13
6:03 p.m.
Annnnnd that is how a mofo ends up falling asleep before the sun even sets, and missing social functions altogether.
I do feel better, though, just as Akim had promised.
And, somehow, I manage to get dressed and out the door without doing something I might regret.
I feel a little bad for leaving him in his condition, but in true Akim fashion, he makes no fuss or mention, and by the time we are hopping on his motorcycle to head to the party, he’s reigned control over the beast that had been bulging in his pants twenty minutes ago.
I wonder if he’ll go visit one of his female lovers later tonight to finish what we started. Though Akim has never brought another female back to the pack—from what I suspect is out of respect for me—I know that he has them. Sometimes, I catch the faint scent of them on him, and I know he’s caught the scent on me in regard to the males I employ to sate those particular needs.
But, tonight, the thought of him going to another female bugs me, even if I have no right to be jealous. I know in my gut that had I accepted Akim years ago, when the shaman had first predicted our mating, he would have never taken another female in that way.
I shut this line of thought down as soon as I take note of its direction. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
Akim hands me his helmet as he sits astride the black and chrome Harley. “You coming, little wolf?” he asks.
There’s a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes that always reminds of me our childhood. The bastard knows what he did to me back in my apartment. From the way I’d cried out, there could be no mistaking.
I slide the helmet over my head to hide my scowl, and Akim chuckles as I swing onto the bike behind him, glad that I chose to wear my black boots this evening.
As I slip my arms around his muscled waist, I feel my lower regions stirring again.
Puppies and kittens. Puppies and kittens. Puppies and muthafuckin’ kittens.
Akim revs the bike and we start off. I keep my hold on him, and have to repeat the mantra the entire damn way.
Yo, but on some real shit; there ain’t no party like a pack party.
These fools are wild, in every damn sense of the word. And never more so than on a full moon. By the time we pull up, half of the sons of bitches are already shit-faced drunk.
The moon and a roaring bonfire provide the only light, and there is no one besides the pack around for miles. This land belongs to the Philly Pack, and it’s protected with literal tooth and claw.
Over three hundred acres of woodlands and pastures, hills and rivers, ponds and crops, within an hour’s drive from the city. We’ve owned this place for over three hundred years, and someday, the protection of it will pass down to Akim as the future alpha. If he manages to submit or kill any challengers, that is.
And there will be challengers. There always is.
Akim brings the motorcycle to a stop and I slide off as he halts the engine and engages the kickstand.
“Tonight is for celebrating,” he whispers in my ear, his large presence offering comfort behind me.
I roll my shoulders and shake off the nonsense. Since when have I needed the comfort of a male presence? The stresses of the day must really be getting to me.
“I’ll get you some moonshine,” Akim says before entering the fray.
Wolves in both their human and animal forms are everywhere; drinking and running, chasing and laughing, a handful squabbling over near the tall golden cornstalks. Several stand around the enormous bonfire, where sparks and embers float in an endless procession up into the night sky before burning out. It seems every star in the universe is visible with the lack of light pollution out here. It is like a different world from the city where I work and live, a different planet.
“What’s up, ya little bitch?”
A smile breaks out over my face before I even turn toward the speaker.
Hera grins at me with a dazzling smile. My cousin is stunningly beautiful, with long dark hair and big almond eyes, full lips and high cheekbones. Tonight, she wears the next-to-nothing fur attire that is traditional among wolves during a mating ceremony. The pelts cover her most intimate bits, and that’s about it, and they are made of out the kills of her mate’s hunts. Another tradition.
“You look like you want to get eaten right up, cuz,” I say.
Hera pulls me into a hug and plants a kiss on both of my cheeks. “That’s the plan,” she says with a wink. She glances around. “Where’s Akim?”
I roll my eyes. “How would I know?”
Hera snorts. “I can smell him all over you, Harp.” Her eyes narrow and white teeth flash in another dazzling grin. “Wait, did you guys…?” She wags her arched brows.
I shove her away playfully. “No,” I say.
She shoves me back, and we engage in horseplay just like when we were children, pinching and slapping at each other and laughing all the while.
We are still doing this when Akim returns with the promised moonshine. Henry, who is Hera’s mate, is with him. The two males watch our antics with rueful smirks.
“Females are crazy, bro,” Henry says.
Hera wheels on him. Then she runs at him and leaps up, and Henry catches his bride-to-be in his arms. The two kiss and laugh and scatter the gathered wolves, which only provokes more laughter from the group.
Someone tips back their head and howls at the moon, which turns into a chorus of howls so loud they fill up the night sky.
Akim hands me the mug of moonshine, and I down a third of it in a single swig. He observes but says nothing. Smart man.
The poison does its work swiftly, awakening the beast in me along with
