[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Romance, Alternative, Paranormal, Romantic Suspense, Shape-shifter, Vampires/Werewolves, MM, HEA]
Steven Drake didn’t have the best childhood, but now he is a member of the Wolf Pack, C.L.A.W.’s elite commando unit, working to take down a terrorist cult know as Pan. An encounter with a ghost from his past starts him on the path to remembering all that was taken from him.
James “Jam” Smith took Steven under his wing, and the two of them became more than just pack mates. With his own rocky past, and reputation for being more than a little crazy, Jam isn’t exactly the poster boy for being stable. Considering neither of them have any idea what they’re doing, Jam thinks they’re doing pretty well, even if they aren’t on the same page.
As Steven uncovers more about his past, he learns that his links to Pan go back further than he thought. Haunted by lost memories of a cult and a ghost, the Wolf Pack work to take down Pan once and for all.
“Remember,” the voice in Steven Drake’s ear said. “If you get nervous, just imagine them all in their underwear.”
Steven froze, the uneasy tension he had been holding in his shoulders melted away in the face of the sheer lunacy that was Jam’s suggestion.
“He’s a suspected terrorist,” Steven reminded Jam quietly over the communication device in his ear. “Not the audience of a high school Christmas play.”
The inside of the building that housed the Turkish shifter council was white tiled and clean, and blissfully air-conditioned. It was a stark difference from outside where temperatures threatened to top ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit today in the capital city of Ankara. Since joining the Covert Law and Order Shifter division of MI6—C.L.A.W. for short—last year Steven had been sent to many countries as part of C.L.A.W.’s tactical commando unit, known as the Wolf Pack. It was a far cry from the life he had lived before. A year ago he had never even left the UK, and now here he was in Turkey on the lookout for a British-born terror suspect.
A drug called Quantum, created by a terrorist organization known as Pan, had found its way onto the streets. It was a drug that only affected shifters. They had reason to believe that the drug had been altered recently to not just let shifters get high, but to force them to change into their animal forms against their will in an attempt to out them to the human world.
C.L.A.W. had been given a tip that the Turkish consulate was a target, and they were working with them to try and stop it. The tip had come from an unlikely source, a person known only as The Ghost. The Ghost had cropped up several times over the years as a codename for a hacker, often leaving an image of a cartoon ghost somewhere in the system. It was believed that The Ghost was a member of Pan, or at the very least worked for them. Over the last month, as they took down cell after cell of Pan members, the name had become more prolific, and they had gotten descriptions of the man behind the moniker. Even Pan members, it seemed were afraid of The Ghost, claiming that he could move unseen and disappear into shadows.
When Clearwater, C.L.A.W.’s resident genius, was sent an email, signed with only the image of a cartoon ghost, they had obviously been skeptical, but had followed it up nonetheless.
“It always works for me,” Jam said, bringing him back to the here and now. “I imagine everyone I meet in their underwear.”
“Is that so?” Steven asked, deciding to humor the craziest member of the pack, who he just also happened to be sleeping with. He subtly glanced around the reception area, looking for anyone who seemed out of place.
“Yep. By the way…the pale blue boxers you’re wearing this morning look good on you.”
Steven’s steps faltered for a second, and he found himself looking out the window and across the street to where he knew Jam was watching him down the sights of a sniper rifle.
“Really? While we’re at work?” Steven asked, knowing that someone else was listening in.
Jam let out a maniacal laugh, loud and boisterous like always. “Please, she’s heard worse.”
Steven subtly shook his head and tried desperately to remember that he was a secret agent in the middle of an operation and that he should be acting like it.
“I’ve seen worse, too,” a second voice added. Scarlet—Scar—had been with the group the longest. Whenever their leader, Alexios, wasn’t around, Scar was the person in charge. She was stationed on the second level of the building posing as a cleaning lady. “Can we try and focus please? We are actually here to work, not fuck about.”
Steven’s gaze was drawn to a small cluster of men talking by the stairwell. They didn’t know what the target looked like or if they were working alone. Pan had become C.L.A.W.’s most wanted since their existence was uncovered a little over a year ago. They were a secret organization who had gone decades without being discovered. They believed in shifter supremacy, which apparently started with alerting the human world to their presence before taking it over. Thankfully, so far, C.L.A.W. had managed to thwart their efforts.
“How am I supposed to be on the lookout for this guy when we have no idea what he actually looks like?” Steven asked. One of the men in the small group he was watching laughed, and then they all dispersed. Steven looked away, dismissing any of them as possible targets.
“You were a mercenary before you joined us, Pup,” Jam said. “Look for someone like yourself.”
“Well I wasn’t very good at it, was I, or I wouldn’t have gotten caught,” Steven pointed out. “And don’t call me that.”
