Wolf in Her Bed: Salvation Pack, Book 2 Read online

  Dedication

  Thank you to all my readers. You’re the best!

  visit dpgroup.org for more books

  Prologue

  Armand LaForge raced through the dense forest, the pads of his feet making almost no sound on the leaf-strewn ground. Freedom. That was what his wolf gave him, had always given him. Freedom from pain, from his problems, from the unrelenting horrors of his past.

  He slowed when he reached the edge of a cliff and finally came to a halt before peering over the wide expanse. In the distance, the mountains rose majestic and strong. Unmovable. Down below, the valley where they’d built their homes was sheltered and safe.

  It was a good place. Untainted by the past. The air was crisp and clean, so unlike the heavy, thick air of the bayou where he’d grown up.

  He didn’t miss it.

  He much preferred the towering pines, birch and colorful maples to the cypress trees covered in Spanish moss, willows and ancient oaks of the place where he’d been born.

  Armand shifted, allowing the wolf to fade and the man to take its place. Fur receded as bones cracked and reformed. He pushed upright, standing on two feet instead of four. The air flowed over his naked skin, but he barely noticed the chill.

  He reached up and touched the left side of his face. Scarred and ruined, which was rare among werewolves as they were quick healers. It took a lot of damage to leave a wolf scarred. Remy LaForge had managed to do just that.

  Just the thought of his father made him growl, and the low, menacing sound vibrated through his chest. The squirrel in the tree beside him went silent, and deeper in the trees a deer froze in its tracks.

  He dropped his hand back to his side and sighed, doing his best to release his anger. It didn’t do him any good. Never had, never would. All it did was cloud his thinking.

  Armand sensed the presence of another and turned his head as a large wolf broke from the tree line. This wolf was powerfully built with fur all shades of brown and golden eyes that glowed in the darkness.

  The wolf began to shift, changing quickly into a man he knew well and respected even more. “Jacque.” Armand inclined his head slightly to the alpha of their small pack. His cousin had been the one to find the courage to break away from the Louisiana pack, and Armand and three others had followed him here to North Carolina a couple years back. Since then, they’d been doing their best to forge a new life for themselves. And they’d been succeeding quite well until their past had come back to bite them in the ass.

  “Armand.” Jacque stood next to him and stared out over the land, all of it owned by the pack.

  “How is Gwen?” Jacque was the only one of them who’d found a mate. Gwen was well loved by all the men. She’d brought a softness into their lives that had been missing for far too long. They’d all die to protect her.

  “Worried about you.” Jacque pierced him with knowing eyes.

  Armand inwardly winced, not liking the fact he was the source of worry for Gwen. God only knew, she had more than enough to worry about without him adding to it. “Nothing to worry about.” He was fine. And if he told himself that often enough, he might even start to believe it.

  “You’ve been tense since the attacks,” Jacque pointed out.

  The attacks by their former pack had almost cost Gwen her life. He wasn’t worried about dying himself. But he had something he needed to do first. He wanted vengeance for the death of his sister. Sylvie had been so innocent, so fragile and lovely. She’d been the light in his dark world before their father had given her in marriage to Andre Dubois.

  Andre was a bastard and had already gone through two mates who’d both died under mysterious circumstances. But because Andre was also the alpha’s enforcer, no one had asked too many questions. No one but Armand.

  He touched the side of his face. His father had almost killed him for questioning Sylvie’s marriage to that monster Dubois. He’d bear the scars for life. Andre was dead now, not killed by his hand but by another. That left his father and their former alpha. Before he died, there were two men he needed to kill. Remy and Pierre LaForge.

  “We’ve all been tense.” And that was no lie. They’d all been on edge since the attack. For now, their former pack thought they’d killed Gwen. When they found out otherwise there would be hell to pay.

  Jacque’s hand landed on Armand’s shoulder and he gently squeezed. “You need to let off some steam, find some way to release the anger consuming you. You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. You’re not doing yourself or the pack any good like this.”

  The hell of it was that Armand knew Jacque was right. He stepped away from his cousin and alpha and squared his shoulders. “I’ll do better.” The last thing he wanted to do was let down the pack in any way.

  Jacque frowned. “You don’t need to do better, Armand. You need to take care of yourself.”

  Talking wasn’t getting them anywhere, so Armand shifted once again, embracing his wolf, giving the animal part of himself free reign. He turned and trotted into the woods.

  Jacque’s voice reached him easily. “This isn’t over.”

  It was if Armand had anything to say about it. He’d do whatever he had to in order to carry out his job and protect his pack. Nothing was more important than that. Not even his vengeance.

  Remy LaForge sat at the kitchen table across from his brother and alpha. Pierre finished off the slab of apple pie he was eating and pushed his plate away. “What are we going to do about your sons?” Remy asked.

  Pierre tapped the side of his coffee mug and his wife hurried over to fill it. When she was done, she scurried away. Remy wondered, not for the first time, what his sister-in-law would be like in the sack, but it would mean his death if he tried anything. Pierre LaForge didn’t share. Elise had been a beautiful girl once, a long time ago. But years of living with her overbearing mate had turned her into a faded picture of herself.

