Page 34 of Pack to the Wall

My heart did a ragged dance in my chest, surging with hope and falling with fear in equal measure. I hadn’t gotten the solid answer I’d been hoping for. I’d learned that Jane probably wouldn’t change much after being turned, she’d just be more of who she already was. I was happy for that. But if she couldn’t become as fierce as she needed to be, then her reign as alphawould be short lived. And the thought of losing her so soon after finding her terrified me more than anything in my entire life.

JANE

I woketo the sounds of people moving around the house. Usually, I was the first one up.

Were Izzy and Milo up before me? For a moment, I was confused. Then all the events of the previous day flooded back to me, overwhelming me for a moment.

I’d killed a man.

I lay in bed, blinking, unable to comprehend this strange new life of mine.

I was alpha of a pack of biker werewolves. Though some were bears and others were… lions.

Lions.

I recalled the huge form of Bronn as a lion laying by my door. I’d seen lions in zoos, but Bronn had been larger than any of them. He’d looked so powerful and yet so at ease, like some housecat lounging on the floor, just hundreds of times larger, and I was grateful he was on my side.

Slowly, I sat up, a hand to my head, trying to stop the headache I could already feel coming.

“Hey beautiful,” came a purring voice from the open doorway. I blinked and saw Colt standing there.

I instantly pulled the covers up over myself, not because he was looking at me, but because the door was open. In truth, I really liked the way the young man was looking at me, even if I didn’t understand why he’d look at me that way.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, brow furrowing. He glanced out into the hall one last time. Noises from around the house let me know people were up and moving even though it wasn’t much past dawn. He nodded to someone in the hall, then closed the door as he stepped in.

“That better?” he asked.

“Thank you,” I said. “I just need a shower and?—”

The sound of running water as the shower came to life in the bathroom next door stopped that thought. I blew out a breath and got up, wrapping a housecoat around myself.

Glancing at Colt, he was still giving me thatbest-friend-who-could-be-morelook, even once I was bundled in a heavy terrycloth robe. And before I’d covered myself he hadn’t been staring at my tits. That’s what men generally focused on. I had a plain face and features, but a significant bust. Most men’s gazes slid off my face and headed right to my breasts, but not Colt. And for some reason that made sense. That look he gave me held a certain respect, thebest-friendpart of it.

Someone knocked on the door, and I shifted closer to the far wall where I wouldn’t be seen if it opened, then I nodded to Colt.

He asked who it was through the door, Tyson responded, and the large man let Tyson in, then winked at me and slid out of the room.

“You’re not dressed,” Tyson remarked instantly as his gaze traced over my entire body. The heat of his dark-blue eyes instantly stoked my own inner fire, and my cheeks warmed.

“You should get dressed,” he said quickly, swallowing hard.

It was clear that wasn’t what he wanted, and I knew it. Because I wanted it too: both of us naked on the bed with his cock buried to the hilt inside me.

My nipples hardened to aching points, ever-so-sensitive to the brush of the cotton fabric over them. The blistering heat inside me seemed to press down and my folds were suddenly wet and ready for that imagined situation.

Tyson’s nostrils flared.

Last night Bronn had smelled my arousal, something aboutsummer rains, and I got the feeling Tyson was getting a good whiff of me now.

I had to stop getting wet at the mere thought of this man, especially if he could tell.

Wait… if he can tell and Bronn can tell then…oh-my-God, everyone can tell!

“I need a shower,” I said quickly, forgetting the shower was occupied. “Then I’ll get dressed.”

Tyson grunted. “Tank just got in the shower with Petra. He’ll probably use up all the hot water before he’s done.”

“Then I’ll go downstairs,” I said. There was a shower stall in the downstairs bathroom. I strode toward him and hoped he’d get out of my way. He didn’t. I stopped in front of him, hands clasped tightly over my robe. I couldn’t decide if my tight grip was to keep it closed or in anticipation of tearing it off.

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