Page 77 of Captive of Outlaws

“This thing’s a death trap all wet,” Tuck says, tugging at his tuxedo jacket. “Weighs a ton.”

“No kidding,” Will agrees. He sidestrokes to the lip of the pool, pushes himself up and out, and shucks his own jacket.

Then his pants.

Then his shirt.

I can’t help it: I’m mesmerized. And speechless. Under that tuxedo, his body is sculpted, lithe. I find myself lingering on small, tantalizing areas: the slight flex of his neck, the V in the center of his collarbone, the muscled curve of his hip.

My mouth goes dry. I feel something like...like hunger. Something I barely know how to explain.

With a final flick of his silver hair, sending droplets everywhere, Will strides back to the table and takes a slug of his bourbon.

“Phew,” he says. “That’ll wake you up.”

Tuck clambers out of the pool, too, water cascading off of him in waves. “No kidding,” he agrees, and shakes his head, too, before just as easily shedding his jacket and shirt. With a grin, he unbuckles his belt and drops his pants.

So now there are two of them, two hot, wet, fit-as-hell guys in their underwear (boxer-briefs for Will, boxers for Tuck).

Scratch that—three. Because when I turn around, Rob’s stripped down too.

“Hate wet clothes,” he says, brushing off his shoulder. “Awful uncomfortable.”

“Sorry,” Tuck blurts out—as if he needs to apologize. “It’s actually just easier if we take off most of our clothes first.”

“Easier?” I blink. Wait. What? “What’seasier?”

The three of them—almost naked, dripping wet—share a look.

“Maren,” Rob says, “it’s high time we give you something valuable.”

“What, like that diamond necklace is worthless?” I nod at where it’s resting next to the rest of the loot. Rob smirks.

“Better than that,” he says. “The truth.”

“O...kay,” I say. I peer from guy to guy expectantly, waiting for it all to come pouring out...and yet, nothing does.

“Come on, guys,” I say. “Whatever it is, lay it on me. You’re...what, wizards or something? Telepaths? Superheroes? Elves? Just...literally nothing will surprise me anymore. I just want the truth.”

The other two look at Rob, who considers me for a moment, then laughs.

“You really do have a wonderful imagination, pretty lady,” he says. “But no, not quite.”

“So whatareyou, then?”

Rob’s smile broadens. “It’s probably easier to...show you than tell you.” He sucks in a breath, and looks around at the other two. “Ready?”

Will and Tuck nod.

“Let’s go.”

I wince, brace myself for some boom of thunder or flash of lightning, but nothing like that comes.

Instead, I watch as the three of them...change. Right in front of my eyes, the three men’s bodies shift and morph, limbs and muscles lengthening, warping, reshaping into new and different forms:

A red fox, lithe and muscular.

A pale wolf, broad and alert.

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