Claimed by the Pack

“You should never have done this,” I said, turning to Damien. “This was wrong.”

He looked hurt by the assertion. “I… I didn’t know.”

“You knew. Or even if you didn’t know, you at least suspected.”

I wasn’t wrong there and he knew it. If I had been, he would’ve argued. I loved him like a brother, but arguing with me was Damien’s thing.

“I— It just sort of happened,” he offered.

Serena was rubbing her temples again. Nothing she could do would clear her head though.

“We had sex,” she said finally, looking from Damien to me. “That’s all it was. We didn’t cut our hands or become blood brothers or—”

“You should’ve told me first,” I said to Damien. “You should’ve asked.”

My eyes crawled her body now. I couldn’t help it. I could smell her, every last bit of her. Her scent, her sex — every pheromone and chemical change that was happening across the wonderful surface of her hot, tingly skin.

And that body… I longed for it, badly. I wanted to hold it in my arms. To crush her against me, to spread her open and take her hard, the way I knew Damien had done himself. And I could smell him on her too. All over her. On her skin. In her hair…

“Why does he need to ask you t

o have sex with me?” Serena cried, clearly exasperated.

I gave Damien a long, stern look. He conceded fully this time, lowering his head.

“Because it’s our way.”

9

SERENA

I was pissed. Pissed that I’d been caught unprepared — with my pants down, so to speak — and even more pissed that I couldn’t catch on.

Most of all I was pissed that my contacts apparently knew more about my mission than I did. That Xiomara would just throw me to the wolves like this, which in retrospect, was a funny choice of words.

Nothing made any sense, yet somehow everything this beautiful Nordic god was telling me was exactly what I felt at the time. Almost as if he were feeding my own thoughts and emotions directly into my head. Planting them there, like some kind of hypnotist.

And such a beautiful Nordic god, too…

Only he wasn’t a hypnotist. That I was sure of. The strange prickly heat I was experiencing had nothing to do with what he was saying or suggesting to me, because I’d felt it even before I’d left Damian’s bed.

But if not that, then what?

“Well if you’re wolves,” I said, deciding to humor them, “you’re the shittiest wolves I’ve ever seen. You look a hell of a lot like people. And I’ve yet to see either one of you lick your own asshole.”

Damien laughed. I guess he was the funny one. Broderick scowled, and his scowl told Damien that he shouldn’t be laughing… but he kept laughing anyway.

I was starting to see their dynamic.

“We’re humans, obviously,” said Broderick. “But there are times we assume wolf form.”

I nodded, as if everything he said were obvious fact. “So like werewolves?”

“No,” he countered quickly. “Not like werewolves.” The term was either offensive, or it irritated the shit out of him. I stored that information away for later. “That’s Hollywood bullshit.”

“So then… no full moon stuff? Silver bullets? Garlic?” I was having fun now. “Wait, the garlic thing is for vampires, right? How about holy water? Is that—”

“More Hollywood bullshit,” said Damien. “Although I’ve never really tried the holy water thing.”