Rookie in the Midst [Blue Platoon 1] (Siren Publishing LoveXtrem ManLove)

  Blue Platoon 1

  Rookie in the Midst

  Craig Mason is a rookie when it comes to loving, and the task of being mated to four sexy warriors is daunting...but he's certainly up for the challenge. He finds himself embroiled in the delights of the claiming game - and then all hell breaks loose.

  The Ruin Pack want supremacy and are prepared to go to any lengths to get it. Craig's mates, Alpha Amos, Zane Finch, Brady Garnet, and Alfie Blaze are all Special Forces soldiers, and their duty is to protect their beloved heart, Craig, a special wolf shifter who possesses gifts that will unite the packs...only the ruling clans are against it, wanting power for themselves.

  Craig is determined that he and his pack live in peace, not war. Alpha Amos Hartland must take a stand against Arnie Ruin, before his enemy exposes the shifter community and brings catastrophic consequences to their world. Can Craig’s healing powers stop the feud? Will love conquer all?

  Genre: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Romantic Suspense, Shape-shifter

  Length: 52,510 words

  ROOKIE IN THE MIDST

  Blue Platoon 1

  Jools Louise

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  ROOKIE IN THE MIDST

  Copyright © 2018 by Jools Louise

  ISBN: 978-1-64243-035-6

  First Publication: March 2018

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2018 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at

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  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  DEDICATION

  My dad was in REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers). I’m not sure how he’d respond to the genre I write in, as he died December 1999, and LGBTQ just never came up in conversation, and certainly not ménage storylines. He used to disapprove of me reading Mills & Boon, so I can imagine what he’d think of me writing erotic romances! It could be the reason it took so long for me to start writing again. So this one’s for you, Dad. I’m a romance writer of LGBTQ fiction. Go figure. JL xx

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I’m fast approaching fifty, and loving my life right now. Poorer, but much happier after taking the plunge, and choosing writing as a career. It took a while, as “proper” work got in the way, but I chucked that aside about five years ago to concentrate on what I’ve always wanted to do. Write. I love writing LGBTQ fiction, and my tag line is “Love without limits.” We love who we love, don’t we? Nobody should be made to feel ashamed. I’m fortunate to live in the wilds of the Furness Peninsular, in Cumbria, England, not far from the Lake District, and the ancient market town of Kendal. It’s a great place for inspiration. I hope you enjoy the books I’ve written. Plenty more on the way. JL xxx

  For all titles by Jools Louise, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/jools-louise

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Landmarks

  Cover

  ROOKIE IN THE MIDST

  Blue Platoon 1

  JOOLS LOUISE

  Copyright © 2018

  Prologue

  “Move! Dead ground one hundred yards, my twelve o’clock. On my order, get the hell out!”

  Bullets peppered the ground, startling Craig as dirt sprayed everywhere, shrapnel ricocheting dangerously. Craig grimaced, crawling forward on his belly on command, dragging one injured comrade along the stony ground to the safety of a dry gulch, out of sight of the machine gunner who was doing his best to kill them.

  “Top marks, Private Mason, you kept a cool head and didn’t panic. You probably just saved Jessop’s life,” his CO, Captain Amos Hartland, said approvingly. “We’ll make a soldier of you yet.”

  Craig nodded, keeping his head down to hide his smile. It was the first positive thing the cap had said since Craig had arrived twelve weeks ago, fresh from basic training, into the midst of hell on earth. Everyone here hated the army’s presence, and they all wanted to kill at the slightest opportunity, without bothering to ask questions. His job, as an army medic, was to make sure the killing was minimal. It was a never-ending job.

  “Come on, guys, let’s dig out. Extraction is one click due east. Two Cat A’s and a Cat B is too many injured for my liking,” the captain said, his dark brown eyes hard as stone. “Those bastards up there knew we were coming. Special Forces can take care of them now.”

  Craig agreed silently, getting his medic pack together, keeping a professional eye on the injured men, Sergeant Cord Hartley, Corporal Jonathon James, and Private James Murphy. Two had been shot, one the victim of an IED, and all needed critical care, ASAP. If they didn’t get them out of this shithole, the only care they’d need would be in the mortuary. Private Murphy had a through and through to his leg, but it was a bleeder. He could still die before they got to safety.

  “Sir, ready, sir,” Craig said sharply.

  “All call signs on me,” Captain Hartland said into their comm link. Using a hand signal, he got them all moving. They kept their heads down as they left the ambush site, not wanting to present any more targets.

  Craig gritted his teeth, helping to carry Sergeant Hartley, his fellow soldiers assisting with the Corporal. He’d known that the army life would be tough. He hadn’t expected this. His first tour, first field mission, and first live contact. The enemy, also foreign to these lands, were determined to take scalps…and it appeared they had a traitor in the midst of the platoon. This mission had been super-secret. None but three people had known the direction until they were already in the field. But one of the three must have sold them out. This mission had been about stopping a gun smuggler and head of a deadly terror cell, shutting down his operation. Apparently, not only the insurgents wanted it kept open.

