Quinn is the last surviving member of the Mercenary Dogs pack, and she's just become the Luna of the pack that destroyed her family. Her new mate is unworthy of her and there's something not quite right about her new pack. There's a secret they're a...
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She was sitting on the roof as the sun rose, greeting the dawn as she did most mornings. Drayven had joined her this time. He watched her carefully, not speaking often as he'd been doing for the past week. He had not attempted to get her to mate with him, nor had he tried to mark her. She wasn't unhappy with this. But her wolf was.
Her wolf was pacing inside her head, wanting desperately to know her mate. She felt sorry for her, but she couldn't allow it. She simply couldn't. She apologized again to her wolf, wincing slightly at the resentful huff she got in response. She opened her eyes and stood as the sun rose above the horizon. Drayven was doing this on purpose. He was purposely not giving in to his compulsions so that hers would overwhelm her.
He was waiting until her wolf was at its strongest to claim her entirely. He was biding his time, watching and waiting, studying her like she was prey. At first, she thought overtaking him would be easy. Now she was beginning to think otherwise. His approach was controlled, smart, calculating. It was almost impressive how well he fought the urge to take what the Moon had decreed was his.
She shook it off, secretly lamenting that fact that she couldn't, wouldn't be a proper mate to him. She imagined what it would be like to have a mate she could happily cleave to. What would it be like to have someone in her life she could be weak around? In a pack full of men where she had been the only female it had been a hard road. If she had acted too feminine or even for one second seemed anything less than invincible she'd have driven the unmated males crazy.
The other problem she was having, was that she was bored. She was a Luna now, and the males of this pack didn't approve of females doing things like hunting or patrolling. Women were expected to do such traditional things as mending clothing, raising children, cooking and cleaning. In essence, providing a homey place for the pack. It was that way for most packs, but mercenaries had raised Quinn.
Her pack had been tiny compared to most, and they had been hard men all. She'd been expected to carry her weight. She was used to working as hard as the males, hunting with them, and being surrounded by them. All the females that had shown up set her on edge. They were so soft and gentle; quiet. Weak. She shook her head. Did they have no pride, or was it that she had too much?
She stiffened as a familiar figure made its way into camp, and launched off the roof, landing in a crouch and startling several females who were lounging nearby. She stood straight and sauntered over to the man hugging him. It was good to see a familiar face.
He smiled, the scar on his lip crinkling.
"Quinny bear!"
"Uncle Vinny! How are you?" She grinned at him, and it was the first genuine smile she'd let loose since her family had died.
"Better than you." He looked around. "I see rumors were true."
"Yup." She sighed.
"So that beast is your mate?" He angled his head, looking behind her. She followed his gaze and found Drayven striding up to them. She rolled her eyes. He'd been like her shadow.
