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Three Wild Cards by Cynthia Sax

Three Wild Cards
Wolves of the Wild West (multi-author series)
by Cynthia Sax

Changeling Press

eBook BIN: 05933-01903

Saloon owners Big John, a bear shifter, and Cage, a wolf shifter, share everything equally, including their winnings. Annie is no exception — the little human female softens their rough love play and completes their threesome.

When her pa loses her in a card game, Annie’s bound to honor his wager. But will she be willing to bet on forever?

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Chapter One

“His luck will turn. I know it will.” Annie’s ma perched on the edge of the chair, her delicate face illuminated by their last candle, her hands clutched as though in prayer. Shadows stretched on the bare boarding room walls, the darkness reaching for them.
Annie said nothing, her faith in her pa’s gambling abilities extinguished a decade ago — the same night he had wagered her virginity on a losing poker hand. Undeterred by the lack of response, her ma continued to mumble her fervent pleas, pleas that served no purpose.
My pa will lose and when he does, I’ll be asked to honor his wager.
Annie silently and carefully wrapped a strip of dark cotton around her wrist, tucking the ends in neatly. She’d found the fabric while skulking around the saloon, investigating the owners and patrons, men who’d eventually take her body, using her for their own pleasure.
Annie raised the band to her nose and sniffed, the musky male scent comforting her, giving her purpose. She’d meet the man it belonged to. He’d protect her. He might even love her. She smiled, building the fantasy in her mind. He’d be a banker or maybe a ranch hand and they’d have a normal life, never stepping into another saloon. She’d be safe.
A knock on the door interrupted Annie’s reverie. Her ma choked back a sob, both of them knowing what that knock meant.
“I’ll be fine,” Annie said, more for herself than her ma. She stood, smoothed down the skirts of her threadbare calico dress, and walked to the door. “I’ve done this before.” Too many times. She took a deep breath, counted to five, exhaled, and opened the door.
The largest man she’d ever seen in her colorful life stood in the hallway, his hat in his hands. Big John. He worked for the saloon, and some of the townspeople whispered he was part owner of the lucrative establishment. Annie’s nipples tightened, her body responding to his size, his girth, his daunting presence.
I wish he’d win me. His short brown hair framed a surprisingly kind face, a face a woman could count on, a face a woman could trust to keep her safe. But he can’t win me or he wouldn’t be here. He’d be at the tables with my pa. Annie pressed her lips together, containing her unreasonable disappointment.
Big John’s gaze dropped to her mouth. He inhaled deeply, his big chest rising, and an almost silly smile spread across his face.
Golly. He’s adorable. Fine lines feathered the skin around his eyes, evidence that he smiled often, his blissful expression belying the forbidding black of his cotton shirt and breeches.
He won’t hurt me. She raised one eyebrow. Will he? Big John waved his hand, indicating she should leave the room.
“Am I to go with you?” Annie broke the silence, proud of how level her voice was.
Her ma sobbed louder, her slight shoulders shaking. She didn’t move from her seat at the table and she didn’t protest, never questioning her husband’s decisions, no matter how much pain those decisions caused Annie.
Big John nodded his answer, the man not one for words. Some mean-spirited folks claimed he hadn’t the smarts to talk, but Annie dismissed those rumors. She saw the keen intelligence in his warm brown eyes.
“Thank you for coming to get me, Big John,” she said softly as she stepped into the hallway, feeling small and dainty beside him. “That was right kind of you.” Normally the saloons sent a street urchin, as though she wasn’t important enough to warrant an employee.
Big John jammed his hat on his head and shrugged his massive shoulders, dismissing her gratitude, the muscles in his chest rippling. He pointed one thick calloused finger at her bare feet, his forehead crinkled with concern.
“My boots were wagered and lost in Carson City.” She lifted her chin and gazed directly into his eyes, mentally daring him to say anything. “It’s warm. I don’t need them.”
Big John reached for Annie, and she froze, fear skittering down her spine, memories of rough hands and lost wagers coloring her reaction. He swung her easily into his arms.
“Let me down.” She struggled, kicking her feet. “I can walk.”
He stood still, holding Annie tightly, securing her without any effort, her food-deprived body no match for his solid muscle.
“This isn’t dignified.” Annie stilled, glaring at the big man, recognizing the futility of fighting a battle she couldn’t win.
Big John grinned, his expression triumphant. Annie laid her head on his chest, and he strode down the steps, past the nosy landlady, and into the street.
“Fine. Don’t listen to me,” she grumbled, relaxing against Big John. He smelled nice, of sun-baked rocks and mountain streams, and his body radiated soothing heat.
