Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
But, um, wow. Here he is. Once more, I’m shocked by his nudity. More shocked by my reaction to it.
Because I suddenly don’t know how I ever found Luke attractive.
He’s like a little boy compared to Abe.
What would it be like to be underneath all those hard muscles? Or riding on top? A steady pulse starts up between my legs.
But then I catch sight of what’s in his hand, and I forget the lusty thoughts pinging around my head.
“You found it.”
He stalks through the cabin and slaps the letter down on an end table. There’s a grim set to his mouth and tension in those massive shoulders. “I found it.”
He turns and takes in my plight. I try not to look below his waist, but it’s impossible. And he’s…okay…wow. Looking ripe and ready. I drag my lower lip through my teeth.
“I see you disobeyed orders.”
I forgot how I must look in this ridiculous position. All my weight is on one shoulder, which has now fallen asleep.
“Disobeyed–” I sputter. “What, are we in the military?” I can’t keep my eyes on his face. My gaze roves all across that perfectly cut body of his, tracing the chiseled edges of every gorgeous muscle. Always coming back to that one particular muscle that appears–er–happy to see me.
Abe pulls on his boxers and a pair of faded jeans this time and stalks over to me. “You seem to forget who completely controls your fate right now.” He picks up the chair–with me in it–and sets it upright as if it weighs five pounds, not over a hundred and twenty-five. I swear his muscles didn’t even strain when he did it.
The guy is bionic. He’s still shirtless, which means I see every ripple of his huge muscles when he moves. He’s beautiful. But such an asshole.
“Yeah, can we go over that piece again?” I send him a baleful look. “What exactly am I doing here?”
“You saw something you shouldn’t have. And that’s a problem for my pack.”
“Your pack…” I must’ve been in shock earlier, or the surrealness of the night kept rational thoughts at bay. But suddenly, I see the big picture.
Why the little town of Wolf Ridge is so weird.
They’re all werewolves.
My mouth falls open.
Abe screws his eyes and mouth up. “Fuck!” He paces away from me, pulling a phone out of his pocket and dialing it.
I hear a male voice answer loudly, like he’s talking over some kind of gathering or party. “Hey, Bro! What’s up?”
“I have a problem. A big one. I need help.”
I don’t hear the response, but the noise quiets, like the guy on the other end–I don’t know if it’s a real brother or just a friend he calls Bro–goes somewhere private.
“A girl from school saw me shift. A human.” I can’t hear the other person’s responses now, especially when Abe turns his back and walks away, toward what must be a bedroom. “I know, but I can’t…Alpha Green already told me to stay away from her. She saw me on the last full moon run, too…Yeah, I fucked up….No! She’s nothing to me.” He sends a dark look over his shoulder.
His words shouldn’t bother me. I mean, of course, I’m nothing to him. He’s nothing to me, either. But something about it sticks in my chest. Snags on the sense of abandonment that always opens up like a Grand Canyon-sized crevasse every time I think about my mom.
Maybe that’s why I can’t grieve her. I’m too busy feeling wounded that she left me. She was supposed to see me grow up. Watch me graduate. Be at my wedding. Explore this mountainside herself at sunset.
The tears that have eluded me well up in my throat, choking me, suffocating me. There’s a pressure in my chest so great I swear it will burst. My lower lip trembles.
And then…nothing.
I swallow it back down.
So close.
But how pathetic that it was brought on by self-pity rather than something more altruistic.
I suck.
I return my attention to Abe, who is making “Uh-huh” and other affirmative noises.
“Are you serious?” he asks. “Do you know the combination?” He returns to the living room and shoves the sofa over like it’s not a huge, heavy piece of furniture. He flips back the area rug. “Yeah, I see it.”
I crane my neck to see what he’s looking at. He pulls up a trap door and reaches in, rotating his wrist. The light whir of a dial reaches my ears.
It must be a safe. Sure enough, there’s a clicking sound, and he pulls a heavy metal door open.
“Got it.” Abe pulls out a neatly wrapped stack of twenties and thumbs through it. “Let me know. Thank you. Don’t tell Dad, okay?” So it is his real brother. “Promise? Thanks.”
Abe ends the call and pulls a pistol out of the safe. It looks old-fashioned–like the kind in Wild West movies. A six-shooter, or something.