Marked by the Wolf (A New Adult Urban Fantasy) Read online

  MARKED

  by the

  WOLF

  Lee Mae and A. Hunter

  Copyright ©2017 Lee Mae

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, brands, incidents, and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  When you're the Alpha Male there are certain things that are expected of you, and finding a suitable mate is at the top of the list. For Sam, a powerful and dangerous werewolf, that's not so easy because the one woman he's deeply attracted to is a girl that will never be accepted by the pack. A woman that he can't seem to get out of his head. A first for him.

  Beautiful, curvy Taryn Baker hates her job at the local strip club, but she's struggling just to get by. Her dream of ever finding a decent guy worth loving shattered as night after night she stands before a crowd of drunken men, their jeers and catcalls burning a hole in her heart. To make things worse, there's a killer on the loose, stalking the dancers, waiting to attack.

  But when a handsome stranger appears at the club, his dangerous, feral presence commanding attention, the s.e.x.u.a.l charge between them is so strong that she can barely breathe, Taryn finds herself swept into a world she never dreamed existed. A world where nothing is as it seems and once she enters, there is no turning back.

  18+ only.

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  Epilogue

  1

  The club was busy for a Tuesday night. Taryn Baker scanned the crowd from the edge of the dance stage and empty chairs were few and far between, the bar packed two and three deep with guys. A crowded place meant good tips and good money meant making the rent.

  Taryn watched her friend Lori…stage name Lorelei…finish up her set, her final athletic gyrations on the stage sending the men into a complete frenzy. Mack, the club owner had asked…almost begged… the two of them so many times to do a routine together. He was convinced the combination of Lori’s taut, angular body and silky blonde hair played against Taryn’s ample curves, and waves of chestnut hair, would get the entire place pumped—translate: hard—beyond all distraction. Mack reasoned getting an entire room of men turned on quickly was better for business.

  But she and Lori had refused so far. Just because they were friends, although he’d seen them share the occasional kiss and cuddle in the dressing room or alley, didn’t mean they wanted to take that on stage. Mack had backed off for now, but Taryn knew he’d be after them again.

  Lori’s music ended; as she walked off the stage and past Taryn, she gave her a sharp smack on the ass.

  “Hey!” Taryn spun around, hand on her backside.

  Lori smiled. “For good luck, sweetheart. Besides, I love your ass…all of it. And I wanted to be the first one of the night who got to slap it.”

  Taryn smirked and shook her head, watching as Lori sashayed her way to the dressing room, her hips swinging with attitude.

  Lori glanced over her shoulder and winked at Taryn, before disappearing into the back.

  Taryn’s music started and she let the first few bars of Welcome to the Jungle play before strutting onto the stage. Catcalls and whistles greeted her as she danced her way into the light and toward the crowd.

  The other girls teased her for using what they called old-school music, but there was nothing like Axl Rose’s screaming voice to get the crowd wound up, and to get her own heart pounding. And for those who knew the song – those old enough to remember - they’d recognize her costume, the short skirt and sheer black stockings, with the seam up the back, from the brief glimpse of the girl in the opening shots of the video.

  Even if they didn’t catch it, it didn’t matter; she really wasn’t dressed for very long anyway. She liked the song well enough, and began slowly stripping, the sheer blouse first to go, and then the skirt, down to just the stockings and garter belt, sheer black bra and her ridiculously high heels. ‘Fuck me’ pumps, as Lori called them. More like break-an-ankle pumps. But they did make her legs look miles long.

  She worked her way down the stage, her body moving to the beat, feeling wonderful, lush, sexy and erotic. It was enough to get her all wound up, even a little hot, although it wasn’t where she wanted to be. But, it was her job and she might as well enjoy some part of it.

  Sometimes, just to make the night bearable, she’d pick one guy in the crowd and dance just for him, even if he couldn’t see she was looking at him. That one guy was her focus and she’d dance to images of his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, bending her over a table and taking her hard. For that one dance, she’d make him into her ideal man. But when her dance finished, Taryn would never seek him out. Not ever. It would have ruined whatever fantasy she’d created while she wiggled and shimmied her way through her set.

  She wished there was just one guy she could dance for, someone who wanted her for her, and not because she was a stripper in a seedy club under the Interstate. Not a married guy out looking for a quick slap and tickle. A man who would truly love her enough to take her away from all of this.

  Sometimes, after her routine was finished, she was so full of pent up sexual energy, and tension, that working her way through the crowd was exactly what she wanted. The hands that touched her when they shouldn’t. The power she felt when she sat some guy in a chair in a private room, knowing he had a hard-on because of her. Taking him to the edge, over and over, never really touching him, doing it all with just the movements of her body, her eyes, her words. It was a perverse kind of power, but power nonetheless. And then taking their money.

