Free For Life by Lorie O'Clare Page B

the back. He stared at her from the opposite end and she nibbled her lower lip, knowing she couldn’t hide what he did to her insides. And she couldn’t quit thinking about how bizarre it would be knowing the thoughts of any male or female that you spent time with. “Your thoughts are so muddled that it’s clear you aren’t sure what you want.” He spoke with no inflection, making it harder to tell if he insulted her or not. “I doubt I’m far off target when I suggest you haven’t had much opportunity to choose your own path. How did you come to be with the lunewulf pack you’re with now—or were with until yesterday?”
    Even though he spoke softly, not condemning, the truth of his words bit deep. Her gut twisted painfully. She wasn’t in denial. But hearing that she was without a pack made it sink in even farther.
    “This isn’t the first time I’ve run alone.” Confessing her past ate at her pride. But he might as well know now she wasn’t a bitch from a strong line or a powerful den who would offer her up as some worthy catch. “Heidi and I met up in Canada and joined Bob, who is our pack leader now. There were a handful of us back then, and we grew as we came down through the States. I guess you could say our pack originated with the rogue lunewulfs , those wanting something other than what their local pack would give them.”
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    Lorie O’Clare
    She smiled as she remembered her wilder days, back when it didn’t matter that she had no den or a name to fall back on. The lot of them was wild, eager and willing to go wherever fresh meat ran. They chased after an adventure and gave little thought to the future other than making sure there were meat to eat and at times a warm body to snuggle with and get laid.
    Josie’s slow smile probably matched the one on her face. “Our pasts are similar,” he mused. “When I arrived in the States, it was pretty much jumping from one pack to the next. Except in my case, more times than not, I stayed until they learned about the Malta werewolf history, then I was sent packing.”
    “You could fight them,” she protested, shaking her head. Their histories weren’t the same.
    “Sure.” He raised one shoulder lazily, then let it fall. “But there was no point. Why give Malta werewolves a worse reputation than they already had? When I caught up with Nicolo and Dimitri, we learned about Dante’s efforts to claim territory for Malta werewolves here in the mountains. They brought their den here and I followed them. It will take time before Malta werewolves are once again known as a powerful and invincible pack. But we’re making our mark here. And we aren’t going anywhere.”
    “I think you’re closer to having that reputation than you think.” Most of her pack spoke of Malta werewolves as a breed to leave alone. And it wasn’t because they were ill-mannered.
    Josie’s dark eyes glowed like black gems, while his gaze burrowed deep into her soul. Even relaxed on the couch without an aggressive air about him, he looked deadly and so very capable of springing into action, protecting and fighting for what he viewed as his. Her tummy flip-flopped and her own scent changed as she wondered if he might ever view her as part of what he claimed.
    “Come here,” he growled, his voice a husky, rough whisper. He barely lifted his hand from the back of the couch and beckoned to her.
    She couldn’t hide her scent any more than she could keep her thoughts from him.
    Somehow knowing he had such complete power, able to know what was in her mind the second she did, gave her a warped feeling of security. There would never be secrets with this werewolf, but at the same time he could never claim he didn’t know if she wanted something as well.
    The oversized shirt hung low and rode up her ass, leaving her backside exposed and vulnerable as she crawled across the couch and then placed her hands on his shoulders. Josie continued reclining, his body relaxed and his arms spread,