The streets were pure chaos. Two men pummeled each other, their sleeves rolled up to their elbows, their fists smacking flesh. A crowd of men gathered around them, hooting and hollering, bank notes and hats in their grubby hands. Cowboys rode lathered horses around in tight circles, shooting their guns into the air.
In Big John’s arms, Annie felt safe. Men gave them a wide berth, treating him with a respect she didn’t often witness; no one respected her weak-willed pa. If only I could stay here. Annie leaned back into Big John’s muscular frame, into his heat, relishing the illusion of being cared for, cherished, and loved. He rested his square chin on the top of her head.
The aroma of charred meat filled her nostrils, and the tinkling of a piano filled the air. Fancy women, barely dressed in vivid colored undergarments, leaned over the saloon balcony, showing off their curvaceous figures. They hollered things Annie didn’t understand, and the cowboys loitering in front of the building laughed.
Panic rushed over Annie. I can’t do this, not again. She squirmed, frantic to get free, free of the fate in front of her. “Big John, let me go, please,” she begged him, her voice breaking. “Tell them you couldn’t find me, that I done run off.”
Big John’s mouth covered hers, the firm silent press of lips against lips stunning Annie and silencing her words. She opened to him, and he surged inside, his tongue filling all of the empty space inside her mouth and inside her heart, searching, questing, and calming, his kiss surprisingly demanding and possessive.
Annie sighed her compliance, surrendering to his quiet dominance. She slid her arms up his chest and linked her fingers behind his thick neck, clinging to him desperately.
Other men had taken kisses from her, grinding their slobbering lips against hers, cutting her with their teeth, whittling her sense of self down to nothing. Big John gave, lending her his strength and his confidence, mutely communicating he was there for her; he would remain by her side.
He rested his forehead against hers, his brown eyes darkened to near blackness and his cheeks flushed with passion, his chest rising and falling.
Annie gave him a wobbly smile, warmed thoroughly by his embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He tucked her tighter against him and pushed through the saloon’s swinging doors. Annie blinked, the brightness blinding, the scent of wax and sweat and horse overwhelming.
The clamor of drinks being served and business being completed stopped. Men turned their heads and gaped at her, looking at her as though she was naked and they all owned a piece of her.
Please no. She hid her face in Big John’s muscular chest, breathing in his freshness, his natural musk calming her. I’m not alone this time. He has me.
Big John growled, and the saloon whipped into a frantic frenzy of activity — rough tough cowboys avoiding his gaze and dancing girls laughing a little too loudly.
Annie stared up at Big John’s face, awed by his quick transformation from safe and unassuming to ferocious and threatening. “You’d protect me,” she murmured, wishing she belonged to him and not some unknown gambler.
Big John straightened to his full impressive height, and he strode through the saloon with her in his arms. They passed the long bar, the mahogany surface polished to a splendid shine, a gleaming brass foot rail encircling the base.
The neatly dressed bartender’s gaze flicked from Annie to Big John, and he nodded. Big John grunted a reply, brushing Annie’s cheek with his, and she trembled at the act of possessiveness.
“Dang it, Big John,” a deep voice rumbled. “When I said to bring her here, I didn’t mean carry her. Set Henry’s daughter down.”
Big John grumbled incoherently and lowered Annie until her feet touched the chair’s seat. She reluctantly let go of his neck, watching his face, trying to read his expressions, deriving some comfort that he didn’t move from her side.
“On the floor,” the man clarified. Big John pointed at Annie’s bare feet and the man cursed.
Annie dragged her attention away from Big John and searched for the source of the cussing. Her pa sat at the table, cards facedown on the green before him. He didn’t meet her gaze, unable to stomach confrontation. She dismissed his presence, his part in tonight’s farce complete.
Dominating the space at her pa’s right was Cage, a man as deadly as Big John was safe. He gazed at her with dark, fierce eyes, jet-black hair topping his tanned, handsome face, his tall, lean body clad in an expensive form-fitting three-piece suit. Every inch of him screamed dangerous predator and her fickle body responded.
Cage’s sharp blade of a nose twitched, and his nostrils flared. “Big John?” Big John placed one of his big hands on the small of Annie’s back, his fingers splayed over her spine, his stance protective. “Christ.” Cage raked his fingers through his hair. “It would be her.”
“Me?” Annie frowned, confused by his declaration and the feelings within her. Big John slid his hand up her back, his casual touch setting off a flurry of excitement.
I want them both. She tilted her head, pondering the strange occurrence. How is that possible? Before tonight, I’ve never been attracted to any man.
