Free PackRescue by Gwen Campbell Page A

deliberate, gentle
strokes Suzanne caressed his heavy pectorals with her cheeks, nose and chin,
nuzzling him and whining so quietly Fina barely heard her. Her breasts pressed
into his ribs but with boobs that big there was no way it could be avoided.
Fina was surprised the woman didn’t just fall flat on her face from the weight
of them…only she’d probably bounce right back up again.
    Fina felt like booting her in the ass to test her theory.
    Fina jumped a little when Cutler’s strong hand wrapped
around her wrist, pulling her back to his side. She tried to resist—tried to
pull away from him—but he held her tight and refused to let go.
     
    Cutler knew why Suzanne was nuzzling him. He’d been angry
with her—really angry—and she needed reassurance her Alpha’s reprimand was
over, needed comforting and needed to reaffirm the bonds of Alpha and pack
member between them. Cutler swore at himself mentally and held himself still.
He had no right to go off on Suzanne like that. That was the second time she’d
interrupted him with his mate. It wasn’t her fault her timing sucked. She didn’t
deserve to be reprimanded for what amounted to his lack of self-control. He
held back his impatience, held himself still and waited for her anxiety to
recede. When the scent of it faded, Cutler sighed quietly. “Go on, Suzanne,” he
said with uncharacteristic gentleness. He tipped his head toward the huddle of
six unmated males standing nearby, raptly watching his dispatcher’s every move.
“Before your admirers have a stroke.”
    Grinning self-consciously, Suzanne lifted her head from him,
glanced up at him once then lowered her eyes and walked back the way she’d
come.
    When she left, Cutler filled his lungs slowly then exhaled.
Suzanne’s scent was fresh on him, light, healthy, fertile and undeniably
female—but hers wasn’t the scent he wanted. His wolf snapped its jaws angrily
and prowled through his head, trying to get away from the scent of this
interloper and locate the smell of its mate again. Cutler tightened his grip on
Fina’s wrist and drew her closer.
    “Mark me,” he growled, dipping his face and rubbing his
rough cheek across the side of her face. He slid his free hand around her waist
and pulled her into him, overpowering her strength easily, holding her small,
warm body against his. “I want your scent on me. I need it,” he snarled. Cutler
let go of her wrist, wrapped his hand around the back of her head, stood up to
his full height and drew her face to him.
    He threw back his head and let his wolf’s growl reverberate
through his still-human larynx. It was a frightening sound—part man and part
animal—and the cry was picked up by other male werewolves throughout the
clearing. The wolves inside them trumpeted their strength and vigor in
anticipation of the rising moon.
    Trembling from head to toe, Fina rubbed her face over Cutler’s
chest, not shying away from the scratchiness of his hair. She drank in the heat
of his body until the beating of his heart had to overwhelm her hearing. She
opened her mouth, dragged her lips over him, moving faster now. Pleasure so
great it was foreign coursed through him. She gripped his biceps, dug her
fingers into him, stretched up onto her toes so she could reach more of him and
flipped her head back and forth to paint him with her scent.
    Cutler held himself absolutely still except for his head. It
lolled back and his eyes gazed unseeing at the stars. He willed his skin to
drink her in and let his arms fall helplessly to his sides as his mate touched
him.
    She snarled and stiffened when another werewolf pressed into
her back but her anger fizzled. It was Nathaniel. He lifted her hair and began
rubbing his temple against the back of her neck, her shoulders and
spine—rubbing his scent over her like she was rubbing hers over Cutler.
    When her scent had completely erased Suzanne’s, Fina turned,
grabbed Nath’s biceps and began to rub her face over his