Brand of the Pack (3 page)

Rachel’s laugh sounded from the tiny speaker and Morgan snuggled in closer, fiddling absently with the hard ridges of his flexed stomach through the threadbare shirt he’d put on during her little play-and-pee on his land earlier. Tracing each rigid muscle, she counted eight separate and defined abs. His hips tapered into loose jeans, and she ran her nail against the indentations there. Mercy, the man was something sexy.

The phone beeped as Grey hung up, and he went still as a statue. “Woman,” he growled. “You keep doing that and I’m not going to be able to give you the space you need.”

When she looked up, his eyes burned like the sun with the hungriest expression she’d ever seen. Equal parts fear and desire filled her with a warmth that rocked her hips closer to him.

“Morgan,” he warned.

The vision of her panicking like a lunatic outside when he’d kissed her earlier doused her like a cold shower and she log-rolled away. Fine. She’d ease into intimacy, but she didn’t have to be gracious about it. Stomping like a tiny, pissed-off elephant, she threw open the bedroom door and screamed when she ran into a wall of sexy man chest. Great goodness, he was fast. And when in hell had he taken off his shirt?

“Are you pouting?” he asked with the most irritating grin. She wanted to claw it off.

“No,” she said grumpily. “I’m actually glad we aren’t going to fool around because that sounds super boring and—”

His lips crashed onto hers and she rocketed backward in his arms. He lifted her, light as air, and tossed her on the bed. “You think you’re ready to fool around then?” His chest was heaving and his voice ragged. That playful smile from a moment ago didn’t exist anymore. In its place was desire.

Her breath hitched as she tried to remember how to breathe when he stalked closer. Scrambling backward, she squeaked, “I changed my mind.”

Latching a stony grip on her ankle, he dragged her to the edge of the bed and pressed her into it with his bodyweight. “Feel.” He yanked her hand to his jeans.

His length was hard, beckoning her to stroke, but she froze. Flashes of Montana, of the chain around her neck and of the psychotic asshole, Marshall, pulling her legs apart, clawed at her. Grey had saved her, but panic in tight spaces was now a constant companion.

“You think you’re ready for this?” Grey asked.

Shaking her head, she turned to stone under his fierce lips. Gripping her hair, he rasped, “I know you aren’t. I’m not keeping my distance because I don’t want you, Morgan. I’m giving you the space you need. Don’t torture us both. Come to me when you’re ready.”

His weight disappeared and he stood above her with his back turned, his hand held out.

When her body started functioning again, she slid her palm into his and he pulled her up. “I’m not putting you off because I don’t love you. I’m putting you off because I do.”

Fighting an epic blush, Morgan followed Grey back downstairs where he showed her the rest of the house. The kitchen, with its stainless steel appliances and huge natural wood island, looked like it belonged in a home decorating catalogue. The dining room with its oversized table and chairs made out of deer antlers gave it a rustic, mannish feel. This house was the perfect balance of feminine and masculine. The study boasted a computer desk and bookshelf with Grey’s first three werewolf lore texts. The screened-in sunroom had comfortable chairs and benches for lounging. He led her through the living room to a second wing of the house with three guest bedrooms, showing her which one Marissa had picked out.

As minutes passed, and she saw how much care had gone into preparing a home for her and Lana, months of strain lifted from her. Her mate hadn’t balked at her return after so long. In fact, he couldn’t quite seem to keep the glorious smile from his achingly beautiful lips. She affected him as he did her, and his careful caresses and touches healed something that had fractured the day she’d given her engagement ring back. This place he’d created with her in mind had settled the questions she’d harbored about his reasons for wanting to marry her. She’d thought he pitied her and felt guilt over the brutal way she had been Turned. She’d thought he saw marrying her as his duty, so he could protect the silver wolf. Her assumptions had all been wrong. What he’d created here proved it. His love for her rivaled her churning, endless feelings for him.

And listening to him talk in that easy way of his that he only did with her, she knew she’d been right coming back to make things work.

For the first time in months, she could breathe again.

Marissa set a plate of cake in front of Morgan and sank into the chair beside her. It was a warm day, but not too hot to spend time on the sprawling porch watching Lana play.

“You swear you don’t care if Grey initiates me first?” she asked the girl.

