We Paid The Price (sequel to RPAP)

Preview

Here's a preview of my new story. It's called "Matenapped."

It's about an Alpha wolf that kidnaps his human mate. Very funny. :) Fine the actual book my profile, add it to your library! :))

Chapter One

Jem

If the rain came down any harder, I was worried the ground might crack from the sheer force of it.

"This was a horrible idea," I concluded, dropping the curtains and allowing my view of the soaked parking lot to vanish. "Fucking Seattle. Seattle. In the spring. I hate you, Christine."

My friend scowled and tossed a limp pillow at me. I flinched away from its stained cover like it was toxic—which it was probably was. This hotel wasn't exactly the Marriott.

"We both should have known better," she insisted, giving me a dirty look. "Why am I the only one expected to know the weather of every place we go?"

"Because if you're going to suggest it, you need to know the weather," I snapped, waving an arm empathetically. Christine huffed and slunk down against the creaking bedframe.

"Shut the hell up. You're just cranky because you haven't eaten."

Unknowingly, her comment ignited a flame further within me. "That's another thing. So, we're supposed to get a free 'Continental Breakfast' with this room, right? Well, we've been here for two days, and I gotta tell ya—no breakfast, from no continents!" I threw my arms out to my sides dramatically, gesturing wildly.

She sighed, running a hand through her knotted blond hair. "Jem, would you like me to go get something for you?" Her exasperated, almost berating tone made me straighten up.

"No," I retorted indignantly. "I'm perfectly capable of driving myself, thank you very much." Grabbing my coat and bag, I propped open the door with one foot before reluctantly muttering, "Do you want anything?"

She didn't do a good job of hiding her smile. "Coffee, you know how I take it. And whatever you can find to eat."

I closed the door in response.

The hallways were short and chilly, much like my temperament at the moment. I navigated my way past the threatening, rickety elevator in favor of the back staircase.

It's a horror movie set. The Shining. Jack Nicolson, kill me now.

My bitter attitude was completely an effect of the rainy skies of the city, and this crappy "hotel" that somehow still had a registered license. (Or did it?) In reality, I was normally a far more energetic (although still pretty pessimistic) person. I rarely broke away from my sarcastic wit in an effort to make nice conversation.

"Seattle, no part of me likes you right now," I sighed, soaked through to the skin during my short walk to my car. Even with the windshield wipers at full-power, the road ahead of me resembled a gray blur more than anything else.

Although my original plans had involved heading to the nearest fast food drive-through, that clearly wasn't an option. I ended up puling into a gas station less than four miles from the hotel. As far as junk food sources went, there were worse options.

Two other cars stood in the parking lot as I walked in, and the only reason they caught my eye was because the contrast was comical. A beat up blue Chevy pickup sat next to a brand-spanking-new, gleaming black Bentley. The former had clearly been through at least a decade of use, while the latter could be less than ten days old.