The Marked Collection, Volume 1 (MM)


Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 91,884
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[Siren Publishing Romance Collection: Alternative, Menage, Shape-shifters, Paranormal, BDSM, Werewolves, Spanking, Whipping, Sounding, Sex Toys, MM, MMMM, HEA]

In Collared with Ink, to celebrate the addition of a new member of their group, Grayson Gambler and his friends head out into the city for some new ink. Little does Gray know that the enigmatic shop owner, Mustang Richards, has more on his mind than the ink he’s putting on Gray’s skin, and it will soon turn into a night Gray will never forget.

Mustang is a wolf shifter who is responsible for the largest pack west of the Mississippi. Getting involved with humans is strictly forbidden, but the submissive who walks into his shop proves almost irresistible to his Dominant side. Giving in to temptation proves all too easy, but when he accidently turns Grayson into a werewolf, there will be consequences neither one of them planned on dealing with.

In Acquired in Time, Cian Augustin is a gamma for Alpha Mustang's wolf pack. Fate gave him three beautiful mates, but the old pack law had allowed him to claim only two of them. The third, a human, was off-limits. Now that the ban is lifted, he doubts second chances and new laws will be enough to bring Jeremiah Likos home. Kane and Abel, Cian's two submissives, are not so easily dissuaded from following their hearts. They're determined to do what their Master will not—bring their mate home and complete the family. However, Jeremiah is wary to trust Cian again, and he's not sure if his feelings for Kane and Abel are real enough to make everything all right.

When Jeremiah's ex-boyfriend steps back into the picture, the wolves will have to fight for their right to be with their mate and carve out a place of happiness for their new family.

Jana Downs is a Siren-exclusive author.

The Marked Collection, Volume 1 (MM)
0 Ratings (0.0)

The Marked Collection, Volume 1 (MM)


Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 91,884
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Siren Publishing



It was decided to put the ink over Grayson’s heart, which hammered loud enough that Mustang could hear it clearly as he shaved the area and prepared his ink wells on the small table that sat beside the reclining chair. The room was only furnished with a small rolling table that housed ink and equipment and the chair Mustang’s client was sitting on. The walls were white and sterile, a blank canvas he’d been meaning to decorate for years. Grayson was reclining shirtless for Mustang’s viewing pleasure, and the scent of all that bare skin was driving Mustang to distraction. The human’s arousal was potent in the air as Mustang smoothed his hands over the skin he’d just shaved. He’d be a natural for this. A natural sub. Poor thing was starved for touch.

“Settle,” Mustang commanded.

“You’re into BDSM, aren’t you?” The words were a whisper.

Mustang hesitated. Do I admit it? What the hell. “Yeah. I am.”

The human nodded. “I figured when you said you were an Alpha. Dominant right?”

“Yes.” Where was this going?

“I’m a, um…” The human’s cheeks heated to a lovely primrose.

“Submissive?” Mustang prompted.

“Uh-huh.” The human laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “Stupid for my size, right? A waste?”

“Not at all. Strong men sometimes crave to be mastered. Nothing wrong with that.” This could get dangerous quick. Mustang was already more intrigued by the human than he cared to admit, and there was something even more potently arousing about a man who understood his own needs and desires.

So often Mustang had seen submissives who fought their own natures because of ingrained roles about masculinity that were, by wolf standards, ridiculous. Size and stature had very little to do with whether or not someone was dominant or submissive. Hell, the Alpha over at North Shore pack was five-feet four inches and weighed a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. He could also bring a submissive to his knees at twenty paces and was known for his skill with single-tails, which just went to prove his point.

Pretty blue eyes turned to him. “You could handle me.” Oh yes, boy, I could. “I fight sometimes. I mean, I like to.”

“Negotiating a scene, Grayson?” Mustang asked.

That primrose blush deepened to cherry. “Maybe. Would you be interested?”

“Definitely. After your tattoo? Will your boys wait?”

Grayson shook his head. “I can’t after. I’m DD tonight, so I have to drive them back to the house. But there is a club on south main called Riders. I’m a member there.”

Mustang was stunned for half a minute. “I know it. I have a club pass.” The pack owned the establishment. It was a safe place for unattached members to go blow off some steam with other like-minded wolves. Mustang hadn’t had the time or energy to make an appearance in almost a year. How the hell did you get to be a member? The frat boy had to have had a referral to get a membership, which meant someone in the pack had either had the boy or made friends with him.

“Can we meet there?”

Mustang didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Tomorrow night at nine o’clock. Meet me at the bar, and we’ll go from there.” He let his eyes trail down the boy’s body to settle on his already hard groin. “Wear something that comes off easy.” The boy’s arousal twitched. “Another thing, this happens once. No more. No less. That okay?”