  Remy shrugged. Oh well, not his concern. Maybe he should think about taking another mate. He’d been horny more than usual lately and wouldn’t mind coming home to a woman in his bed every night and a meal on the table. Something to think about.

  He waited, knowing better than to ask his question twice. To say Pierre had a temper was like saying a hurricane was a little wind and rain. Hell, he’d killed their father more than thirty years ago simply because he’d wanted to be alpha and wasn’t willing to wait for their old man to die.

  The only person who’d ever stood up to Pierre and lived was his son Jacque. And the only reason Pierre hadn’t killed him outright was because Jacque had simply left one day and never come back. And he’d taken his brother, cousin and two others with him.

  Good riddance to them all as far as Remy was concerned.

  “My sons are strong.” Pierre sat back in his chair and rubbed his hand over his jaw. Remy didn’t miss the implication that his son was weak. Armand had always been weak, and Remy blamed the boy’s mama and sister for mollycoddling him. Remy had tried to toughen him up, make him understand he had to fight for everything if he wanted to get ahead in life and in the pack.

  But the boy had never learned. And when he’d questioned Remy’s decision to marry Sylvie to the pack’s enforcer, Andre Dubois, he’d had no choice but to discipline the boy. That was one way of saying he’d almost killed his only son. And Armand wore the mark of that day on his face, marking him as weak among the pack.

  They were dead now, his wife, daughter and son-in-law. All that was left of his family was his son, and Remy didn’t want to claim such a weak pup. Better to put him down and start over. He was still young. Not yet sixty-five years old. Since his kind could live to be a hundred and fifty or more, he was ju
st coming into his prime. He could mate and have more sons.

  “They are sowing their wild oats. But they will return in time.”

  Remy wasn’t so sure of that but wasn’t about to argue with his older brother.

  “They will have to be punished for their insurrection before they are taken back into the pack.” Pierre sipped hot coffee from his mug and stood. “Let’s finish this outside.”

  Remy stood and followed Pierre out onto the front porch of his home. It was a small home, as most of the surrounding houses were. They spent more time out of doors than they did in. Men and woman went about their business, some in their human form, others in their wolf form. Their people had lived on this land for several hundred years, able to roam free and live as they chose. And if the occasional human wandered too close and saw something they shouldn’t—Remy flexed his hands into fists—well it was easy to lose a body in the swamp.

  Pierre sat in one of the chairs and stared out over the bayou. “This is good land. A good life.” He propped his feet up on the railing and rested his coffee mug on his stomach. “When my sons are contrite and I have beaten any remaining weakness out of them, then they will be fit to return and stand by my side.”

  Remy didn’t think either Jacque or Louis would ever be back. And good riddance as far as he was concerned. He didn’t care if he ever laid eyes on his nephews again. The pair of them were self-righteous and judgmental. He felt as though they were constantly judging him and he always fell short.

  “I have news.”

  Remy leaned forward, intent on hearing everything. He knew his brother had several men watching his son’s pack. They’d lost Andre, the pack assassin, and more than a half-dozen males in the last skirmish between their pack and Jacque’s new one in North Carolina. Personally, Remy thought it was folly to continue fighting with them. They’d lost too much and it made them look weak in front of the rest of the pack.

  Of course, if the pack grew restless, Remy could work that to his advantage. Andre’s brother was upset about Andre’s death. Remy might find some use for Travis Dubois in the future. Something else to think about.

  “The bitch survived the conversion.”

  A chill ran up Remy’s spine and pushed all other thoughts from his brain. No one survived the conversion. Okay, that wasn’t quite true, but it was very rare and had been a long, long time since he’d even heard of anyone who had. “What are you going to do?” Because Remy knew his brother was going to do something.

  Pierre lifted his coffee mug to his lips and smiled.

  Chapter One

  Anny Conrad could barely hear herself think over the raucous country music blaring from the jukebox in the corner of the bar, let alone hear what her friend Sue was saying. “What?” Anny yelled.

  Sue frowned and pointed to the dance floor. Anny shook her head and motioned for her friend to go ahead if she wanted to. Anny wasn’t much of a dancer, at least not to the faster songs.

  Sue jumped to her feet and worked her way around the tables to the small dance floor at the end of the bar. Somehow on her way there, she managed to pick up a partner. Anny shook her head and sighed. She wished she had even a small portion of Sue’s confidence.

  They were both around five foot five, but that was where the similarities ended. Sue was blonde and had a curvy figure that attracted men like flies to honey. She was also outgoing and friendly, flirty without crossing a line. Men liked her. Women liked her. Sue had a smile that just invited you to smile along.

  Anny, on the other hand, had brown hair and was slender with few curves. Where Sue was outgoing, she was quiet and bookish, never quite knowing what to say or do in social situations. They’d been friends for most of their lives in spite of the fact they were so different. Maybe even because of it.

  She picked up the bottle of beer Sue had insisted on buying her and took a sip. The cool, yeasty beverage slid down her throat. She wasn’t much of a drinker but this wasn’t half bad. Anny watched as Sue and her partner danced around the floor easily and effortlessly.