  Sometimes she’d come close to an orgasm, her body infused with arousal, throbbing and aching for release. But not with any of these men. Never. It was nights like that when she’d find Lori. And then it would all be better. As much as she loved men, Lori did things to her, knew her in a way no one else did, understood her like no one else. It wasn’t perfect and even though it took care of that one physical need, it still left her feeling empty, aching for something else, for a deeper connection. But she pushed that need aside.

  Taryn was on her hands and knees now, back arched, slinking her way to the end of the narrow strip of stage that extended into the crowd. There were a few guys who grabbed at her, but she skillfully avoided them
. There were always a few.

  By the end of the song, she was at the end of the stage, eye-level with the guys sitting closest. She recognized a few, gave them that special smile she reserved just for them, and gyrated through the last few bars of the song.

  As the music stopped and she stood, looking up, eyes sliding over the tables of hooting men, the same every night, all turned on by the fantasy she created. The lights were hot and blinding, but through them she saw him. Or she thought she did. Hoped she did. Her heart skipped a beat.

  Tall, black hair, staring right at her. Again. He’d been there for three nights running and she’d hoped he’d be standing there tonight, watching her. She could never find him while she danced and she didn’t want to. But when she was finished, she’d look up and there he’d be. Their eyes would meet and for a brief moment all the noise and smells and chaos of the club would fade.

  Taryn had no idea who he was, or why he did what he did to her, but he took her breath away. And it bothered her that she even noticed him at all or that she’d started looking for him in the crowd. Customers weren’t supposed to turn into anything other than money in her pocket. Getting attached spelled trouble. She’d seen it happen and knew better than to go that route, no matter how attractive the guy was.

  But, for the last three nights, by the time she’d gotten dressed and had returned to the floor, there’d been no sign of him and… she’d been disappointed. While there were always regulars in the club, guys who came just to see her, she’d never miss them if they weren’t there. She never went searching for them, anticipated seeing them or even wanted to see them. She never let herself care. Caring was too dangerous.

  Lori was lounging in the dressing room, wearing a sheer robe. Her long legs were crossed and she was perched on the edge of the sagging couch, when Taryn made a bee-line for her locker. She began pulling out filmy bits of clothing, flinging most things onto the floor in frustration, while searching for the perfect outfit.

  “You late for something, Taryn?” Lori straightened, watching Taryn intently through a haze of cigarette smoke. “Oh, wait. Your mystery guy is out there, right? I knew it.”

  Taryn didn’t say anything.

  Lori leaned back again, idly swinging one leg as she watched Taryn frantically pulling on a pair of fishnet stockings. “You know, Mack wants us to mingle and not play favorites. Even if the guy is drop-dead gorgeous. And…” Lori stood, stubbing out her cigarette before stretching her arms over her head. “Even if he smells divine.”

  Taryn whirled around. “How do you know what he smells like?”

  Lori laughed. “You should see the look on your face, love.” She walked over and reached out, pinching Taryn’s cheek. “I have no idea what he smells like. But you’re smitten, Kitten. And that’s not wise. Mixing business with pleasure is a recipe for disaster and you know it.”

  “Don’t you have some place to be, like out on the floor?” Taryn pulled a pink, baby-doll top over her head, adjusting it to accommodate her ample breasts.

  Lori leaned against the next locker, watching her. “Yeah, I’m getting there. I just needed a rest. Rough night this morning.” Her eyes traveled over Taryn’s body. “You need help getting dressed? I’d be happy to lend you a hand.” Lori reached out, fingers sliding up Taryn’s arm.

  Taryn slapped Lori’s hand away, laughing. “I’m perfectly capable of getting dressed myself, Doll.” She gave the skimpy top of her outfit another tug. “There’s just a little more of me than there is of this outfit.”

  “I can see that.” Lori pushed herself away from the wall. “In your line of work, less is more, you know. Less clothing, that is. Not less of you.” She dropped her robe to the floor, checking the reflection of her tawny body in the mirror.

  “I see how the guys look at you and then I think I should put on a couple of pounds.” She ran her hands down her sides, over her flat stomach, turning side to side.

  Taryn frowned at her friend. “Why on earth would you do that? You’re beautiful, just like you are.”

  “Yeah. I know… but, sometimes… I see how the guys look at you,” she repeated. Lori caught Taryn’s gaze in the mirror. “All those lush curves, big boobs, hips they can hang on to. They must imagine that fucking you is like diving into a vat of whipped cream…sweet and soft and delicious.”

  Taryn laughed.

  What else could she do? Lori had been saying outrageous things like that for as long as she’d known her, going back as far as high school. It was one of the things Taryn loved about her.

  “Maybe I should just get bigger boobs?”

