2. Earth Pack Rules: Her Alpha Lovers Part Two (2 page)

“No menus?” asked Roxie.

“According to the website, the chef chooses everything—from the appetizer to the dessert. It’s always different.”

“Well, this should be an adventure. I hope there’s meat. I’m starving.”

“Me, too.” Grant let his expression tell her that he was hungry all right. For her.

She grinned.

At least forty-feet yawned between them and the other side of the room. In the center of the bare floor was a long, low stage, where he assumed the show would be performed. Gaze offered a sexy dinner show that was renowned in Las Vegas and it was difficult as fuck to get a reservation. Luckily, he knew people who knew people. It helped, too, that he had deep pockets.

Grant tugged the champagne out of its bucket, noting that its cork was already gone. The staff probably opened all the champagne bottles right before seating everyone.

He poured the golden liquid into the glasses. Then he returned the bottle and picked up his glass. “To beauty and the beasts.”

“Which of us are the beasts?”

“You and I,” Grant said. “Jack’s definitely the beauty.”

Roxie laughed. “I’ll drink to that.”

Grant tapped his glass with hers. They both sipped. Huh. Not bad for something that wasn’t beer. The dry taste had a hint of sweet and the bubbles tickled his tongue.

Doors opened on the far right side of the room. Women scantily clad in what could only be classified as lingerie entered. They carried plates.

One of the beautiful women leaned over their table. “My name is Monique,” she said in a low voice dripping with a French accent. Between them, she deposited a small bowl of creamy dip was surrounded by baby carrots, slivers of zucchini, grape tomatoes, and crackers.

“For your pleasure, we have a creamy artichoke dip with organic vegetables and wheat crackers. Enjoy your appetizer,
mes amis
.”

“Thank you,” said Roxie. She eyed the vegetables the same way any carnivore would: with suspicion.

Monique smiled, and Granted couldn’t help compare her to Roxie. The waitress’s beauty was facilitated by good bone structure and clever make-up. She appeared untouchable—the way a supermodel looked as she strutted on the catwalk. Dressed in a pink corset that was attached to black silk stockings; she wore a matching set of pink panties. Her stilettos were black and shiny. She smelled like jasmine and her smile appeared genuine, if a shade too perfect.

Roxie was so much more beautiful in comparison. She was real. Raw. Fierce. She wouldn’t break. She could take it all—and give it right back.

His dick hardened at the very thought of getting the werewolf into bed.

“I want a steak the size of Rhode Island,” said Roxie. She pushed a carrot into the dip. “This is rabbit food.” She popped the carrot into her mouth. “Dip’s pretty good, though.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the perfect girl for me,” said Grant as he put enough dip on a celery stick to hide its vegetable-ness. “And Jack. You fit him well, too. We’re a great match.”

“Mmm. I should probably say that I’m weirded out by the idea of having two husbands.”

“But?”

Roxie shrugged. “But I’m not.”

Monique returned to clear their plates and deliver their salads. She stacked their appetizer dishes and pushed them to the side. Then she placed two silver forks and chilled bowls filled with crisp Romaine lettuce.

“Tonight, we serve you Caesar salad with shaved parmesan-reggiano cheese, black olives, red onion slices, and quartered Romano tomatoes.” Her baby blues gazed at him. “Do you find it to your liking,
monsieur
?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

“And you,
mademoiselle
?”

“The salads look gorgeous,” said Roxie. “And so do you.”

The blonde’s smile widened. “You are most kind.” Then she whisked away the dishes.

“You really think she was pretty?” he asked. He let his gaze follow the blonde’s twitching buttocks. She had a nice ass. Then he looked at his salad because he felt like an idiot for checking out another woman while sitting next to his mate.

“You may find this strange, Jack, but women do look at other women. Usually, we do it to figure out how we look in comparison. Is my ass smaller than hers? Do I have bigger boobs?” She pierced the salad with her fork and took a bite.

He glanced at her. “Is that why you looked at her?”

“I found her very attractive. She likes to be looked at—and so do I.”

Grant grinned. “Good. Because I plan to look at you a whole lot.”

After they finished off their salads, he poured more champagne.

“Are you a voyeur?” she asked.

“Everyone’s a voyeur to some extent.”

She considered his words. “But not everyone is an exhibitionist.”

“No. But you are.”

“Yeah.” Roxie nodded. “That’s true.”

Monique returned to clear off their salad bowls and silverware. Behind her, a tuxedoed waiter placed two steaming dishes of food before them along with steak knives and forks. “Tonight’s feast is filet mignon and lobster tail served with steamed asparagus.”

They dug into the meal, and Grant had to admit he’d never seen a sexy sight than Roxie enjoying her steak. The way the woman’s lips moved over her fork, the ecstasy revealed as she chewed the meat … damn. She was hot. He wanted to bend her over the table and take her. Hard. Fast. Until they were both sweating and screaming.

Down, boy.

Minutes after they finished their meal, Monique reappeared. She once again removed their dishes then set a plate between them filled with three types of cheese.

“We have Halloumi—which is folded cheese with mint; Stilton, which is handmade in Britain; and Tavor, an Israeli cheese that’s a blend of sheep and goat’s milk.”

“Looks wonderful,” murmured Jack.

“How was your dinner?” she asked. Her gaze ping-ponged between him and Roxie.

“Fabulous,” he said.

“Definitely,” Roxie agreed.

The slow beat of drums filtered into the restaurant.

“Ah,” said the waitress with a coy smile. “The show ... it begins.”

THE BLUE LIGHTS
went out, casting the entire place into darkness. The drumbeats increased as three people—painted in neon purple, pink, and green—emerged from the floor. Black lights shone down on the dancers, highlighting the splashes of color on their bodies.

