Page 74 of Taken by Moonlight

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That night,I slept in the alpha’s bed for the first time. But notalone.

Dante’s bedroom was a study in masculinity, with large, heavy furniture, gold and black décor. The bed itself was astatement.

Dante’s bed had to be twelve feet across, large enough to fit a pack ofwolves.

Or accommodate four adults. Three men and one lady.Me.

Dante told me after I dressed and when we headed into the lodge that tonight he would sleep with me. So would Gabriel and Alex, but we would not havesex.

The alpha gave me a questioning look as we entered his bedroom. I smiled. “Must be a three wolfnight.”

Gabriel grinned. Then he shifted into a wolf faster than I could blink. He leapt onto the bed, lay on his stomach, head between hispaws.

Frowning, I sat up. “Does he always dothat?”

“Gabe can rest easier in wolf form. That way he’s ready to fight.” Dante began toundress.

Someone had left my nightgown on the bed’s edge. I picked it up to bring into the bathroom. Playful Gabriel caught it between his teeth and growled. Itugged.

“Hey big guy, I am so not losing this gown to your teeth. I already ruined a pair of pantiestonight.”

Jaws opened. Gabriel wagged his tail and looked atDante.

“I’ll explain later, Gabe,” Dantemurmured.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Dante was in bed,naked.

In a burgundy silk robe, Alex ran a hand through his inky black curls. He removed his glasses, neatly folded them and placed them on thedresser.

I grabbed the glasses. “Hey,” heyelled.

Sure enough, the lenses were clear glass. Alex glared at me, his eyes large, the color ofcaramel.

“WhyAlex?”

I kept my voice low and gentle, glancing at Gabriel the wolf, whose ears pricked up. Yet I felt certain Gabe already knew all of Alex’ssecrets.

A small shrug. “I likethem.”

I set the glasses down as if they were brittle. Certainly they were not. Alex was the brittle one here, and if I pushed too hard, I could really screw thisup.

Lose histrust.

I wanted to keep his frail trust, this sensitive werewolf with the rich love of French poetry, the compassionate heart and the soul of anartist.

“They make you look like an intellectual. But they hide you from me. I want to see you, all of you.” I went to him, cupping his dear face with my hands. “You have lovely eyes, eyes that have seen too much of the world. If I could, I would take away what you have seen and replace it with good memories. I can’t. All I can do is tell you I would never hurt you like others mayhave.”

Alex laced his fingers around my wrists. “I believe that, Peyton. I’ve sensed that about you from the moment wemet.”

His kiss was gentle and sweet, like Alex. I sensed the tightly held control and driving passion behind his mouth aswell.

Then he folded his robe neatly and walked toward the bed. My body clenched hard with desire as I studied his penis, long and thick, semi-erect.

Alex slid between the sheets and rested there, hands behind his head as he stared at theceiling.

I lay on the bed in my red and white striped pajamas on top of thesheets.