Pack, page 2
“Werewolf.” He states back at me and lets go of my hand. I pull my hand back and reach for the spoon on the table. Sliding it into my bowl and scooping up cereal on it.
“So you went to a bar after work to meet up and after drinking half the night away you proceeded to get into a stupid, senseless, fight. Is that about it?”
“Someone called the cops before we knew it and they just decided to round up pretty much anyone smelling flammable.”
“Flammable. Jesus.” I mutter in a low voice. “and did the boys join you for the night?”
“We told Jules to go and Bohm scattered in time. Addison stood by me, but they didn’t take him. Took everyone else in our little scuffle.”
Scooping up cereal I think this over and start eating. “But you weren’t actually charged with arrest for anything?” I say through a crunchy mouthful of cereal.
“No.”
“I’m no expert on criminal arrests and all that. But that sounds odd, especially them not rounding up Addison if he was or even looked to be a part of the scuffle.” Wiatt offers us.
I shake my head. This doesn’t sound like the Paris I know. The guy who’s careful, cautious and incredibly smart about how to handle situations of all kinds.
“What got into you?” I ask clearing my mouth and looking over at him directly.
I see the change in his facial features cloud over. He becomes even more distant and reserved. “Come on Paris, looking like you’re getting arrested in your own territory, do you honestly not think that information is not going to spread like wildfire through the pack? What are they going to make of it?”
He continues to hold my stare with a facial expression that stays blank and unimpressed.
“Everything you do gets reflected in your leadership abilities. And getting arrested for simply fighting, by the police in familiar turf, that says you’re not thinking, you’re not being smart or careful with your actions and pack wolves will pick up on that much. It’s the kind of crap they can use to question your leadership abilities and challenge for a new pack leader.”
“What happened last night, was nothing compared to my own pack mate jeopardizing my leadership role and standing by going after one of my own pack!” He fires back at me. “And look how that turned out. So don’t think I know how to deal with leadership crises and challenges should they come my way.” He roars back at me defensively.
I feel like I’ve been hit in the solar plexus. I drop the spoon in the cereal bowl and it rattles as it hits the ceramic.
Silence fills the room as Paris and I stare at each other.
“Wiatt, will you leave us alone, please.” I ask looking across at the other D’arenberg male.
Waitt nods his head and pushes out from the table. I go back to staring at Paris in disbelief as Wiatt leaves the room to us. I push my chair out and stand.
The time for calm is over. I do not feel like being nice here.
“I thought we had this sorted. You want to say something to me? Now’s your chance. Give it to me.” I state with my arms out in front of me and my palms facing upwards, flicking my fingers back quickly to indicate he should come at me.
I might not be able to take Paris in a physical fight, but I sure as hell can take him in an emotional one. What kind of pack mate would I be if I couldn’t provide him with some strength?
Paris remains sitting and looks up at me, his eyes darkening. Is he debating what to do?
“Oh what, you too big a man to actually open up to me and sort shit out for real? You only want to take pot shots when you feel pushed? Is that it? Bit like having a fight just for the hell of it because some idiot presented you with an opportunity to what? Blow off steam? Prove something?”
Paris’s anger seeps through in his features and I feel my inner wolf stirring into attack position. She’s crouching, wanting to spring herself at this aggressive male attitude she’s sensing.
“You think, just because we’re okay, that everything from that night is okay? That everyone else is okay?” He states in a low angry voice. “That because my pack presents itself as it should, there still isn’t fallout to deal with? From what you did, under my nose.”
I don’t know what to say to this. He’s well within his rights to bitch at me really. I mean, I did create an all-out personal war on one of his pack members, Gabby Colton. I was not subtle, I was not quiet. I was not polite, and I was not forgiving. But of course, that was the point.
And I did it behind his back and under his nose. Then I did it in front of his pack. I put everyone on notice that night.
Talk about taking it to the Alpha, and that wasn’t even the point.
I completely disobeyed the werewolf laws in place for all packs in New York. I basically invaded his territory with my pack after kidnapping Gabby and then preceded to punish her in front of her pack, with silver weaponry and asked him to make a call on whether he wanted me or her.
Rock. Hard place. Trouble. Me.
This action of mine, is not something I’m proud of exactly. But I was compelled to do because it came to it. I was pushed.
Does Paris think I don’t think about it at all? And that I’ve just put it to be what I did to her?
He stands slowly the chair pushing out behind him, scraping across the kitchen floor.
“Do you want me to apologise to you?” I ask genuinely wanting to know. “My alpha.”
Paris looks at me suspiciously. “How do you consider me your Alpha when you’ve already clearly defied me by attacking Gabby?” He moves to the end of the table.
“I,”
“I mean, do you get why people say that phrase? My alpha?” He asks walking around the end of the table towards me. I remain silent looking at him. “It’s because they respect the alpha’s command, in every way. They’re giving themselves over to that leadership. That way of thinking.” Paris sounds a lot calmer now as he walks towards me slowly.
“Do you want me to be docile? Demure? Seen but not heard?”
