The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter Three

DOMONIC

There is something disturbingly wrong with me today and although I don’t want to admit it, I know what it is.

The girl. Not the one presently kneeling in front of me as she expertly sucks my dick.

But the one from this afternoon. The one from the bar.

Draven.

An image of her long black hair and bright green eyes fills my vision and suddenly, my chest is aching again. The way she looked at me – the pleading in her gaze, then the disappointment in her eyes when I told her she had to leave – has me haunted. Leaving me with a burn in my chest that feels like my heart might explode.

I’m done with this bitch in front of me. Try as I might, I’m just not into her anymore. I guess I never really was. But now, since meeting Draven, I can’t even pretend to be.

First, Margo looks nothing like Draven, and suddenly, that fiery girl that I just sent out on the train is the only woman I want on my dick.

Fuck!

“Get up,” I hiss, and she smiles. Lifting off her knees and reaching for my neck. I shake her off, “No. Don’t touch me. I’m not in the mood.”

She jerks back, her blond hair swinging with her breasts as she shakes her head at me. “What is the matter with you baby? You’ve been acting funny all day.”

I roll my eyes and head for my bathroom to clean her mouth off my cock. “It’s nothing,” I say, rubbing at my chest and the bruising ache there.

It’s not nothing. But it will be soon enough.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I’m ashamed. I’m probably never gonna see her again. That girl. I’ll never know any more about her than I did today. I won’t get to feel that pull I felt earlier either. The way every hair on my body stood up when she entered the bar and the wolf inside of me purred as the world fell away at my feet.

When I was growing up, my mother always told me that one day she would find me… my mate. Mom said that when it happened no one else would matter for me, but her. Then mom would pretend to be jealous of the imaginary human just to hold me in her arms and make me promise to never to grow up. I guess I never believed it could really happen.

But it did today.

Relax. She’s gone. It will get easier.

It had better.

“Hey Dom! I was talking to you,” Margo snaps, stepping into the reflection of my mirror, her large breasts still unbound and heaving with sexual energy. “I want you inside me. Please?” She reached for me and I grab her hands in mine, forcing a smile on my face.

zip up my pants and step around her. “Take a shower. Let’s head to the bar. I need to talk to

out in

I snap before heading

that Draven is gone, this fucking ache in my chest might go

again… it might just get

DRAVEN

start any minute. After a quick and pleasant tour of the establishment as well as the apartment above it, Bart left me

without even the possibility of curl, but I usually wore it braided and wrapped into a tight bun. A habit I developed to keep it from being easily grabbed. Now that

a tight long-sleeved black turtleneck, much like the white one I arrived in, I smile at my reflection. Despite the bags under my sparkling green gaze and the concave appearance of my

my naturally pouty lips and a two-brush coating of mascara over my long lashes, I am ready for

standing there with a tiny purple crop

me to wear that

mouth falls open in shock and he whistles. “Damn

wear that.” I grimace, my teeth

grins, eyeing me suggestively.

my hair, as is my habit sometimes when I get

suppose it could. Any particular reason why? I think it’ll look

it is as if he takes note of the turtleneck I’m wearing and the nervousness in my eyes. “Let me see,”

my head tightly but relent when he just stands there staring at me and refusing to move. Rolling up the sleeve of one arm, I showed him the latest

a sharp hissing breath, his face goes momentarily red with anger. “I’m guessing

my shirt up to just below my breasts and turning around. I allow him a moment to view the

“Your stepfather did that to

into place. “He did.” Then deciding a bit more honesty can

always hard to get

“how fucking old is the little

“My age.”

what it is – refused

it

and as he has only just met me,

has a

me where the strip

guilty,” I sigh. Haha – well maybe I was… “I really would have gone there to apply. Just not right away. Can I wear the top

I can pull it over my

I know I

“Bartlett,” he corrects me.

my hips as I saunter past