  The gunfire faded as he and his unit headed toward the extraction point. This thinking lark was way above his pay grade. His job was as a medic. He needed to get the wounded back to the clinic and shipped home. Alive if possible. Figuring out who the traitor was? That was on someone else’s shoulders.

  Chapter One

  “Stand easy, Private Mason,” Captain Amos Hartland said briskly, eye
ing the slim-hipped, wide-shouldered rookie medic intently. The man was average height, about five feet eight inches, his build that of a runner’s, with a physique that was strong yet lithe, showing a grace of movement that had caught Hartland’s attention in a way that had his wolf howling in excitement. The man had been on the base for nearly three months, but in that time, Hartland had been so busy, he’d yet to really spend any time with the cutie. This last mission was Mason’s first field test, after their last medic had been sent home in a body bag. The Private was normally ensconced at the base’s field hospital.

  Mason’s blue eyes were the shade of cornflowers, his blond hair cut short, with a little weight on top that curled ever so slightly. Hartland’s perusal swept over the curves of Mason’s succulent lips, and he had to rein in the desire to taste them. Mason was delectable, lickable, and fuckable, all in one sexy package. How the hell had he missed the fact that Private Mason was probably his mate? His wolf certainly seemed to think so, and Hartland had an overwhelming urge to sink his fangs into the guy’s lickable neck, fuck him into oblivion, and claim him forever.

  “Private Mason, good work today,” Hartland said approvingly, shaking his head to rid his brain of the images racing through it, seeing the glimmer of pride in the man’s eyes. “We were in a hole, and you kept a cool head.”

  “Sir, thank you, sir,” Mason replied, nodding, a slight smile curving his mouth. He seemed nervous and licked his lips, drawing Hartland’s attention. Hartland saw his nostrils quiver and heard an audible swallow as the man met Amos’s gaze.

  Hartland moved around the desk and perched his butt on the edge. He stared into Mason’s eyes and inhaled the musky, sweaty scent of the young medic, which had his libido going crazy. He’d ordered Mason to his office for a debrief as soon as the injured were evacuated from the base, and Mason had yet to shower. He smelled of battle, blood, hard work…and all man.

  Barely twenty-three, the man had excelled at all his classes, his background shrouded in sorrow. He’d lost both parents to a car accident as a child, being brought up in a group foster home from the age of five years old. The kid had been bullied through school, according to the man’s own testimony, and run away several times from care. At eighteen, he’d left for good and signed up, taking to basic training with some difficulty initially, before applying for the role of army medic. Hartland hated quitters and had followed Mason’s progress with some interest. Mason had not quit, and Amos had been proud of what the man had achieved.

  The fact that Mason’s family were known to Hartland, one of the wolf shifter packs from London, had kept his attention. He regretted what had happened to Mason, but had been unable to help. He’d only been a child himself when Mason had been orphaned. He was the one who had requested Mason for his platoon when the man had graduated. He didn’t regret the decision.

  “Private Mason, I’d like your opinion on what happened today,” Hartland said seriously, frowning a little. “Our mission was compromised.”

  “Yes, sir,” Craig replied, meeting Hartland’s dark gaze fearlessly.

  “What do you think of your fellow rookie? Charles Costa.”

  Craig paused, taking a breath before answering. “He’s cocky, arrogant, and doesn’t listen very well,” he finally replied. “He likes to peacock around, soldiers like he’s playing Russian roulette, and isn’t a good fit for this unit. Sir.”

  Hartland bit back the smile that threatened, agreeing completely with the assessment. Charles Costa had been transferred from another platoon, his CO frustrated that Costa had so far not responded to his training. Captain Schultz wanted Hartland’s delicate approach. Hartland had given Costa a chance to improve, after several warnings, but the man was a no-hoper. It was time to give him his marching orders. ASAP.

  “Hmmm. Private Costa, between you and me, is on the next flight home. He put everyone in danger out there, not following orders. We’re lucky nobody was killed. He’s a liability.”

  “Yes, sir,” Craig replied, nodding, looking a little surprised at the confidence.

  “I’d like you to keep an eye on him,” Hartland said. “In a professional manner. His psyche eval was sketchy at best. Not sure how he even got through it. He’s not good soldier material, that’s for sure. Not a team player.”

  “I’ve already observed his behavior, sir,” Craig said dryly, shaking his head. “The guy thinks his shit smells of roses and he’s invincible. He nearly got us all killed today, trying to prove he’s Braveheart or Rambo or something. He froze, sir, when we made first contact, not even trying to shoot back. I don’t think he’s cut out for this army.”

