A Guardians Passion Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Loose Id Titles by Mya Lairis

  Mya Lairis

  A GUARDIAN’S PASSION

  Mya Lairis

  www.loose-id.com

  A Guardian’s Passion

  Copyright © May 2014 by Mya Lairis

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  eISBN 9781623007942

  Editor: Jana Armstrong

  Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone

  Published in the United States of America

  Loose Id LLC

  PO Box 806

  San Francisco CA 94104-0806

  www.loose-id.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

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  DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Dedication

  I would like to thank all those who kept pushing me for a sequel to Freya’s tale and who encouraged me to believe that it could be done. This book is dedicated to Ashley Dickerson, my ever enthusiastic assistant and cheerleader; to my mom, Viola, who was always wondering when I would get back to that werewolf story; and to my BFF, Sandy Malone, who always inspires me to work harder and have fabulous dinner parties. I would especially like to thank my diligent and kind editor, Jana Armstrong, and Loose Id publishing for their outstanding support over the years!

  Prologue

  Freya blamed the slow pace of her morning jog on the crisp three-inch layer of snow. The cool air surrounding her convinced her that she wasn’t nearly as hot or winded as she thought she was, while the extra weight she carried suggested otherwise. What had once been a ten-mile exercise had shortened to two at most. However, Freya was determined to stay sharp.

  She reached the lodge, aching, chest heaving, but not ready for rest. She intended to complement her morning cardio with a series of chores out back. There was wood that needed to be chopped, coal that needed to be shoveled, and cleanup around the hot tubs, and with any luck, she would be able to do it alone.

  If fate was on her side, then Fenris and Rayne would still be in bed, sated and snoring. Freya had made sure to ride Fenris hard the night before, biting his neck all the while. Rayne had taken a good deal of pleasure from her ass, and both of her mates had bellies full of milk before bed. Please just give me until nine, she prayed, giving a glance to the back door. Fortunately, it was still shut.

  She went to retrieve the ax from the shed before walking over to the large pile of wood. She placed a thick log on the chopping block, set it upright, and got to work. Her arms burned with the exertion of every swing—good pain, she felt—measuring and slicing perfect widths of wood for the fireplaces and stoves.

  Freya made her way through several logs before she took a break. She wiped the sweat that had gathered upon her brow as she considered her pile of finished work. Upon the air, she could smell the rich scent of sausages, eggs, and steaks drifting out of the lodge’s smokestack. Although her belly rumbled in longing, she was much too busy reveling in the high of well-worked muscles to think of breakfast. Time was short. With breakfast started, it wouldn’t take long for wolves to rise.

  She set up another log to be split in half, steadying it as she heard the sound she had been dreading all morning.

  The back door opened, and a giantess emerged out into the crisp cold. Gaea was an impressive woman; for Freya to admit to it was saying a lot. At four inches short of seven feet tall, Gaea was an impressive woman. Her arms were thick, corded bands of muscle, visible even beneath her cotton shirt. She wore her white-blonde hair parted down the center into two thick plaits, which fell over her shoulders. She had features that could be stern one moment and angelic the next, but there was no mistake that Gaea was a warrior. Even with her dark blue eyes at half-mast, Freya’s mother-in-law betrayed no weakness.

  With a tall mug of aromatic mead clutched tightly in her grip, Gaea joined Freya at the woodpile. She gazed hard, scrutinizing Freya from head to toe before taking a long pull from her drink.

  Freya didn’t have to wait long for the appraisal she knew was soon to come.

  Gaea didn’t disappoint. “You do know that Fenris won’t tolerate this for much longer, don’t you?”

  Freya dropped the ax with a powerful swing into the wood. The cloven halves didn’t fall to the ground; they flew several feet away, leaving the ax buried in the block. Freya barely noted it. “Do I look like I’m worried? He can roar all he wants.” She went over to kick the stray log back near the pile she had already started. “Shit. I can roar too.”

  Gaea chuckled, her voice much softer than her appearance would have led someone to expect. She muttered something in Icelandic before adding, “Hmm. You poor thing.”

  Freya met Gaea’s eyes, growling at the pity wafting her way. “Poor thing.” She balked. “I’ve handled worse than this. Maybe not worse than your son and our damn beta, but if they expect me to lie around, fatten up, and wait for them to wait on me, they can forget that shit. They knew what they were getting into when they presented the mating contract in the first damn place.”

  “Freya, I’m sure that’s not what Fenris or Rayne want, but you know—males worry. I’m not saying that you neglect your exercise entirely, but perhaps something a little less obviously strenuous, maybe?”

  Freya retrieved the ax and raised it over her shoulder, allowing the handle to rest there. She scowled at her fair-skinned mother-in-law, burning from both exertion and jealousy. “You sit there drinking, what, your third mead of the day, when I can’t drink a drop, and you’re telling m
e to take it easy? I need to do something, Gaea. I can’t get soft.”

