Defending Their Mate, Part One: A BBW Shifter Werewolf Romance (The Last Pack) Read Online Free

she couldn't outrun them. She would be consumed, reduced to nothingness.
    The wolves howled.
    Grace shot upright in bed, whimpering as the sheet tangled around her legs. She fought free and rolled from the mattress, coming to her feet with Mac's knife gripped in one fist. The cool air should have soothed her, but she was still burning up.
    Not fire. Fever. The mating heat had risen fast and hard, leaving her aching with a need she couldn't deny, not anymore. Not when she was wet and shaking and so turned on she thought it might actually kill her this time.
    She craved. It had been easier to resist before, because the Great Lakes pack had stirred only rage and hatred in her. But this was no nebulous, unfocused frustration. The wolves here made her curious. They made her wonder.
    Run. Run before you hurt them.
    Buffeted by conflicting desires, Grace started for the door. She could go to Lucas. She could do what Ashley had suggested and beg for relief, even just a few hours, long enough to get herself together and get gone.
    A solid plan. She wanted to do it. And every step down the hallway jacked her panic higher.
    Dazed, she turned. The first step in the opposite direction turned her panic into wary approval. The second sparked anticipation. Two more and she was stumbling, half-running, and she collapsed against Mac's door and banged both fists against it, her whole body trembling.
    The door opened, and she pitched forward into a solid body. But it wasn't Mac's scent that curled around her along with a pair of strong arms. She twisted in his grasp, growing frantic as recognition slammed into her.
    Connor. Sweet, gentle Connor. And she was wild, out of control—and still gripping her knife.
    "Hey, hey." His voice was low, easy. "It's okay, Grace. You're okay."
    She was fine, but he wouldn't be. "Mac. I need—" Someone she couldn't hurt. Someone who wouldn't let her hurt anyone else.
    "The knife, Grace." He was there, dressed in nothing but his jeans, holding out his hand. "Can you?"
    She expected it to be impossible. But she was so desperate to get it away from Connor that she shoved it forward blindly. "Take it, please."
    He wrapped strong fingers around the hilt, and another wave of anticipation slammed into her. Her skin burned everywhere, especially where they touched her, Connor's arms and Mac's fingers sparking electricity between them with every glancing brush.
    Arousal sharpened, and she shivered.
    The knife clattered as he dropped it on the nearest table. Then he slid his hands under her jaw, beneath her hair, his thumbs resting just above the pulse pounding in her throat. "How bad is it?" he asked, his voice soothing and calm, two things she'd never dreamed Mac could be.
    "I don't know." But when she pressed her thighs together, they were already slick, and she knew she was lying. She'd never slept with a guy, but she knew about sex. She'd grown up in bars and pool halls, around people who didn't censor themselves just because a kid was in the room.
    It was bad. Worse than last time, because Mac and Connor weren't making her furious. She wanted them touching her. She wanted—
    "It's okay," Connor whispered again. His voice was rougher this time, not so sweet and gentle. His hand fell to her hip, smoothing her rumpled nightgown, and she almost moaned as the fabric rubbed against her sensitive skin. "Mac will take care of you."
    Mac's gaze sharpened, despite the softness—could it be compassion?—in his eyes. "I'll take her to Lucas."
    "No." She tore free of Connor's grasp and slammed into Mac. As flushed as she was, his skin still blazed beneath her hands. "I don't want to go."
    "Grace—" His hands tightened just shy of pain, and somehow that firm, commanding touch only made her hotter. "It isn't enough that you need this. Not if you don't want it."
    Want wasn't a strong enough word. She spread her fingers wide, savoring the smoothness of his shoulder, the contrast between solid muscle and inviting skin. He'd feel