. One more slow look around at the place and he decided to buy it. He judged he’d given creatures inside ample time to have noticed company. He continued toward the house.

In the shadows of the open door Jean-Paul saw a figure. He remembered his Western manners and called out, “Hello in the house, I have come to see Cora.” He gave them a casual wave. “Y’all,” he added with a bright smile.

The figure moved, stepping out onto the porch. Jean-Paul’s breath caught. In a flash he understood Cora’s reasons for staying. The young man who walked down the steps was a vision in the faded jeans and red plaid work shirt that he wore. The older man who followed was as good–looking, but he did not attract Jean-Paul nearly as much.

He held out his hand. “I am Jean-Paul Le Templier. Cora has perhaps mentioned me?” The young man walked closer. He took Jean-Paul’s hand in a firm grip that sent a shiver of anticipation through him. Jean-Paul quickly let go.

“I’m Johnson Little Wolf, and this is Raphael Wilson. Cora isn’t here right now.”

“I see. When will she return?” Jean-Paul sensed something wrong in this Johnson Little Wolf’s manner. He glanced at Raphael Wilson, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I think you better come in. We need to talk.”

Jean-Paul followed the two men into the neat little house. It was cool and dim. He gave a soft sigh of relief. The men both looked at him, puzzled. He smiled. “Like Cora, I do not do well in the sun.”

They led him into a comfortable, large kitchen.
So, these are Cora’s Werewolves
.
They are uncomfortable. Something has happened to Cora
. Jean-Paul went cold inside despite the warmth he’d gotten from the sun. If these creatures had harmed her, he would kill them all, never mind the Accord or natural history.

“Would you like something to drink?” Wolf asked as he sat down across from Jean-Paul.

“No, thank you. I have no need for anything.” He gazed at Wolf for several seconds, the silence stretching between them. “What has happened to Cora?”

The young Werewolf jumped as if he’d been shot. “Who said anything happened to Cora?”

“It is all over your faces,
cher
.” Jean-Paul sighed.

“We think she’s been taken by a sort of local gang.” Wolf rubbed his face with both hands and sighed.

I want to fuck this beautiful man
. “A gang. Have you called the authorities, Johnson—”

“Please, call me Wolf. And he’s Rafe. Let me explain things.”

“Yes, I think that would be best.” Jean-Paul leaned back in his chair, listening carefully as Wolf began to explain.

* * * *

Blindfolded. Tied to a chair. Cora grimaced around the foul-tasting rag they had gagged her with. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. Her head hurt, and she needed water. The sound of someone coming made her blood run cold.

Somewhere close, a door opened then shut quietly. The footsteps came closer. “I’m sorry they pulled you into this.” The voice was familiar. Cora shook her head, unable to place it. “I can’t afford to let you go, but I promise I’ll do my best to see you don’t get hurt.”

Whoever he was, he moved away from her. Cora tried to yell. She struggled, rocking the chair until it began to tip. Strong hands caught her before the chair fell. “Hey, don’t do that, ma’am.”

Shock made her stop struggling. This man was Micah, the hand at the ranch.
What is he doing here?
He tugged on the gag.

“I’m going to loosen this and give you some water. Don’t scream. We’ll both be killed if you do that. Okay?”

Cora nodded, and the gag was removed. “Why are you here, Micah? What’s going on?” The rim of a cup touched her lips. She drank the water.

“Damn. How did you know it was me?”

“Ma’am. No one has called me that in years. Why are you with Dolores?”

“I’m not.” Cora felt the gag being replaced. She tried to turn her head. “I need to put this back. If they see it’s gone, we’ll be in a lot more trouble. I’m not going to let them hurt you, but you have to trust me right now.” He tied the gag back in place then squeezed her shoulder. He leaned close, his warm breath against her ear. “It will be all right, ma’am. I won’t let them hurt you. Law enforcement will be here soon.”

Micah walked away, closing the door as silently as he opened it. She puzzled over his words. They implied he was part of some sort of undercover mission. If he worked for someone like the FBI, it would explain the mysterious air she sensed at the ranch. Cora shivered.

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Complications

Jean-Paul looked from Wolf to Rafe. He grimaced, shaking his head. Wolf thought he saw more exasperation than anger in the man’s demeanor. He glanced at Rafe. His friend gave no indication he’d picked up on Jean-Paul’s unusual attitude.

“You are planning to go and get her back.” Jean-Paul made it a statement.

“We are. Dale is out right now trying to pick up their trail.” Wolf gestured absently toward the door and the desert outside.

“Ah, the third cowboy in Cora’s drama. And you? What are you planning to do?” Jean-Paul’s eyes held an unusual martial light in them. Wolf’s heart pounded. It shocked him to realize it was desire, not fear, that made his body tremble.

“Rafe is going into town to report this to our authorities.” Wolf forced himself to look away from Jean-Paul’s disturbingly sexual gaze. “I am going to go have a talk with Dolores.”

