Page 48 of Blood Pack Beginning

“Okay, I’ll be right back. And it goes without saying that you’ll be monitoring her, just in case she is involved.”

“Obviously.” Pierrot’s dry drawl.

It didn’t take long for Anabel to be ensconced with Pierrot and for Sasha and Diego to run back to the bodies, stack them best as they could recall, and strap a camera to a tree.

As they returned to the compound, entering via the secret tunnel, Diego matched Sasha’s brisk and angry steps.

“What now, Shorty? Need to go a few rounds in the training ring to work off some frustration?”

She eyed him with fire in her eyes, and purred, “I can think of something more strenuous I’d rather do.”

The insinuation perked him up not just mentally but also below the belt. “Can I rinse off first?” The stench of death clung to him and didn’t scream sexy times.

“Only if you promise to soap every inch of me.”

He did. Lathering her from the toes all the way to her ears. As he worked the suds, he explored her body, fit and toned, the skin a pale contrast to his.

Her kiss was cool and minty but her passion a blazing inferno. When they tumbled into bed, she made sure he lay flat on his back. She sat astride, nails digging into his chest as she rode him, her breasts jiggling as she rolled and rocked her hips, her pussy a tight vise around his dick.

As they both approached the peak, she murmured, “You can bite me if you want. But be warned, my blood comes with side effects.”

A fact he already knew because Cyrus had told them of the bond that formed after he’d tasted her blood. They’d mated, or at least half-mated, not that Cyrus called it that. The man remained in denial, even though their kind knew full-well that a partial mating bond could be forged even with a one-way exchange that wasn’t consummated with sex.

But Diego wasn’t afraid. He’d known from the moment he met Sasha he wanted no other. He hoped, prayed really, she’d bite and bind him to her as his mate.

So, when their tempo turned frenzied and his cock readied to burst, he dragged her down for a kiss before sliding his lips to her throat and pressing them to the rapidly beating pulse.

When she cried out as she came, he claimed her, tasting her blood as his teeth pierced skin, coming hard as the bond formed between them, binding them until death did them part.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sasha smackedDiego on the ass as she sent him off to meet up with her other puppies. He’d come through as a lover and, even better, willingly partook of her blood, meaning she now had two Lycans bound to her. A good thing? Time would tell.

While Diego filled in the others on what had transpired—and most likely boasted to Amir about getting to bed her—she headed to Pierrot’s office. She entered to find him and Anabel looking dejected.

“I take it you haven’t figured out who the traitor is,” Sasha stated as she plopped into an empty chair.

“Nope,” Pierrot snarled. “Look at this.” He keyed up a video and began playing it. “This is the last footage we have of Dylan.” The screen showed a young man with a stack of lumber balanced on his shoulder, bulky enough it blocked the upper body of the person he walked alongside.

“Why is he carrying wood?” Sasha asked, leaning in for a closer look.

“It’s for the obstacle course the Lycans are building outside the compound. As you can see, whoever he’s with can’t be identified, and before you ask, this is the best angle. They knew exactly which cameras they couldn’t avoid and set themon a loop. I look like a fucking incompetent. Thaddeus will be displeased.” Pierrot slumped in his chair.

“There’s still time to figure it out before he returns.” Thaddeus had texted the previous night to warn Sasha he’d been delayed and would be spending the day in the city. He planned to return sometime after sunset. Given the gravity of the situation, Sasha had reported what had been happening. He planned to interrogate all the vamps upon his return until the culprit was found.

“Not much,” Pierrot snorted. “He’s expected back within the hour.”

“There has to be something to identify them,” Sasha murmured. She pointed. “Do you recognize the shoes they’re wearing?”

“It would be quicker to count who doesn’t wear white running shoes around here,” drawled Pierrot sarcastically.

He had a point but for one thing. “Zoom in,” Sasha ordered.

Pierrot leaned forward and touched the screen before spreading his fingers to enlarge the footwear, the resolution slightly grainy, but not enough to hide a specific detail.

Pierrot whistled. “I recognize those sneakers.”

So did Sasha, because she and Pierrot had listened as Monty bragged about how they used to belong to some basketball star. Why he’d want to overpay for shoes no one understood, but Monty had been quite proud, and Sasha bit her tongue because Thaddeus had impressed upon her the importance of having as many extra allies for the upcoming conflict.

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