Pack, page 3
It’s almost lunar week. I don’t usually feel so strongly this way until lunar week is upon us. But lust is lust. Not like there’s a time limit on that! Lunar weeks are perfect for that. All werewolves go a little stir crazy, and those of us matured werewolves, tend to fight and play with the way our hormones get thrown out of whack.
I am attracted to my pack mate in ways that I have not been attracted to others I’ve dated in the past. It’s strong, what we have between us.
We spend a lot of time in Manhattan, New York. It’s more a pack business thing than a hedonistic habit. Paris may look like he’s just hanging out with the boys, and me. But his presence in these clubs is hardly ever just for social causes.
Having a pack mate from a different pack in his territory is a fine balance interwoven into this regular pattern of pack interaction.
The club is humming with movement and a decent size crowd. We’re bumped backwards. I stagger a step back behind Paris whose hand tightens on mine as he stills quickly. Stands solidly still holding me. Giving me, something to hold so I do not completely loose balance. I look up and around Paris’s shoulder. There is a male before us, standing directly in Paris’s way. Paris waits the other male’s silence out. The alpha in him will not bow down to anyone less than him.
We do not side step the guy who’s holding Paris’s gaze. Nor does he. There is something going on here or about to be, that kind of insolent attitude only assures it.
I haven’t seen any guy try and intimidate Paris before. This could end ugly.
Granted, we’re not in lunar week when only werewolves are allowed into werewolf run clubs and this guy might be a “non”. Non-werewolf. Maybe a lycan, maybe a human.
If I cared enough to find out, I’d step closer and sniff, attempting to pick up on the guy’s scent.
But I don’t care that much. I just want to start jockeying on my pack mate’s lap to get myself off while he does business, as soon as possible. So I’m not really paying attention.
Which is why I stumble when Paris releases my hand and gives me a little push back away from him. That and I’m in rather precariously high, heels.
Paris pushes me away from him because fists are being thrown.
It doesn’t last very long, club security runs over. Paris’s second in command Addison and Jules help pull the other guy back. They drag him away and take him out the nearest side exit from the club. He growls all the way. Guess that makes him a wolf.
Paris turns back around to me “Are you okay?”
“I’m horny.” I smile back at him. He gives me a once over.
“Well I wouldn’t call that okay.” He replies warmly and grabs my hand again. This time he hurries me into the male bathroom. I’m running to keep up with him.
My hands go to his shirt and start unbuttoning it quickly. Paris undoes his pants with nimble fingers. A quickie will suffice for now. I pull his shirt apart quickly. I want to see that flawless skin and feel that warm flesh pressed against me. I love the feel of his skin on mine. There is a dark mark under his pectoral muscle. His hands are sliding up to cup my breasts when I step out of them.
My lust for him disappears into concern for a moment. My hand flattens and presses over the darkened patch. Paris’s face twitches slightly and I remove my hand from it.
“Is that from where that guy just hit you?”
Paris can’t see the mark. It’s like a deep tissue bruise and it’s big enough to be fist shaped.
“What, what is it?” He asks me.
“It’s a bruise. A deep black bruise.” I say looking up at him worried. Paris does not just bruise. Not from a punch from a non. “Was he a non?”
“No, he was a wolf, but I don’t think he’s one of ours. I don’t know, I didn’t recognize him.” Paris might be pack leader of the Manhattan Maen but since they are the largest Pack in New York, I doubt he’d know everyone in it personally, so that doesn’t really mean much.
“And he did this? To you just now?” I am staring at the bruise now. A frown on my forehead. “How could he…You don’t…We don’t bruise...from a sucker punch.”
“It’s probably from something else and it’s just come out now, a few days later, you know bruises are slow forming. Feels like nothing…” Paris says not at all concerned with the mark or my concern over seeing it. His hands resume their cupping of my breasts and they squeeze me lightly.
We are out in the open part of the male bathroom, not in a stall.
