Undercover Lovers [Urban Affairs 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) Read online

  Crawling up his body, Jax lay next to him and gripped the back of his head, pulling him in for a deep kiss. He surrendered to the demanding mouth, loving the hungry assault and the taste of his own cum on his lover’s lips. Jaxon’s kisses turned rougher and more demanding. His tongue explored Mike’s mouth while his hands explored his body. It looked as if going back to sleep was not an option. Didn’t matter, Mike was wide awake now.

  “Love me?” Jax whispered in his ear.

  “Love you.”

  * * * *

  Lost in thought, Slade walked back to his apartment. The building, a converted brownstone owned by Benjamin Wolfe, was only five blocks from the club. Benjamin had Slade’s last name, but they were not related. Way too many shifters were named Wolfe. Through the years, many of his people had been wiped out, leaving orphaned babies who had been given the name Wolfe and raised in so-called adoption agencies. Of course very few were adopted. The humans didn’t want Were babies, and the shifters could barely care for themselves.

  Today, there were fewer babies in the human facilities because shifters were more inclined to help their own. There were laws protecting them as endangered species, and they were banding together, forming their own segregated neighborhoods. Unfortunately the politicians saw their actions as hostile moves. The government wanted to maintain the status quo and would do anything to stop the perceived threat of a rebellion by the shifters.

  Slade reached the brownstone and walked up the six steps to the entrance. The blue double doors with full-length frosted glass and arch transom, so different from his very modern condo in LA, brightened up the drab exterior of the building. The one-bedroom, third-floor walk-up was small and sparsely furnished but clean and comfortable. Ben had given him a month-to-month lease. Perfect. Slade didn’t plan on staying too long. This assignment disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

  A few years ago he’d been working security for one of the few companies that didn’t discriminate against Weres. His boss was impressed with him because he didn’t hide his identity when he filled out the job application like so many others. One day his supervisor called him in the office and introduced him to an FBI agent.

  The Federal Bureau of Investigation was recruiting for a special covert operation and they wanted him. At first he was shocked. Why would they pick a shifter? He should have realized they wanted him to spy on his own. The DSA, Division of Shifter Affairs wasn’t well-known, but then it was just in its infancy. It would grow and eventually become the US government’s official eavesdropping service for Were affairs.

  The act of undercover policing had proven tricky when it came to investigating Weres. A shifter could sniff out a snitch easily. Subterfuge was hard enough when spying on humans. With the wolves it was near impossible—unless the spy was also a wolf who knew how to blend in. Working security had taught Slade how to hide in plain sight. Were operatives were few and far between. The Feds were picky, and Slade actually felt flattered to be chosen. Still he almost turned it down.

  He should have. More and more he thought he’d made a mistake joining up, but they had promised him the world—big salary plus unlimited expense account and most important, the security of knowing he’d never be prosecuted by the human government. But the biggie was a benefit the Feds weren’t even aware of. Slade wanted to believe he’d be helping his own people. That he could do more for the Weres working inside the Federal government than outside.

  He put everything into his work. No hobbies. No family. No men. Just his career. But so far he hadn’t done shit to help anyone but himself.

  At first he’d been given short-term cases involving shifters, vamps, and cats as well as wolves like himself. But his investigations had been minor white collar stuff on the West Coast. Then he was handed something totally different. The New York Police Department, in collaboration with allied agencies, and the Feds had been investigating Dogtown and alleged terrorist, Jaxon Castle, for over two years. The Feds wanted Castle badly, but they couldn’t get anything concrete. It was then Slade realized they’d been grooming him for this assignment. He didn’t like it. This one didn’t pass the smell test. And he liked it even less when he had to relocate.

  New York was like a foreign country to him. He needed to get the lay of the land, so for two weeks prior to moving into Dogtown he’d passed as human and moved from hotel to hotel, sightseeing and getting a feel for the surroundings. What he discovered, he didn’t like. The different neighborhoods all had one thing in common. The residents didn’t like shifters. Weres and humans had never gotten along, but on the West Coast they were treated better. Here, bigotry and discrimination were tolerated, even encouraged. He’d seen enough to last a lifetime.

  When he arrived in Dogtown yesterday, posing as a shifter with legal problems who had to leave the West Coast in a hurry, he still felt out of his comfort zone. He’d gone straight to The Kennel Club and asked for a job. Expecting Jaxon to be suspicious and hesitant, Slade had been pleasantly surprised at how quickly he’d been hired. By a lucky coincidence Jaxon’s dancer had not shown up, and Jaxon gave him a chance to show his stuff. He’d expected to be bartending but instead he ended up stripping. It wasn’t the job Slade would have chosen, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And it would make it a whole lot easier to get close to Jaxon. The shifter was practically creaming his pants when Slade shed his. Of course Slade was pretty aroused himself, not a good idea when the target of his desire was the target of a federal probe.

  He really needed to keep his mind on the prize. The carrot dangling in front of his nose was a promotion. He’d be a big shot in the DSA and have the opportunity to select his own operatives. The Feds wanted him to recruit other wolf-shifters, and he was on board with that. The more of his people on the inside, the better it would be for all shifters.

