Dylan

            “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!” I mumble pacing back and forth in front of my door.
What the fuck? A half-naked and profusely bleeding man is lying probably dead on my doorstep. He knocked and I ignored it talking on the phone about fucking Pretty Little Liars! I’ll never watch the shit again…okay I’m telling a lie but God this sucks!
I take a deep breath like I do when I have to work in the ER and put myself in that state of mind to get through this without freaking out further.
Okay step one, check his vitals. I kneel down and check for a pulse in his neck. The instant my fingers touch his skin something in me awakens and I feel like I have to save this man.
His pulse is slow and his skin is scalding, probably his body trying to fight off infection. I roll him over on his back to try and check if he is still conscious and I can’t see any signs that he is. I’m about to go get a pillow for his head when I hear him whisper.
“Inside.”
My breathing stops at the sound of his pained voice and the grimace on his face makes my heart weep. I bite my lip trying to figure out how in God’s name I’m going to get his big ass into the house. Don’t get me wrong he’s no slouch, his body is perfect but that’s the problem, the man is pure muscle, it was hard enough just to get him over on his back.
I look down and shake my head, “No, you’ve lost too much blood. I’m going to go inside and call you an ambulance but I’ll be right back.”
As I turn I feel his hand grip my ankle weakly but enough to turn me around.
“No…please…inside.”
My nurse brain is screaming at me to ignore him and call 911 but the part of me that sees the alarm and pleading in his pale green eyes wins out.
He groans slightly, a low throaty sound when I grab him under his arms and start to slowly move him inside. I sit him up with his back against my bed and quickly hop off the other side and run to close the door. The last thing I need is for nosey ass Miss Partridge across the street to see anything “suspicious.”

            I run to the kitchen and grab my heavy duty first aid kit from under the sink and a bottle of Everclear. Once I patch him up and stop the bleeding, I can call him a proper ambulance.
On the way back to the bed I grab towels and sheets and the shower curtain from my bathroom to lay him on for the impromptu surgery. I quickly spread out the shower curtain and then a sheet on top before struggling to pull him onto the makeshift surgery table.
Opening the bottle of Everclear I sit behind his head with my knees together. After sitting his head in a tilted position I take a long hot gulp of the liquor, it burns so badly going down and it tastes like crap but it does the trick and awakens my senses.
“You need to drink this,” I tell him softly, putting the bottle to his lips.
He blinks rapidly, sweat dripping down his face, and tilts his head forward. I start to serve the liquor to him and he tries to spit it up but I don’t let him.
“Swallow it, it’ll help with the pain.”
He does as he’s told, making a face that makes me think that the drink is worse than his bullet wounds.

            I lay him back down flat and open the first aid kit. I never thought I would have to use this damned thing.
Popping on a pair of gloves I start right away disinfecting the gunshot wound on his chest first. He sucks in air through his teeth and I flinch back.
“Sorry! Shit! I should’ve warned you. Everything I’m about to do next is going to hurt, very badly,” I inform him, looking straight into his perfect pale green eyes.
I feel like a total bitch for causing him pain but it’s a necessary evil. I reach over and grab one of my pillows and hand it to him.
“Bite this if the pain is too much.”
He nods slightly and bites the pillow immediately.
The thought of how much pain he’s in makes me cringe.
I try to be as quick as possible when disinfecting the wounds and getting the bullets out. One is in his chest a few mere centimeters away from his heart and one is wedged in his left clavicle bone. Either the shooter was a far distance away with a small caliber gun or this guy just has the toughest skin in town. The bullets are deep but definitely not deep enough to kill him, although had the one in his chest been just a little further down this would be a very different situation.