Grayson nodded. “Fine.” Mustang could resist another second. Between the boy’s scent and their plans to meet up, he was about ready to start humping the chair if he didn’t get some relief. Or taking that wooden paddle the boy was teasing him with and spank that tight ass until Grayson started singing for him, whichever came first. He leaned forward and caught the boys lips in a kiss as if to seal the deal they’d just made.

The boy whimpered and opened like a dream, his big hand coming up to clutch at the material of Mustang’s shirt. So sensual. What he wouldn’t give for days to play with all these gorgeous muscles. Too bad the boy wasn’t pack. He might be tempted to keep him if he were. No matter. Two all-too-brief encounters were all that he was permitting himself.

Mustang pushed his tongue against Grayson’s mouth, demanding that they writhe against one another in a blatant imitation of sex. The human made the cutest purring sound as Mustang pushed his claim, controlling the tempo and depth of their kiss until he was practically on top of the larger male. Mustang knew that if it came to a contest of sheer strength, Mustang would win. The Alpha’s strength was only one of the things that was different about him. Despite his size, Grayson would stand no chance against Mustang in a one-on-one fight. However, the human couldn’t possibly know that, so capitalizing on the vulnerability of Grayson’s position was key to sending the human into a space where Grayson could get what he needed.




“Behind you is a wall with two rings hanging from it. Turn to face the wall and grab a hold of the rings. You’re not to move from that position until I tell you.” He didn’t turn to see if Gray obeyed him. He’d bet his favorite flogger that Grayson was being good. It made him wonder what it would take to make Grayson bad. He remembered the words that Gray had spoken to him the night before. “I fight sometimes. I mean, I like to.” He’d get him riled enough to fight him, give his “good” Grayson a memory he wouldn’t soon forget.

He selected a short riding crop that would give him the most control. He stuck it in his pocket and then picked up a light suede flogger. The long half-inch-wide tails would create more noise than anything, but some subs preferred the thud of the flogger. He wondered which Gray would enjoy more.

An experimental swing of the flogger in a figure eight created just a whisper of air as it met no resistance. Back when the weight of responsibility from his position of Alpha hadn’t consumed every second of his life, he’d been able to take two floggers and create two independent figure eights that would create a whirlwind of sensation against the submissive’s flesh. He was too out of practice to do it tonight, but he’d like to see how Gray would react to such a thing.

Confident he could deliver the blows expertly, he walked back over to Gray, who was standing in position. He took a moment to admire the curve of Grayson’s back and the high round ass that was open for his enjoyment. The human had a bubble butt that was nice enough that Mustang couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into it.

“You’re such a good boy, Grayson,” he complimented, swinging the flogger so that it kissed the heavy sac that was hanging beneath Gray’s thighs. The motion wouldn’t create a lot of pain, but it would tease a pain slut like nobody’s business.

The human groaned. “I try, Sir.”

“Mmm-hmm. You succeed. You find this easy, don’t you?”


He swung the flogger again, striking both of his butt cheeks in one motion. Gray’s hips swiveled. “You want someone to push you, and no one has. Not really. Beautiful boy. So needy for someone to take you in hand.” He landed another three strokes rapidly. As the third strike landed, Grayson twisted to look over his shoulder, a look of incredulity on his face. Mustang smiled. “That’s three, boy.”

Gray turned his head back to the wall. “Sorry, Sir.” He’d thrown him off his normal passive-obedience routine. Mustang could smell the sudden uncertainty in the air. It was good. He couldn’t put the human in a true headspace if he was calculating all the time. Mustang wanted his honest reactions and wouldn’t be satisfied with less.

“Better,” he complimented. He started really working Grayson then, using the flogger to turn his lightly tanned skin to a nice rosy pink from the tops of his shoulders to the sweet spot just underneath the cheeks of his ass. Gray reacted like a dream, arching, gasping, leaning into every hit like it was a caress rather than a smack. The sac between his legs tightened with each hit, letting Mustang know exactly how much he was enjoying what the Alpha was doing to him.

He tossed the flogger aside and took out the riding crop from his pocket. Instead of starting in immediately, he stepped forward and pressed his fully clothed body into Gray’s naked one. The human’s skin was already covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and the warmth radiated from him. Mustang ground his hard cock against the hard ass in front of him and let one hand creep around to Gray’s front to grip the human’s dripping dick.

“Hmmm, sexy boy. You like that?”

Gray ground his ass back against his jean-clad rod and whimpered. “God, yes! Sir!” The grip on the wall rings was white-knuckled. Mustang could only imagine how much he wanted to demand satisfaction. He pressed a kiss to Gray’s shoulder before nipping it hard. “Oh!” He liked that. So Mustang did it again. Grayson panted. Mustang ran his tongue over the place he bit. “Please, Sir.” Mustang stroked the human’s dick and sank his teeth back into Gray’s shoulder. The human let out a little cry and shuddered. Faintly, Mustang tasted copper. Crap. I didn’t mean to break skin. He lapped at the tiny wound he’d made in semi-apology. Gray didn’t seem to mind if his wordless pleas for more were any indication.