  “There’s very little soft about you, child. But even the strongest need to take it easy sometimes.” As if Freya had never chided her about her drinking, Gaea lifted the mug and took two hearty gulps. She licked her lips when done.

  Freya returned to her pile of wood and snatched up a fresh log. She had no intention of watching when the scent of the mead alone was driving her up the wall. “Are you gonna start in on my mother? Oh, wait. Maybe your own experiences again? I don’t need to hear about all that ‘back in the day’ bullshit.”

  “Oh no. Not at all. Your experience is far different from mine or Gerry’s. No. You have a very unique situation indeed. You know what?”

  Freya sliced into another log, splitting it evenly before curiosity got the better of her. “What?”

  “Here’s the thing. You have two males, two very grumpy ones. They want to cater to you, and I’m only saying don’t deny them the opportunity. They know you’re not weak or soft.”

  Freya shook her head, knowing that Gaea had to have had some coaching. She had been living with the woman for nearly seven months, and Gaea had never tried the sympathetic card before. “Has Fen come crying to his ma?” she wondered aloud.

  Gaea shook her head regretfully. “No. I wish he had. I wish that he would. But he’s far too busy brooding for that. He is my boy, though, and he is concerned. I know him. I see the way he watches you and worries for you.”

  Freya tossed the ax upon the ground. She attempted to bend straight down to gather the many logs she had split; they needed to be taken to the pile and stacked. Yet bending over was not as easy as it had once been. She had to squat. She shoved several pieces of wood into the crook of an arm and strode over to the metal bin where the logs were kept. “No need. When I’m ready to take it easy, I will. No sooner. No later.”

  “They are both worried for the cub too, Freya.”

  She heaved the wood into the receptacle and looked down at her rounded belly. She ran her palm over the swell beneath her heavy gray shirt. Despite her irritation, Freya couldn’t help but smile as her son shifted within her womb. “My Bun is fine. Gonna be healthy and strong. Aren’t you, Bun?” she cooed as she patted her stomach. It was the nickname she had chosen for her child. “He’s gonna be tough. No. He is tough.”

  Freya returned to get more wood, blowing a raspberry at her child’s grandmother.

  “Freya, could I give you just a small bit of advice?”

  “If you insist.”

  Gaea did. “Don’t worry so. You’ll be back in fighting shape in no time. Enjoy the ride. It’s shorter than you think.”

  Freya wished that she could allow her males to coddle her, but something deep within her was certain that if she allowed them to get away with their behavior while she was pregnant, then surely they would want to continue doting after. Before she knew it, there would be more cubs and more attention. Gaea had given birth to three cubs. Freya’s own mother had only had one; if there was any advice that she wanted, it would have come from the hard-ass Geraldine, but Freya didn’t dare ask. That would have been showing weakness to one harder than granite, and she had her hands full dealing with that already.

  She laughed at Gaea’s proposal. “Right. Enjoy all the food you all keep piling up in front of me, allow Fen to baby me twenty-four-fucking-seven, kick back, and let Rayne nurse whenever the mood strikes. I need to get as big as a house and wallow in their attention while they work together to get me pregnant again. I don’t think so.”

  Gaea shook her head but provided no counter as Freya finished her chore. For that, Freya was relieved.

  From what Freya knew, her mother-in-law was a warrior-wolf, had even battled beside Freya’s mother, but unlike Gerry, Gaea was certainly more laid-back. She didn’t doubt that some of Gaea’s words were genuine, but Freya knew who pulled the puppet strings.

  Sure enough, Freya caught Gaea staring at the lodge. She turned, following her mother-in-law’s gaze right to the tall, muscular, silver-blond form of Fenris.

  He was leaning on the door frame, a dark scowl on his pale features. Freya did not cower beneath the dark blue gaze of her alpha. She knew that he was invariably incensed because of her physical labor—and from leaving their bed so soon—but Freya showed no remorse. Instead she raised her chin defiantly. “You need something?”

  Fenris sighed. “Come. Have breakfast.”

  “I’ll be there in a few.” She could practically hear her lover gnashing his teeth, yet despite the ache Freya felt in her back, pride wouldn’t allow her to give in to his command.

  Gaea stood up. “I’ll be right there,” she said, moving to the door with a sympathetic gaze over her shoulder to Freya.

  Fenris held the door open for his mother, staring at Freya for a long moment before finally disappearing back into the lodge.

  Freya considered her victory, remaining in the cold Icelandic air with only her resolve. For twenty minutes, she occupied herself by shoveling off the path to the outdoor hothouse. Only once she was finished did she decide to go inside, both her back and the hunger of her child motivating her.

