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Thrown to Her WolvesHer Big Bad Wolves #2 Margo Bond Collins

About Thrown to Her Wolves

Sienna Luna’s going through a bit of werewolf overload. 

A few weeks ago, I didn’t even know werewolves existed.

Now I’m the alpha of a werewolf pack and the owner of a werewolf bar—and I’ve been bitten so I will become a werewolf myself.

If that weren’t enough, I’m also newly wed to not one, but three hot men who are also werewolves, and they’re taking a little more attention than I had anticipated.

So when my pack comes to tell me that the local Fairy Queen is aiming to take over my territory, I’m glad to have a problem I can really sink my teeth into.

Because the more I learn about this new world I’ve landed in, the more out of depth I feel.

And the more danger I realize I’m in.

Chapter 1

Three weeks ago, I didn’t know werewolves existed.

Three days ago, I met my first one.

Last night, I married three of them.

Oh, yeah. And all three of them bit me so I would become a werewolf, too.

I have some werewolf overload going on. I shifted for the first time last night, too. And that part was glorious.

Okay, I have to admit it. My three werewolf guys are pretty glorious, too. I can’t help but think that as I wake up the morning after my first run as a wolf, naked in the forest at [name] outside of San Francisco.

I could tell that the air was chilly with morning dew, but I didn’t feel it anywhere except a little on my face and one shoulder. I was surrounded by three giant, snuggling, naked men, all of whom were still fast asleep. They lay on the ground, pressed up against me, their arms wrapped around me.

Dean’s head was on my hip, Owen’s cheek rested on my side, and Liam’s face was tucked into the hollow of my collarbone. Not to mention, all of them were sporting morning erections.

Definite werewolf overload.

Carefully, I pushed my way out, wriggling a little to slide along the leaves on the ground under me, hoping to slip away without any of them noticing.

Fat chance of that.

Dean’s hand clamped down on my hip under his chin. “Don’t go,” he mumbled sleepily.

I reached down and slipped my fingers under his to loosen them. They did, instantly.

“I have to pee,” I hissed, practicality finally overcoming any residual modesty I might have.

Against my back, Owen chuckled. His breath sent feathery little chills racing across my skin, and I shivered.

“Seriously, guys. Let go.”

They all grumbled, but all three of them began moving around, sitting up, and making room for me to stand, as well. I stepped carefully through the clearing until I could move behind a tree.

When I came back, my three werewolves were pulling on jeans. One of them handed me a long shirt of my own.

“How did these get here?” I asked, my voice muffled by the fabric of the t-shirt as I pulled it over my head.

“We had one of the other pack members leave clothes for us here. We figured we’d probably end up sleeping out here after our run. We often do.”

My mind flashed back to the night before.

It had been amazing. The run had been glorious. All three of the wolves I had married—well, mated in a lovely ceremony, followed by a horrific biting scene, that the State of California would never recognize as binding, since polyandry wasn’t legal. Anyway. The three wolves I had faux-married had led the chase for me, crisscrossing their paths, doubling back to lay false trails, and teaching me to recognize where they had been and how to follow them.

Part of me knew they were training me. But my inner wolf didn’t care. She was happy to revel in the chase, to play the game they created for us.

I blinked at the turn my thoughts had taken.

“Why do I feel like my wolf is something that’s a little separate from the rest of me?” I blurted.

Dean, Owen, and Liam glanced back and forth at each other. They all kind of shrugged.

“What? Don’t you guys feel the same?”

Dean waggled his hand in a so-so gesture. “A little? Maybe it’s because we grew up knowing about our wolf side?”

“Or maybe it’s because it’s so new to you,” Liam suggested.

“I have a different theory,” Owen said. “You have to be a genetic werewolf for the bite to change you. Lycanthropy acts as a kind of genetic catalyst—a virus of some sort that activates the genes you already carry. That’s what our scientists tell us, anyway. But I’ve sometimes wondered if, for genetic werewolves who take the bite, it’s like the virus itself communicates with them, or something.”

I gave him a skeptical look. I mean, I hadn’t ever gone to college. And I didn’t pay that much attention in my high school science classes. But that didn’t seem like the sort of thing viruses did.

Owen shook his head. “I know that’s not quite right, of course, since it feels like a complete wolf.”

Not that it mattered. Whether my inner wolf was my destiny released from me or a virus imposed on me, I was stuck with it. Still, it was interesting to consider. “Like maybe the virus opens up a way for the inner wolf to communicate?”

Owen nodded, his smile relieved. “Something like that. Glad you followed my twisty logic.”

I pulled up the pair of jeans that Dean handed me and buttoned them, then slipped on my hiking boots, also thoughtfully supplied by one of my pack members.

As we began making our way out of the clearing, I realized that we were not far from the clearing where we’d held the ceremony the night before. In fact, there were several

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