The Rough River Coyotes Collection, Volume 3 (MM)

Rough River Coyotes

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 73,251
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[Siren Everlasting Classic ManLove: Erotic Romance, Alternative Paranormal, Shape-shifters, Sex in Shifted Form, MM, HEA]

Seducing a Reluctant Mate

The truth won’t set him free…

Cassidy Williams was known for his great cooking and his unshakable honesty. But when he discovers Storm Hoffman asleep in the garden, he’s possessed by a fierce need to put an end to his loneliness. Against his better judgment, he lies and claims Storm is his mate. Since Storm has been drenched by an angry skunk, Cassidy knows he has a few days before Storm’s true alpha can pick up on his pheromones.

Professional hockey player Storm is hiding plenty of his own secrets, and running from a past that could get his new friends killed. Despite everything against them, Storm begins to fall for the gentle cook who sees beyond the hostility that has become Storm’s trademark on the ice

But when their need for one another shatters their restraint, they will have to fight both inner and outer demons if they want to stay together. Can Cassidy make his lie the truth? Or will he have to surrender his mate to another?

Healing a Hurt Mate

He feared the one thing he needed most…

Dreadfully lonely veterinarian Douglas “Dooley” Rae wants a mate, but what he finds is a coyote in desperate need of his help. Starving, dehydrated, and suffering violent seizures, the poor beast probably won’t survive the night. But Dooley has to do everything he can because he knows he isn’t dealing with an ordinary coyote but a human shifter.

Tristan Hart decided long ago to never burden anyone with the demands of his disease, but when he finds himself stuck in a coyote body, he has no choice but to accept Dooley’s help.

As they struggle to free Tristan from his animal form, the two men find themselves drawn to one another despite their differences. When nothing they try works, Dooley comes up with a dangerous plan and Tristan has to decide if becoming human again is worth risking his life.

The Rough River Coyotes Collection, Volume 3 (MM)
0 Ratings (0.0)

The Rough River Coyotes Collection, Volume 3 (MM)

Rough River Coyotes

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 73,251
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Seducing a Reluctant Mate


Cassidy Williams had never smelled a worse smell in his life. It was one of those scents that would cling to him for the rest of the week no matter how many times he washed his curly brown hair. Holding his breath, he peered into the garden trying to locate the skunk. If it was still there, he’d come back later. What he found instead made him gasp and cover his mouth with his hand. A beautiful man with gray hair was sleeping curled up in the clover. He was naked but tucked around himself almost as if he couldn’t escape his modesty even in slumber.

Sighing, Cassidy checked around the rest of the garden, but he didn’t see any black-and-white, long-tailed kitties, so he opened the gate and stepped inside. The closer he came to the stranger, the stronger the aroma of skunk. Cassidy realized the poor man had likely been sprayed. That was no way to be welcomed onto the Rough River Ranch. If it happened during twilight last night, he might have tried to get to the farmhouse, gotten confused, and passed out in the garden.

Cassidy dreaded waking him but would nonetheless. Another naked man turning up on the ranch meant some lucky cowboy was about to gain a mate. With a sigh, Cassidy tried not to be envious. He knew his mate would come, but waiting and watching everyone else was getting ever more difficult. As the chief cook and bottle washer, Cassidy saw almost everyone on the ranch several times a day. They gathered at the long wooden table in his kitchen to eat. Since there were so many men now, they had to do this in shifts. Watching the alpha ranch hands play footsie with their beta mates had sparked such a craving in Cassidy he was almost creating more baked goods than the men of the ranch could handle. But cooking was the only thing that helped him focus on something other than his lonesome self. When he baked pies, cakes, and cream-filled cookies, he found release from his longings for love. Sweets for the sweethearts somehow soothed his sad heart.

In his own unique way, Cassidy loved every man on the ranch. By feeding them the very best foods he kept them healthy and hearty. The confections were just a bonus. Every time he set down a tray of goodies, the smiles of the men warmed his soul. He knew they would work off the excess calories with their physically demanding jobs, whereas Cassidy simply loved to make the creations but didn’t care to eat them. Sugar wasn’t his downfall. Coffee was. And perhaps potatoes, but his craving for them might be a holdover from his Irish and Scottish roots.

Still, since he’d found the lost mate, he would take on the task of getting him cleaned up and presentable so he could find his alpha. Although, since alphas and betas came together because of pheromones—subtle chemical scents—this little guy was going to have a devil of time finding his mate when he was covered in the ripe scent of angry skunk. Even after using a very good chemical formula, the essence would linger for days. Just being this close, the funk had gotten onto Cassidy and would cling to him for all it was worth.