Wolf gave his friend a nod. “I’ll fuck
Dolores to get Cora back if I have to.” He gagged as Rafe stood and walked out the back door, letting it slam, leaving him sitting at the kitchen table alone with Cora’s fiancé.

Wolf stared at the table top. Anything to keep from seeing Jean-Paul’s puzzled expression. The Frenchman rattled him. He made Wolf want something that was probably a bad idea. A hand on his shoulder, strong yet gentle, made Wolf raise his head. Jean-Paul stood beside him.

“Cora would not want you to do something so obviously distasteful to you.”

“I need her. We need her. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Wolf’s voice shook. The Frenchman’s touch was making the unexpected desire Wolf felt for him worse. Lust ripped through him. He tried to hide it.

“Never underestimate a scorned woman,
loup-garou
, particularly a greedy one.” Wolf’s breath caught. Jean-Paul rubbed his back. The touch sent fire through him.

“Did Cora tell you?” Shocked, Wolf turned to Jean-Paul, meeting his gaze.

“Of course.”

“You believed her?”

“Cora does not lie well. It is a despair to me, and why I do not let her do business with certain clients.” Jean-Paul shook his head, giving Wolf a wry smile.

Jean-Paul’s gentle touch sent shivers over Wolf’s skin. Wolf realized they were going to fuck. There was no way to stop it. “The Pack...I’ve never—”

Cora’s Frenchman touched a finger to Wolf’s lips. “
Cher
, this has nothing to do with the Pack. It is simply the comfort of sexual pleasure that we take in each other.”

“Cora—” Wolf swallowed hard as he stood. Jean-Paul’s hand moved down to his belt.

Jean-Paul unbuckled Wolf’s belt. “Will not mind. We have shared many lovers.”

He bit his bottom lip. Jean-Paul tugged on the belt, pulling it free one loop at a time. He dropped it to the floor. “Do you have a bed,
loup-garou
?”

Wolf nodded, unable to speak.

Jean-Paul unfastened the button on his jeans with a well-practiced move of his hand. “Take me there.”

Wolf nodded once more. He headed for the downstairs bedroom. Jean-Paul followed without a word.

Inside the door, Jean-Paul slid his arm around Wolf’s waist. He stopped, letting Cora’s lover turn him around. Wolf’s lips parted. If Jean-Paul kissed him, Wolf was afraid he’d come. Instead, Jean-Paul eased the zipper of Wolf’s jeans down.

Wolf gasped. He couldn’t remember it ever feeling so good to have a man push his jeans down his legs. Not even Rafe made him shiver the way this man’s touch did. Jean-Paul moved Wolf back toward the bed. Wolf sat down. Wolf watched as Jean-Paul finished removing his boots and jeans for him then slowly took his own clothes off.

The Frenchman knelt before Wolf, gazing at his cock. Wolf bit his lip when Jean-Paul traced a fingertip over the flushed head. “You are beautiful,
cher
,” Jean-Paul whispered.

Wolf worked his way back on the bed, leaning back on his shoulders. Jean-Paul followed. He caught Wolf’s legs under the knees, raising them, pushing Wolf’s legs further apart. Wolf lay back, resting his forearm over his eyes. The Frenchman’s hands felt wonderful brushing over his skin.

Jean-Paul rubbed his finger over the slit at the tip of Wolf’s cock. Wolf moaned as Cora’s lover replaced his finger with his mouth. Jean-Paul worked his tongue over the tiny opening, pressing against it as he sucked.

“Oh gods, Jean-Paul.”

“Hush,
cher
, let me enjoy you.” Jean-Paul’s mouth followed his feather-soft touch. Wolf couldn’t stop the whimpering moans that escaped his lips. He fisted his hands in the sheets, rolling his head side to side, unable to keep still as Jean-Paul licked and kissed every inch of his cock.

“Jean-Paul...gods, please...I’m so close,” Wolf said in between gasps.

“Ah,
cher
. You are glorious in your distress.” Jean-Paul backed away. “But I do not want you to come yet.”

“No, don’t stop,” Wolf begged. When Jean-Paul let go, Wolf’s cock rose to press against his belly.

Jean-Paul sat in silence, watching him as his breathing calmed. Wolf gazed back at the Frenchman, waiting. At last Jean-Paul moved. “On your knees,” he said as he held a hand out to Wolf.

Wolf got to his knees, moving closer. Jean-Paul’s hands on his hips, guiding him into place, were like fire on his skin. Wolf dropped his gaze to Jean-Paul’s dick. His belly clenched. The man was bigger than Rafe, longer, thicker, glistening with the gel he slicked himself down with.
Oh gods, this is going to hurt
and I don’t care
.
I want him inside me
.
I want him to fuck me hard
. Jean-Paul pulled him down with excruciating slowness. It burned, stretching him more than he’d ever been stretched. Then he was straddled across Jean-Paul’s lap, his insides throbbing, his cock crushed against Jean-Paul’s belly. Wolf placed his hands on his lover’s shoulders. They stayed unmoving for several deep breaths.
This feels fucking amazing
.