He hardly made any sound throughout the hour of me digging into his flesh with a pair of tweezers, just a low grumble here and there. I won’t lie and say the noise didn’t turn me on. I felt and still feel terrible that instead of fully focusing on fixing him my body had other ideas.
“My back,” he groans, finally able to make almost a full sentence.
I straddle his lap to get to his other side before I realize what I’m doing and the both of us stop and stare at each other. I feel his hand on the knee of my now blood covered scrubs. I go to lift off of him and his grip tightens slightly, urging me to stay exactly where I am.
“Mate,” I hear him whisper.
Mate? Is he English? I can’t make out an accent but then again everyone sounds American when they’re in pain, it’s the same with singing.
I give him a small smile and cross over his body to his left side.
“I’m just going to roll you over now okay?” I inform him and roll him onto his right arm.
I can see where a bullet grazed his back but didn’t hit, although it left traces of some substance in the cuts it left behind. I grab the Everclear again and physically see his body tense up, preparing for the pain coming next.
A few groans and a ripped pillow later and I have the substance, what I can only classify as silver, out of the cut and bandaged.
When I roll him back over I inform him that I’m going to call him a real ambulance since he’s starting to clot and it won’t be as dangerous to move him. He grabs my hand so fast and strong I have no choice but to sit back down on the bed.
“No…please,” he says sounding weak again.
I can see the urgency in his eyes and yet again I don’t listen to the intelligent side of my brain.
“Okay,” I finally agree, “At least let me get you comfortable.”
I start to move him to the head of the bed and with a bit of his help he’s there with little to no struggle on my part. I grab one of the clean sheets I brought in from the floor and cover him up with it.
“If you need anything just ask,” I tell him then point towards the couch, “I’ll be right over there.”
He nods once, still not speaking and then I see his eyes flutter closed.
I check his pulse once more before I go to the couch to get some sleep. His pulse was pretty strong. It seems my patient is already on the mend.

Karter

                After two hours of sleep I can feel myself healing. I tip toe out of bed and head to the kitchen to find something to eat. The more I eat, the faster I’ll heal. I make myself a sandwich as quietly as possible and walk back into the room my Angel is in to watch her sleep.
She looks so perfect with her hair all over her forehead, her plump lips slightly parted letting a little cooing sound escape as she snores.
When I first felt her touch I felt she was my mate but just one look into her hazel eyes and my assumption was confirmed. In that moment I knew I’d move heaven and earth to be with her, to be near her. I need her.
The way she took care of me tonight with no questions asked, that’s the sign of a genuinely good person, a true Luna.
For the first time in my life I feel like I can love a woman other than my mother and grandmother. I won’t let her get away from me, I can’t.

