Bait And Switch--SAMPLE (Book 4 of The Claimed Series)

Chapter 1

Lena

Spaghetti. It's all I thought about and had the mind to prepare while that little box in the brown bag on the kitchen counter was staring at me accusingly. It called out to me, but I knew the score. Water first. Lots of it. Enough to make my bladder flow like Niagara Falls.

My phone buzzed and I ignored it. Probably Webb telling me he's on his way home. Alpha Lenon never texted me, and my brothers would still be at work at this time or on their way home. My parents had yet to get comfortable with the technology, especially my father, whose thick fingers made for some very interesting autocorrects. Sometimes I texted him and he'd call. I wouldn't answer and it forced him to text me back. He's gotten better about checking his texts, but I still crack the fuck up every time I remember when he asked me to bring baked children instead of chicken for a potluck we had at my parents' home.

I knew it was a mistake from the first and asked him how many children he'd like me to slaughter. When he asked just what the duck I was talking about, I put him out of his misery and called him, allowing him to swear a blue streak when I told him to check his texts. Needless to say, there was baked chicken on the menu that night, and all toddlers and infants were safe.

The teens...well, their fate was yet to be decided. If one more of them tried to egg my car or TP the tree in my front yard, I was going to be sniffing out the little fuckers and bringing them to the Alpha. It helped that he and I were tight.

Back to spaghetti. Break the hard noodles in half. You can do that, Lena.

Shit. I forgot that water in a pot was necessary, and I grabbed a pot for the water and filled it to halfway. It was only me and Webb, though he did like leftovers.

Fuck it. I filled that pot three-quarters of the way and broke more noodles.

Sauce. Oh, God. Did we have any?

Okay, yes. I just bought some just at the store. It was in that accusatory little bag that was taunting me with promises I'd made over the past six months. Promises that were starting to become more like hopes and dreams.

Water. I needed to drink it as well. I wished I could pee on command. That would be a handy skill right about now.

The sauce went into a smaller pan, and I grabbed the hamburger meat from its shelf in the fridge before breaking it up and adding it to a frying pan.

Sauce. Check.

Water. Check check.

Meat. Triple check.

Garlic bread could be prepared while I was trying to ignore the bag on the table, and I brought out a long loaf of Italian bread and cut it in half. We wouldn't eat it all, so I put half of it in the freezer to keep fresh for the next time.

Halfway done with my bottle of water.

How much did one need to pee in order to take the test? I hadn't had to take one as of yet since my period had been irritatingly regular for five of the last six months. I was missing it now by three, maybe four, days. It took all the strength I had in me not to buy a pregnancy test on the first day it was missed. I didn't want to buy it and have my period start the next day. That bitch was either taking her sweet time to taunt me, or I was pregnant.

God, wouldn't Webb be excited if I were? Ever since his 29th birthday we'd been trying to have a baby. We'd had so much sex I was certain he has made a permanent mark on my pussy. I thought if anyone—or anything—else tried to get up in there, my vagina might just eject it like one of those ejector seats in smaller planes.