Free Disgraced Cowboys (Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 3) [Siren Publishing Ménage Amour] by J. Rose Allister

of.”
    “And?”
    She heaved a sigh. Did she really want to get into this?
    “No need to get huffy,” he said in a teasing tone. “Just makin’ idle conversation. Most folks with body art are happy to yammer about it.”
    “It’s not that. Oh, fine.” She pulled away from him. “The dots are notches on my bedpost.”
    His expression showed confusion. “Notches?”
    “You know.” She unconsciously stroked the area, aware of the faint tingling Seth’s identical motion had left behind. “A dot for every conquest.”
    Now, his eyes widened. “Really? Meanin’ a dot for every fuck or every guy?”
    She shrugged. “Same difference either way.”
    He shook his head. “You never fuck the same guy more than once. And you mark yourself durin’ sex. That’s damn interestin’.”
    “Not during sex. After. Moving onto other subjects, how do we give Kade’s message to Marcus? Because I’m out of ideas if you don’t even know where he is.”
    Seth made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Best you not mention the meanin’ of your tattoo to Marcus when you find him.”
    “I wasn’t planning to. It’s none of his business.”
    “Oh, it’s his business, all right.”
    “Why? I barely know him.”
    “Because of what you told me out in the woods. Or weren’t you listenin’ when Kade warned he knows who Marcus’s mates are?”
    “Yes, and you’re the one who should be worried about huddling naked under a blanket with someone else. You’re his mate, Seth. I know it. I could tell by the way you two look at one another.”
    “Kade said mates , Brandi. Not mate.” His eyes seared through her, stirring an all-new shudder. “The point ain’t that I’m destined for Marcus. The point is that you are, too.”
    Her mouth fell open. “Now, look. Just because I let a guy pay me for a dance in the back room doesn’t mean I plan to be his soul mate.”
    “We sure didn’t see that part comin’, Marcus especially.”
    She frowned. “What part?”
    He leaned closer. “You turnin’ out to be a stripper. You were supposed to save yourself for us. Losin’ your virginity elsewhere wasn’t in the plan.”
    He actually flinched at the bitter, indignant snort she let out. “Yeah? Trust me, the way I lost it wasn’t in my plan, either.”
    His grin faded, but when he opened his mouth for what she knew would turn into a question she didn’t want to answer, she cut him off. “Okay, so you know I’m no virgin because of my fancy tattoo. Why was Marcus so sure I wasn’t one? Just because I make good money taking my clothes off doesn’t mean I let guys pay me for sex.”
    “We both knew you weren’t no virgin the moment we got near you,” he said. “Because of your scent, darlin’. Not your occupation.”
    She shot him a skeptical look. “By my scent.”
    “Call it a werewolf thing.” He drew her closer again, and she shuddered at the gesture as well as the deep timbre of his voice. “As it happens, I’m not what you would call the jealous type. But the same can’t be said for many werewolves. Your, uh, status tossed Marcus clean on that hard head of his when he realized you were the one.”
    Alarms were clanging loudly in her mind as she focused on his lips while he said every word. Those lips were nearer now, near enough to think of other things they were capable of doing while her body was pressed against his. His firm shaft wasn’t the only thing throbbing where their pelvises connected.
    “Marcus barely even talked to me,” she said. “How could he possibly know I’m the one?”
    “Werewolves don’t need to talk to a woman to know they want to claim ’em.”
    She snorted. “I’ll bet.”
    “All it takes is one look.” He bent his head closer, piercing her with eyes that were rapidly turning molten. “One deep, gut-churnin’ look. It sears like a brand, tellin’ us who we belong to. It’s instinct.”
    Her heart hammered as she fell into that gaze, and her stomach was doing all sorts