Big John pressed down on her right shoulder, and Anne sat, placing her hands neatly in her lap, pressing her knees together, her feet not touching the floor.
Big John petted her hair, stroking the curly tendrils, burying his hands in their length while Cage perused her slowly, thoroughly, his gaze lowering from her eyes to her mouth to her breasts. Annie’s nipples ached, begging to be touched. Cage’s stern lips parted, his tongue darting out to wet his flesh, and her pussy convulsed.
“Christ.” Cage stood, a noticeable bulge in his trousers, and he shrugged out of his jacket. “Wear this.” He handed the garment to Big John.
Big John held the jacket as she donned it. The scent of dark, pine-filled forests filled her nostrils, and Annie’s arousal escalated. She clutched the lapels to her face, breathing in deeply.
“Does it reek of me?” A slash of pink highlighted Cage’s tanned cheeks. “I can get you another.”
“It smells good,” Annie admitted, her shyness evaporating. She pulled up the sleeve of the jacket and held out her wrist. Big John smelled the strip of fabric and chuckled. Cage leaned over the table, bent his dark head, and brushed his lips along her skin. A sharp jolt of sexual awareness rocked Annie.
His eyes widened. “Where did you find that fabric?”
“Near here.” Her face heated. “The scent comforts me.”
Cage closed his eyes and inhaled. “It does more than that.” He grinned as he returned to his seat.
That wolfish grin faded as Cage looked around the card table. “Real men respect women.” He glared at her pa, his face darkening with rage. Her pa stared down at his cards, his head bowed, not one to face what he’d done. Big John kneaded Annie’s shoulders, his touch soothing. A painful silence stretched.
“I suppose some women don’t warrant respecting,” Annie murmured.
Cage swung his head toward her and met her gaze, his expression grim. “You ain’t one of those women.” He said the words as though he meant them, and Big John grunted his agreement.
“Folks call me Cage.” His voice was pitched seductively low, his tone wreaking havoc with Annie’s concentration. “Behind you, guarding you, is my partner Big John. We own this here saloon.”
“I know.” Annie raised her chin proudly, having investigated all of the gambling venues upon arriving in the town. She had observed both men at a distance. “I’m Annie and I’ll honor my pa’s bet.”
Their audience, liquor-drinking cowboys and dancing girls, sniggered. Cage growled, silencing them. “Those are fine words and spoken like a true lady, but you don’t know what your pa has bet, Miss Annie.”
She ignored her fidgeting pa and maintained Cage’s gaze. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been bet, Mister Cage,” she confessed, knowing her honesty cost her any hope of a lasting relationship with Cage or Big John.
Big John rumbled softly, menacingly, his grip on her shoulders intensifying. Cage’s lips flattened, lightning flashing in his dark eyes. “This will be the last time you’re bet.”
Cage pulled a large gold coin out of his vest pocket. “Big John came from nothing. I came from less.” Dark shadows raced across his face, pain Annie could relate to.
“This is the first gold coin we ever earned.” Cage flipped it into the air, light reflecting off the gold. He caught the coin and smacked it on the table. Big John’s hand on her back stilled, his lack of movement stressing the bet’s significance.
“We don’t want one night. We want her permanently.” Cage tilted his head, silently asking Annie’s permission.
Permanently. Hope bubbled up inside Annie. “I’m not worth that much money.”
Cage’s lips quirked into a boyish smile, years dropping from his stern visage. “You’re right, mate,” he whispered, leaning forward, his breath warm on her cheek. “You’re worth much more, but should we lose this hand, unlikely but it is a possibility, we need something left to tempt your pa with.” Cage winked and Big John chuckled.
Mate. Annie blinked, confused by his teasing tone and his wooing words. Isn’t that the shifter word for wife?
“Our lucky gold coin for the permanent right to care for and protect Miss Annie, that’s our offer, Henry.” Cage raised one of his black eyebrows, vowing to protect her forever as though it was a casual matter, as though she had a line-up of suitors wishing to do the same. Annie stared at him, seeing no mockery in his face.
“I’ll take that bet.” Her pa didn’t hesitate, his protection easily traded. “Let’s see the cards, Cage.”
Annie didn’t look away from Cage. She didn’t have to see his hand. She read the triumph in Cage’s eyes and heard the collective inhaling of the audience’s breaths. Big John hooked one of his massive arms across her shoulders, holding her against him, leaving no doubt in Annie’s mind whom the “our” Cage referred to was.
I now belong to two very large men. The huge ridge in Big John’s breeches bumped against Annie’s spine, his size both exciting and scaring her.

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One Response to Three Wild Cards by Cynthia Sax

  1. Patti P says:

    This is on my have to buy list.
    As soon as I get some book money this one is mine.