Brand of the Pack by Tera Shanley Page A

sat on his bed and cocked her head to the side. “What have I done to make you mad?”
    He looked off to his left, like the leg of the chair was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
    “I don’t want to push you into this. If you aren’t ready to claim me, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this tomorrow.” Each word felt hollow as it slipped from her lips.
    His head snapped up and the gold in his eyes blazed. “Of course, I’m ready to claim you. It can’t come soon enough.”
    She stood and placed her palm on the side of his unshaven face. He leaned into it and closed his eyes. His breath was warm against her wrist as he sighed, and in one smooth motion, he took his shirt off.
    She was delightfully surprised until she dropped her gaze to what he’d been hiding. Rows of cuts and butterfly bandages dotted his chest and neck.
    A slow rage brought a tingling to her skin. “Who did this to you?” she asked in a voice she barely recognized.
    “Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m okay. I just didn’t want to worry you before our big day.”
    “Who?” she yelled.
    “Challengers have been coming by while you were out planning. It’s the way I preferred it. You shouldn’t have to watch every fight.”
    She clenched her fists at her sides at the stinging betrayal of his secrets. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Shrugging, he admitted, “I don’t know.”
    The wolf in her yearned to be near him. To console him. Her voice softened. “I do. You ridiculous, brave man. I know you have an instinct to protect me, but we have to do this as a team. Every step of the way has to be you and me, okay?”
    He leaned his head back and let out a long breath. She brushed her fingers against a fresh cut on the tight, stretched muscle of his neck. “Come here.” She took his hand and led him to the bed. After she had retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom, she straddled his lap and peeled the bandages gently off to clean them. “I thought you were getting cold feet.”
    He snorted. “It’s the opposite of that. I can’t wait to claim you so we don’t have to deal with the challenges anymore. They give Wolf way too much control.”
    “Hmm.” She smiled. “Morgan Crawford,” she tested. “Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”
    His grin was predatory. He took the cotton swab gently from her fingers and tossed it on the bed. Sliding steady hands down her thighs, he took a long drag of the air near her neck. He gripped the back of her knees and pulled her more tightly against his lap. When he nipped the sensitive spot just below her ear, she hunched into him, the closeness of his bare skin necessary.
    “Say it again,” he whispered.
    She tilted her head back as his kisses left a burning trail down her neck. “Morgan Crawford.”
    A knock rapped loudly on the door. “Food’s on,” Dean called.
    Relaxing in disappointment, she hung her head until it rested against his shoulder.
    His voice held a mischievous smile. “Saved by the dinner bell. We could always ditch the meal.”
    “So your suggestion is to ditch our rehearsal dinner with our friends, who are sitting right outside our window, to get a jump start on the claiming part of this relationship?”
    He nibbled her lip tenderly and she pushed away. “One-track mind.”
    He laughed and grabbed for her hand. “Hey, I didn’t straddle myself like some sexy nurse.”
    “Shirt on, mister. We have to mingle, and my mom is not meeting you for the first time while you are half naked.” She raked her eyes across his chest. “Although, she would probably like you even more like this.”
    She padded down the hallway, past rustic oil paintings of wilderness landscapes that hung on the walls. A grin stretched her face at Grey’s frustrated groan that came from the bedroom behind her. The smell of barbecue wafted through the house, bringing pangs of hunger to her middle. She entered the great room to the noise of easy