The two men spied the lone female and crept forward, as if intending to pounce on her. She twirled away. Every lithe movement and graceful leap was accentuated by the music.

Roxie watched, riveted by the graceful moves of the lissome dancers.

Grant’s hand crept into hers and held it tightly.

They watched the men chase the woman. They would almost catch her, but she would flit away, as illusive and beautiful as a butterfly. The music was frenetic and intense as the dancers ran and jumped, arms reaching, yet never quite touching.

Grant released her hand and trailed his fingers up her side. Her breath hitched as he dared to cup her breast. Her nipple hardened instantly. His hand dropped away, fingers stroking her ribcage to rest lightly on her hip.

The light touch of his fingers against her thigh was filled with erotic promise. Her heart skipped a beat and she waited, nearly breathless, to see where else he would touch her.

She watched the dancers, which increased her excitement. The woman had been caught. One man stood in front of her and the other behind her. Hands stroked neon-speckled flesh.

Grant ventured under her dress. One finger dipped into her panties, stroking her clit. He leaned close and whispered, “Play with your breasts.”

Was he seriously going to give her an orgasm in a restaurant full of people?

With it so dark, no one would be looking. In fact, given the rise of pheromones and the scent of arousal so easily detected by her werewolf senses, others were busy playing their own table games. She cupped her breasts, rubbing her thumbs over her distended nipples. Desire skittered through her—an arrow of urgent heat straight into her woman’s core.

The drumbeat went crazy and the trio of dancers moved in a crazed rhythm. Back and forth, bodies surging and colliding as the music rose higher and higher.

Grant’s whisper tickled her ear. “I love stroking your clit. I want to make you come.”

Roxie lungs nearly collapsed. She twisted her nipples as his finger stroked her clit faster and faster.

The music hit a crescendo…

…and so did she. The orgasm burst, as sweet and hot as ripe berries picked on a summer day. She was panting heavily, unable to steady her own breathing. Grant removed his hand and her hands drifted away from her breasts.

The drumbeats faded away. The three people wrapped arms around each other then sank slowly into the floor. The blue lights turned on, chasing away the darkness.

Grant looked at her, smiling wickedly as he licked her essence off his finger. “You taste better than anything I’ve eaten tonight.”

Roxie bared her teeth. “Just wait until I’ve had a taste of you.”

Grant’s cock jumped at the promise in her words. He couldn’t wait to have her.

Monique arrived with the same tuxedoed waiter who cleared away the cheese plate. From a tray balanced on her hip, Monique placed plates of tiramisu before them. Then she set out two tiny cups of espresso. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Oh, yes,” said Roxie.

“And you,
monsieur
?”

“The best show ever.”

ROXIE FOLLOWED GRANT
into his bedroom in the hotel suite. Jack had made himself scarce so that Roxie and Grant could bond.

Soon. Very soon. Roxie would be their mate—and they would be connected in heart, mind, soul, and body. Roxie couldn’t believe how fortunate she was to be the recipient of all that affection and adoration. It was as though life, after screwing her by putting her into the most barbaric shifter community, was trying to make up for all the physical and psychological loss she’d suffered.
Here
, life seemed to say,
mate with two gorgeous men who will protect and adore you for the rest of your days. Sorry about the whole Blood Pack thing.

She wasn’t going to reject that gift. She was going to take it and hold on it and cherish it. Forever.

But now, she had a werewolf to seduce.

Roxie settled Grant onto the bed. He sat like an obedient puppy, which was cute—as well as deceptive. She had no doubt Grant would leap at the chance to master her. To take her. Tame her. And she wanted him to try.

Roxie toed off her shoes then wiggled out of her dress. She heard his sharp intake of breath when he caught a glimpse of her red lace thong and its matching lace bra. She stuck her feet back into the heels, offered him a
you’re-in-so-much-trouble
smile, and then dug into her purse and pulled out her iPod. She scrolled through her music until she found the song she wanted.

As the opening to Imagine Dragon’s “Radioactive” rumbled through the room, Rhiannon took her position, arms up and gaze on Grant. She spun around, sliding her hands down her sides then over her ass.

She bent over.

“Sweet Wolf Gods on Mercury.”

Grant’s strained voice filtered through the hard beat of the music. She grinned. She loved to dance. To show off. She did Yoga every day and had even taken a few “stripper aerobics” classes. Of course, being a healthy “big” girl didn’t mean much in a world filled with skinny humans. Luckily, she was a werewolf, and werewolves didn’t give a damn about human ideas of beauty and sexiness.

Grant now had a prime view of her buttocks. The thong denied him a complete view of her femininity, but the temptation was there, covered by thin red lace.

Rolling back up, she wiggled around in a tight circle once, twice, and then stopped, giving him a side view. She drew her hands slowly up her stomach, across her breasts, and then down again to her hips. She turned her ass toward him.

Once again, she bent over.

Placing her palms flat on the floor, she braced her arms then brought up her legs. She drifted into a backbend then collapsed to the floor and rolled to her side.

Now on her stomach, she brought her head and feet up until they nearly met. Then she pressed down again, and pushed up so that her body formed a triangle.

She popped up to her feet and undulated toward him. She was holding his attention, making him look, but not touch. Yeah, she was making him want her badly while keeping herself just out of reach.

The song was nearing its end, so she let her fingers drift down between her breasts. She unsnapped the bra’s front clip and cupped her breasts, denying him the pleasure of seeing the material fall away.

She turned her back to him, dancing, and took off the bra, slinging it to the floor. As the song’s last notes rang out, Roxie faced Grant. Her hands glided from her breasts, down her stomach, and over her hips. She hooked her thumbs in the red panties, drew them down her legs, and then kicked them off.