The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter 296

Chapter Two Hundred Ninety–Six

ANASTACIA

My clit is still pulsing and my knees are still weak by the time Paul returns from using the men’s room and paying the check. Eyeing him with greedy intent, I lick my lips when my sight falls on the bulge of his biceps that punch against the cotton of his short–sleeved shirt. He had removed his sweater and placed it over his hard on after making me come in a room full of diners. Shifters already run hot as it is, and after the scandalous PDA his skin was fairly burning at the touch. Now, with his vein that runs along his muscles escaping in a trail of hot–blooded bliss from his shoulders to his wrists, I’m almost tempted to forgo the candles in favor of heading back to his place and mapping the damn thing with the tip of my tongue, but I know better.

I need those damn candles.

…And whatever else I might find useful.

A sun crystal might be nice. Some sage…

But I know without asking, I won’t find any of that here. Pity. It would have been nice to find a kindred spirit amongst these folk.

Taking stock of all the eyes around us, I notice they are no longer staring at me the way they were only seconds ago. Paul’s return to my side seems to have reinstalled their table side manners. But moments ago, when Paul left me sitting here alone, the entire place turned toward me. Sizing me up to study me as if it were their job to weigh my worth. Making sure I was good enough for their Pretty Paul local shifter. It leaves me wondering how many of these humans know what he is.

Although the people have appeared to lose interest in me, I can almost feel their hesitance when they glance my way.

They want to know what makes me special.

The tables are full in this place and there are a number of families lined up outside. Not surprised though, the food was pretty damn good. It could have used a bit more heat to it, just a dash or two of cayenne pepper would have done the trick. But I’m no Gordon Ramsay, so

what do I know?

Paul slaps a hundred dollar bill down on the table and then reaches his hand out for me. I squint at the enormous amount, then lift my gaze to scan the floor for our waitress. The New Orleans inside of me saying, this kind of tip shouldn’t be left unattended.

To my relief, she makes an appearance by the time I stand up. “Oh!” she says, lifting the bill and throwing a wary look around the room. Her lovely hazel eyes go straight for me and she smiles, “This is too much, but thank you so much. I really need it right now.”

What?

She thinks I gave it to her!?

As I open my mouth to correct her mistake, Paul yanks me forward and says, “I told her she was crazy, but she insisted.”

Really? You sweet devil of a man.

knows she would hate it if it came from him, so he lied.

his way. “She’s too good for you, Paul, and

with our plates, the heaviness of her emotions

that’s the only warning I get before he tosses me into his arms again and

outside.

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Two Hundred Ninety–Six

ask, “Why does she hate you so much?”

she hates. At least

places me in the jeep and buckles me in like a child.

steps away, his spine

us

shrug, not willing to give up all

one place that might have everything you need and everything-” he pauses, his eyes going dark with heat as he appraises me “-that I need

KENDALL

the evening shift,” Hugh says, eyeing me up as he walks in the

of giving my regulars the undivided attention they deserve. While I finish jotting down their order, I work to control the roiling in my gut that has nothing to do with this pitiful pit stop’s fish grease smell, and everything to do with the sloppy sometimes manager who is the owner’s son. Smiling at Old Bob and Michelle Gordon, I refill their coffees and count to

still standing there.

Kendall,” Hugh spits (and I mean literally

I toss, shaking my pen in

is this place going to get with the times and invest in the twenty–first century? My flippin‘ hand is cramping up. We need tablets asshole! And another POS!

Hugh”

least, even with his snaggle–tooth on full display. “A full ten hour shift, Sugar Tits. Amber

Again!!!

I hiss, stepping into the alcove so that the customers can’t hear me. “Do not

crooked smile flashing so broadly it sends spittle dribbling down his chin. “I like Sugar

Well, they don’t like you, so get over

he steps so close I’m forced to back into the wall, a hot pot of coffee still in

you… you slimy

Soon his mama will be back from her vacation and

me,” Hugh says, backing away

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