The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

DRAVEN

I wake up not really knowing where I am. The bed beneath me is so soft I honestly wonder if I might be asleep at all. Maybe I’m not asleep, maybe I am dead and in heaven.

But then the doorbell rings.

Did I have plans this morning? I think I did. I’m almost sure I did…but what?

I open my eyes. “Shit! What time is it?!”

The doorbell sounds again, and I fall out of bed reaching for the things I wore yesterday. “Fuck! I’m coming! Hold the hell on!”

Stumbling down the stairs in my dirty clothes, I flip the switch allowing the shades to reveal the heavy fog of morning crowding the yard. The sight brings a contented smile to my face.

Wow…it really is beautiful here.

Ding dong!!!!

“Jesus!” I screech, opening the door. “The fuck is your deal?”

He stands there looking sexy as hell, the hint of a smile on his face. “I told you nine a.m. sharp.”

Domonic.

Of course. I forgot all about the breakfast appointment.

the sleep from my eyes and

late. It’s ten in the morning. There’s an

counter, crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to notice how crisp and fuckable he looks in white sweats and a stark

tattoos are showing. And his muscles. And I want to put my mouth on each and every

wafts toward me

I can smell her all over him.

do I have the right

for a few more

smile disappears. “You got what you

the door in his face is thwarted by a bright white Nike sneaker. I

I told you we were going to have breakfast, and we

with a sweet saccharine grin.”No. We’re not.

half smile quirking up as he

yeah? Did she mark you first?

throw him a sarcastic frown. His face looks so frighteneed

Then with a roll of my

questions get stupid

eyes

thought you said you were taking her home, last night,” I quip at him and slanting my eyes

and right as if someone might jump in and save him from my wrath. “I was going to but I-,” he stops, crossing his arms over his chest and idadvertanlty making his pectorals more prominently visible. His face turns indignant, ” -wait a

attempt to close the door, but he pushes inside, and I throw my hands up in frustration. “Really?” I snap, stomping my foot in annoyance. “You’re just going

to face me, his eyes are shing with perverse pleasure. “You’re jealous,” he accuses, rotating

I’m not jealous. I just don’t like you or your bitch. I never intended to

with himself about something, his eyes ticking back and forth as if he doesn’t know what else to say. They finally fall on me and

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