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.

late,” I tell him smoothly, rubbing the sleep

with amusement. “You are late. It’s ten in the morning.

trying not to notice

muscles. And I want to put my mouth on each

perfume wafts toward me and I

Margo. I can smell her all over him.

nor do I have the right

roll around for a few more minutes laughing because, I got what I wanted and

narrow and his smile disappears. “You got what you wanted. Which

in his face is thwarted by a bright white Nike sneaker. I nearly lose

Wait a minute! I told you we were going to have

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

in amusment. A half smile quirking up as

laugh, “Oh yeah? Did she mark you first?

as I throw him a sarcastic frown. His face looks

I chortle, cocking my head at him warily. Then with a roll

get stupid

ticks his jaw, casting his eyes downward as

at him and

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, ”

do not have to have breakfast with you.” I 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 push yourself inside? You see? This is why

shing with perverse pleasure. “You’re jealous,” he accuses, rotating his shoulders and sizing me up as he steps closer

couch with a laugh. “No. I’m not jealous. I just don’t like you or your bitch. I never intended to come to breakfast,” I lie. I was going to, but now that I know

and forth as if he doesn’t know what else to say. They finally fall on me and

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