            I wake up wrapped up in her. It seems in our sleep our bodies couldn’t stay away from one another. Skillfully, I ease out of bed as to not frighten her and go to the porch to clean up the mess I made.
Afterwards I head to the kitchen to test out my cooking skills. I’m a little rusty but who can’t make scrambled eggs and frozen waffles. I hear her wake up but continue cooking as if I don’t.
I came to the conclusion last night that she has no idea that either of us are wolves, which means she damned sure doesn’t know we’re mates. Why or how she’s kept away from pack life this long boggles my mind but what matters now is that she’s here, with me.
The thought of that reminds me that I have a traitor in the midst and I immediately mind-link Grey.
“Jesus fucking Christ Karter everyone is panicking where are you?” he shouts.
I sigh and grab my Angel’s waffles from the toaster.
“I’m lying low, I’m sure you know I was attacked last night.” 
“Of course, that’s why everyone is freaking. Your mother is hysterical! Even your grandma is upset!”
“Let them know I’m okay, I won’t link them in case they think they’re going crazy and hearing voices.”
“I just did, they’re calm now but your mom wants you home. Your dad and Connor’s dad have called a pack meeting.”
I sigh and turn to the archway to see my Angel staring at me completely astonished. I need to end this conversation quickly.
“Tell them I’ll be there when I’m there,” I gripe cutting the link, suddenly very annoyed that this bullshit is interfering with my time with my mate.
“Hi,” I greet her sheepishly, turning to her with a plate of eggs and two waffles.
She grabs the plate and then sits down, rubbing her eyes as if they’re deceiving her.
“H-How are you up and walking around? Did you not alert your body that you got shot three times last night?”
It sounds like a joke so I laugh until I realize she’s dead serious.
I shrug and sit down with my own plate across from her, “I tolerate pain better than most.”
She still stares at me in disbelief, not touching her plate.
“Either eat that food or I’ll eat it for you. It’s very offensive not to at least try it,” I grumble, trying to con her.
It works, and without another word she digs in, not looking back up at me once.
I can see the wheels in her head turning so I interrupt, “So, you saved my life and I don’t even know your name.”
She looks up at me with those hazel eyes that make my pants tighten in the front and swallows the food in her mouth.
“D-Dylan…my name is Dylan.”
I smirk at her nervousness; no doubt she feels the pull between us too, lack of mate knowledge aside.
“That’s a pretty manly name for someone so feminine,” I tease, “What’s your middle name?”
She cuts her eyes at me at the remark about her name but let’s me slide, “Rose.”
I nod slowly and swallow the last bite from my now empty plate.
“Well that’s more like it. I think that’s what I’ll call you! What’s your last name Rose?”
She rolls her beautiful eyes and sits back with her arms folded, “Trevino. I think it’s about time I ask some questions too don’t you think?”
I smirk, “Well does that count? Because that was definitely a question.”
She smirks back at me making her right dimple show.
“It can if you want but it’s not going to stop me from asking anything else. So, full name? How did you find my house? How are you moving around so well? And who in the hell shot you?”
I crack my neck and sigh trying to form as many answers as I can without revealing too much.
She hasn’t been in the pack life this long for a reason and I’ll be damned if her new introduction into it is with my fucked up situation.
“Karter Dean Jarreau, I happened across it as I started to black out, I told you I handle pain well, and I don’t know.”
I’m proud I made it through her questions without lying. Even if I’m not telling the entire truth I don’t want to start lying, things always just snowball from there.
She looks as if she’s deep on thought before she hops up from her seat.
I just sit back and watch her as she makes her way over to me and reaches out to touch me before I pull back.
“I’m just going to check your wounds. Your bandages probably need to be changed.”
That’s exactly what I was afraid of. If she takes these bandages off she’ll see that I’m healed and that’ll open up an entirely new can of worms.
I quickly hop up and dodge her, “Nope. I think I should take you out and thank you properly for last night. If I recall I owe you a bottle of disgusting liquor and a shower curtain.”
She eyes me suspiciously but doesn’t push the issue. “You’re an odd bird Dean Jarreau,” she mumbles as she leaves the room.
“Dean?” I ask, trying to hide my satisfaction and amusement.
“If you can call me by my middle name I’m for damn sure calling you by yours.”
She continues to sashay out of the room and I call out after her, “Where are you going?”
Her angelic faces peaks around the archway and she answers, “To get dressed, you owe me liquor, a shower curtain, and sheets.” Before I can respond she’s gone.
I never agreed to buy any sheets.

