Hell's Breeds: Mark of the Wolf
Lucien, Damian, Kane, and Basil were genetically engineered to fight a battle on a distant world. They were from Earth, but not the one they found themselves on and they had no idea how to get home again or if it was even possible. They thought Laurie might just have the answers they were looking for, however.
Unfortunately for Laurie, she wasn’t the woman they thought she was.
Length: Mid Novel
Word Count: 64,620
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Rating: Erotic, Multiple heroes, multiple partners, Ménage a trios
Available formats: PDF, RTF, Epub, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc)
© Cover Art by Jenny Dixon, February 2013
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Laurie just shoved the last of the items into her purse when she heard a sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
With visions of scared, pock-marked, crazed drug addicts dancing in her head, she straightened slowly and peered around. The headlights on the bikes behind her caught her attention at once. She stared at them in horror as they seemed to drive right up to her bumper and finally rolled her window down just enough to stick her hand out and motion for them to go around.
Instead, she heard the engines of the motorcycles die.
“Oh god!” Grabbing the window knob, she rolled the window back up and checked her door locks again. When she turned around from checking the passenger door, there was a man’s face in her window.
She screamed. Actually, she sucked in a sharp breath that bordered a scream and choked on her saliva.
The man motioned for her to put the window down.
She stared at him owl eyed. Blinking after a moment, she glanced toward the bikes behind her car and saw that several more men had climbed off of them—four altogether—she thought.
When she met the gaze of the man at her window again, she thought he looked disgusted more than angry. She couldn’t tell much about him beyond the fact that he was a lot bigger and scarier looking than she liked.
“Pop the hood!”
He didn’t wait for answer. He moved around to the front of the car. As he did, his companions followed him and she got a good look at the logo on their black leather jackets—Hell Hounds.
She was certain it was the confusion of sheer terror, but they looked about seven feet tall and about four feet across the shoulders—except for the blond—who looked about seven and half feet tall and about three feet across the shoulders.
She discovered when the men had congregated at the front of her car that the man who’d almost literally scared the piss out of her was leaning on the hood, peering at her through the windshield. It was the look he gave her that inspired her to reach down and jerk the lever that released the hood lock, not the result of any decision made to trust them. She hadn’t in fact had one thought cross her mind from the time she’d spotted the first one at her car window beyond-–big and scary.
The man beside him—who looked amazingly similar both in height, build, and even his facial features, unzipped his leather jacket and peeled it off as the first one searched the underside of the hood for the release, revealing a ‘wife beater’ t-shirt that was molded to an upper torso and huge arms that clearly belonged to a bodybuilder.
She only caught a flash of an image of the ‘god’ before the first man shoved the hood up, blocking her view. Scooting down in the seat, she peered at the men illuminated by the light under her hood. About all she could see was four jean clad crotches but it was a hell of a view. Unless it was a trick of light and shadows or the jeans themselves, they were sporting some impressive packages.
She straightened abruptly when one of the men straightened and looked at her.
“Turn it off!”
She gaped at him. “It isn’t on! The engine died.”
“The battery will be dead, too, if you don’t switch it off.”
“Oh,” she muttered, turning the key. She was tempted to try starting it again when it occurred to her that she’d been too panicked to try, but she could see that they were examining the hoses and belts with their hands.
It still took an effort to move her hand away from the key and sit back. She glanced around again when she had, searching for threats and the possibility of salvation. A battalion of cops would’ve been nice to see right about that time, she thought unhappily. The only people she saw looked more disreputable than the bikers.
Not that they actually did now that she’d had the chance to get a little better look at them—look disreputable—except for the tattoos and the motorcycles and the leather. All four looked clean—sort of clean shaven, as if they’d at least shaved that morning. Their hair wasn’t stringy and dirty and it seemed to her that they looked way too healthy for people that did drugs.
Almost as soon as they’d settled to examining her engine, all of them had stripped off the leather jackets to reveal t-shirts stretched over bodies sculpted like she hadn’t seen outside of a gym—or a movie screen. Between the t-shirts and the snug fitting jeans she was having a very hard time focusing on the ‘life threatening’ part of the situation.
