The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter Three Hundred Eight

KENDALL

Fired me? Firrrreeeed meee?

For what? Falling down the stairs?

Oh no. Oh hell no!

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Shake yourself Kendall, it’s time to let this bastard have a dose.

“You can’t do that!” I snap, desperation tingling through my system and pushing to the surface. “I haven’t done a motherfucken thing wrong!” I quip, sliding out of the booth to my feet, and getting up in his face.

But Timmons isn’t looking at me, although he’s still standing exactly where he was just a moment ago, when he dropped me onto the seat, his face is turned away and his eyes are on Charlie. “You can’t date the help and manage it, Chuck. Sleeping with the employees is not allowed, and promiscuous blondes are not only bad for business, but they carry disease.”

What. The. Fuck?

My eyes heat as they fall over this handsome bastard as if seeing him for the first time. “You should know something else about promiscuous blondes-” I hiss shoving him in the chest as I do – nevermind that he doesn’t budge “-they are also prone to violence.”

It’s almost too perfect, the way his face snaps toward me at the exact same time that my left hand goes flying for his stupid mug. I’m suddenly in that mode, you know, that fuck it mode you never seem to see coming. The one that doesn’t give you even a moment of foreplay before you hop on and ride. My hand connects with his skin and the sound cracks across the space to bounce along the walls.

It was a damn good slap.

But my hand just might be broken.

A loud shatter sounds as Charlie’s mouth drops open along with glass in his hands. Shock and fear for the next few moments of my existence shine in his eyes and a strangled, incoherent cry warbles from his mouth.

Yeah, I know.

It was nce meeting you too Charlie.

Timmons‘ eyes swirl with a glowing yellow light, firing around the orbs that coil his pupils like an electric current. The view is enough to cause me step to back in fear, especially when both of his hands shoot forward and fist in my hair. Sparks of pleasure explode across my scalp where his fingers tangle in my roots and my head tilts back. Despite my predicament, a heady moan escapes my lips, my common sense unable to override the cataclysmic fantasy of this leading somewhere other than behind bars. In the back of my mind, I’m allowed to notice how absolutely delicious his forearms look this close up, and some pathetic part of me tries to imagine he’s about to kiss me, instead of what he actually does, which is flip me around, bend me over the table, and yank my arms behind my back.

Damn it.

Now, I am going to jail…

Shit.

Timmons chuckles humorlessly, wrenching my wrists together with so much force that I cry out and drool slips from my mouth and out onto the table. From behind me, his body pressing roughly into mine. In a way that I might enjoy if we were anywhere else but here, but…we are here, and…I’m fucked,

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Three Hundred Eight

his words smarting as his head dips down next to my ear. “Have you

Yeah, I know.

an extremely clear view of the sidewalk through the window, and from my vantage point on the polished wooden tabletop, I am allowed the humiliation of the locals pressing their faces upon the

my wrists together, I hear the unmistakable sound of handcuffs hitting the table behind my head. However, why he has

wait!” Charlie beckons, coming around the bar and nearly tripping over a chair as he gallops toward us. “Be careful with her!

Chuck,” Timmons snipes. “You’re going to have to find yourself a different slut to stroke at night. This one for five to

be back

What?!” Charlie

I hate you so much!” I whimper, the stupid fanciful girl in me finally rising to the surface as I think of all the times that I simply watched him from afar. Imagining all sorts of stupid, idiot, scenarios that might bring him a little closer, or make him

sees

what you wanted?

hate or my tears, but I hear the disbelief in Timmons voice when he asks, “Did

never expected to hear it. Like he really imagined there wasn’t anything he could ever do to me to inspire the loathing/ am feeling for him now. With a breath like a shudder, he

My heart rate is skyrocketing, pumping pain into my bloodstream like poison. My stomach turns,

Oh fuck.

those fucks outside that the bar is closed

and I feel his hand on my shoulder,

wood and straighten my back a bit. But I keep myself pressed away from Timmons, because I won’t be letting the bastard’s

them CHUCK!” he snaps. “Now! I want them

heavily and I watch as he exits out the front of the bar. A chorus of boos and whys follow as I work to control the rise

and caging me in from behind. The dude is so big that he doesn’t even have to touch me to do

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Three Hundred Eight

brown curls coil over the front of his brow, draping over the wrinkle there and making him look almost vulnerable. Even with his gaze locked on some

to do that quite a bit with everything

back, lining the hot steel of his powerful frame up against the softness of my behind. Or the sudden disappointed huff

1. me.

pupils. And me…being the loser I am…I can’t help

Oh God!!!!

dick I feel pulsing somewhere along the base of

has to be… right?

be his gun, because guns don’t swell and harden. At least, not that I’m aware. If I push

will know.

not do that, he already thinks you’re

smells like lemon candy.

dying for a piece.