excellence. All Beorn had to do was be there and follow directions; it was much easier than if another wolf had planned the damn thing.
Beorn didn't want to bring up the meeting with Abaddon anymore. In the back of his mind he hoped Thorn would forget about it, but that was essentially a pipe dream. There was no way in hell Thorn would forget his plan—they were going to meet the demon wolf face to face come hell or high water.
What would they even say to Abaddon when they met him? The conversation played over in Beorn's head repeatedly with him changing small details here and there, but every time he imagined it it ended the same: with Abaddon killing them all and kidnapping Leena back, even though she didn't want to return. It was still a fucking mess, one that Beorn was now finding himself in the middle of thanks to his friendship with an alpha.
He's just trying to help, Beorn thought as Thorn rambled on about a new road construction project he'd managed to get approved. He was always trying to better Bucklin, taking his civic duty just as seriously as his pack duty. But these aren't your people. You don't care about these wolves and if their city lives or dies. When Satan's Angels show up you'll be long gone to your home. When they kill the wolves they'll move on and you'll still be golden. Everyone will die, even...
Beorn's thoughts returned to the female who had come to his table earlier. Why was he thinking about her? Why did he care if she lived or died? Every time he tried to return his attention to Thorn, he found his mind wandering back to the beauty that was Rain.
Everything about the female stood out to him in a way no other had. Her long black hair was so silky and so smooth; it wasn't a wild mess like a lot of the other wolves he had seen. Her eyes were full of passion and intelligence, two qualities he had trouble finding in conjunction with one another. She was also young, something he wasn't normally used to. She had to be at least twelve to fifteen years his junior, but at the same time something about that turned him on. It wasn't because he liked the look of younger girls; it was because her mind hadn't yet been spoiled by the propaganda machine of Aster and his wolves. She was still young enough to form her own opinions about life and it was obvious she had some very strong ones.
She spoke with such fire when discussing how wolves should act. There was an underlying growl to her voice, one that only the keenest of ears could pick up. It was almost as if the wolf inside was speaking those words, crying to be let out and to be free. Beorn could free her—he could free her and show her a better way of life if she'd let him.
No. These thoughts were dangerous. He didn't need to shack up with a wolf, especially a younger one. His time was valuable and wolves were trouble. They brought pack politics with them, something Beorn had no interest in.
He looked up across the table and tried to focus back on Thorn. He was a hypocrite of the worst kind. He wasn't interested in pack politics, but here he was discussing them with a political master. What the hell was wrong with him? He had lost his way somewhere during this journey and now he was caught up with the wolves.
"Are you listening?" Thorn asked.
Beorn realized he hadn't been. All he could think about was Rain and her body. It was long and sleek, reminding him more of a panther coiled and ready for attack than a wolf. Every line, every edge, was perfectly crafted around her slight frame. Her dress had been short and the long, smooth, perfectly tanned legs that it exposed were dancing across his brain right now, causing the sleeping giant in his pants to begin to stir. It had been so long since a woman had had the ability to even cause a passing tingle in his pants, but now thinking of those perfect little B-cups was
Beorn didn't want to bring up the meeting with Abaddon anymore. In the back of his mind he hoped Thorn would forget about it, but that was essentially a pipe dream. There was no way in hell Thorn would forget his plan—they were going to meet the demon wolf face to face come hell or high water.
What would they even say to Abaddon when they met him? The conversation played over in Beorn's head repeatedly with him changing small details here and there, but every time he imagined it it ended the same: with Abaddon killing them all and kidnapping Leena back, even though she didn't want to return. It was still a fucking mess, one that Beorn was now finding himself in the middle of thanks to his friendship with an alpha.
He's just trying to help, Beorn thought as Thorn rambled on about a new road construction project he'd managed to get approved. He was always trying to better Bucklin, taking his civic duty just as seriously as his pack duty. But these aren't your people. You don't care about these wolves and if their city lives or dies. When Satan's Angels show up you'll be long gone to your home. When they kill the wolves they'll move on and you'll still be golden. Everyone will die, even...
Beorn's thoughts returned to the female who had come to his table earlier. Why was he thinking about her? Why did he care if she lived or died? Every time he tried to return his attention to Thorn, he found his mind wandering back to the beauty that was Rain.
Everything about the female stood out to him in a way no other had. Her long black hair was so silky and so smooth; it wasn't a wild mess like a lot of the other wolves he had seen. Her eyes were full of passion and intelligence, two qualities he had trouble finding in conjunction with one another. She was also young, something he wasn't normally used to. She had to be at least twelve to fifteen years his junior, but at the same time something about that turned him on. It wasn't because he liked the look of younger girls; it was because her mind hadn't yet been spoiled by the propaganda machine of Aster and his wolves. She was still young enough to form her own opinions about life and it was obvious she had some very strong ones.
She spoke with such fire when discussing how wolves should act. There was an underlying growl to her voice, one that only the keenest of ears could pick up. It was almost as if the wolf inside was speaking those words, crying to be let out and to be free. Beorn could free her—he could free her and show her a better way of life if she'd let him.
No. These thoughts were dangerous. He didn't need to shack up with a wolf, especially a younger one. His time was valuable and wolves were trouble. They brought pack politics with them, something Beorn had no interest in.
He looked up across the table and tried to focus back on Thorn. He was a hypocrite of the worst kind. He wasn't interested in pack politics, but here he was discussing them with a political master. What the hell was wrong with him? He had lost his way somewhere during this journey and now he was caught up with the wolves.
"Are you listening?" Thorn asked.
Beorn realized he hadn't been. All he could think about was Rain and her body. It was long and sleek, reminding him more of a panther coiled and ready for attack than a wolf. Every line, every edge, was perfectly crafted around her slight frame. Her dress had been short and the long, smooth, perfectly tanned legs that it exposed were dancing across his brain right now, causing the sleeping giant in his pants to begin to stir. It had been so long since a woman had had the ability to even cause a passing tingle in his pants, but now thinking of those perfect little B-cups was
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