My hands are on my hips instantly. “I think with the amount of time I see you naked, my alpha, that I would’ve noticed any marks or injuries on your delectable body. This is new, this is from just now.”
“Quick, my werewolf super powers are fading.” Paris jokes and pulls me over to him. Of course he’s nonchalant about it. His thumbs flick over my nipples and I feel them tighten at the touch.
My mouth drops open and he closes in on it, kissing me.
“Now, where were we?”
One last look at the bruise and then my eyes drop down to his undone pants that hang loosely around his hips. I can see his pants tenting, hiding what I came in here for.
“I believe you were going to fuck me because I was horny.”
Paris smile broadens. “You say the nicest things to me.” He mutters producing a condom and letting his pants slip further as he pulls out his cock and slides the condom on it.
I drop my handbag to the ground. As Paris’s hands slide up my legs under my skirt and he hooks his fingers under the waist of my underwear, pulling them down my legs, till they drop freely to the floor at our feet.
It’s considerate of him, he usually rips it apart.
I lick my lips looking at the thickness of his cock. There’s no need for foreplay here. The whole point to being dragged into the men’s bathroom is to not wait. Is to get to it.
Paris lifts me up, and I hook my legs around his waist, as he sits me down on the sink area of the bathroom. A wall length mirror behind us. He grabs my hips and Pushes into me. My hands slide up his chest and to his shoulders. I moan deeply. He sighs heavily. Yes, we both want this. The first connection between us is one that we always savor. The feeling of our togetherness. Paris’s digs his fingers into my skin as we start to move. Or more correctly, I try to keep up with him, by just holding on. My heels fall off and hit the tiled floor as we move more rapidly. We don’t want the sex to end quickly, but we want the ride to be fast. We want it all and we want it now.
Paris jerks his chin up, indicating we should move and change positions. He pulls back out of me and I lift myself off the sink top and he turns me around, quickly. So I am standing now, on tip toes, gripping the sink top, and looking directly at the mirror. Of what he is doing to me. Of what I look like because of him.
The sensation of being stretched by him makes my mouth drops open in silent pleasure.
He kisses the back of my neck and moving my hair aside, bites me at the base of my neck. The pace quickens and I find myself moaning with each aftershock of his cock ramming me.
“Yeah! Go for it!” comes the raucous cheer from another patron who walks into the toilets on us fucking away furiously. This only spurs us both on. We’re already in the throw of unleashing our passionate need. Nothing could stop us now; we are together in the way we need the most.
I drop a hand so my fingers can work myself while he pumps me. The force of urgency is building within me.
My legs shake, my thighs twitch.
“Come for me.” Paris’s groan a hot breath across the back of my neck, a command that my fingers comply in completing as I stroke the heightened nub between my legs.
A gasp and I cry out, unable to stop myself such is being with the werewolf I love.
Paris bites the back of my neck a second time as his orgasm ruthlessly spasms through him, causing him to moan his mating call into my skin. Our union complete.
Ignoring the other patrol in the bathroom, who I’m pretty sure just watched us the entire time, we dress ourselves, Paris flushes the condom away and walk out without a word.
When we emerge back into the club, Paris is gripping my hand keeping me closer to his side as we reach our destination and the business of pack, takes over our night.
“What was that all about ?” Jules asks as we meet up with the rest of the Manhattan Maen hierarchy again.
Paris shrugs his large shoulders. “Just some wolf.”
It comes with the territory, being targeted by others. Leadership, jealousy and power pushers. This is a big mixture in the types of people, whether, they be werewolves of nons that you will encounter. So it’s not that shocking that some werewolf, possibly drunk, decided to start a fight with another werewolf.
“He probably didn’t even know who I was.” Paris continues.
Because if the wolf did know who Paris was, he’d just be plain stupid in trying that shit for the fun of it.
Nobody asks if Paris is alright, because that would be insulting. But they might be more concerned if they saw the instant bruise that he was sporting under his shirt.
