For Love of Grace [Werewolves Wanting Love 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
Werewolves Wanting Love 4
For Love of Grace
Grace Patterson needs peace and solitude. Jarin Proctor is too dominant. He’s a Dom and a vulture. And Mark Hamill is too protective. He’s a werewolf. But they both love her. She likes them both a lot, but they drive her crazy with their attention. What is she to do? Grace’s grandfather convinces her to go to the inter-species mating party, which she does. Grace likes the idea of a ménage, but there are no men there who appeal to her as much as Jarin and Mark do. And she knows neither of them could make her happy.
Her grandfather tells the two men to work together to win her and share her. Jarin doesn’t think he could bear to have another man touch his woman, but Mark reminds him that she keeps refusing them. Can a wolf and a vulture cooperate and win her? When the three of them get caught in a flood, can they work together to solve the problem, or are their personalities too incompatible?
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 35,433 words
FOR LOVE OF GRACE
Werewolves Wanting Love 4
Cara Adams
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
FOR LOVE OF GRACE
Copyright © 2014 by Cara Adams
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-906-2
First E-book Publication: July 2014
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About the Author
FOR LOVE OF GRACE
Werewolves Wanting Love 4
CARA ADAMS
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
Grace Patterson stared up into Jarin’s bright black eyes. His long black curls framed his tanned face perfectly and his big, strong hands on her upper arms were firm, yet gentle as he pulled her closer to his body.
“Let me make love to you, Grace. Only I can make you come until you scream, over and over again. Without me you’ll never be fulfilled.”
Despite the temptation of his warmth and nearness, and the near certainty that sex with him would be very good indeed, Grace pulled herself away from him and stepped backward. “Don’t kid yourself, Jarin Proctor. Any woman who doesn’t know how to give herself an earth-shattering orgasm has lived much too sheltered a life. I can assure you I own an extremely good vibrator. You might have Grandpa twisted around your finger but you mean absolutely nothing to me. Now get out of Grandpa’s house and stay away from me. Once he’s safely at the shape-shifter clinic to be healed, I’m going home where I belong, far away from you and Vulture Valley.”
“I love you, Grace. My hands on your body would bring you far more pleasure than a whole box full of vibrators and sex toys. You’ll be back. You’ll come back to Vulture Valley and to me.”
He turned and walked out of the house. Grace dropped onto her grandfather’s daybed in the sunroom, her legs suddenly too weak to hold her up for another second. She hated confrontation. She hated telling anybody “No,” far less someone her grandfather adored. But she was absolutely never going to get up close and personal with a vulture. They were far too demanding, too dominant, too powerful. Jarin would leech her personality away drip by drip until she was just his shadow, not herself anymore.
Grace sighed and started unpinning her long blonde hair from the tight knot she kept it in during the day. She piled the pins on the daybed beside her and rubbed her hands through the strands, massaging her scalp. Only a week ago she’d been at the second annual Desperate and Dateless Interspecies Week-Long House Party, known as the DADISP, held at the Konference Kabins convention center in Ohio. Now she was in Arizona, about to begin a long road trip with her grandfather to take him to the shape-shifter clinic, where Dr. Oscar Thorne was going to heal the deep ulcer on the old man’s hip.
Decisively she stood up, collected her hair pins, and headed to her tiny bedroom. “I didn’t find a wolf to marry at the house party, and I will not marry a vulture no matter how much he teases my senses. Once Grandpa is settled at the clinic I’m going home, back to my ordinary life. Back to the real world. End of story.”
* * * *
Four months later the old man was completely healed, the wound on his hip just a mottled pink scar that was fading and growing smaller every day. Once again Grace was involved in the very thing she absolutely hated—an argument.
“You don’t need me anymore, Grandpa. If you want to fly, you can. Dr. Thorne told you it was perfectly all right for you to fly, but just to be sensible about it and not exhaust yourself.”
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“I want you to stay here with me,” the old man replied, his voice both cranky and stubborn simultaneously.
Grace sighed and paced around the sunroom of his house. The two side walls were floor-to-ceiling glass but the room was saved from being too hot by a huge number of potted plants against one of the windows. The daybed where he spent so much time was against the other window.