Since skunks were active primarily during dawn and dusk and the stench was remarkably profound, Cassidy thought the man might have only recently been sprayed. Such a terrible scent would wake most people instantly, but if this man had traveled a long distance like most of the betas had, he might simply be too exhausted to awaken.

Loathe to rouse him, Cassidy spent another moment simply looking at him. Like all the betas so far, this one was shorter than six feet. Assessing him, Cassidy figured he was probably about five foot six and one hundred fifty pounds. His body was sleek with little fat but lots of smooth muscles. Even though he was small, he was probably very strong. Like all the other betas, he had an allover tan that highlighted the features of his form, like his strong calves and rounded buttocks. But what Cassidy could not stop staring at was his hair. It was gray. And not a phony dyed color but true, shiny gray like the color of clouds. A long time ago, Cassidy’s brother had been friends with a boy who started going gray at fifteen. Cassidy wondered if the same thing had happened to this man. He wondered if the slight snarl on his face was from his trip here, the curious nature of his hair, or if the stench started to penetrate into his sleep. Something about the young man’s angular features was angry. Still, Cassidy couldn’t wait for him to open his eyes. He wondered if they complemented or contrasted the color of his hair.

As if he’d summoned him to do his bidding, the man opened his eyes, causing Cassidy to gasp and inadvertently take another draw of the oily skunk scent. His eyes were the same color as his hair. Like angry storm clouds threatening to let loose a deluge, his wicked eyes pinned Cassidy where he stood.

After a brief flickering of his lids, the beta’s entire face scrunched up and he shot to his feet, coughing and gagging. “What the hell is that smell?”

“Skunk.” Cassidy continued, “Technically, it’s made up of mercaptans, but most people would describe the aroma as a mix of burnt rubber, rotten eggs, and garlic.”

“It’s ghastly!”

“I know.” Cassidy held out his hand. “Come with me and I’ll get you cleaned up.”





“Hi.” Storm lifted up, wrapped his arms around Cassidy’s shoulders, and then pulled him close for a deep kiss.

Cassidy carefully eased Storm back. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Yes, we should.”

“I don’t think I’m your mate.”

“I do.” Storm straddled across Cassidy’s lap so that their cocks were pressed together. Storm was bare, but Cassidy wore soft sweatpants. Somehow, being so close but not actually touching completely was far more erotic than actual contact would be. “All we’re doing is kissing and rubbing together. There’s no harm in that, is there?”

Cassidy frowned, and Storm worried that he would put a stop to everything before he could have his protective scent on him. Storm pressed close, his lips frantic against Cassidy’s. For a timeless moment, Cassidy continued to resist, but then he gave in with a growl of defeat.

Hungrily, Cassidy cupped his massive hands to Storm’s buttocks and pulled him tight as he rocked his hips up, rubbing their cocks together. Friction created more heat between them as they ground against one another. The closer Storm came to climax, the more he lowered his moans until he was making a submissive beta whimper. It should have driven Cassidy out of his mind, and perhaps it did, but his mating call still didn’t prompt Cassidy to lay his claim to him.

Frustrated yet impressed by his refusal to take what wasn’t rightfully his, Storm fell a little more in love with his gentle giant. Cassidy was all the things Russell wasn’t. Where Russell was loud and pushy, Cassidy was quiet and persuasive. Where Russell was a man who took whatever he wanted regardless of the consequences, Cassidy was respectful of the rights of others. Where Russell saw no problem raping his mate, Cassidy would never perform such an abusive act. In this moment of clarity, alone with Cassidy in his room, their bodies rubbing frantically for release, all Storm wanted was a chance for happiness. Russell would never be anything but a monster. Cassidy could and would be a real and honest mate. Together, Storm and Cassidy could be truly, deeply, and blissfully happy. If only Storm could get Cassidy to claim him before Russell tracked him to the ranch.

“We should stop.” Cassidy tried again to separate their bodies, but he was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back against the side of the bed. Storm was in his lap, his legs wrapped fiercely around Cassidy’s hips. To get him to let go, Cassidy would need a crowbar.

“Please,” Storm whispered, pressing his lips close to Cassidy’s ear so he could feel the heat of his breath. “I’m afraid I’m going to burst.”

“Oh. God.” Cassidy rocked his hips up.

Storm realized Cassidy was in the same situation. Just a bit more rubbing and pressing and they’d find release. “This won’t hurt anyone. Please. Finish. I need—”

Cassidy bowed his head, kissing Storm passionately as his fingers dug into Storm’s buttocks. Using his powerful arms, Cassidy literally lifted and lowered Storm against his rocking hips. If not for the sweatpants, he’d be slipping his cock in and out of Storm’s bottom with delicious intensity. But no. Storm had to content himself with this mimic of sex. Still, it was better than nothing and put him one step closer to actually getting Cassidy to claim him.

