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

black beast made from

thrums at the base

dark monsters of the

out of the black cou?

poodles, his powerful body

in Font of me. Freach and for him, whimpering

can’t understand

before settling in the

and my neck and shoulders are bare for his

I

as 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

frum has bya as he darts forward, plunging the points at

OF DREAM

panting

as I guow

• fud.” I say, dukim

meal beling dia,

Bartlett

Chapter One Hundred–Forty–Nine

was supposed to be on the yacht. Then a lingering scent walls up to

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, bet atsto where I am. “Shit, I say to myself,

me release my tears. Bly neck on the tight side tingles and burns

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

go? When

way he looked when I told him he had to let me go. The instant anguish… the panic. Then his loss of control when he snapped and latched onto my body, begging me to forgive

To his wife. You

what I’m looking for, but when I do

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

He

le bit m

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

the first

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.

turn reality

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

right

No, I was not right,” I