Paris pauses at my words but resumes walking to me again.
“If I wanted a trophy girlfriend, I’d date some New York socialite. If I wanted a werewolf pack mate who looked the part but didn’t take part, I’d have ended up with someone like Gabby.” He takes one final step into my personal space and reaches for me.
“I like my werewolf women strong and able to handle me.”
“So how many of those things do I score?” I ask as he pulls me into him roughly.
“Two for two. But I need you to realise, that what happened last night, was a one off. It wasn’t consequential and in the big picture, it doesn’t rate as a blip on anything in my life or the running of my pack.”
But what he’s not saying out loud is what comes out of my mouth next. “By comparison to what I did.” I finish for him, looking up at him.
“Right. But that’s my problem to sort out as Pack leader of the Maen. That’s my job and you’re my wolf.”
“I’m your wolf. You’re my alpha and it’s our problem to sort out. I refuse to be put aside on a shelf like a trophy without a voice.” I say tilting my head up to his. Paris tilts his face down to mine.
“Good. Very good.” He says softly as a small smile plays at the corner of his mouth.
His mouth closes on mine and his tongue delves into me stroking and searching mine out.
My breasts push tightly into his chest and my nipples strain as I feel his hands wrap around my arms tightly. I sense his passion being restrained and hurt slowly melding together there.
It’s making my wolf do laps on herself. Circling and circling and needing to move.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you last night. Really I am.” His hands loosen and move on me. His fingers are on the zip of my hoodie and he’s holding my gaze. “But we’re here now, together.” And he pulls down the zip, undoing the hoodie.
I let it fall away from me.
He goes to my next part of clothing and rolls my tank top up over my head and throws it aside.
“And I could do with a shape shift.” He mutters appreciatively viewing the rise and fall of my breasts in the pink bra.
A shape shift can be done at any time without the aid of another werewolf. If you want to.
But shape shifting has been proven to be made a lot easier and smoother after the effects of sex have come into play. Gets the werewolf in question relaxed enough not to fight or push their werewolf. It’s like unconsciously opening a part of ourselves for our true nature to come to the forefront of.
A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. My hands go to work on his shirt and I unbutton it quickly, My hands sliding underneath it and over the rippled shape of his chest muscles.
I only see the slightest tension in his jaw because I’m watching Paris’s facial expression closely. Quickly I slid his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. Looking at his normally flawlessly smooth skinned chest and abdomen.
Only it’s not flawless. It’s mottled.
There are small bruises on him, only they are a deep purple. But that’s not what really proves to be the show stopper on his appearance. It’s the pink and deep red, with tinges of purple bruise that has taken up half his side and front abdomen.
It’s rather huge and angry looking.
“What the hell is this?” I yell at him before I can stop myself consciously.
“Last night, one the wolves decided to do a round house kick on me. Kind of caught me off guard. Before I could consider shape shifting or that I needed to, we got rounded up by the cops and then had to spend the night in a holding cell with a assorted variety of vagrant and low life nons.”
My eyes flick up to his. “Where you couldn’t shape shift all night. So you were in pain, from this.”
He doesn’t respond but I take his silence as acquiesce. I am so angry at him.
“I was going to shape shift this morning but then Waitt told me you were headed over here so…” He trails off and his hands return to my body. To my hips as he pulls down my three quarter length pants.
That’s the end of that discussion then. I kick off my trainers and step out of my pants quickly. But my focus remains on him and this mammoth bruising that looks like it could be some sort of internal damage on him.
“Bg, it’ll be fine.” Paris says kissing my frowning forehead.
I know I’m unnecessarily worried. But to be honest, in the whole time we’ve been together I’ve rarely seen Paris beaten up from an actual fight that was not something playful that he engages in with the boys.
I’ve never seen him injured as such. And I don’t want to.
My hands go to his jeans and I undo them quickly and Paris helps slide them down his legs till he’s naked before me.
He reaches for the clip of my bra at my back and with a flick, undoes it. I slide it off me and it too is tossed aside.
I hear the pace of his heartbeat pick up after this simple action. But he’s right, the bruise and other minor injuries can be made better with a shape shift. Our greatest werewolf gift to ourselves. The ability to constantly heal, well and fast.
I pull out a chair behind me and pull him towards me, before side stepping and pushing him down on the chair.
I will make him shape shift.
He’s starting to grin as I straddle myself across his lap, but remain standing. Bringing my breasts to his eye level. Paris reaches up for my breast and I go with his hand, to his mouth where he grazes his teeth over my nipples.
His tongue lapping at me, while his mouth sucks on my breasts. I sigh at the delight of his touch on me again. This is what I missed earlier this morning, the familiarity of this touch.
“I’ll catch you guys later!” Waitt yells out from the front of the house before the front door closes a few seconds after his shout out. Paris changes to my other breast and ensures it’ not neglected in receiving his touch.
His fingers hook under the waist of my boy leg undershorts and he starts to roll them down my hips. But realises that because I’m straddling him, it won’t work getting them off me.
So he rips them off me in two effortless motions.