Dylan

            His ass is definitely hiding something. I can’t put my finger on it but he’s definitely not being honest with me. I dry off my body from the bath I was forced to take since my shower curtain is destroyed and missing and grab under garments, converse, a pair of jean shorts and a black t-shirt.
I still don’t understand why he didn’t want me to check his damn bandages. And how is he walking around looking like he could bench press a bus when he was just near death last night? It’s almost as if the entire thing was faked but I know for a fact that it wasn’t, I have the bullets to prove it.
I walk over to the sink to look for the small cup from my mouthwash that I dropped the bullets in but it’s nowhere to be found. I frown and close my eyes and open them again to make sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me and it isn’t, the cup is gone. My frown deepens as I fling the door open and walk through my closet then through the door leading into the living area.
I’m about to get some damned answers.
I fix my mouth to confront Dean when I see him struggling to get into one of my oversized shirts I sleep in.
His arms are stuck in the air in the shirt and the bottom of the shirt is skirting his head effectively pinning him.
I try my best to keep quiet just to see where this goes but I can’t and break out into a fit of giggles.
He turns to me with a frustrated look and huffs out a breath making the bottom of the shirt fly up. All I can think of is Marilyn Monroe standing over the top of that grate in her famous photo and I laugh even harder, falling back into the wall holding my stomach.
“Well I’m glad you find this shit funny,” he gripes, “Would you mind getting yourself together enough to help me out of this damn contraption?”
I take a few deep breaths and try to push the image of Marilyn out of my head, still giggling as I help him slide the shirt down his body.
It’s a very snug fit to say the least. He looks like one of those douche bags that wears their shirt way too tight just to show off their muscles. Needless to say the way he looks only makes me laugh harder.
“This is the biggest shirt you have and it’s still tight as all hell. I look like baby Hulk,” he whines, a frown crossing his gorgeous face.
My heart stops in my chest at the sight of his expression, it’s undeniably sexy. His eyes connect with mine and I realize I’m biting my lip and staring at him like a piece of meat. I notice a ghost of a smirk playing on his perfect plump lips and decide to ignore that little exchange completely.
“I think it looks perfectly fine,” I tease and he frowns again before sighing deeply which rips the shirt right down the middle. I’m torn between laughing ferociously and jumping his bones as I’m met with the sight of his sculpted abs. I go for a cross between the two and laugh while awkwardly trying to stop staring at them.
“You need bigger clothes,” he says absentmindedly, enjoying my struggle.
I roll my eyes and finally meet his, “I’m only 5’4” there’s only so big clothes go for me.”
Neither of us says anything after that and I can’t tell if it’s for lack of conversation or if it’s just because we’re enjoying studying each other too much.

            He breaks the silence first and asks as he sliding the remnants of the shirt down his sculpted arms, “Do you have anything else that might be a tad bigger Rose?”
The sound of my name coming off of his lips is enough to make me fan-girl like he’s Harry Styles or something. I don’t even mind that he’s calling me by my middle name, in fact I prefer it. It sounds beautiful and feminine and sexy falling out of his mouth like sweet nectar.
I lick my dry lips and gather my wits before walking back into my closet. I know exactly what I’m headed for and normally I would stop myself but something about him makes me feel like it’s okay, like it’s what I need to do.
I drop down to my knees and reach for the box underneath my dresser. It’s old and beaten up from the few moves I’ve gone through over the years but it’s the contents inside that mean something, everything really. I take a breath and lift the worn brown lid, the scent of his cologne filling my nostrils taking away my previous feelings of sexual energy with slight sadness. I grab a t-shirt and jeans from the box and close it before I can fully dive into the new feelings.

