The Werewolf’s Bride: The Pack Rules #1 Read Online Free Page B

are you, Arabelle?”
    “I’m wonderful.” I rose onto my elbows. “So, that’s how a werewolf scents his mate?”
    His lips quirked into a half-smile. “As I said—one of several ways.”
    I couldn’t help but gaze at the large (and rather scary) hard-on that strained against his jeans. “Should I…do something for you?”
    He rubbed the front of his jeans and sighed. “Not until we are mated.”
    I moved my leg so that he could slide off the bed.
    “You need more rest. Tonight, Aunt Lila will prepare you to the Choosing, and accompany you to the ceremonial grounds. I’ll see you there.”
    “When we’re mated, will there be more of… of this?” I asked.
    Something within him changed instantly. He grew unnaturally still, his lips peeling back into a snarl. He growled, and the harsh sound had me scrambling backwards, fear tumbling through me.
    “I’ve chosen you, Arabelle. But you must understand that tonight, when we truly mate and seal our bond, I will be more animal than human. I will be rough. Greedy. Insistent.”
    “What if I can’t handle that?” I asked in a shaking whisper.
    Grey stared at me, his wolfish gaze dark with nearly inhumane lust. “Willing or not, my sweet, I will take you.”

Four.
    “ W ELL , WELL. IF it isn’t the great werewolf killer,” sneered a female voice.
    I whirled, heart thumping, and pressed a hand against my chest. I stared at the stranger who was behind me, leaning next to the door of my room. Well, the room in which I’d been staying at Aunt Lila’s.
    Werewolf killer. It was true. Last night, I’d killed a werewolf in self-defense and in a couple of hours… I was mating with one.
    My husband-to-be was none other than the alpha of the Shadow pack—Greyson Burke. Memory flashed, and my stomach squeezed with nerves. Grey was a handsome man—squared jaw, aquiline nose, full lips, and gray-green eyes. His hair was a waterfall of shiny black. And lord-a-mercy, he was big and muscled and…and intense .
    My stomach clenched at the very thought of seeing the man again. Because when I did, we would—by werewolf standards at any rate—be married.
    Then we would mate.
    Sweet mercy.
    I studied the woman towering over me by at least six inches. She had long, brown hair that curled in shiny ringlets down her back. Her eyes were sapphires, two jewels in a heart-shaped face with a sharp, dented chin. She was lean-muscled and tan, obviously someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors. She was also dressed in tight black leather pants and a matching vest designed to show off her navel. She didn’t have much in the way of breasts, but she certainly didn’t mind showing them off within the deep vee of the vest. She wore calf boots that jangled with silver chains. The shape of her irises, her ridiculous height, and her bristly attitude made it obvious she was a werewolf. I would’ve been fascinated by meeting such a rare creature—but she made my less-than-curly hair stand on end.
    “Are you mute?” asked the woman, her tone the epitome of discourteous.
    “No,” I said as politely as I could. I was raised with manners, after all. “Neither am I rude. Who are you?”
    “Neela.”
    My politeness only extended so far. I couldn’t say it was nice to meet her, and I didn’t want to proffer my hand for a welcoming shake. Instead, I inclined my head. “I’m Arabelle Winton.” My friends called me Belle, but I wasn’t inclined to ask her to informally address me.
    “I know who you are. Grey sent me to fetch you.” Her full lips curled into a hateful smile. “He does like his little pets.”
    Fetch me? His little pet? Embarrassment heated my cheeks, and Neela seemed to delight in my discomfiture. In fact, she made quite the show of studying my blushing face and smirking. Her arrogance got my blood up, and my mortification turned to anger. Given Grey’s recent and thorough “scenting” of me, I knew she could smell his claim.
    “I’m not his pet.” I held