A car pulled up behind the bikes and one of the men—one of the dark haired ones—stepped away from her car to look at it and signal the driver to go around. Highlighted in the car’s headlights, she had the chance to get her first really good look at him and decided she had to add ‘not at all hard on the eyes’ to her assessment. He wasn’t one of the pair that she’d decided must be brothers, at least, if not twins.
She was focused on watching the play of muscles in his arms and chest while he directed traffic that she nearly jumped out of her skin when someone tapped on the passenger window. When she’d managed to collect herself, she discovered it was the same man who’d been at the driver’s window before.
“How long since you changed the oil in this thing?”
She felt her jaw slacken. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
His lips tightened. “I think we found your problem. The engine overheated because it ran out of oil.”
“Oil?” she echoed. “It’s out of oil? I put oil in just before I left home!”
“It’s burning oil, then?”
Laurie chewed her lip. Apparently, he decided that was a yes. He shook his head at her. “Put it out of gear. We’re going to push it out of the road. You’ll have to get a mechanic to have a look at it.”
He was gone before she could object or even fully digest what he was saying.
She was stranded?
The blond slammed the hood down and then struck the hood to get her attention. “We’re going to push you in there,” he said, pointing to a driveway ahead of her, on the other side of the traffic light.
She didn’t want to be pushed into a dark parking lot!
She discovered she didn’t have any options, however. She put the car in neutral as instructed, but once the men got behind and began to push the car, she tried the key in a desperate bid for freedom and discovered the starter wouldn’t do anything but churn. She gave up after the second attempt when she realized they were going to shove her into the curb if she didn’t focus on guiding the car.
They pushed the car into the turn and then, when she’d straightened the wheels, gave it a push toward a parking space. Laurie guided it into the space, but her mind was searching frantically for a solution to her very big problem.
Maybe one of them had a cell phone, she thought with an abrupt surge of hope?
The big, scary man appeared at her window and tapped on it with his knuckles, making her jump again. She discovered when she whipped her head around to look, however, that she had a view of his hard belly and two very large, hands coated with black grease. He wiped his hands on his jeans and twisted, pulling a wallet from his back jeans pocket.
Wondering if he was going to solicit—or offer to give her money to help her out—she stared at the wallet as he opened it and pressed the ID to her window.
“Here’s my ID, ma’am. Can you read it?” he asked, leaning down to look at her through the window.
Disconcerted when he addressed her as ‘ma’am’, Laurie looked at the ID again. According to the ID, his name was Lucien Terrell. It looked like a government ID of some kind. “You’re a cop?” she asked doubtfully.
“Not exactly, Ms. Stone. We’re in … security, you might say. My pack … team and I are private contractors but we work for the government—In this case the DA hired us to check out a rumor and provide protection if needed for a witness—you.”
Laurie missed pretty much everything after he called her by name. “Wait! Wait! Run that by me again?”
“The DA ….”
“The state DA?”
“Yes, ma’am. If you’ll just come with us, we’ll get you to your hotel and get you settled in.”
Anger surged through Laurie, chasing most of her lingering fear. “You’re trying to tell me the DA sent you to collect me?”
“Not exactly, ma’am.”
“If you ma’am me one more time …! You scared the living hell out of me! And now you’re saying ….” She stopped abruptly, feeling a chill creep through her. “Exactly how did you manage to stumble on me when I broke down?”
Amusement flickered in his eyes but a spark of anger, as well. “Like I said … Peoples sent us to check out a rumor and keep an eye on you. We escorted you here … in a manner of speaking. If you’ll get out, we’ll take you to your hotel and answer any other questions you might have. I left my bike standing in the street,” he reminded her.
Laurie was a long way from convinced. She didn’t see that she had a lot of palatable options, though. She could hope the ID he’d shown her was real and take her chances with them, or she could take her chances with the strangers in the area … and they looked a lot more disreputable than the bikers.
Besides, it occurred to her that there was nothing standing between them but a pathetic piece of window glass. If he’d meant to do anything, wouldn’t he have attacked already?
Still deeply distrustful and on edge, Laurie unlocked the door. He opened it for her and she stepped out. “You have a bag in the trunk?”
“Uh … I brought a couple. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be here.”
“You want to pop the trunk?”
Not really. Not that she had anything to be embarrassed about!