The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter One Hundred–Forty–Nine

DREAM SEQUENCE

I’m running through the woods, wearing nothing but an inversized button ap shirt that I’m fairly a

doesn’t belong to me. Although my (feet are bare, I somehow don’t feel the sharp rocks when I land on them or the thorny bushes as barrel through them um laughing and playing. Iraping nimbly from tree to tree as hide. Each time I hear a brunch break, or catch a whisper in the wind, I move on. Slowly but surely making my way deeper and deeper into the kingdom of Evergreens. The further in Ign, the higher the ground becomes and soon I am climbing. over boulders and shattered tree stumps. Hurding my way toward the sover hala of light that beckons beyond a tight circle of redwoods. I must there. I have to find him. He is searching for me. I know it. No matter what it takes. I have to make it to that point so that I can fully meet Him. My guardian in the woods, my wolf I havent heard him howling for me but in my heart I can feel him calling. He waits at the highest point. Minding his secrets and my own at the top of this grueling hill.

Suddenly, I catch my foot on something and look down. At first, 1

the streets of LA Except

ether you might

slivers of

In woods so brevity beced

what is staring back at me. It just appears to be a face, like any

forest, on a mountainside rodilled with spikes of green and “there is a part who uta atop this peak smoking a cheroot and dressing the

trees in curfs of smoke.

This face ducunt belong here. As I pert closer, Enota

sht about the neck that I didn t before, it appears to be torn. A long gash has (the first tattered and uneven. I pop en my eyes curch on the letters written’ulong the chin and

“are ubu mumbers circling the evelib, hed etched along

ripped the onær soft skin of the thereket over the forehead. They mean some the jawline that end just at the aman

of the

I fall to my needs a pot of the face o Tinije”

meuth any bat bytt

and the terribly dead eyes burn incu ime and follow my movement. The ground

arway from the face. A rumble bus sturted behind me. An

kkond Jew, than a black beast made from the dark of the trees.

throbbing thrums at the base

of

of the black

body almost

kounts in Font of me. Freach

he can’t understand

settling in the side

shoulders are

I

I dungting in the ground. My font une untunging is he brings me closer and shudder, marveling at the perfectly curved toge of hugs. They get drop of black und forming at the sharpened points bound the curve mat.” I whoper.

growl erupti frum has bya as he darts forward, plunging the points at his fangs into

OF DREAM

panting

as I guow

• fud.” I say,

beling dia,

Bartlett

Chapter One Hundred–Forty–Nine

the yacht. Then a lingering scent

Bourbon. My heart clenches with pain as the memory of Rainier’s wedding ring surfaces. My mind is still Hazy, and the events of the morning mill fogo,

open up the floodgates, ready to cry it out, but a whispering in my head won’t let me release my tears. Bly neck on the tight side tingles and burns for a moment

only light in this little studio is coming from the windows and a tiny lamp near the front door. Looking down at my hands, I realize I’ve been clutching something to my chest. It’s a dark, navy blue shirt that smells just like Heaven and I hold it closer as I stand up. Flipping on the nearest lightswitch, the apartment is suddenly flooded with yellow light. I frown as I realize Rainier isn’t here and that I

go? When did he leave?

The instant anguish… the panic. Then his loss of control when

he went home dummy. To his wife. You

to my nose and take a deep satisfying whiff. The scent rolls over me, firing my insides and causing the sore spot on my neck to heat. Walking toward the full length mirror next to the window, I tilt my head to inspect my neck. It doesn’t long to find what I’m looking for, but when I do my eyes widen like saubers and the ending of my dream resurfaces. “Oh my God! 1 hiss, shifting closer to

the junction of my neck and my shoulder- there is a mark that isn’t like any love bite that

He

le bit m

som he punched right through my flesh. Studying it, I notice the

the first

time that it is ripped beyond repai “Did that shit really happen?” I whisper, closing my eyes as the image of Rainier hovering over me on the couch superimposes onto the image of Rainier in my dream. “No fucking way,”

to turn reality y into fantasy. I need to think

more than I do logic. Always have, always will. Even when my dad agreed to trade me to Hector for his debt – I relied on my intuition. I was hurt, certainly. Ashamed, definitely. But there was also this little voice inside my head that said

was right wasn’t I?

No, I was not right,” I scolded myself. “He’s