Slade (Team Greywolf 1)

“I don’t do anything slowly,” she smirked.

“How long ago has it been since you endured the change?”

“Three and half years.”

“So young.”

“What about you?”

“Five years.”

“In human years, not much of a difference.” She was twenty-four and he twenty-six. However, in wolf years, huge. Her memory of being a wolf was more recent than his. A wolf reached adult maturity at age three. The top alpha was bitten by his father, turned human, and then bit the rest of his pack. All werewolves, when turned, were age twenty-one years, but with selected knowledge acquired via the blood bite or what was known as Stallo’s blood, or the poison. She shuddered at the memory of the pain following the bite.

“Now back to your name, why Cricket?”

“Being the runt meant, being the last to get meat and the last to find room in the den. So I barked.” She laughed. “My barks sounded like a cricket’s chirp.”

His tone remained serious while his gaze became unfocused. “One of our beta couples had a runt. They named him, Amarok, which is the name of a giant wolf in Inuit mythology. Perhaps they thought a powerful name might save him.” He shook his head. “Poor little cub didn’t last long.”

Cricket’s hands clenched. Is that why he wanted to hang around her? Pity for the poor runt who needed the protection of an alpha? She kept her voice neutral. “It is the will of the gods which wolf survives and which one does not.”

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, studying her. Probably wondering, how an insignificant little runt could be part of the gods’ plans? “So it is.”

“I better get dressed.” She stomped off to her bedroom.

Slade heard the lock on the door as she closed it. Such rude manners. His fangs threatened to spring out, crash through the door and give her a nip, this time on her perky ass instead of her nose. Lower ranked wolves never locked their alphas out. Why did she

infuriate him so? Was she so miserable being his temporary companion? Did she really miss the adventure of Team Greywolf? Like hell would he let her leave him to investigate a potentially dangerous case, missing and possibly murdered werewolves.

He sighed and walked over to her small kitchen. He snooped around and opened cabinets. Cereal. Boxes of cereals. Mostly the sugary variety human children favored. He chuckled and shook his head. Most werewolves never ate processed human food, especially carbs. Was she more human than wolf? At least in her refrigerator she stocked plenty of meat and poultry. And good Belgian beer. Something they agreed on.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

He turned and gaped. The little tart was dressed in a tight black dress that showed off her luscious curves. She wore high-heeled black boots to add height. Still too petite, but hot nonetheless.

She smiled, her heart-shaped lips, tempted him to kiss her.

Wrong. Very fucking wrong. He wanted to devour her mouth. Bite her honey-flavored lips. His cock rose to the occasion, startling him. There was no mistaking what he felt for her, not simple fondness, but raw carnal desire. “You look good.” He sounded like a juvenile. His wolf wanted to do more than compliment. Rake his fingers through her soft amber hair. The beast raged to fuck her. Hear her beg to keep her forever.

“Thank you. On rare occasions, I like to dress like a girly girl.”

If she were his, he’d buy her an entire wardrobe of girly girl clothing. He swallowed a threatening drool. “I suppose since you don’t date, it must be rare indeed.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Oh, I date. Just because I’m a runt doesn’t make me a nun.”

He stiffened. A flash of rage coursed through him. “But runts are not allowed to…have…date.”

She leaned near him and whispered, “Little secret. Since we’re not a formal pack, those strict rules don’t apply.”

He and his inner wolf tensed in possessiveness. The werewolves who joined the LIA were allowed a measure of freedom not common in normal packs, but it still bothered him. Actually, pissed him off. He grabbed his bottle of beer and took a deep swallow. “Naturally, despite the ease on rules no werewolf has slept with you.”

She laughed. “Not yet. Although, I have to admit human men are not so bad.”

Why the hell had her flippant remark punched him in the gut? He had to know. His tone deepened, part man, part wolf, “You’ve slept with human men?”

She flinched. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I lost my virginity to one.”

His hackles rose, his voice deepened, “What about pack law?”