  At the long wooden table inside the kitchen, her pack had started in on their meal as heartily as werewolves should. Gaea was seated at the end of the table, flanked by her two other sons. Fenris’s brothers, Rafe and Gunner, were younger by ten and eleven years respectively and were gammas through and through. If their elder brother looked at them, they asked how high before he could even utter the command to jump.

  Gunner reminded her of an oil drum with oil drums for arms and legs. He was a big bruiser of a Nordic god with a beard and his mother’s cornflower-blue eyes. He kept his head shaved, but occasionally dark blond fuzz would appear. According to Fenris, Gunner resembled their father.

  Rafe took completely after Gaea—tall, lean, and muscular, with his long, pale hair done in single braid, which was always coiled around his throat. Neither of Fenris’s siblings were Lunas, although Rafe was at times suspect.

  Two cousins, who refused to believe they had actual homes outside of the lodge, were in attendance as well.

  At the head of the table, framing an empty chair, were her mates—her beautiful, gentle, and faux-effeminate beta, Rayne, whose eyes were still at half-mast with sleep, and Fenris, doing his best to appear as if he weren’t in a mood.

  There were platters of sausages rolled in thick, fluffy pancakes, and syrup, eggs, fried potatoes, fruit, and oatmeal set out across the table. Freya saw that her plate had already been filled. Orange juice was poured and waiting for her as well.

  Freya went to her seat, pretending not to be offended by what was surely Rayne’s doing. She would have loved to scrape half her meal onto Fenris’s plate, but after the first bite of a sausage roll, Freya couldn’t deny that she wanted every last morsel. Fenris’s concern lessened only when she began to help herself to seconds. Rayne sat upright, having brushed off exhaustion and attempted to aid her. Both of her mates seemed delighted by her appetite.

  The fuckers.

  Chapter One

  The Ulfur Lodge contained ten bedrooms and an enormous kitchen that could seat sixteen at a time. It had a spacious lobby, a decent gym, two Jacuzzi rooms, and an entertainment room, in addition to a bar religiously attended to by Gaea. One of the indoor heated pools could hold nearly thirty men comfortably; the other had a more modest capacity of four. The wooden hothouse in the back accommodated five men at a time. Yet with so much space, the lodge always seemed crowded. Fenris was supposed to be constructing the enlargement of the hothouse, expanding it to fit the higher number of visitors, but between socializing, serving as security, and all the other repairs needed from rowdy guests, he had his hands full.

  As with everything in the lodge, the theme was communal. Wolves ate together, bathed together, exercised together, and relaxed together. Freya wasn’t entirely keen on the notion as every night meant a party or a brawl, and hardly any downtime.
br />   She noted the clock upon the wall of the gift shop, the one place in the lodge that wasn’t filled with rambunctious, endorphin-amped beasts. She was in a state of envy. It was two o’clock in the morning, and the lodge was still alive with laughter, snarls, and clinking glassware, although much quieter than it had been. While she used to consider two in the morning early, her body throbbed with the need for rest that she knew was nowhere near coming.

  As she moved into the small shopping space allotted to the Ulfur Lodge’s latest acquisition, Freya wasn’t surprised to find the ever-diligent manager worrying over boxes of what appeared to be new products. When the chipper, tiny werewolf arrived three months before with a proposition for merchandising, Freya had laughed. “Brutes and bruisers don’t shop,” she had said. Yet Benna Sohon with her bundles of copper curls and her creamy, freckled complexion sat before her in Louis Vuitton snow boots. Even without revealing her surname, Freya had known to which pack the child belonged and doubted Benna would last the week among the bravado and curses, crassness and drunken behavior that ran rampant in the Ulfur Lodge.

  But then she should have known better. Although no older than twenty, Benna was as resolute as any of her pack, working out a business deal that would unite Ulfur to the Sohon empire: merchandise to and for brutes. In the beginning, there had been a measure of trouble with a few of the guests who took the shapely redhead as a part of the lodge’s entertainment. Freya had worried over the pup initially, but Benna had a gift that kept nearly every testosterone-amped male at bay. Aloofness. No wolf could charm, impress, or threaten Benna. Propositions fell flat, and seductions turned into comedy as Benna simply didn’t acknowledge anything other than good sales, quality products, and numbers. A Sohon through and through!

  Gaea had taken to the girl as well, noting her penchant for numbers. Ulfur rarely lacked for incoming profit; however, the lodge didn’t seem to retain a lot either. When Benna offered help with the books, Gaea had agreed. The first place to experience her scrutiny had been the bar. “No free pours. Don’t forget to use those stoppers on every bottle, and throw as much ice as you can in every drink, okay?” she’d suggested with a wry grin.