Marissa looked at her with guileless green eyes and shook her strawberry blonde waves. “For the hundredth time, ya crazy. I don’t care. I’m just glad to be getting away from Logan and Jason. And besides, my wolf is way too submissive to hold second in the pack.”

Morgan chuckled and speared a piece of the cake with a plastic fork. “Grey is going to have his hands full. Packs rarely have two females, and all he has are ladies.” She stifled a groan when the sweet flavors burst in her mouth.

Marissa propped her feet on an empty chair. “Tell me about it. I’m calling it right now. He is going on a maiming spree the first Summit we ever go to.”

“Nope,” Morgan said around the bite of cake. “He said he wasn’t going to subject any of us to Summit. He said, and I quote, ‘There’s no way I’m flouncing a silver wolf in front of hundreds of horny werewolves.’ End quote.”

The door to the woodshop swung open and Grey sauntered out holding an armload of scrap wood. It would have bent a weaker man over, but he made it look like he was taking paper out to the recycling.

Marissa squinted at him and pulled her sunglasses down from the crown of her head. “He has a point, you know.” She swung her gaze to meet Morgan’s. “You smell different to me. If I can smell Silver Wolf, it has to be ten times more potent to males. Probably best we don’t go. Don’t get me wrong, Grey would take them all down, but it isn’t best for werewolf numbers, you savvy?”

Grey’s eyes landed on Morgan and froze her in place. No way the red velvet deliciousness threatening to plop out of her mouth would taste better than his lips right now. With a secret smile, he disappeared back into the workshop.

She had added his hand-carved wooden recipe boxes to her website, and the response had been immediate. Orders had flooded in so quickly, she had to start a waiting list. They were already booked for the next three months, so Grey spent a lot of time working. After his chronic struggle to fit into the human workplace, it seemed he had found his niche. He obviously loved the work, and with the house already paid for, they could provide for living expenses and bills with the income they were making from the sales. It suited Grey perfectly since he never had to meet a customer. He handled questions over the phone and email, and three days a week, he drove into town and shipped the recipe boxes out. Clients would never know they dealt with a werewolf who loved howling at the moon and had a tendency to eat squirrels.

Tearing her eyes away from the woodshop, Morgan said, “You’re officially fourteen years old now. Are you having a good birthday?”

“I am. It’ll be even better when Rachel gets off work, though. I’m starving.”

Morgan snorted. “You’re always starving.” Keeping a werewolf’s appetite satisfied was a full-time job. “I asked Rachel what your favorite kind of cake was. She said she was making it for the celebration tonight, but she gave me your second choice.”

“I love red velvet. My mom used to make it when I was little. I can’t get enough of Rachel’s coconut cake either. I think I have a sweet tooth.”

“Was your mom good at baking?”

“Good at baking, terrible at cooking. We ate pizza and sandwiches a lot.” Marissa stared off into the woods, but her focus seemed somewhere beyond.

“What happened to her?” Morgan asked low.

Every muscle in Marissa’s body tensed and she clutched the arms of the chair until her knuckles shone white. “Grey didn’t tell you?”

“He said it wasn’t his story to tell. If you don’t want to tell me, I understand. I don’t like to talk about what happened to my sister, either.”

“We were kidnapped by a man named Raul. He liked little girls, so Mom wasn’t his type. He toted her around for a while, but—” She swallowed and closed her eyes. “He would touch me and call me his mate, and Mom went after him one night.” She shrugged the admission away. “He killed her and kept me.”

“Oh, my God, Marissa.” Morgan blinked back tears. “You didn’t see him kill her, did you?”

A nod and Morgan’s heart broke into pieces. “Was he a werewolf?”

Another nod.

“How did you get away?”

“He kept me caged until we had to move locations. Raul killed little girls so we couldn’t stay in one place too long or he would get caught.” Marissa’s voice trembled. “He’d Turned me the month before and I didn’t have any control, and when we moved the next time, I just let it go. My wolf had been begging for me to set her free for days. She convinced me she could protect us but I knew how submissive she was. Raul was as dominant and psychotic as they came so I thought she wouldn’t stand a chance.”

