The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter Two Hundred Eighty

PAUL

It’s harder to step away from my door than I want it to be. Every inch gain is a fight, especially when I hear a dejected whimper escape Anastacia’s lips from beyond the confines of my bedroom walls.

Is she crying?

Maybe… After all, she’s been running for her life since the day her grandmother died without any real time to grieve, so she might be doing so now.

The image of her in the center of my bed, gazing up at me like she was searching for something to say, something that might keep me at her side a little longer, has me ready to turn right back around to give her exactly what she wishes.

She may need someone tonight.

No. Not someone.

You.

I have to stop. It’s not true. For a

all I know, she could be crying over her recent break up. They were together for more than two years. The fucking years!!! How many times was he able to slither between her leg Every night, probably. The son–of–a–bitch. If she was mine. though, it might be more like every few hours… minutes… seconds…

But she isn’t mine. She was his. She even said so.

It’s with that realization in mind that I’m finally able to start down the stairs.

“What’s on your mind, brother?” Rainier asks, gazing past me toward the landing and my closed bedroom door.

I hardly hear him as I descend, barely aware of the fact that everyone is talking as the pot stews inside my head.

I mean, what kind of name is Drace anyhow? What exactly did she want from him in the first place? The man that I saw in the woods is a joke. A zombie. A fluke. There isn’t anything particularly special about him. He’s the Alpha of a pack of dogs. Mutts. Mongrels.

form as he is when he’s shifted. More wiry than he is cut, and leaner than he is Like most hounds, Draco’s just as skinny in his human fo muscular. Judging by the way Anastacia’s eyes blaze with fire every time she catches sight of my bare chest and arms skinny is not what she’s into.

She’s b

power and heat and… connection and… fuck! So am I.

top of h

his head. A crooked smile, if it could

Dark skin, rugged beard, beady black eyes. Twisted black locks that sprout like weeds from the top be called one at all.

Nothing spectacular there. He is roguishly handsome at best.

fucking crack dealer. Or a starving gambler on a winning streak that hasn’t left the blackjack table in days. His features are haggard and sunken in. As if he’s constantly dehydrated. He basically my polar opposite and probably even has a small cock. There’s only one person

him? How did he ever grab her attention at all? And then keep

it’s not always about

1/3

Hundred Eighty

that bore har anek her magic? And what did he plan to do

no,

angen tur i det every time I picture

man! What the fuck? Rainier snaps, shaking his head. How

room to find everyone’s gaze

they talking

I guess so

“Yeah. What’s up?

and I have the sudden urge to knock back a seriously hot.

“Har

witch, motherfucker. And therefore dangerous. None

lip lifting in

he slimy lips

lips.

beber I can

gestures to the five

room. “Or none of us? He asks

Rainier snaps, glaring at him. “You’ve been way too omery lately. What the fuck is

here we go. Onery. Did Felix fix you up

dictionary

to laugh. “He has a point. You’re so aortalte lately, one has to consider what it is

reading.”

want… I will

“Says

a

“Why don’t we

eyes shoot toward the stairs at my back then back to Timmons before he flashes a feral

would be a no, then,” Timmons chuckles. III stay then. I’ll keep watch here while

1 growl, surprising myself

I’m forced to avoid the question in his

“And why

hounds, I announce, forcing myself not to turn around when I hear my bedroom door creak upen. What the fuck is she doing?

his gaze darkening with

as they wander onto