“Why? You don’t need my help. You’re healed now, and you have plenty of friends here who visit with you constantly.”
“You’re family. The only family I have left. Your place is here with me.”
“My life is back home in grandma’s apartment.”
“She’s dead. Pack up your things and bring them here.”
Grace hated the arguing. If she lived with him she’d constantly be embroiled in his fighting. That was why his wife had left him long before she was born. She’d nursed her grandma through her cancer and they’d gotten on well, both being the kind of person who loved silence and peace. Living with her grandpa would send her crazy in double quick time. Plus Jarin lived in this tiny town as well and the moment she moved back here, he’d be trying to convince her to marry him again. And she couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t, cope with both him and her grandfather.
“No. I’m not moving here. I need to be alone. I need peace and quiet. I need harmony and I can’t get it here.”
“Grace, girl, I want you to be with me. I’m an old man and just because they’ve patched me up again that doesn’t mean I’ll last forever.”
Grace stared at him, trying to decide whether this was another way to undermine her resolve, or if he was serious. She shook her head, more for herself than him.
“I know you’re like Julie was. You remind me of her in so many ways. That’s another reason why I want you to stay. I can’t undo the mistakes of the past, but I want us to be together now. What if I brought in one of those hut things the workmen use? It comes prefabricated and has a bathroom and living area. We could put it in the backyard and you could go in there and lock the door. I promise I wouldn’t disturb you as long as you spend some time with me each day. How about that?”
Grace stared at him, stunned. “You’d build me my own apartment?”
“If you want to call it that, yes.”
“You wouldn’t expect more of me than to cook your dinner and spend an hour or two with you each day?”
He waved his hands as if he was about to speak and then nodded. “I’d like you to spend more time with me that that. And you don’t have to cook for me. But two hours a day with you would be really good. Could you do that, Gracie, please?”
He hadn’t called her Gracie since she was in elementary school, and to hear him say please really rocked her to the core. He never asked. He just gave orders. How could she refuse? “Okay, Grandpa. That’s very generous of you. I’ll stay as long as I can be alone for part of every day.”
She hurried across the room and hugged him. He was her grandpa and she loved him. He’d promised her a refuge where she could meditate and relax in peace. She couldn’t hold out against him anymore.
* * * *
Mark Hamill was a werewolf shape-shifter, not a vulture, but his people had lived in Vulture Valley almost as long as the vultures had. Vultures tended to have black hair and black eyes. His hair was very dark brown and so were his eyes, so he was often mistaken for a vulture, but he was a wolf and proud to be one.
When he’d learned from old Glen that Grace had gone to a mating party for werewolves, he’d nearly exploded. There was a werewolf, him, right here under her nose if she wanted one. Of course Jarin had made it very clear to all the men in town that Grace was his. But it didn’t matter how long and loudly he shouted that from the rooftops, the facts were the woman hadn’t agreed to mate him yet. In fact, he was almost positive she hadn’t slept with any man in the town at all.
He often wondered if she’d fallen for a man back her hometown, but she wouldn’t have agreed to go to the mating party if she had. Her grandfather had urged her to go, but she could easily have arranged to fail the tests if she hadn’t wanted to attend the party.
He’d been certain she’d come back married, but none of the wolves there had attracted her attention. That just meant he’d need to try harder. He’d always respected her desire to be alone. Maybe the time had come to demonstrate to her how he would love and cherish her. Of course, Jarin might come for him with a baseball bat one night if he won her, but that was a risk he’d just have to take. Grace was worth any danger he might expect from Jarin.
Mark stood on the rim of the Grand Canyon looking down to the Colorado River. This land was deep into his bones. He understood Grace’s need for silence. The land was in her blood even though she’d lived mostly with her parents, and then her grandmother, far from here. The silence here was peaceful. Actually it was a silence full of promise. A stillness, a gift of harmony. It wasn’t the empty silence of some places which were just waiting for something to happen. Here, there were always things happening. The enhanced senses of his werewolf form could hear grasses scrape as an insect or rodent scuttled through them. He could smell the different kinds of cactus and grass, and the tiny life forms that hid in the sand during the heat of the day. He would run for hours across the desert, stretching his body and releasing the tension from his working day.