            My stride into the living area is slower than before and I hand him the clothes with slightly shaking hands before pulling them back when they’re just in his reach, “Please, please don’t rip these.”
He connects his eyes to mine before he sees something there that makes him nod and not tease me about my silly plea.
It’s not like he can help how big he is, Dylan.
I turn and walk back into my closet and get my mood together while giving him some privacy.
“All done,” he calls out a few seconds later and I round the corner to take a look.
I let out the breath I was holding and smile genuinely seeing how well my father’s clothes fit him.
For the first time I have a good representation of how big my daddy was and for some odd reason it makes me happy, giddy even.
“I look okay?” he asks nervously and my smile widens.
It makes me even happier that he was actually concerned about my request. I nod and walk towards the front table where I grab my keys and purse.
“Who’s that?” Dean asks pointing to the picture of my father.
I open the front door and notice the blood from last night is all but gone, just a faint stain is left. I remind myself to pick up a welcome mat to cover it.
“My father,” I finally answer as I wave my hand ushering him out the door, “Thanks for cleaning up out here too. I can only assume it was a part of your chores this morning.”
He grins at that and walks down the stairs behind me, rather closely might I add.
“No problem, I’ll be sure to get you a mat for the stain too since I’m getting sheets now?”
I grin and laugh, “Damned straight you are! You ruined perfectly good cotton last night!”
I unlock the car and wave for him to get in while I sneak over to the townhouse next to mine to snag a pair of flip flops for him off of the porch. The neighbor, Mr. Greensborough always leaves his out here even though his wife bitches at him about them getting stolen. She’s finally getting proved right.
Dean is in the passenger seat looking at me strangely as I approach the car. I hold up the shoes with a sneaky grin and trot to the driver’s side of my Focus.
“My my my! I didn’t know I was stumbling onto the porch of a hardened criminal,” he teases as I sit down and buckle up.
I smirk at him and start the car before backing out, “Oh yeah, I’m trouble. If you liked that you should see me J-walk.”
We spend the rest of our time on the way to Target teasing each other back and forth and learning things like our birthdates and birthplaces.
His birthday is October twenty-fifth which makes him a Scorpio, a very compatible sign to my August twenty-sixth Virgo sign. I figure that explains the level of comfort I feel with him.
By the time he tells me about the car his parents and grandmother got him for his twenty-fifth birthday last year we’ve made it to Target. Before I can even take off my seatbelt to get ready to open my door, he’s outside of the car and on my side opening it for me.
“My lady,” he jokes as he helps me out.
That little jolt of electricity from last night hits me again, just like every time we touch skin to skin. Our eyes connect again and I can feel myself stop breathing as his eyes study me.
They’re the most amazing pale green I’ve ever seen but the color isn’t dull at all, it’s vibrant, with specks of darker green in them. His eyes put mine to shame and I start to feel self-conscious. Not just because my eyes aren’t anything special compared to his but simply because he’s incredibly sexy and he’s assessing every little piece of me.
I’m sure he can see every flaw with how hard he’s looking and I start to fidget and break eye contact with him before walking away. But without letting me get too far he grabs my hand and spins me around to face him.
“You’re extremely beautiful you know?” He must see the shock on my face because he continues, “If no one’s ever told you that it’s a fucking crime.”
His fingers slide down the side of my face softly, so softly in fact I wouldn’t have even been sure he’d done it if he hadn’t pushed a stray strand of hair away from my face and back behind my ear.
I’m fully aware at this point that I’m not breathing but I can’t force air into my lungs.
He’s just too damned close and I’m just too damned scared.
Scared of how comfortable I am with how close he is to me after only meeting him last night, scared of what in the hell last night was about, scared about his quick recovery, scared my breath will smell, but most of all I’m scared he’ll move away.
So I stand there, with him within kissing distance staring me down and my lungs screaming for air.
It isn’t until a car honks at another that we’re broken from the trance we were in. Both of us shuffle awkwardly away from one another and towards the store.

He grabs a basket and pushes it up beside me and I absentmindedly plop my purse in the seat for a child like I always do. It isn’t until I hear and feel his hearty chuckle shake my insides that I realize what I did.
“I look ridiculous,” he manages to get out while looking at himself in the mirror we were passing.
I join in on the laughing as I take a look at him in light washed jeans and flip flops with my huge purse in front of him in the basket. He looks like a damned soccer mom.
“I’m sorry,” I giggle, reaching for my purse but he stops me.
There goes that damned electricity again.
“No, leave it. It makes me feel domesticated,” he says, humor still present in his voice.
I shrug and smile and we continue through the store.
Once we’re on our way out of the store I have a new welcome mat, a totally new bed set, shower curtain, and towels to match it. I told Dean I was kidding about him paying for things but he insisted and kept adding things to the basket, including a few shirts, pairs of shorts and a pair of slides for himself. I fought him the entire time since I knew he didn’t have his wallet on him, when he came to my place all he was wearing were boxer briefs, but he still insisted.
I prepared for him to be embarrassed about not having his wallet when we got to the register but to my surprise he talked to the manager for a few seconds and we walked out with all of the stuff in the basket bagged up as if he had purchased it. I asked him how he managed to swing that and if he could come shopping with me all the time to which he answered, “Anytime Angel.”
I feel like I should be creeped that he’s given me a nickname but I guess it’s no different from when I call people ‘doll’ or ‘love.’ Although when he says it, it seems like he really means it, or maybe that’s just me with my wishful thinking.
I watch from my couch as he lugs the bags inside all in one trip. I told him I would help but he insisted I sit down and “take a load off.”
I get up to close the door and he gripes at me, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting those pretty little feet of yours?”
I roll my eyes and lock the door before plopping back down on the sofa.
“Oh cool it would you? I’m not even tired,” I lie, stifling a yawn.
Today was my only day to sleep in before work bright and early tomorrow and I got up pretty early after dealing with his wounds well into the night.
“Right,” he says sarcastically, “and those ten yawns you let out on the way home were just you breathing deeply.”
I kick my shoes off at him and laugh when one pops him on the butt.
“Ouch! Woman!”
My laughter stops the second he calls me woman. As odd as it sounds, that one word turns me on more than anything when spoken from the right mouth and his happens to be just perfect.
He turns to me with playfulness in his eyes before I watch it turn to straight lust. He makes me very aware of the fact that my breathing has picked up and that I’m biting my lip again. I want to stop, to be honest it’s starting to hurt but I can’t. His gaze has me pinned and it isn’t until I taste blood that I’m brought back to reality.
Once again we both act like the moment didn’t happen and I can’t explain why it keeps happening. Actually that’s a lie, I can. I’m a horny twenty-three year old virgin and I have an incredibly sexy twenty-five year old man in my home that I can only imagine is as horny as I am if my synopsis of guys his age is correct.
I hop up and scurry past him to throw some water on my face and make sure my lip isn’t bleeding too badly.
“You’re definitely trouble,” I hear him whisper as I walk past him and it makes me smirk.