  She set her drink back on the table and sighed. She’d love to be confident enough to move like that. Thirty years old today, and what had she done with her life? She had a job she loved as the school librarian and a good friend in Sue. She’d never married and had kids, but there was still time for that dream to happen.

  She rubbed the condensation on the side of the bottle and glanced down at the scarred tabletop. Who was she kidding. That dream was done for. There weren’t a whole lot of single men living in and around Salvation, and those that were here were more interested in women like her friend. Sue had been married and divorced once and had an adorable little boy who was home tonight with his grandparents.

  Anny had two cats waiting at home for her.

  She shook off her melancholy mood. It wasn’t like her to wallow and she didn’t like it. There was nothing wrong with her life. It was simply that she’d thought she’d be in a different place by now. Thirty was a milestone in any woman’s life. She’d just have to reevaluate her plans and make new ones.

  The song ended and Sue returned to the table and plopped back down into her chair, breathless, her face flushed from dancing. “That was fun. You should try it.”

  It was Sue who’d gotten her parents to babysit tonight so she could drag Anny out to celebrate. Without her friend, Anny would have probably gone straight home from work and done nothing to mark the day. She’d had a birthday card from her parents a few days ago. They were currently in Arizona and planned to park their RV there for a few months. They’d left Salvation the day after her father had retired from his job at the bank and hadn’t looked back since. She didn’t really miss them because they’d never been that close.

  Impulsively, she reached out and squeezed Sue’s hand. “Thank you for inviting me out tonight.” The local roadside bar wasn’t a place she usually frequented. Granted, it had changed ownership and undergone a major renovation a few years back, but it still had a reputation of being a rowdy spot. But there were a lot of couples as well as groups of men and women just looking for an enjoyable evening, so she didn’t feel too out of place.

  Sue squeezed her hand back. “That’s what friends are for. Happy birthday, Anny.” She checked her watch. “Unfortunately, I’ve got to call it a night soon. I’ve got the early shift at the diner tomorrow.” Sue worked at Kathy’s Kitchen, one of the few places to eat in the small town of Salvation.

  “How about you have another dance or two,” Anny encouraged. In spite of her outgoing personality, Sue didn’t actually get to socialize much outside of work. She was a dedicated mother and spent most of her time off with her son. “Then we’ll call it a night.”

  One of the men Sue had danced with earlier stopped by their table and bent down to speak to her. Anny recognized him. Sam Owens owned the only gas station in town. Sue glanced at Anny and then nodded at Sam. The music started up again and the two of them took to the floor.

  Anny sighed and tapped her fingers on the table, wishing for once in her life she had nerve enough to ask a man to dance.

  Armand sat in the dark corner of the bar and watched the couples moving on the dance floor. What in the hell am I doing here? The loud music hurt his sensitive ears, and he kept picking up stray snippets of conversation from the surrounding tables. He hated the smell of smoke, stale beer and sweat, not to mention the clouds of perfume and cologne that threatened to choke him. His enhanced werewolf senses weren’t an advantage at a time like this.

  He’d come to town earlier to pick up a few supplies and had stayed. He’d been sitting here for a few hours now, watching as the place filled up with people. He’d had a couple of beers, but that was it. There was no way he’d let down his guard enough to over drink. Besides, with their fast metabolism, it was almost impossible for his kind to get drunk.

  His phone rang and he checked the caller ID. He answered, knowing if he didn’t they’d come looking for him. “What?”

  His buddy and fel
low pack mate Gator Rollins paused for a moment before speaking. “Where the hell are you?”

  The music was making it hard for him to hear Gator. “I’m at Salvation’s End.” The place wasn’t bad as roadhouse bars went. Plenty of beer and music. “Is there a problem?” Maybe he should just head back to the pack compound.

  “Non. No problem. Just worried about you. It’s not like you to be gone for so long and not check in.” Gator’s Cajun accent thickened, which told Armand just how worried he was. They’d all worked hard to try to minimize their accent in order to fit in better with the locals. Not that they spent much time with any of the people in town. They mostly kept to themselves.

  “I just needed some space.” He needed something. Waiting to see what their enemies would do next was keeping them all on edge, him especially. “I’ll be heading back soon.” He ended the call and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

  He gazed around the room, his eyes returning to a woman who was once again sitting alone at her table. She’d come in with her friend about an hour ago and the blonde woman had spent most of her time on the dance floor while the brunette sat alone.

  That was just wrong.

  She seemed sad and pensive even though she smiled at her friend.

  Not his business. Still, he couldn’t help but watch her as she rolled her beer bottle between her hands. There was just something about her that caught his attention and wouldn’t let it go. She was pretty, but in an understated way.

  If there was one thing that Armand was an expert in, it was women. They fascinated him with their moods and thought processes. So different from a male’s. He found them all beautiful—young and old. They came in such a variety of shapes and sizes it was a buffet for the senses. They were meant to be cherished and taken care of, not abused or hurt.

  He’d grown up in a werewolf pack where the men were more rabid dog than human. He’d been unable to stop the abuse of his mother and sister, but how he treated women was not what he’d learned growing up. His father, alpha and others had often ridiculed him for his actions, accusing him of being weak. As if beating someone made you stronger.