  He had the full cooperation of the city, and it was his job to find proof for the Feds or…and that or weighed heavy on his mind. His immediate superior had insinuated that if he didn’t find anything concrete he was to manufacture it. It’s for the good of the country. That’s what they told him. Only he wasn’t so sure. In his line of business, it wasn’t smart to trust anyone, even your own bosses.

  Supposedly, Castle was organizing a terrorist group to overthrow the local government. One human operative had spent the better part of a year getting close to Castle, but not close enough to get inside Dogtown. Now that Slade had infiltrated the neighborhood, his next step was to make contact with the human undercover agent, posing as a cop in the NYPD. Between them they were to get enough on Jaxon Castle to bring him in and make an example of him. Human or wolf, a criminal was still a criminal, but something told him this case was not clear cut. One way or another he’d get at the truth, and then he’d decide what to do with it.

  Slade climbed the narrow staircase to his flat, threw off his clothes and sprawled on the bed, but sleep eluded him. His raging lupine pheromones went into overdrive every time he got near his target. His wolfen sex drive was going to get him into trouble if he didn’t develop a little more self-control.

  Ever since he laid eyes on Jaxon Castle, he’d been hot, horny, and confused. He’d only just met the man, but as soon as he laid eyes on the owner of the club, he turned into a giddy cub with his first crush. His nipples had gone tight and a throbbing had started between his thighs that threatened to make him pop right then and there. He was so hot that he couldn’t wait to get on the stage and take his clothes off. Thinking about Jaxon while he danced made him feel sexy, and the heat in Jaxon’s gaze told him the other wolf appreciated his moves.

  He had never felt such incredible lust for a man. If he didn’t know better, he might think the old legends were true—that a Were knew his mate as soon as he caught his scent. But he did know better.

  The stories were just that—fairy tales created by people searching for origins obscured by the passing centuries. Refusing to believe the scientific explanation of mutated genes, many wolf-shifters attributed their abili
ties to King Lycaon, who had been turned into a wolf by the god Zeus.

  According to folklore, Lycaon and a human lover had spawned the first wolf-shifters. Inbred with a need to survive, their biological imperative inevitably pushed them toward reproducing with their own kind. But the desire for sex was more than Mother Nature’s wake-up call to spawn offspring. Fucking was an entirely pleasurable experience with or without the chance of reproduction. It was said that eventually even gay shifters became hard-wired with an evolutionary need to mate with other male-shifters.

  Bullshit!

  What about wolf-shifters who fucked other Weres or humans?

  What am I? Some throwback?

  No one could tell Slade that he existed at the mercy of his hormones. Greek mythology had no place in the modern world.

  Still, there was no denying that Slade’s dormant wolf spirit came out of hibernation when he got near Jaxon. The randy beast wanted to hunt, capture, fuck, in a primal way Slade had never experienced before.

  Slade reminded himself, he was in New York to bring Jaxon Castle down, not to fall for him. Unfortunately, he’d always been tempted by the forbidden, and Jaxon tempted him. Even if seducing the man hadn’t been part of his job, he might have gone after the dark shifter. It was going to be hell trying to bring down a man he was attracted to, a man who had already gotten under his wolfskin. Even though Slade was working for the other side, he didn’t want to see one of his own get hurt. Sometimes he hated his job. This was one of those times.

  Chapter Three

  Slade woke groggy and disoriented after a few hours of restless sleep. He propped himself up on an elbow and glanced at the alarm clock. Fuck! Only 5:00 a.m. Flopping back on the pillow, he tried for a few more hours of shut-eye, but he was way too wired to go back to sleep. Memories of the night before flooded his mind and started his cock twitching.

  Jaxon.

  The man haunted his dreams, starred in his erotic fantasies, and instigated the uncomfortable, sticky, wet spot under his ass.

  Fuck. He hadn’t experienced a wet dream since he was a cub.

  Slade had experienced lust at first sight more than a few times. There had been many men in his past, not lately, because now his job came first. But in his younger days, he’d felt his fair share of chemistry and the desire to fuck someone the first time he laid eyes on him. Love ’em and leave ’em. He’d been that kind of guy, and it served him well, especially now in his line of work. Allowing someone to get close was a recipe for disaster, but this time the intensity of his want shocked him. He couldn’t remember a time when his desire for a man kept him awake and on edge like this. What was it about Jaxon that tied him up in knots?

  As soon as he’d walked into Jaxon’s office, goose bumps had risen on his body, his legs had gone weak, and a pleasurable throbbing had started between his thighs that made him forget this was an assignment. Jaxon had felt something, too. He’d smelled arousal all over the other wolf, and knowing he’d caused it had sent a flood tide of anticipation through his body, quickly followed by a sinking feeling of doom. This could be a good thing or a major snafu. Situation Normal All Fucked Up. He’d seen a few of those in his day—usually when an agent let his own feelings get in the way of his objective. Slade wanted to use Castle’s attraction to his advantage, but the attraction went both ways, and that could fubar the operation.

