in his mind. She was his mate and he longed to discover everything there was to know about her. She was brave and incredibly intelligent. She was also resilient and beautiful. That she was totally human mattered not a bit to him and, if anything, it made her even more precious.
The women of his former pack fell into two categories—they were either total bitches or had been beaten down and defeated by the life they lived. Some, like his mother, were good women stuck in a bad situation, forced to defer to her mate or suffer the consequences. Others were as mean and conniving as their men folk. There was no in-between in his former world. Any softer emotions were seen as weakness and either stamped out or taken advantage of.
Just the thought made Jacque sick to his stomach. He wanted more out of life than constantly having to fight for everything he had and worry about who might attack and try to take it from him. He didn’t want to constantly fight with some she-wolf, or worse, be mated to one who feared him.
Gwen was none of those things. She was intelligent and strong, but she also had a layer of kindness and compassion that drew him. Jacque didn’t consider those traits to be a weakness but a strength.
She also knew what he was and she’d still allowed him to touch her, relaxed enough to orgasm at his touch. She was quickly becoming everything to him, but he wanted even more from her. He wanted everything—her trust, her body and her love.
Gwen swallowed hard and did her best to seem at ease in a room full of huge men. Jacque and Louis were intimidating enough on their own, but when you added in two other men, one of whom was absolutely huge, the room didn’t seem quite large enough to hold all the testosterone. The only one missing was Armand, which was a shame because as imposing as he was, there was something about him that put her at ease.
The man currently holding her hand was tall and broad with jet-black hair that was short in the back and slightly longer in the front. He was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, which barely contained his biceps. Tattoos peeked out from beneath the fabric and ran down his arms, but she couldn’t quite make out what they were. His piercing blue eyes traveled up and down her body and she knew he missed nothing. She wanted to tug the shirt closer around her neck and wished she’d done up another button or two instead of leaving it partially open. In spite of his charm, his appearance screamed badass, and she was glad she wasn’t alone in the room with him.
The tension in the room was palpable. Gwen ignored it and forged onward. She tugged on her hand and was relieved when Gator released it without a struggle. And what kind of name was Gator anyway? Was it a nickname? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how he’d gotten it.
She turned to the other stranger in the room. He was still seated but there was no mistaking the fact the guy was huge. The chair was sturdy and wooden, like the rest of the pieces in the kitchen, but beneath this man the chair looked almost delicate.
Jacque and his brother were big, but this guy was massive. Shaggy, dark-blond hair fell around shoulders that were incredibly wide. His eyes were a clear, grassy green and topped with thick lashes. On any other man they might have looked feminine, but he was much too masculine for them to be considered pretty. They were arresting, for sure, and saw everything. He had to be more than six and a half feet tall, maybe six-eight or nine, and all of it was solid muscle.
He nodded but didn’t get up, for which Gwen was thankful. She was feeling slightly better but not really up to taking on a room full of men. Werewolves. The word whispered through her brain even though she was doing her best not to think about it. She was surrounded by werewolves.
“You should sit down.” Jacque strode to her side, put his arm around her waist and ushered her to a vacant chair. It was too close to the others for her
The women of his former pack fell into two categories—they were either total bitches or had been beaten down and defeated by the life they lived. Some, like his mother, were good women stuck in a bad situation, forced to defer to her mate or suffer the consequences. Others were as mean and conniving as their men folk. There was no in-between in his former world. Any softer emotions were seen as weakness and either stamped out or taken advantage of.
Just the thought made Jacque sick to his stomach. He wanted more out of life than constantly having to fight for everything he had and worry about who might attack and try to take it from him. He didn’t want to constantly fight with some she-wolf, or worse, be mated to one who feared him.
Gwen was none of those things. She was intelligent and strong, but she also had a layer of kindness and compassion that drew him. Jacque didn’t consider those traits to be a weakness but a strength.
She also knew what he was and she’d still allowed him to touch her, relaxed enough to orgasm at his touch. She was quickly becoming everything to him, but he wanted even more from her. He wanted everything—her trust, her body and her love.
Gwen swallowed hard and did her best to seem at ease in a room full of huge men. Jacque and Louis were intimidating enough on their own, but when you added in two other men, one of whom was absolutely huge, the room didn’t seem quite large enough to hold all the testosterone. The only one missing was Armand, which was a shame because as imposing as he was, there was something about him that put her at ease.
The man currently holding her hand was tall and broad with jet-black hair that was short in the back and slightly longer in the front. He was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, which barely contained his biceps. Tattoos peeked out from beneath the fabric and ran down his arms, but she couldn’t quite make out what they were. His piercing blue eyes traveled up and down her body and she knew he missed nothing. She wanted to tug the shirt closer around her neck and wished she’d done up another button or two instead of leaving it partially open. In spite of his charm, his appearance screamed badass, and she was glad she wasn’t alone in the room with him.
The tension in the room was palpable. Gwen ignored it and forged onward. She tugged on her hand and was relieved when Gator released it without a struggle. And what kind of name was Gator anyway? Was it a nickname? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how he’d gotten it.
She turned to the other stranger in the room. He was still seated but there was no mistaking the fact the guy was huge. The chair was sturdy and wooden, like the rest of the pieces in the kitchen, but beneath this man the chair looked almost delicate.
Jacque and his brother were big, but this guy was massive. Shaggy, dark-blond hair fell around shoulders that were incredibly wide. His eyes were a clear, grassy green and topped with thick lashes. On any other man they might have looked feminine, but he was much too masculine for them to be considered pretty. They were arresting, for sure, and saw everything. He had to be more than six and a half feet tall, maybe six-eight or nine, and all of it was solid muscle.
He nodded but didn’t get up, for which Gwen was thankful. She was feeling slightly better but not really up to taking on a room full of men. Werewolves. The word whispered through her brain even though she was doing her best not to think about it. She was surrounded by werewolves.
“You should sit down.” Jacque strode to her side, put his arm around her waist and ushered her to a vacant chair. It was too close to the others for her
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