  “Bullshit. Yours are perfect.”

  “That’s sweet, but I’m still going to consider it.”

  She didn’t reply. She could tell that Lori was in a weird mood and nothing would satisfy her at the moment. Bending over, Taryn dragged a brush through her hair, trying to get it big and sexy. She flipped it back, hurriedly smoothing the top layer with her hands. “I guess that’s all I can do.”

  “Your makeup is a little… off,” said Lori.

  Taryn pushed in front of her to look in the mirror. “Excuse me…some of us have to work for a living,” she teased.

  Lori sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes for effect, and sauntered over to her locker.

  Taryn ran a finger across her lipstick, wiping away an errant smudge and inspected her eyeliner and mascara. She glanced over at Lori, still half-dressed, still bare-foot. She scowled, tapping her foot. “Are you coming out, or not?”

  Lori grabbed a black, G-string, pulling it up her narrow hips and then started tugging on a black leather bustier that fit her like a second skin. She waved her hand in Taryn’s general direction.

  “Go on. You’re going to miss him if you wait for me.” Lori winked. “And that would be tragic.”

  2

  Taryn left the cramped, dingy dressing room, a strange mix of anticipation and dread settling into the pit of her stomach. Recipe for disaster said it all, but admittedly, the thrill outweighed all thought of caution.

  The crowd was facing the stage, watching the next dancer, someone new that Taryn didn’t know. She thought her stage name was Neon, but she wasn’t sure. And right now, she didn’t really care. Her eyes were scanning the back of the room, searching for any tall man with dark hair. But there wasn’t anyone that looked like her guy.

  Taryn’s heart sank and she breathed out a sigh, tinged with a bit of relief. She had turned toward the bar for her one free drink of the night when she felt someone at her shoulder.

  “Looking for someone?”

  The voice was rich and deep, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She knew it was him, knew it in her bones, without even looking. She briefly closed her eyes, drew a breath and turned around, with what she hoped was a seductive smile on her lips.

  “I just might be…” Her words faded as she looked at the man standing in front of her.

  It was him and up close, he was even more breathtaking. Tall and lean, but muscular, with black hair cut short, exposing a chiseled, square jaw and sculpted face.

  This was definitely the guy.

  He even wore the same black T-shirt and dark jeans.

  Taryn’s breath caught in her throat. She was staring and knew it was rude, but she was powerless to look away. She was also powerless to speak.

  His lips were curved into an amused, sensuous smile as he watched her; it was all she could do not to reach out and run her fingers over those lips.

  She finally looked up into his eyes and blinked. They were gray, almost silver, like moonlight on a winter night. The shiver she felt intensified and she impulsively wrapped her arms around herself.

  The man tilted his head, his smile deepening, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Would you like a drink?”

  Taryn finally found her voice. “Yeah…yes. I would. Thank you.”

  With lithe grace, the man moved to the bar, steering Taryn in front of him. His hand was on the small of her back, easily cutting through th
e crush of men crowded at the rail. Behind the bar, Sam caught her eye briefly before looking at the man.

  “The lady’s usual, and I’ll have a Campari and soda.”

  Sam, the bartender nodded, moving down the bar. The man’s hand was still on her back and her skin was on fire, as if the outline of his hand was being seared into her flesh.

  “Do you have a name?” He’d bent close to her, his breath stirring the hair near her ear.

  She turned toward him and his lips brushed lightly against her cheek.

  “Taryn. I’m Taryn.”

  Their lips were almost touching as his eyes locked with hers. Taryn leaned forward, yearning for contact, aching for his kiss.

  “Taryn. Drinks.” She heard the thud of the glasses hitting the bar, Sam’s voice sharp in her ears. The not-so-subtle reminder: take it to a private room and make them pay. Nothing was free in Mack’s club.

  The man straightened, retrieving the drinks, handing Taryn hers.

  She took a long swallow, feeling instant warmth spreading out from her center.

  “And what’s your name?” She leaned into the man, her hand on his arm, pulling him toward the private rooms. She had to remember that she was at work and he was a paying customer, nothing less and nothing more.

  But, she also knew that there was so much more that she wanted. Something much more than just giving him a lap dance and sending him home with a hard-on and a memory. She didn’t know why it was happening, but this man was stirring up a storm inside her that no amount of shimmying and shaking was going to quell. She needed something more from him and it wasn’t something she was going to get here at the club. For the first time in her life, as a dancer, she seriously considered taking a customer home.

  “My name is Sam.” He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving Taryn’s face.

  “You’ve been here before. Are you looking for something special?” She caressed his arm, her fingers trailing over his skin, over the hard muscles beneath. He watched her hand and she had the sense of predator watching prey. And that sent another thrill through her body. Two could play at that game.