I’m not worried about the loud sound of material tearing and falling away from my body. Because Paris always replaces whatever clothing he rips off my body. He’s good like that.
His fingers brush over the coarse hair on me before slipping underneath to rub me slick. But this isn’t about me getting off. It’s about making him supple enough to shape shift to recover from those nasty looking bruises.
It’s about giving his wolf just enough of an itch to have to make him want to shape shift. Reluctantly, I draw back from him so my breasts are no longer within his mouth’s eager reach.
He’s ready to tell me off and grabs my hips tightly but I wiggle out of his grasp and pull back until I’ve moved off him and am no longer straddling him.
I lower myself to my knees before him and run my hands up his legs, which he parts for me to move in between, until I am holding his cock in my hand.
I give it a slight squeeze and watch as Paris reacts and gives me a look of daring. He needn’t bother daring me. I know exactly what I’m doing when I’m on my knees and it is not praying.
I lick up the underside of him and hear a heavy sigh leave his mouth. My tongue circles the head of his erect cock and traces the groove of the head, as my hand pulls him a few times, lightly twisting him.
There is more sighing and I look up at Paris looking down at me. His shoulders look less tense already. He’s reacting easily to my touch.
This makes me smile up at him before I take him whole in mouth. Paris groans loudly with pleasure. My eyes flick up to look at him and he tosses his head back, gripping the sides of the chair as I work him in my mouth.
Then I tip the scales of patience and expectation by growling, low in my throat, the vibrations rocking every action I take on his cock. Making each movement far more sensitive to endure.
“Sweetheart,” He gasps out desperately as I keep up my sensual assault on him. “I’m going to come.” He grinds out between clenched teeth. I’d be happier if they were fangs in his mouth he was speaking through. But they’re not.
Paris’s hips buck up as his orgasm surges through him and he opens his mouth, roaring his release, instead of howling it for me. There is no indication or vibe coming off him that tells me he’s ready to shape shift.
The shape shift is a long way off from happening then. Paris doesn’t struggle with shifts like I do.
Part of being an alpha werewolf means he’s gotten a handle on how to shape shift easily, effortlessly and at will. But shifts can be blocked or made awkward and rough by our very human emotions. Tension, stress and being under duress, wether self-induced or not they tend to play havoc with how we shift.
I take all of him, drink him down eagerly. Paris is breathing heavily as he looks back at me. I relinquish him and look back up at him.
He’s looking a little less aggressive now. But I wouldn’t call him fully relaxed, despite what just took place in the kitchen.
My wolf senses another wolf looking at her, but cautiously from a bay. That’s not good. Paris needs to heal, I can see the small infraction of pain that comes across his face when he breathes deeply and his abs move. He might have bruised or broken ribs for all we know.
“I really need to take you outdoors.” I state running my hands up his legs again. Being outdoors when we need to shape shift for a city werewolf, is an amazing experience.
It appeals to our inner wolf like you wouldn’t believe. It makes the shifting, better than it would be indoors and in man made structures. “But then there’s the whole, keeping you hidden and out of sight for a couple of hours to consider.”
“The bedroom will suffice.” He says back at me. My head tilts and I try to figure out how to get a good shape shift out of him without destroying household furniture.
Once injured, werewolves if they can help it, do not leave they’re injuries to gain time. We shape shift as soon as possible to start the healing process immediately. Not because we fear time leaving injuries will make the healing process harder. But because if we’re injured it’s usually through some circumstance that requires us to fight.
And nobody thinks fighting injured is a smart move.
I must be frowning again, because he runs a hand over my forehead, smoothing across it.
“I’ll be fine, after a shape shift, you’ll see.”
4
“Lead me by the paw and I will go anywhere.” I mutter watching the backside of the male in front of me, holding my hand.
He’s got a large frame, something I rather like. The black pants though, they emphasize the slim waist the gives him the Vs shape and tight buttocks moving before my line of vision.
Ah, Paris has such a cute butt. Makes me want to bite into it and leave marks of possession all over it. I sigh at the thought of getting him out of all those clothes.
He glances over his shoulder back at me and smirks through the curtain of brown hair, half shadowing those midnight blue eyes. His quarter profile is just as defined by its outline as the rest of his physical shape.
Is he reading my mind? Or does he feel that urge too? To be naked, pressed together, inside one another? I want him. Being at the club tonight is just going to be a torturous lesson in patience. Something he’ll take great pleasure in making me wait out. Paris loves teasing me.
We’re almost at our destination, which is good because now all I can think about is mounting his lap and grinding myself across it, while my hands slide up under his shirt and trace the rock hard definition of his chest.
My mouth will take its sweet time, tasting his skin as my tongue laps him up. My teeth will nibble and tease their way across his broad shoulders, until I reach the hollow point of his collarbone and then I’ll sink into him. Deeply into him. Enough to leave an impression that he is most certainly taken.
A branding of a beta werewolf who wants her alpha to take her home and make love to her all night long. I sigh again at the horny thoughts carousing through my sex-addled brain.