Desperate to mark himself with his new mate’s scent, Storm rocked and wiggled until he pushed Cassidy’s sweats down. When their bare cocks rubbed directly against each other, they let out a simultaneous moan of bliss.

As Cassidy reached the crest, he tore his mouth from Storm’s. Lowering his lips to Storm’s neck, he murmured, “I can’t resist. I can’t stop. You feel so good, so perfect. I want you. I want all of you.”


Healing a Hurt Mate


Dooley slammed on the brakes so hard he almost flung himself out the windshield.

“That will teach me to wear my seat belt.” He knew he should even if he was only going a few miles on the Rough River Ranch, but he constantly forgot. Still, he managed to stop in time to let part of the thousands of cattle that dotted the ranch run across the dirt road unharmed. Dooley frowned. There must have been a fence down somewhere for this many cattle to be milling about on the side of the road.

With the light fading fast from another glorious Utah desert sunset, Dooley decided to leave the cab of his truck and investigate. Since the heifers were used to him and all the other cowboys who moved the herd from place to place on the ranch so they always had good grass to eat, the cows wandered away from him but didn’t spook. Running his gaze over the fence line, he easily spotted the break.

Dooley had just opened his cell phone to let Marshal, his boss and owner of the ranch, know about the downed fence when several cows spooked and ran from his truck. Puzzled, Dooley returned to the cab, but the light had faded, making it difficult for him to see very well. When he reached into the truck and popped on the headlights, he saw what looked like a bundle of fur in the middle of the road.

“Dooley?” came a voice from his cell.

“Yeah, Dooley here, Marshal. I just wanted to let you know that part of the fence on the east sixty is down and—oh, no.”


“We’ve got a downed coyote out here.” Dooley kept the line open as he grabbed his veterinarian bag off the floor of the truck. He might forget his seat belt, but he never forgot to take his medical bag with him no matter where he was going on the ranch. “I’m going to get him up into the cab and—”

Dooley cut himself off when the coyote at his feet began to shake. His mouth was filled with foam, and each time his head flicked he spun gobs of it off. To an uneducated eye, the coyote would appear to be suffering from rabies, but Dooley knew better. Dropping his bag into the dirt, he knelt down and pawed through the contents. He found a bottle of phenobarbital and a syringe, ripped off the sterile paper packaging, plunged the needle into the vial, filled it, and wrenched it free. Using his educated fingers, he found the cephalic vein in the left front leg and then injected the phenobarbital. Within seconds, the seizure stopped.

“Dooley? Dooley? Are you there?”

Dooley retrieved the abandoned phone. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry about that, but the coyote was having a seizure.”

“Do you want me to send someone out there?”

“Get someone out here with some lights and tools to fix the fence before the whole herd comes traipsing up the long drive and into the kitchen garden.”

“Will do. I’ll also have your clinic in the barn up and running by the time you get back.”

“Thanks.” Dooley clicked the end button and slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Well, now, little buddy. You feeling a bit better?” Dooley took his bandana from off his neck and wiped as much of the foamy spittle away as he could. The animal’s breathing was slow and hitching as if he’d run for miles. When he seemed to be tolerating the drug well, Dooley let loose a sigh of relief. “And that stuff is a hell of a lot better than status epilepticus, let me tell you what.” Dooley gently stroked his hand over the dog’s filthy coat, noticing that his ribs were clearly defined and his fur was shedding in clumps. From his quick inspection, he figured without intervention the beast probably only had a week to live. “But I’m not going to let you down. You’re not going to die on my watch.”

While the beast was still woozy, Dooley loaded him into the back of the truck. He would have put him on the bench seat of the cab, but the danger of another seizure flinging him to the floor and twisting his neck was too great. The flatbed of the truck was far safer. With that much phenobarbital in his system, he wasn’t going to be standing up anytime soon.

Once he had the coyote situated, he jumped back in the cab, made a U-turn, and drove back to the farmhouse while splitting his attention between the road and the rearview mirror. Cool evening air poured in through his rolled-down window, filling the truck with the scent of scrub brush and Russian olive trees. Dooley hadn’t been many places in his life, but he didn’t need to go anywhere else. He was home. No other place on Earth filled him with as much peace as the Rough River Ranch did. Here, Dooley was able to do what he loved and share his life with men like himself.

“You, little buddy, you’ve got a mate here. I’m sure of it. And I’m going to get you well enough so you can find him.”