“Call you what? A mercenary?” Jam asked, knowing full well that wasn’t what Steven was referring to. Steven was four years younger than Jam, and the older wolf liked to tease him about being the youngest member of the pack.
“You’re an idiot,” Steven said, shaking his head.
“Love you, too,” Jam countered.
Jam’s eyes instantly glanced down to Steven’s cock. It was flushed red, but it wasn’t exactly angry. He looked back up at Steven and raised his eyebrows in question.
“You know, I can make you forget this weird, fucked up day,” Jam told him. “At least for a while.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Steven’s mouth.
“I’m not sure even you’re that good, but you’re welcome to try.”
He said it like it was a challenge, and Jam loved a challenge. He continued to run the foam over Steven’s body. He slid the pouf down over Steven’s stomach and down to his half-hard cock. Slowly, meticulously, he continued cleaning Steven until he was satisfied all lingering traces of his ordeal had been washed away.
His methodical touch became more intimate. He purposefully moved the pouf up and down the shaft of Steven’s cock, watching Steven’s face as all the tension melted away. The other wolf tipped his head back against the shower wall and closed his eyes, letting out a relaxed sigh.
“Be careful of your back against that wall,” Jam told him.
Steven responded by flicking Jam’s nipple. “My back isn’t what you should be thinking about right now.”
Jam grinned, enjoying the slight burst of pain from the flick. It caused a pleasant tingle to travel down to his cock.
“That so?” Jam asked. He dropped the pouf and used his soapy hand to stroke Steven’s cock to full hardness. He pressed his lips to Steven’s throat and scraped his teeth over it. “What should I be thinking about?”
Steven let out a moan and bucked into his touch. “Think about why your hand is doing all the work while your mouth is still running.”
Jam chuckled against Steven’s neck before he gave him a gentle nip.
Their relationship had started off based on sex and friendship, and it had grown into something more. Jam didn’t know enough about these things to know if that was how it usually was, and he was fairly sure Steven didn’t either, but together they had found their way to where they were now. In the end it boiled down to one thing—every aspect of his life was better with Steven in it.
Jam slid to his knees, thankful for the fact that the shower door was open, giving him enough room. He kept his grip on Steven’s cock, stroking it while looking up at him, knowing what that did to the other man.
“Shit,” Steven said, bringing his hands down to frame Jam’s face.
Giving him a filthy wink, Jam leaned in, mouth wide open, and swallowed him down to the hilt. One of the hands on his face moved to the top of his head. If Jam’s hair were longer, he was sure Steven would be grabbing it right about now. Steven used his other hand to steady himself against the shower wall.
“God, your mouth, Jam,” Steven said, tipping his head back with a gasp.
Jam loved the taste of him, the warm weight sliding against his tongue. He moved his head back and forth, sucking Steven’s cock like he was desperate for it. He let out a moan and reached down to give his own cock a little attention.
He glanced up and saw that Steven was watching him, his mouth parted and his eyes heavy. He had been through a lot, and Jam just wanted to take care of him.
Using his hand, he massaged the base of Steven’s cock, using one finger to stroke his balls.
“Fuck, yes,” Steven muttered. “Oh my God, yes.”
Jam could have sexual chemistry with anyone. He’d never had bad sex in his life. It was the stuff that went with it, and came after it, that made what he had with Steven special. It was waking up to find Steven curled up against his back, knowing that Steven had subconsciously tried to get as close to him as physically possible during the night. It was the conversations they had that started about nothing, and ended about nothing, but touched on something real somewhere in the middle.
Jam fisted his cock, groaning as a heavy flood of need pooled in his belly. He moved the hand that was holding the base of Steven’s cock and reached back to slide a finger over Steven’s opening. Instinctually, Steven widened his stance, giving Jam more access. With nothing but water to ease his way, Jam did little more than run the pad of his finger against the puckered hole. Now wasn’t the time to take this further, not when Steven was still recovering, but God did he want to.
Jam watched Steven’s face closely. The warm water coupled with the arousal had made Steven’s cheeks go pink. Water droplets clung to his skin and his eyelashes were damp. Twisting his finger slowly, Jam began to push past the ring of muscle so that just the tip of his finger was inside.
“Fuck,” Steven moaned softly. “I’m really close already.”
Me too, Jam wanted to tell him, but that would mean he would have to stop sucking Steven’s cock, and that wasn’t going to happen until Steven came down his throat.
He continued to tease, twisting and pushing his finger in a way he knew would make Steven feel it, without making it chafe. He slid his lips up and down the shaft of Steven’s dick, his tongue drawing patterns on the underside.
“Shit,” Steven cried out, letting his passion be heard. He started thrusting his hips, pushing himself deeper. Jam fisted his own cock, loving the way Steven’s hands gripped the back of his head.
When Steven came, his moans were practically lost to the sound of the shower. Jam took everything Steven had to give, and kept sucking him until he was a boneless heap against the wall.