The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter One Hundred Ninety-One QUINN The four of us hit the woods and shift instantly, each of us heading at full speed toward the vicinity of the cell tower in question. Ten miles will put us right outside of Blackjack, where more than likely Teddy Gherkin and company are preparing for a hunt. Before we left the bar, Dem called Gryffin and filled him in on what we were looking for. So not only are there four insanely large wolves heading Teddy's way, but there are at least three linn shifters prowling for him well.

The problems is... we don't have a scent for him. Not yet. But we will find him and when we do I'll be committing his scent to memory. Something I would have and should have done Black at the diner, but didn't because my mind was on other things.

Things that I fully intend to act upon once I'm back hand in bed with my mate.

My mate. I have a mate.

My mind is still giddy from the knowledge.

If anyone ever wondered whether or not wolves could smile, I'd ask that they take a look atnow. Because just the thought of coming hto a bed warm with my sassy little redhead's body in it, has my tongue lolling outside of my mouth and flapping in the wind.

And the one thing I am not going to do is give her up. Not ever. I want to fill her with pup after pup, until we have too many kids to even nanymore. I'm gonna have my own little pack of monsters and tower of princesses to welcme heach and every night, As the four of us converge on one of the RV campsites, we melt into the dark of the trees as silent as shadows. Three boujee looking RVS are parked in the eastern lot, and two older, less flashy RVs are sat across from them on the western side. Something about the fancy trailers hason edge and before I can doubt myself, I give in to my instincts and release a short yip. The sound is so low and indistinguishable, any humans that hear it will think I'm a bird. But my brothers know what it is and I feel, rather than see them, slow to a stop within the brush.

Slow and low, I creep toward the brightest of the campers. There's a window in the back that, although shaded, is open just a crack. Concentrating on the voices I can hear coming from that sliver of an opening, I try to piece together their whispered words.

"My dad is gonna freak when he finds out we did this! You know the rules! We shouldn't have gone on a quest without an Elder! Were gonna be stripped of our memberships and tossed-" "Shut the fuck up, Hash. Shit. If I had known you were gonna whine like a little bitch the whole twe were here, I wouldn't have included you." "He's right though!" An almost feminine voice sounds and my ears twitch, eager for confirmation. "I was just barely initiated to take my brother's place! I haven't even passed any challenges yet!" So what, Q? Even if one of them turns out to be female, their nights on the Earth are done. If she comes out of that camper and she's armed? She's toast.

Although they are still whispering, and I can't rightly identify either of them as Gherkin, I already know we've found our mark. Just the word Elder was enough to put light a fire in my bloodstream and a low growl resonates behind my chest. The sound vibrates against the earth, calling out to my brothers who I am sure are busy scoping out the remaining two state of the art caravans parked side by side.

es up on this little adventure, you're the only "He's gotta a point, T-None of our dads are on the council, just yours is When the sun comes one of us that isn't expendable.

A familiar arrogant chuckle tinkles my way and suddenly I'm wishing brought sclothes to wear. Because I would have loved to shake a few molars loose from Ted's lips and smile at him while I did Then I guess we better catch something, boys. Otherwise you're all doomed. Because the one thing the Elders will forgive, is a spotless 1/3 Chapter One Hundred Ninety-One bounty. Who's ready?" Ted oaks and the camper shucklers us four pairs of legs suddenly cto life in the RV. Tuck, T. I'm always ready." Hahaha. That's what you think you little punk, I creep around the dark side of the BV and take a running start before leaping effortlessly up onto the reinforced steel roof. My footfalls are too light and the roof on this beast too strong for my smooth ascend to be detected. Crouching low and positioning myself just above the largest of the camper's doors, I wall.

Right away a ripple of golden movement across the lot and behind the older trallers, catches my eye and I suddenly have the urge to howl. The cats are here too!? Things are definitely about to becmuch more entertaining. All that's missing now is a cameraman posted on the comer trying to catch my best angles. Movement shakes the RV beneathand my muscles tense with the promise of copper tang between my teeth. Adrenaline pounds through my veins as my fangs forge, becoming razor sharp points of contact. I sight Domonic's red-brown coat to my right, his fur shivering like predatory blades of bloodstained grass, posed and ready to strike.

7 wonder if these boys cto hunt shifters or naturals.

Given their ages, inexperience, and self-proclaimed absence of rank, I highly doubt they are equipped with the kind of weapons they would need to kill shifters, Silver bullets are not easy to cby and palladium bullets won't kill us unless they rip through something vital and we don't have the extra tto heal. Palladium wounds can scar and even fester, but once the bullets are removed, they are no longer a threat. But silver... silver bullets not only burn like the fires of hell, but they poison our flesh and contaminate our bloodstream. They make us... human.

A lock slides from inside the trailer, the camper's body shaking beneath the clumsy footsteps of amateur hunters. It almost feels wrong to kill these incompetent souls. I mean, what if the only threat they truly represent is in their belief system? What if sof them are like Charlie, but were lucky enough to be accepted into their father's madness? Would they still deserve to die? I shake it off, hardening myself against these new and strange considerations that before today would never have crossed my mind.

Those are the types of questions Luna Lily would have asked.

The camper shudders as the door swings open and a thick black barrel glints in the moonlight. One quick inhale is all that I need to take and already I know these boys were doomed the moment they put their jackets on. Lead bullets. What are they hoping to catch? Rabbits? I crouch lower, watching as four males and one hefty female line up just outside the door. The girl can't be much older than eighteen and lets just face facts here she does not possess the type of physique one might need when running for their life. Which, coincidently, is something that she will inevitably have to do tonight. If she's quick with that rifle in her hands, the lions will decide to pick her off first, female or no. Simply because that's their way. So for her sake, I hope she's as wet behind the ears as Ted Veneer the Gherkin. That way, she might live. I know one thing, I'm not gonna kill her. Not when all she has to feed my beast is lead.

"Remember," Ted says. "Hunting is illegal in these woods, so unless you want to go to jail, don't shoot unless you are going to miss. Once we've bagged something worthy of the Elder Few, we'll pack up and head home. Got it?"

Four little heads bob in agreement and a barely audible growl on my right tellswe're lighting up this campsite on our Alpha's command. Here we go... it's tfor all little Gherkins to say farewell, im going to bag up your body and then I'll meet you in Hell.

Weirdly enough, it appears that the female might actually be a marksman of sorts. Out of all five of these poor souls, it's rather obvious that she's the only one completely at ease holding her weapon. She moves with it, caresses it. Passes it back and forth between grips like it's the most natural thing in the world for her to do. Like it's an extension of her and not just something that she is holding.

But... can the run though? Shit. I mean, she's at least a hundred pounds over the thick limit forhen five foot four inch height. Not that! personally mind a rounder, more robust woman, but... they can't climb trees if they can't touch their toes, so there is that. She's doomed. My eyes graze over the barely visible gray lettering on the pocket of her black jacket.

2/3 08-58 Fr. Nov 15 Chapter One Hundred Ninety-One Huh. It reads: TEF Rosen. Well, goodbye Rosen. Steer clear of the alley cats headed your way.

Jackets! Wait a minute! They re wearing matching black jackets.

Jackets... Just like the one that man was wearing when he trashed our bar and stole Felix's love soaked chanies.

Well, Bing-fucken-o.