Karter

            If she bites her lip and stares at me like that one more time I won’t be held responsible for what I do. It’s so hard not to just blurt everything out to her and then take her up against one of these walls…or all of them, and the bed, and the counters…the floor.
I shake my head trying to physically make my mind leave the gutter it wants so badly to dive head first into.
She’s been in the bathroom for twenty minutes and I know she’s avoiding me but it’s no use, I’ll be here all night. I just have to convince her to allow it.
I look down at my handiwork and smile, the welcome mat is outside on her porch and now her bed is all made with the new stuff I got her along with a rug and the pillows  for her couch to match it that I snuck into the basket.
I’m glad Owen, one of my pack members was the manager on duty or else I would’ve been screwed. I’m so used to having my wallet on me that I totally forgot I didn’t today thanks to what happened last night.
Speaking of last night I should probably go home but I really don’t want to, not now. I’m having way too much fun getting to know this little mate of mine regardless of if she’s afraid of how she’s feeling for me.
I wish I could tell her about us being wolves and our bond, that way I could help her through the feelings but she would most definitely think I was a fucking psycho. I know that if the tables were turned I would.
I’ve thought about showing her my healed wounds from last night but I think that would only freak her out more. I’ve seen her Spiderman and Wolverine posters on her walls. She would definitely think I was some kind of freak. Just because you like the idea of a mutant in comic books or movies doesn’t mean you want to date one.