Even in human form, if he listened hard he could sense the life all around him. He knew the landscape wasn’t empty. That was just its outward appearance. He’d always thought he’d take his woman here to the canyon and they’d make love on a blanket on the rim as the sun set or rose all around them. After Glen’s insistence on seeing the sunrise and then flying away and getting stuck down the bottom of the canyon, it was likely Grace wouldn’t see the romance in such a scene anymore.
Also, in a couple of months the white water rafting tours would be sailing through the canyon. Fortunately they were far from the tourist center here. But obviously the tours that rafted the length of the canyon would pass by them. That meant the beach would no longer be their private place seen by no one but the locals from Vulture Valley.
That gave him a time limit. He had to convince Grace to love him in less than two months, if he was to make love to her on the beach. He’d loved her for so long, surely he could do that?
* * * *
“Grace is mine. Mine. Mine! I know it. Glen acknowledges it. Why can’t she see it? She’s so perfect for me. So cool and blonde and beautiful. So serene and self-contained. She’s the perfect foil for my personality!”
Inside that cool, closed façade, he just knew she’d be intensely passionate. Hell, her comment about owning a vibrator proved that to him. The only person who should ever use a vibrator on her was him. He’d fuck her doggy style, slamming in and out of her ass while he fucked her cunt with a vibrator. Other than that, she shouldn’t even know such things existed. How could she ever think a toy was even half as good as a real man who could hold her tightly in his arms while he fucked her?
Shit! His dick was aching just thinking about her. He longed to pull her golden hair out of those ridiculous tight bun things she insisted on wearing and wrap it around her neck as he plunged deep and hard into her cunt, driving her higher and higher until she screamed with her release.
He ought to just kidnap her and keep fucking her until she acknowledged the truth—that she belonged to him. That only he could make her happy. Only with him would she be able to develop into the woman she truly was, one who was sexy and passionate, her body the ideal, lush playground for him forever.
Jarin stomped across the desert, kicking the occasional rock out of his path until he reached a rocky outcrop. He climbed up it and sat on the top, looking across the countryside. Damn, this place was beautiful. How could anyone not want to live here?
He had to convince Grace that she belonged to him. Since likely Glen wouldn’t approve of him kidnapping her, he needed a plan. A plan that put her under his control. A plan where he was in charge
of her and he could demonstrate the heated attraction between them until she could no longer deny it.
But how? If he couldn’t kidnap her and couldn’t fuck her, how was he going to do this? All Jarin could see in his mind’s eye was a naked Grace, chained to the wall as he whipped her into submission until she begged for his cock.
Chapter Two
The road trip from Arizona to Ohio with her grandfather and three people from the shape-shifter clinic five months ago hadn’t been exactly a picnic, but it had given Grace the idea for how she’d transport her own things, and those of her dead grandmother, back to Arizona. Being alone was so much better than having to worry about the old man and be polite to her traveling companions.
Not that Dorothea, Tybalt, and Zane had been troublesome. They’d been good company, always kind and considerate, but Grace liked being alone. So she’d hired a U-Haul trailer, and hired a man to help her shift the heavy furniture from her grandma’s apartment into the truck. Then she’d rearranged the luggage so she could sleep in the trailer if she wanted to. She left the window cracked open an inch for air, left her bed made up ready to use, and had everything she needed all day on the front seat in the cab beside her. Then she drove when she wanted to drive, and stopped when she wanted to stop. Grace wandered down side roads to look at pretty scenery, and parked at malls to buy food and water and anything else she needed.
Most nights she stayed in a national park or in a truck stop where she could buy a hot meal if she wanted one, and there were bathrooms so she could take a shower. Some nights it just didn’t work out that way, but she didn’t care. Nibbling on apples for a meal suited her just as well as a plate of steak and fries. But being alone was the key. She was in blessed silence. No radio, no television, nothing. Just the rush of air through the cab window and the wide open land all around her.