He forced himself to take a step back. If he stayed where he was, he was going to fuck Gray and they wouldn’t even get to finish out the scene. It would cheapen their moment and rush something that should be savored. He gripped the crop and tapped it lightly on the space between Gray’s buttock and thigh. It was the sweet spot, the most tender point, in Mustang’s mind.

“Spread your thighs wider, Gray.” He did. “Good boy.”




Please don’t let them see me. Jeremiah ducked under the display counter, picking up some fallen T-shirts and taking his time folding them before he stood again. The last thing he wanted was for his former Master’s two live-in lovers to see him working here. Though he hadn’t been super close to Kane and Abel when he’d been with Cian, they’d had a few moments of definite tension between them that he would’ve been a fool to dismiss as something less than what they were. He’d felt drawn to the pair as much as he’d been drawn to Cian the first night at Riders.

What a fucking month this has been. He’d finally managed to break it off with his Super Dom ex-boyfriend Charles a few weeks ago and had just gotten the cast of his arm where Charles had tried to “convince” him not to leave earlier this week. Now his ex-lover’s—he couldn’t even consider Cian as an ex-boyfriend—submissives had waltzed into his shop, bringing with them all sorts of feelings that he would rather not experience right this second. He was done with the lifestyle and done with Dominant men who claimed to want to take care of him. It was all a crock of shit.

“Hi, Jeremiah. Long time no see.”

Every muscle in his body tensed at the sound of that voice. He turned his head to look behind him. Sure enough, there was Abel standing there in his designer jeans and a T-shirt that boasted the name of his boutique shop “Copacetic” across the chest in shimmering letters. He was just as handsome as he remembered, and Jeremiah didn’t try to resist the little bit of resentment that went through him as his eyes caught on the silver chain with a key dangling at Abel’s sternum. He’d had a collar just like it once.

“Abel,” he said, trying to go for civil. He didn’t quite manage it. He sighed. It wasn’t Abel’s fault that he was one of the lucky ones that Cian had deemed acceptable to include as part of his family. Jeremiah had really believed that one day Cian would bring him home and make him a part of that. He’d been wrong, and it wasn’t Abel’s fault that he had been a fool. “How’s it going, man?”

Abel gave him a brittle smile. “It’s going well at home. We have few complaints, though the ones we do have are rather heavy things.” He paused, his eyes going up and down Jeremiah’s thin frame. He felt it all the way to his toes. Damn. When had Cian’s submissives gotten so bold? “You look good. A few more meals would make you look great. Will you have lunch with Kane and me? We’re in town today.”

No. No. No. Don’t offer that. Not so casually. His heart constricted, and his eyes fell to the mountain of unfolded shirts he needed to fix. “I work until closing,” he hedged.

“That’s all right. We wouldn’t be opposed to a late dinner. The shop closes at nine, correct? We can swing by and pick you up at nine thirty easily enough.”

Why wasn’t he letting this go? It wasn’t fair. Nothing about Cian and the world he offered was fair. “I, uh, I don’t think that it’s a good idea, Abel. Cian and I…we ended a long time ago, and I just got out of another relationship, and I don’t see what the point of eating with you guys—”

“Jeremiah,” Abel interrupted, his face hardening with resolve. “I’m going to be frank with you. We missed you. Have missed you since you broke it off from Master, and we always felt your absence in our family. No one misses you more than Cian does, and now that he can come after you, he doesn’t because he fears your rejection. We weren’t allowed to get close to you, and it was something we always regretted. I’m not asking you to jump into a relationship. I’m asking you to have supper with us.”

Jeremiah’s eyes widened with each sentence that was spoken. His stomach rolled over and over in his gut, unwilling and unable to process what Abel was saying. Had they really always felt like that? He banished the hope that threatened to bloom in the middle of his chest. No way. He’d sworn off the lifestyle and Cian and all things to do with his family. That included Kane and Abel. “I’m not into the lifestyle anymore.” He threw it out there as a barrier between them.

Abel’s lips twitched as if he wanted to smile. “Well, good thing I didn’t want to bend you over and spank you at dinner then.” The image went immediately to his cock, and it started to swell. Fuck! It had been an image he’d not been able to get out of his head since he’d first started seeing Cian. He’d fantasized about one big session where Cian would order the two of them to use his ass for their pleasure before the Master had stepped in and finished him off.