            She walks out of the bathroom bringing her fruity scent with her, filling my nostrils and making my wolf go crazy for her. He wants to mark her so fucking bad just so that he can meet her wolf and mate her properly.
“Hi,” she says quickly and moves past me.
I smirk and start to walk into the bathroom to hang up her shower curtain and lay out her new towels and rugs.
By the time I come out she’s sitting on the bed with her legs crossed beneath her and the TV remote in her hand.
“Thank you for all of this,” she says with a genuine smile when she realizes I’m in the room.
It’s then that she does something I didn't expect but won't complain about. She got up and hugged me.
Since she’s so short it was just around my waist but it sent a wave of want and happiness through me so strong it nearly knocked me over.
It’s the first time we’re fully in contact with each other and I'm torn between wanting to rip her clothes off and make love to her and just hold her and enjoy the fact that she’s not letting her confusion about her feelings stop her. I decide to go with the latter and take this opportunity to ask the big question.
“I was wondering if it’s not too much to ask, could I stay here with you tonight?”
She looks up at me and moves slightly as if to break our connection, but I don’t let her, it feels way too good to hold her.
I can see her wheels turning in her head, the spot between her eyebrows crinkles slightly every time she’s thinking. It’s so adorable and I want to kiss the spot whenever she does it.
“I guess so,” she shrugs, “You didn't murder me in my sleep last night so I guess you’re fine.”
Her grin is seriously the cutest thing I've ever seen. It’s like a cross between a smirk and a smile and her right dimple comes out.
“So you think I’m fine huh? I get that a lot,” I tease making her drop her arms and hop back in feigned disgust.
“Puh-lease! If you weren't wearing my dad’s clothes I’d puke on you and your ugly face,” she nods assuredly.
So that’s whose clothes these are. My wolf and I have been going crazy trying to figure out who they belong to. I can smell another male wolf on them and the possessive streak in me wanted to demand an answer but my more sensible side won out this time.
The clothes being his explains why she looked so broken up about giving them to me, he must be dead. I saw the same grief on her face that I saw on my own and on Connor’s the other night. I come back to the conversation and stalk towards her as she backs away from me.
“Oh really?” I ask as I lunge for her.
She screams out and shrieks when I toss her on the bed and tickle her relentlessly.
“Oh God! No! Stop! Please!” she squeals in between laughs.
“God? That’s actually not my name but it does have a certain ring to it,” I tease and continue to assault her with my fingers.
Her breathing is loud and labored as she tries to stop laughing and wiggle out of my grip.
She grabs my hands with hers and tries to pry them off of her waist but instead I grip her hands and pull them above her head locking them securely in place. I lean in closer to her and take in her scent.
Her eyes are closed, her lip is between her teeth, and her breathing is ragged and I can’t help but imagine this scene a little differently.
I’d be buried deep inside of her with something soft playing in the background. I’d kiss her neck softly and suckle it as I push in and out of her slowly. Sweat dripping off of my body onto hers and she’d moan my name over and over as I make her see heaven again and again until I finally fill her with my appreciation.
            I can feel my wolf trying to come to the foreground and curse out loud as I roll off of her and try to get control of him.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asks, fully concerned.
I nod my head not trusting my voice to be my own before rushing to the bathroom. I lock it behind me in case it takes a while to get myself together.
“Chill the fuck out Karter,” I breathe and run my hands through my hair.
Staring at myself in the mirror I focus all of my energy on fighting my wolf the same way I do when my temper starts to get out of control.
“She’s our mate! We have the right to mark what’s ours!” my wolf screams, pacing back and forth.
“Not yet! She has no fucking clue what we are! What she is to us! Hell, she doesn't even know what the fuck she is! Just relax!” I scream back at him mentally.
He contemplates my words and relaxes with a sigh.
I can see my eyes changing from the glowing green back to my normal pale green. I blow out a breath and walk over to the toilet and flush, then get in the shower.
I let the water run over me and relax my muscles. The bandages get wet and start to slide down my body to the floor of the bathtub. I remind myself to throw them away when I get out and keep showering.
I try not to stay in the shower too long but it’s where I do my best thinking and regardless of how much I’m using tonight as an excuse to avoid facing things back home I know I have to go back.
I go down the list of people who could have motive to want to kill me and I can’t think of one person. I haven’t had any fights or complaints about anything in the entire four years I've been Alpha. I try to rule on things fairly and listen to everyone’s opinions. A part of me can’t even believe that someone tried to kill me. I’m the Alpha of the strongest pack in the South and I’m known for my strength and ruthlessness in battle. Not to toot my own horn but I’m feared and for good reason. I have abnormal strength, even for a werewolf. My father says it’s a gift from the moon goddess because she saw how much I was weakened by Derek’s passing so she gifted me incredible physical strength. I don’t know how true that is but either way it comes in handy.
            I step out of the shower and dry off before slipping into my clothes I bought from Target and head back into the room to be with my Angel.
“You took long enough!” she playfully gripes and goes to take her shower leaving me with more time to think.
I run through my mental list of people and can only think of two people who may possibly want me dead.
Back when I first became Alpha in New Orleans there was a father and son accused of raping and beating a young girl that refused the son. Their names were Don and Trent Boudoir. I banished the both of them after allowing the girl’s three brothers and her father have their ‘fun’ with them. I was young, only twenty, so I assumed the best way for it to be handled was an eye for an eye. Although I don’t regret my decision now and if presented with the situation again I’d probably do the same thing, I could have handled things better. I allowed the wife and daughter to stay with the pack but banished Don and Trent, making them chose between being with their family and being within the safety of a pack. The women chose to stay.
I immediately mind-link Grey and let him know of my suspicions and he says he’ll get right on it.
As much as I trust the members of my pack, this hunch is exactly that, a hunch. If I’m wrong that means I have a traitor in the midst and the only person I trust more than my family is Grey so I’ll be depending on him greatly.
I can hear him start to tell me something about possibly having trouble finding information on them since they were banished but I immediately cut the link.
Rose opens the door to the bathroom with a puff of steam shrouding her sexily as she steps out in a pair of those little boxers girls wear just to tempt men and a muscle shirt. I lick my dry lips and sit up in a couple of ways if you catch my drift.
She smiles shyly and looks down at the ground making her hair fall in her face. I want to push it back and kiss her perfect cupid’s bow lips until neither of us can breathe but I breathe it out to control myself, those meditation classes are definitely helping.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” she asks.
Her hands are behind her back making her breasts stick out further. I have to look at the wall behind her to get a grip on myself. It’s insane the way she doesn't even know what she does to me or how the simplest of movements gets me rock hard for her in an instant. I nod my head and finally look her in her eyes. I can tell she’s confused but she doesn't speak on it and neither do I.
“Shit!” I hear her say as she rushes to her phone.
“What’s up?” I ask, trying very hard to ignore that if she bends over a little more I’ll get a nice show of her round ass.
“I totally forgot I was supposed to hang with my best friend tonight. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
I watch her as she slams her fist against the air and dials who I can only assume is her friend.
“Dre! Hey I’m sorry about today I promise-” she stops talking and hangs her head then hangs up the phone. “Fuck my life,” I hear her grumble.
I laugh and lie back on the bed preparing for the show.
“You’re laughing but you won’t be if she sees you in here! She’ll never leave!” I laugh even harder and she takes a deep breath before opening the door.