Tristan found himself taking a step closer to Dooley against his will. For the life of him, he felt like his body wanted to run toward Dooley but his mind wanted to go and lock himself away in the bathroom. So Tristan stood still, trapped between his body and brain.

What broke the seemingly fairly matched and endless battle was when Dooley started easing the buttons apart on his faded jeans. Now Tristan’s body and brain were in complete agreement that they should stay right where they were so they could see what Dooley looked like naked.

As if he knew he had a riveted audience, Dooley took his sweet time easing the buttons apart until he revealed a long, thick, and wickedly beautiful cock rising out of dark brown hair. Without even realizing he was doing it, Tristan licked his lips. Watching the faded jeans slide down Dooley’s strong legs was the most powerful visual poetry he’d ever witnessed. Each incremental reveal of more of his mate’s body drew Tristan closer until he realized that he was an arm’s length away. As Dooley’s jeans pooled around his ankles, Tristan found himself plastered against Dooley.

“I want you.”

“I want you, too.” Dooley grasped Tristan’s buttocks, one in each hand, and then lifted him up while pressing him close.

Rather than feeling trapped or smothered, Tristan felt nothing but lust. His mate was dominant, but it was a relaxed kind of power he held. Rather than raw and brutal, it was softly subtle and more of him compelling Tristan than forcing him. As Tristan deepened the kiss by opening his mouth and sliding his tongue against his mate’s, he felt a new hunger overtake him. He wanted to feel all of Dooley. Tristan didn’t want anything to come between, especially not all the pesky clothing he was wearing.

As if he’d read his mind, Dooley started to ease Tristan’s sweats down, murmuring in his quiet way about what he was doing and why. It was then that Tristan realized this was how Dooley showed his love. He didn’t rush or demand to have everything his way. No. What Dooley did was compel cooperation by his kind and caring words. For the first time, Tristan allowed himself to relax and experience everything his mate wanted to share with him. This wasn’t a race, and Dooley would never force him. This was love, and he didn’t have to resist enjoying everything because they hadn’t worked out all the details of their future. If Tristan could just trust a little that Dooley really was the right man for him, they would work everything out. All he had to do was give in and let go.

“I’m sorry.”

“About what?” Dooley pulled Tristan’s shirt off and tossed it aside.

“For resisting you for so long.”

“I’m not angry.”

“I know.” Tristan stood on his tiptoes to kiss Dooley, but he was so tall Dooley had to lean over for him to make contact. When that contact came, he practically swooned. Each kiss pushed the mating need higher. Tristan figured one more kiss would propel both of them over the edge into a delicious madness.

“You’re making that whimper, and it’s driving me mad.” Dooley scooped Tristan up into his arms and then took him to the bed. He laid him down so gently that Tristan found another way that Dooley showed rather than told him that he loved him. As aroused as he was, Dooley was still infinitely gentle. Perhaps someday they would have fast and furious encounters but not for a long while.

“You do realize that just as I make a needy cry you make a growl of hunger?”

“I’m growling at you?”

Tristan nodded. “Not loud, and not aggressively, but you most definitely are asserting your dominance.”

Stroking his way from Tristan’s earlobe to the edge of his nipple, Dooley let out a long, soft sigh. “Do you have any idea how incredibly beautiful you are?”

“When you look at me like that I do.”

“Then I’ll keep on looking at you like this so you never forget.” Dooley lowered his lips to the tip of Tristan’s nipple and licked across, pebbling the flesh and sending a shiver across every bit of Tristan’s skin. Inadvertently, he arched up, and his hip made contact with the tip of Dooley’s cock.

“You’re so hard.” Tristan reached between their bodies and took Dooley’s cock into his hand. When Dooley caught his breath and then let it out in one sharp burst, Tristan felt an awesome power over his mate. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to slide his thumb over the tip, but when he did, pre-cum eased the way, and Dooley let out a low growl that deepened as Tristan increased the pace of his flicks. “I want to taste you.”

Dooley moved onto his back, allowing Tristan to kiss his way down his chest, working his way to his prick. Once he was near, Tristan teased his mate by breathing hot, moist breath against his needy flesh.

“Oh, God, Tristan. You have no idea how incredibly good that feels.”

Tristan grinned and looked up at Dooley’s face. “I have a feeling you’ll show me later.” And then he lowered his lips and sucked at the tip of Dooley’s prick. The sound his mate made filled Tristan with a mating urge that refused to be denied. Each swirl of his tongue over the tip drew more of his essence into Tristan’s mouth, increasing his ardor, multiplying his need until he felt he would go crazy.

“I need to taste you, too.” Dooley drew Tristan upward for a mind-bending kiss and then eased him onto his back. “I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you.”

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