He’d actually met Kane and Abel first on sub night at Riders. His friend had gotten him a membership there as a birthday present, and he’d been stoked to meet and hang out with other people who shared his tastes. He struck up an instant friendship with the pair, and maybe just a sizzle of attraction had risen between them when their Dom showed up. Something about Cian called to him in a way that no other Dominant had before, and Cian had seemed to feel the same way. Kane and Abel had given their blessing, as if they’d known all along how their Master would react and approved, and so they’d agreed to one session. That session had turned into a monthly rendezvous that had ended in Jeremiah breaking the collar that Cian had given him on their fourth meeting and his heart cracking into a million pieces in the process. He hadn’t seen any of them since.

He swallowed. “Abel…”

“It’s just dinner, Jeremiah. I’m not asking for your heart.” No yet. That much went unsaid. His resolve weakened. It was just dinner, and he did want to know how things were going for the threesome.

“Fine.” He shifted from foot to foot. “Be here at nine thirty.”

Abel beamed at him. “We will.”




“He’s on fire, Master,” Abel groaned over his shoulder.

“I can see that. So responsive. My beautiful, wonderful, submissive. I missed this.” Cian’s rumbling voice was filled with a deep-seated need. Jeremiah knew he was in the room, but all he could see was the curtain of Kane’s hair and his soft lips. The little brat kept tweaking his nipples, playing with the pebbled tips over and over with each plunge of his tongue.

“This is better, Master. All of us is better,” Abel said firmly.

“You’re very right, Abel. All of you guys are much better.” The sound of kissing filled the room, and then Kane pushed his back to the mattress and proceeded to kiss his way down his chest. I need this so much. I need them so much. A part of him was terrified that the men he’d chosen to be with weren’t even human, but another part of him was just happy that he was with them and that they wanted him with the same desperate edge that he wanted them.

Kane pulled back, giving him some air, just as his Master’s hands grabbed his ankles and dragged him to the end of the bed. He groaned, missing Kane’s touch.

Cian chuckled and ran a hand down the front of his body, tracing the muscles as his eyes burned Jeremiah alive. “I’ve waited my whole life to be able to be with my mates. You are meant to be mine, Jeremiah.”

The words spoken so seriously, so permanently, drew him out of the world of pleasure, and a trickle of fear broke his lust. “We’re dating remember? I can’t commit yet. Not yet. Please, Cian, give me time.” 

Cian’s lips thinned. “I know. I’m trying. But when we’re here, in my bed, can you forget about all the rules you are imposing and just be with us?”

Jeremiah nodded. He could do that. He was just so afraid to lose himself in his lovers. He knew it would be easy to do. It was easy between them, too easy to fall for them in an irrevocable way. He couldn’t answer Cian with words. So he just threw his arms around Cian’s neck and dragged the man down for a kiss. Their naked bodies touched head to toe, and their tongues danced in a way that allowed Jeremiah to forget their conversation and everything else outside Cian’s bed room. His Master was right. This was so sweet, so right. He shouldn’t waste the time he allowed them.

Their lips melded together again, and for the first time since he’d left Cian, he felt like everything was as it should be. Cian’s hands molded his body, seeming to touch him everywhere. Kane and Abel’s hands joined Cian’s, and Jeremiah could do little but writhe under their combined touch.

“Stay on your knees, Jeremiah. Let me get you ready,” Cian commanded. Abel chose that moment to turn his head and lap at his lips. His mind drifted away and descended down into a lustful place once again.

Abel turned him so that they were face-to-face once again and proceeded to deepen their kiss while Cian’s hand spread Jeremiah’s cheeks and circled his puckered entrance. The slick lube eased the stretch as Cian’s fingers pried him open, readying him for Cian’s use. He didn’t doubt that Cian would be the first to take his ass. As their Master, that was a given. Even if he couldn’t deal with the demands of a Master outside the bedroom, he certainly fell into the role of submissive under Cian’s skilled touch.

“Master, may I suck him?” Kane asked, panting softly. Jeremiah’s cock jerked at those soft words. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a blow job.

“Yes, Kane. It’ll help relax him. Abel, you may take Kane when I take our Jeremiah.” Cian directed them like he had been born commanding men for his pleasure. He probably had been. Kane crawled in between the press of bodies and lapped at the head of Jeremiah’s cock. The human moaned at the sensation. Kane took his time teasing the slit, licking and sucking just the head until Jeremiah cried out into Abel’s mouth and dug his fingers into Abel’s broader shoulders. Behind him, Cian stretched him, forcing his passage to accommodate two of Cian’s thick digits as they fucked inside his body in preparation for Cian’s cock. The three-hundred-and-sixty-degree touch was driving him mad.

He whimpered as Cian withdrew his fingers. He needed. Didn’t Cian see that? He needed his touch. He wasn’t left empty long. Kane held his hips steady as Cian spread his cheeks and pressed the head of his cock into his stretched passage. He gasped at the feeling of being filled by his lover for the first time in years. He pressed back, wanting deeper and harder penetration.

“Abel, use Kane. Give our Jeremiah something beautiful to watch as I fuck him.”

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