Page 1 of Pack Ruin
1
Crossing Over
FLOR
Colorado, at the Mountain pack border
My mama once told me a true mate can cut you deeper, hurt you worse, than any other creature on earth. She said there’s no way to heal from that pain. She made me promise never to take a mate, and if I met my true mate, to run.
As I stood on the border of the Mountain packlands, ankle-deep in a shallow river that wound through a pine forest with not a road nor telephone line in sight, I thought for the first time that she’d been completely wrong.Two strong, honorable males stood at my sides, and I knew, deep down, neither one of them would hurt me intentionally.
Unless you counted how bad it hurt to look at them, standing naked as jaybirds under the midday sun. Though it was more of a pleasant ache than a hurt, since they were doing their very best to drive me crazy with want.
My fingers itched to touch their exposed skin. My private parts were threatening to form a river of their own. I clenched my thighs together, annoyed and slightly humiliated.
“Stop that,” I demanded as Brand, my massive, heavily muscled mate flexed his biceps slightly and broadened his stance, like he was trying to make it easier for me to see just how ripped he was.
His abs stood out like a ladder I wanted to climb, the dark hair down his chest and torso doing nothing to hide how toned he was. Another significant part of him stood out as well, bobbing at me like it was trying to say hello, or call me over.
Brand even reached down and picked up a handful of water, dripping it down his chest and making me the world’s thirstiest shifter as my eyes ached to track the droplets on their journey south of his belly button.
But I was supposed to focus, and breathe, and connect with my inner self, not my inner hussy. I needed to shift, to find a way to bring out my wolf.
So I refused to let my gaze dip below his waist, which meant I had to keep my head tilted up.Wayup. Brand was over seven feet of grade-A wolf shifter, after all, and I was just over five feet on a tall day.
“Stop what, my lovely wildflower?” he teased. “All I’m doing is standing here, looking at my perfect mate. Bathing in the rivers of my packlands, as we all must do before crossing the border.” His heated gaze raked me from head to toe, lingering on the silver mate mark he’d placed at the juncture of my neck and shoulder, then moving over my small breasts, his slight smile growing contemplative as he took in the old five-armed scar that radiated from my heart.
When he licked his lips slightly as he peeked lower, I groaned.“Stop looking so sexy.” I shivered, though I wasn’t sureif it was with the cold or from the growl he was making as he stalked toward me.
Eyes glinting, he waded through the water to my side, lifting me up and devouring me in a long kiss, a battle of lips and tongues, his beard rasping against my face and reminding me what it felt like to have his mouth farther down?—
A shower of cold water drenched me from my hair all the way to my ass.
“Ahhh!Fucking Glenda, I will end you!” I threatened, scrambling away from Brand and facing the other male.
Glen grinned at me like an idiot, hands on his hips, the sun painting the curls around his face a brighter gold. He wasn’t as massive as Brand, and it was hard not to stare at his honed body and his perfectly curved… I slammed my eyes shut.
“I’m freezing, you rat’s ass!”
“I know. Makes your nips tight like little cherr—oof!” I opened my eyes to see Brand looming over Glen, who was now on his bare ass in the shallow water.
“Respect my little queen, brother.”
“I do respect her,” Glen replied softly. “Sorry, Flor. I was just playing.” I shivered, but nodded.
“You won’t be cold when you shift,” Brand told me. “Let’s try again. Focus. Breathe.”
I sighed. “I’ve been trying for a half hour. My eyes are crossing, and I’m halfway to hypothermia. Nothing’s gonna happen.”
He tsked. “Your teeth and claws emerged last time. I know you can do it.”
I knew no such thing. But apparently, modern technology was all but forbidden on the Mountain packlands. We’d left the car in a clearing with a few old pickup trucks a mile back. Brand had promised that some pack members would go back for our luggage, explaining that his pack had rituals for entering andleaving their lands. “The old ways,” he’d murmured as we’d all stripped and left our clothing in the car we’d been in for thirty-six hours.
Brand and Glen had taken turns driving all the way from Ontario, going as fast as they dared, unwilling to stop for more than a few minutes at a time to stretch, eat, and change drivers. I’d never even been in a car until a few months ago, so I had slept and stared out the window, taking in the countryside and cities bigger than I’d dreamed could exist, wondering what the reception would be at Mountain.
I was sure they would welcome me as Brand’s mate. But once they discovered I also had a bond to Finnick, the Eastern pack’s Alpha Heir, would I still be welcome?
Or would they shout that I was a witch, and try to kill me? Would they allow Glen, who was technically a rogue since he’d abjured his pack to stay near me, onto their packlands?