Alpha werewolves do not bruise instantly . Not unless it’s like from a house in a tornado landing on them or something.
“So give me the update.” Paris says all business again, looking at Addison as they start discussing the pack business they actually came to discuss.
Beside him, my ability to be patient now working perfectly. Now that I’ve gotten laid. Addison sits opposite us . Although he looks around them first before he gets to the discussion with Paris. It’s okay for me to be around because Paris wants it.
As Pack leader, what Paris wants, Paris gets. I actually think Paris gets what he wants most of the time in life, not because he is pack leader, but because he is Paris. Determined, convincing and persistent. Before the hierarchy got to know me, it was raised as a bone of contention that a werewolf from another pack could sit in on Manhattan Maen business.
“Word has it, that Isobel Colton has been in touch with Gabby.”
Paris ran a hand over his face .
“Isobel Colton.” I repeat loudly. “As in Gabby Colton.”
“Sisters,” Addison says. “Older sister.”
“Sister.” I repeat, shell-shocked. I never knew Gabby had a sister. She doesn’t strike me as ever coming from a family as such. Because she’s a bitch. A real fucking bitch. “Who the hell would want to share a blood line with that all around bitch?”
“Bg,” Paris mutters at me. It’s as close to a telling off as I’m going to get.
I pull back from him and put both hands up in a sign of backing up.
“I’m going to get a drink, you want something?” I ask looking at Paris and then Addison. Addison starts pulling out his wallet.
“Bg,” Paris says again.
“I got this. Beer right?” Addison nods his head, holding up his bottle of beer. I grab my handbag and move towards the bar. Paris sighs and looks away from me. He knows this new information is like a violation to me.
Gabby Colton is not my favorite werewolf. Ever. She’s done nothing but try to make my life since hooking up with Paris, a misery.
She targets me every god damn second she sees me. Whether she has reason to or not.
The boys are more than aware of our animosity. Paris knows how I feel about Gabby Colton, alpha Manhattan bitch. He never told me she had a sister. He has in fact offered me barely any information on her. I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face with this new bit of information.
I take my time getting the drinks. I order a champagne and drink it at the bar. I refuse to look back at the boys. I refuse to let the thought of Gabby 'big bitch' Colton, ruin my night out. I did not get dressed up to get put down. Such is the effect of Gabby on me. I drink another mouthful of champagne and pull out my phone and start texting.
“Are you really that lonely that you need to hang out with your cell, rather than those of us here?” A voice says catching my attention.
I look up at the male beside me who’s paying for a drink at the bar. He’s wearing a shirt that has bits of pink in it. It looks like a retro cowboy shirt.
“Those of us here?” I state back at him. I have no idea who he is. But then, I don’t really know all that many Manhattan Maen werewolves. Just those closest to Paris, those that matter.
He could be a werewolf from anywhere. But I can tell he is definitely a werewolf, I can smell the base scent of werewolf fur and woods on him underneath the designer cologne.
The male werewolf smiles at me over his shoulder and turns to face me fully.
“Well there’s me. I have been known to be fun from time to time.”
I purse my lips together. I can not believe this werewolf is flirting with me, actually trying to pick me up.
“I’m not after fun. Especially from a werewolf without a name.” I reply picking up my drink and putting my phone back in my handbag.
I might be annoyed at Paris for not telling me this relatively new bit of information about my arch nemesis Gabby Colton, but it’s temporary, and stupid, that much I can acknowledge.
“Art, my name is Art.” He says quickly at me attempting to keep the flirtation going.
I finish up the rest of my drink and put it on the bar top and signal the bar attendant over. Even the bar attendant gives Art an odd look before looking at me.
It’s one of those kind of silent code looks. One that says “Do you need help with this guy?”
I smile at the bar attendant and order two beers. Art looks at the beers placed on the counter top and back at me.
“But you don’t even have a name.” He says back at me leaning forward, towards me. I frown and then realize that he thinks I’m buying him a beer to have with me.