  Harland met Craig’s gaze and nodded slowly. “I agree,” he said. “Which is why he’ll be on his way home soon. I can’t afford to have him on the team.”

  “Yes, sir,” Craig replied. “Is that all, sir?”

  Hartland stood and stepped forward, seeing Craig’s pupils expand in surprise, a hint of awareness showing, and then the stench of arousal, unmistakable in the hot tent. “For now,” Hartland whispered. He leaned closer, baring fangs, seeing Craig’s startlement. “I knew your folks,” he said. “My dad served with your dad, years ago. I’m sorry we couldn’t help. We were barred from interfering.”

  Craig frowned at that. “Interfering?” he asked, tilting his head submissively. Hartland was pure alpha, big, strong, and authoritative in every pore. He demanded respect without even trying. Power oozed from him, addictive and exciting.

  “Your parents were banished from the London pack,” Hartland told the man and saw utter shock sweep over Craig’s face. He realized that the younger man had no knowledge of what had happened to his family. He rested his big hands on Craig’s shoulders, enjoying the tensile steel beneath his fingers. “Now you know who I am.”

  Craig mimicked Hartland, revealing his own set of pearly white fangs, long and lethally sharp. “Yes,” he replied. “I’ve had to hide what I am for so long. I didn’t know…I thought I was the only one.”

  “You didn’t sense that I was one, too?” Hartland asked, getting a negative response. “There are others,” he said. “I’ll introduce you soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Craig said, his voice husky as he stared up at Hartland. The scent of arousal strengthened, and Hartland saw the thickening bulge at Craig’s crotch.

  “I thought so,” Hartland murmured, leaning in closer. “My gaydar isn’t usually wrong. I’m thinking there’s more than just physical attraction, though. My wolf’s going crazy.” He kept his voice low, barely audible, not wanting to advertise what he was.

  “Yes, sir,” Craig muttered, licking his lips. Hartland arrowed in on the movement, dipping his head even nearer.

  “I can’t help myself,” Hartland said, groaning, giving in to impulse as he closed the gap, tasting Craig’s perfect lips for the first time. He reached between them, cupping the man’s cock, squeezing firmly until they both groaned. Hartland felt Craig open for him and swept inside the man’s succulent mouth. “Deliciously addictive,” he growled, nipping Craig’s lower lip and then sliding his tongue along the dips and crevices of Craig’s mouth, exploring thoroughly. The kiss ended slowly, reluctantly, and Hartland stepped back.

  They stared at one another, panting hard, dicks hard as granite, desperate for relief but knowing now was not the time or place.

  “We return home in a month’s time,” Hartland said softly. “It’s too dangerous to do anything here. Too many eyes and ears.”

  “Yes, sir,” Craig husked back, swallowing hard. “Er, permission to leave, sir. I need to shower, sir.”

  Hartland cleared his throat and backed away from temptation. Bending the man over the nearest flat surface and fucking him into oblivion was an option neither could afford to indulge. Not on company time, anyway. They’d be court-martialed before they finished orgasming.

  “Go and shower, Private Mason,” Hartland ordered, moving to sit down. “We’ll talk more another time.”

  Private Mason saluted, then did a sma
rt about-face, and left the tent.

  Hartland closed his eyes, concentrating on a cool, mountain lake, trying to get his dick to calm down. He’d never been quite so intensely affected by any man, at any time. A moment later, he gave a start of shock, and his brain began to engage. He needed to introduce Craig Mason to the pack. He had the feeling that Private Mason might be just what they needed. They’d been searching for so long for the one to complete them. The intensity of his response to Private Mason had him thinking that perhaps fate had just delivered that someone right into his lap…and his cock.

  * * * *

  Craig let the cool water sluice over his tired frame, his cock finally deflating after the scorching intensity of Captain Hartland’s kisses. Damn, the man could kiss! His wolf had practically been skipping with excitement, something it had never done before, even during Craig’s previous sexual encounters, which had been little more than fumbling in the dark.

  He heard movement behind him and saw a dark shadow. He frowned, thinking he recognized the man, and then shouted in pain as he was hit by something hard, then again, trying to defend himself against the blows that rained down viciously, until he could defend himself no more and slumped to the wet ground, unconscious.

  * * * *

  “Think you’re going to keep an eye on me, do you, fuckwit?” Charles Costa growled, glaring at his victim. “Think you’re going to stop me? No one can stop me. I aim to get rich, quickly, and then live the life I’m supposed to live. Not ass deep in bullets and bullshit orders.” He sneered and turned to leave the outdoor shower block. “You’ll be lucky if you survive this, medic,” he mocked. “Such a perfect little soldier, aren’t you? Fucking his way to the top. Fucking prick. You have no idea of who I am, do you? I only enlisted to get to you. This is your first warning.”