The Pack Slut

One- The Encounter

I smashed my lips against—what was his name again? I didn't have time to remember before his hands were pulling my shirt over my head.

Here we go again, I think to myself as I look down at the ground and then peer up through long eyelashes—just the way they like it.

"Take care of me," I purr into his ear and drag my hand down his bare chest. I trace the muscles in his abdomen down to the top of his pants. I know what I want, I just have to convince him to give it to me.

He smirks and raises his eyebrows, "you know I will, baby."

If I had a dollar for every time someone has called me baby I would be twice as rich as I already am. It's a small price to pay for the reward that usually follows.

Just as his hands start reaching behind my back to unhook my bra someone bursts through the door.

"Jason! What the hell!" I don't even bother to cover my chest; I am wearing a bra which is practically the same thing as a bathing suit. Anyways, it's not like this is the first time I've been interrupted like this.

Just before the best part, I groan and pout my lip.

"Claire, can't you see—" the boy—well I guess his name is Jason—starts but the girl cuts him off.

"Get your ass downstairs before I tell Mom and Dad," the girl hisses through her teeth while glaring at me with daggers. I assume that this girl is his older sister by the looks of it. Her scent is mixed with another male's and his mark on her neck leads me to believe that she was already mated.

The horror.

I almost gag at the thought of being so tied to one person for the rest of your life. Forced to follow them around and answer to their every need. And the worst part is you are tricked into thinking it makes you happy.

Jason steps back from me and picks up his green t-shirt that I think I threw on the ground a few moments before. He pulls it over and hangs his head as he shuffles towards his fuming sister who is still standing in the doorway, with fire in her eyes. God, he looks like a little boy about to get scolded for putting his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. And she looks like a witch that just stepped off her broom to curse someone's day.

"The Moon Goddess blessed you with a mate! You couldn't wait to find her? You had to go to this slut for sex?" Her questions obviously don't require answers because Jason avoids eye contact and scurries out of the room to prevent further embarrassment. "And you," Claire turns to me again, "you should be just as ashamed. What will your mate think when he finds out how many wolves you've slept with?"

"Okay bitch," I struggle to contain the beast that burns in my chest. "Go run along to your perfect mate, I'm sure he gives you all the satisfaction you need." Sarcasm drips from my voice and I dig my perfectly painted nails into the palms of my hands to keep from lashing out any farther than my words.

"He does." Claire growls at me and then stalks away with her curly brown pony tail swishing annoyingly behind her.

Looks like I won't be getting any tonight, I sigh to myself and pick up my white v-neck. It covers my boobs, I swear, but not much else.

I smooth my hair with my hands—but only a little bit because I don't want to destroy all of the evidence—and I strut out of the closet without sparing a glance at the bystanders who gathered in the hallway to watch the drama unravel. I hate living in a pack house.

I start to make my way down the unsurprisingly grand staircase when I hear my mother's familiar angry voice, "Lenora?!"

And the drama show shall continue.