“You can call me out of your league. Property of the Manhattan Maen pack leader.” I push some cash across the counter top and pick up the beers.
“Oh, you’re….her?” He says kind of surprised by my revelation. My mouth opens to ask what that means when I feel the movement behind me before I see them.
But Art’s eye line has averted to over my shoulder and at the approaching Maen protective posse.
I glance back in time for Paris and Addison to suddenly be standing there, at my back and side.
“Good timing.” I mutter. Paris’s eyes narrow on the younger werewolf. But it’s Addison who breaks the stony silence first.
“Now would be a good time for you to walk away.” He says pointing to the other side of the club, furthest from us. Art’s expression goes from surprised to annoyed and he turns back to look at Paris.
“Well now, I believe I only have to answer to my Pack Alpha, not just any alpha for my actions, if chatting and sharing some words is indeed an action of grave consequence.”
The thing about being a werewolf is, you have animal instincts. You react more like the animal than a human might and you sense things the same way an animal does, which is quicker than a human would know to. I can feel the tension coming off Paris.
This guy is toast if he keeps this shit up. Art the werewolf is trying to bait Paris. It’s probably some stupid, bored, werewolf dare. Or he really doesn’t respect and care for his pack leader at all.
Addison steps up and Paris shakes his head. Addison steps back and Paris puts and arm around my waist, and leads me away from Art. I’m carrying the two beers, when Paris is shoved in the back, causing him to fly forwards several steps.
Beer sprays up all over me as I stagger and regain my balance too.
“Jerk!”
Paris is already turning around with eyes glaring. But it’s not at me. Addison looks me over silently assessing I’m okay, before turning on his heel with Paris. Both of them head towards Art, who’s grinning widely.
“Opps. Must’ve lost my balance or something.” He chuckles at the two approaching alpha males.
I shake my head. What is with male beta wolves and fighting alphas? Art is no alpha werewolf. Of that much I’m sure. He’s also no match for two alpha’s going after him. What a loser.
I put the foaming beer bottles on a standing table. He’s rather unimpressive even for a beta wolf.
Art laughs once more. “Must not know my own strength!” he quips and proceeds to run away. His words make me wonder about what I just saw.
Maybe Paris only flew cause he was caught off guard. Relaxed even. No, that doesn’t seem like a possibility. Paris has been around enough fights to know when some jerk is about to make a move on him. He’d have been ready for Art. Besides, Paris’s size makes him a mountain to move. Paris didn’t just stumble, he flew apart from me.
I must’ve distracted him, I think watching as Paris strides back over to me. I drag my eyes up his torso and towards his now less than happy face. He slips his arm around me and rests it gently on my lower back lightly. He moves with a powerful grace and he touches me with a lightness you’d never expect from someone of his size.
“Mmm. You smell like werewolf and beer.” He says, placing a kiss on my forehead.
“Let’s get out of here and out of these clothes.” I say, looking up at him with a cheeky expression. “Promise I’m more fun than getting hassled all night.”
Paris looks around, and signals Jules over to us.
“Make sure Addison’s okay with that little punk. He followed him out of the club, seemed intent on teaching him a lesson.” Jules nods his head, bends down to kiss my cheek as a goodbye and races off the way Addison went.
“You boys and your fights.”
It’s been an odd night out. Normally it’s so free and gratifying.
We start off out of the club. “It’s not about the fighting. Not for us, it isn’t. Well, most of the time.” Paris concedes. “Leaving the club might be what that little punk wants Addison to do, so I’m just making sure there’s no ambush.”
I shake my beer-tinged hair. “Something in the air tonight. Wiry wolves around.”
“Anyone would think it was a god damn eclipse. That’d explain a fair bit if we were in one.” Paris says as we step outside again.
5
The night closes in on us. It’s dark but the lights of the street and shops illuminate a path for us. “But it happens, from time to time. You come across a pup who just want to let loose on the biggest werewolf around.”