  The wolf tempted him, and temptation had no place in special ops. Letting distractions get in the way of the objective put him in as much danger as his prey—more. Slade always relied on his mental and emotional detachment to get him through situations. It was one of the reasons the bureau had hired him. He’d just have to use more control to deal with this insane infatuation. He had no choice because he needed to get inside Castle’s living quarters to plant his bugs. The man lived, worked, ate, and slept in that damn club. Slade would never get inside his apartment without an invitation. Seduction looked like his only option.

  Fuck! He hadn’t planned on this complication. He wanted…no, he needed, to see Jaxon ASAP. The sooner he got this over with, the better. If he had to wait until Monday night he’d go stark raving mad. His crazy wolf hormones wouldn’t let him have a moment’s peace. Usually one fuck was all it took to convince him the object of his desire was not as desirable as he first thought. The sooner he could get into Castle’s pants, the sooner he could start surveillance and get the wolf out of his system. Then he could concentrate on collecting his evidence and getting out of Dogtown.

  * * * *

  Slade waited until eleven before calling Castle. The club owner seemed surprised to hear his voice but agreed to see him. Dogtown occupied a relatively small area, as far as acreage went, but it was one of the most populated neighborhoods in New York. Young punks were already hanging in front of crumbling Brownstones and boarded-up storefronts. Wolfen eyes scrutinized him as he passed, but nobody bothered him. He wondered if a human would get the same treatment. He doubted it. A low economy bred boredom and alienation, a ripe atmosphere for wolf gangs to spring up, men bonding to find identities and excitement.

  Slade found the front entrance to the club securely locked, but Castle had installed an intercom system. Slade pressed the bell, and almost immediately Jaxon’s voice came through the speaker. He identified himself, and Castle buzzed him in. The other wolf was waiting for Slade in the small entry area where the bouncer normally stood. Immediately, Slade’s pulse increased and butterflies migrated in his stomach.

  “What’s on your mind, Slade?”

  Nothing like getting right to the point. “It’s about last night.”

  “Let’s talk upstairs in my office.”

  Slade nodded and followed Jaxon past the kitchen to a narrow flight of stairs in the back. Castle’s dimly lit office needed a paint job badly.

  “Have a seat.” Jaxon motioned toward a chair and seated himself behind a wood desk that took up most of the room. He threw a bunch of files over a half-eaten breakfast congealing on a plate and leaned back in his chair. His chiseled face looked like it could be on Mount Rushmore—if he were human.

  Castle’s face was inscrutable, but maybe Slade hadn’t known him long enough to be able to read him. Jaxon, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be having the same problem. His eyes bored into Slade as if he were taking him apart piece by piece, discovering what made him tick, and then putting him back together again. It was a weird sensation, but short of knocking Castle unconscious or walking out, there was nothing he could do about it. So he stared back, waiting him out.

  Finally, Castle sat up straighter and broke the silence. “What’s on your mind, Slade?”

  “I was out of order last night. I want to apologize.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “Thanks. If I’m going to be working for you, I don’t want any bad blood between us.”

  “There won’t be.”

  “And I appreciate the help with that ponytailed—”

  “What’s really on your mind, Slade?”

  “The same thing that’s on yours,” Slade responded quickly.

  Jaxon let the words hang in the air so long that Slade was afraid the other wolf didn’t catch his drift.

  Finally he found his tongue. “Not here.”

  “Where?”

  “My apartment.”

  “Lead the way.”

  * * * *

  They walked back into the hall, and Jaxon led him to a door on the left. He stood in front of it for a moment as if undecided. Finally he unlocked the door and stepped aside so Slade could enter.

  Ah…The inner Sanctum, at last. The apartment décor looked pretty much like the office—dark, old, and messy. Slade felt like Suzy Homemaker next to Jaxon. But the overstuffed chairs looked comfortable, and there were bookshelves lining an entire wall. Slade studied the titles, an eclectic mix of mysteries, thrillers, science fiction, and science fact.

  Jaxon came up behind Slade, just close enough that he could feel the steel rod at his ass.

&n
bsp; “Did you come here to read or to fuck?”

  Slade turned, his heart just about pounding out of his chest. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “I’m a man of few words. I think you are, too. We both know what we want. Why beat around the bush?”

  “Well said.” Slade was eager for a taste of the wolf. He moved in close and parted his lips in mute invitation. They met halfway, and Jaxon’s prick rubbing against his burned like a stick of dynamite waiting to explode.

  “Let’s take this to the bedroom,” Jaxon said harshly. He was already unbuttoning his shirt. They left a trail of clothes behind them, arriving at the king-size bed butt naked. Jaxon shoved Slade down on his back and crawled between his legs. Before Slade could say a word, his dick was in Jaxon’s mouth. He let out a surprised gasp and dug his fingers into Jaxon’s scalp.

  A very talented tongue explored the head of Slade’s penis and then licked the underside of the shaft before attacking his balls. The man was good. He kept his lips over his teeth for a smooth ride and then uncovered them and grazed Slade’s sensitive flesh in all the right places.

  “Fuck…Jaxon…” Slade moaned and tugged at his hair. His hips bucked up off the bed, his entire groin on fire.