Dylan

            “Move bitch I already have the wine open!” Dre says and ties to push the front door open.
I push back on it and put my foot behind it to stop it further. She takes a step back and looks at me strangely before trying again and meeting the same result.
“Really D-Rose? Let me in!” she gripes with her hand on her hip.
I open my mouth to form a believable lie to tell her when Dean ruins it with his loud ass bellowing laugh. Although it does funny things to my insides it pisses me off, he just had to open his big friggin mouth! Now she’ll never leave! Not that I want alone time with him…right?
“Is that a…a…MAN in there?” Dre asks her voice and face showing her shock.
I can’t help but be a little offended, it’s not like he’s the first guy that’s ever been here and I tell her so.
“Girl puh-lease! The damn delivery men from Lowes do not count! Who is it?” she asks, trying to squeeze her nosey ass head through the small crack in the door which only makes Dean laugh harder.
“Good-bye Andrea!” I say through a fit of giggles.
I can’t help it, Dean’s laugh is infectious and I must admit her nosiness is hilarious, it knows no bounds.
She steps back and glares at me, “Fine then! Be that way then! This hoe finally gets some dick and all of a sudden she can’t let people in her house!”
My eyes bulge to the size of half-dollars. “Shut the fuck up Dre!” I yell making her and Dean laugh loudly. I hate when she does this ghetto shit, especially since she isn't that way at all. Normally it’s funny but now she’s just being embarrassing.
“Oh stop being a sour puss D-Rose! It’s all love! Give me the details on White Chocolate later though,” she says with a suggestive wink before sashaying off of the porch and to her Audi.
I roll my eyes and close the door.
“Not a fucking word,” I say through gritted teeth and a grin.
His full smile breaks out giving him away, “Whatever you say D-Rose!”
I let out a growl and leap over onto him on the bed.