A tear slid from under her sunglasses and hung from her jaw. “Turns out she did. He didn’t have time to Change and I ripped him apart. Didn’t even bury him, just left him on the side of the road for the buzzards to get him like he deserved. I grabbed a change of clothes from Raul’s car and ran until my legs gave out. I hitched a ride from some trucker on a highway, and he dropped me off in this tiny town called Wylie. Didn’t have any family left and I couldn’t go back to my old school, not like I was. I still didn’t have much control so I found an old hunting cabin away from town and tried to live on small game. I didn’t know how to hunt though because Raul wasn’t exactly a great teacher, and just when I thought I’d starve, Rachel showed up. Her eyes were glowing gray and I knew she was like me. Dean stood near the truck with his arms crossed, but Rachel hugged me up tight, and I went to pieces. Told her everything on the spot.”

No words could take away the pain that Marissa, at such a young age, had endured. That monster’s actions would resonate through the rest of her life. Morgan wanted to kill him all over again. Reaching across the space that separated their chairs, she grabbed Marissa’s hand and squeezed. She wished she could tell her she was safe and didn’t have to worry about violence for as long as she lived. But the cold, hard fact was, she was a werewolf, and female to boot. There wasn’t any way to avoid the danger that clung to their species. All they could do was try to survive it.

“Morgan?”

“Yeah?”

“Rachel told me what happened to your sister. That you and Lana saw Grey’s maker kill her. I’m sorry.”

Morgan smiled sadly. “Me, too. She was amazing.”

“It seems Grey got the short end of the stick with us, huh? Two broken werewolves to fill out his pack.”

“Nah,” she said, staring at the woodshop. “Grey has been through hell and back, too. We got lucky to all find each other.”

Now it made sense that Marissa didn’t like being around other dominant males. How she could stomach spending time with Grey, who filled every molecule of space around him with raw power, Morgan hadn’t a guess. But it was a very good thing she did. Strong little werewolf. Marissa was burrowing deeper in Morgan’s heart by the moment.

Lana’s giggles drew her out of her sadness and she stood to see what the little girl had found. A shiny green beetle plowed through the weeds and Lana tried to poke it with a thin stick. She was missing every time but tickled at her own effort. Fine, dark hair had come from its binding at the nape of Lana’s neck. Morgan stepped off the porch, and pulling the hair band, she freed the waves. Her hair was getting longer. She’d requested they didn’t cut it so she could look like Rapunzel.

“Do you hear that?” Marissa asked. She’d frozen at the top of the porch stairs and looked out into the woods.

At her look of fear, Morgan stood straight and strained her ears. There, just below the music of birds and cicadas, was a low humming sound. “What is that?”

“It’s a car.”

She was right. The louder it got, the more it sounded like a car engine. Narrowing her eyes, she peered as far as she could see to where the dirt road met the forest. Dread filled every vein until only adrenaline-laced blood flowed through her.

They weren’t expecting anyone today and Dallas pack members always called first to give Grey a chance to prepare Wolf for others in his territory.

Frowning, Morgan lifted Lana into her arms and watched the gravel drive. Grey barreled from the outbuilding, eyes blazing as the door blasted against the wall. He jogged over and plucked Lana from Morgan’s grasp, then took her up the porch stairs. She clung to his neck with a curious smile, and he kissed her gently on the forehead.

“Marissa, take Lana to the safe room. Call Dean and give him a heads-up there may be trouble. Don’t come out until we come get you, okay?”

Eyes wide, she pulled Lana from his arms. The door shut with a hurried bang as she disappeared inside.

Grey leaned down and kissed Morgan on the temple, but it wasn’t enough. Not when terror was filling her like water in the cabin of a sinking ship. Desperate to keep her fear at bay, she stretched up and kissed his lips. A warm calm spread through her body at his touch. Grey dragged her closer and opened her mouth with his. He brushed his tongue against hers, and her legs went numb. Holy hotness, the man could kiss.

Easing back, his lupine eyes searched hers, his brow furrowed with worry. His attention returned to the road. “Posture,” he said gruffly, soothing her into a porch chair. “Don’t show them your fear.”

He sank comfortably into the chair beside her and waited for the car to arrive. He looked every bit like he didn’t have a concern in the world. For Wolf, posturing was instinctive, but it didn’t come so naturally to her. Pretense was something she had to work at.