Page 11 of Revenge of the Blood Pack

Well, it also might be because Max is admittedly attractive, but I'm not supposed to care about that. Noticing his scent and liking it in a way that I’ve never liked anyone else’s scent is just… a coincidence. Nothing important. Not like my mission.

I don’t even know why I’m thinking about that. Or why every time I let my thoughts run, they either go to terrible things or to Max. A therapist might know why, but I don’t have a clue, and I’m not sure I want to.

Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes and will myself to think about something else, but it really is like my mind only has two gears. An obsession with Max that borders on unhealthy, and memories of horrific things that make my heart race and my palms grow sweaty. I try to repeat the lyrics to songs, something that helps me on these long, silent car rides, and it works. Time passes, I have no idea how much, as I go through every Brittany Spears song my sister had played on repeat when we lived together. When I had a home and a family.

And even the lyrics of the songs somehow come out sad in my mind.

The car halts abruptly, and I'm thrown back into reality. I look out the window and see that we’ve come to a small town, the likes of which we’ve seen a thousand times before while searching for my pack. It’s surrounded by trees. There are shops and stores on both sides of the road, but we’ve pulled into the parking lot of a diner.

I let out a slow breath, itching to get out of this car. To escape the constant need to fill my mind with shit to keep the monsters out. And, of course, the chance to eat. Eating is one thing that still brings me joy.

Saved by the diner. Perfect.

"Food?" I ask, my voice dripping with eagerness.

"Check in at the motel, then food," he says with an almost smile, then points to a run-down motel just behind the diner.

I sigh and get out of the car. Max opens the trunk and tries to take both our bags, but I snag mine from him before he can. The guy is constantly acting like he's living the rules of Gentleman 101, which bothers me. At least Ithinkit bothers me.

But he seems not to have noticed my fight to carry my own bag as he closes and locks everything up, then leads me to the motel. He gets one room with two beds, which is our usual MO. We each take a keycard and then find our room in the far back corner, a location Max prefers. I almost see myself as his mistress with how hard he tries to hide me sometimes.

We throw our bags onto our beds. Then, without a word, we head back to the diner parking lot. Already, I'm excited. Meals are the one time when I feel like life doesn't absolutely suck.

"Go in and wait for me. Order whatever you want. I’ll be along as soon as I can," Max tells me, shoving a few bills into my hand.

I freeze, surprised. "What? Why? Where the hell are you going?”

Is it about that phone call? Is this where they slaughter me? Or are there sightings of my pack in this town and he’s keeping me away from it for some reason?I don’t know, but my hands curl into fists.

He sighs as if he's tired of me already. "Just go in there and wait for me. I'm meeting someone at the bar across the street. I'll be with you shortly."

“Who are you meeting?”

He lifts a brow. “If I wanted you to know, I would have said so.”

“And why are you meeting them?”

“Same answer,” he says without missing a beat.

“Does it have anything to do with my pack?” My voice goes up a few decimals.

“Asha, just go into the diner.” He actually sounds irritated, which would normally make me happy, but the whole thing just manages to piss me off. I’m not a child, and I hate when he treats me like one. But I know him, and there’s nothing I can say right now to get him to change his mind.

I frown but do as he says, stomping off across the gravel. I’m acting a little like a spoiled brat but that's what he deserves.Go in and wait for me.Huh? No,yougo in and let me look for my pack by myself since you don't know how to do your job.I roll my eyes and push the diner's door open, then slam into someone.

Taking a few steps back with my hands already curled into fists, I jerk my gaze up to the person in front of me. And it’s like my brain freezes. It’s a man, but a hell of a man. Tall and broad with black hair and eyes such a pale blue shade they’re almost white. He’s wearing a tight green shirt with army tags, and tattoos crawl up both his arms, hugging his biceps in a way that makes me jealous. Jealous of the damn tattoos that get to touch him.

Thisis the kind of man I need. Someone who doesn’t look complicated. Someone who probably has an ass as fine as his face. Maybe if I took him around back and fucked his brains out, I’d have something good to think about when I close my eyes.

He gives me a smile that screamsbad boy, like he knows what I’m thinking, and wants to lead the way. “Sorry about that,” he says, and his voice is low, a timber that rolls through my body and makes my nipples hard.

“I think I crashed into you,” I say.

His smile widens. “Well, I consider it an honor, ma’am.”

Hell, if he had a cowboy hat on right now, there’s no doubt he’d be tipping it to me, and in a short time from now, I’d belicking my way down to his cock. A cock I’m sure is thick and long and everything his swagger promises it could be.

But before I can say more, he starts to move past me to the door, and my eyes flutter closed as I breathe him in. He’s a shifter, that I’m sure of, and his scent is incredible. Rugged, like the broken earth, and also, somehow, green and rich, like freshly cut grass. He pauses as he moves past me, and our eyes lock. His are wide with surprise, as he looks down at my much smaller frame like he’s seeing me for the first time.

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