Page 41 of Banished From the Pack

“Says who?” He gives me a shove.

“You do recall what we just did, right?” I shove him back, and he stumbles, nearly tripping over a branch in his drunken state.

“So?” he says hotly.

“So? That’s the best you can come up with?” I throw my hands up and stomp back toward the cabin.

He charges after me and grabs my arm. “You’re just pissed because you want her.”

I yank my arm from his grip. “What I want is not to have to dispose of any dead bodies after you’ve fucked her and fucked her up.”

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend. She’s fair game.” Ethan’s eyes are intense and heated, like he’s been struggling to stay away from her, same as me.

“If anyone gets her, it’s Warrick. He’s our Alpha.”

Ethan thunders after me again, but he doesn’t argue. We storm toward the house like a couple dickheads about to get into a brawl over a piece of ass, which is exactly what we are.

To my surprise, he pulls up short at the house. “You’re right,” he says. “She deserves better than what any of us have to offer. She’s way too young and innocent for the likes of us. We’d ruin her.”

“And after what she’s already been through with Axel,” I remind him. “She needs someone to look after her, not sniff around seeing what he can get out of her.”

He sighs, looking downright dejected. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to think of her instead of my dick when she’s around.”

“There’s still a whole city full of women you can fuck,” I say, gesturing vaguely toward Jacksonville.

He sighs again. “Yeah, I reckon.”

“Then it’s settled,” I say, holding out a hand in a peace offering. “Neither of us stick our dicks in our houseguest. She’s too naïve to know what’s what. She needs our protection. We can’t take advantage of her like that.”

I don’t know what it is about her, but she brings out some primal instinct in me. Yeah, that one, too. Of course I want to fuck her. I’m not blind. But more than that, I want to protect her, to erase what that asshole Axel did to her. And if I can’t do that, then at least I can work to make her see that not all wolves are the traitorous sort she believes us to be. I want to work to get the wariness out of her eyes and put happiness there instead. After the life she’s led, she deserves it.

Ethan grumbles, but he shakes on it. We may not be upstanding citizens, but our word is good—at least to each other.

Luna is officially off-limits.

Chapter Seventeen

Luna

Warrick barely says a word to me after we leave Paradise Acres. He drives me to something called a drive-through and buys me food he says is fast. The burger tastes okay, but the meat would be better if it wasn’t cooked. The best part is a chocolate milkshake, which is unlike anything I’ve ever had in the swamp, that’s for sure.

After we eat, Warrick tosses all the paper wrappers and the waxy cups in a bin and heads for his motorcycle. I follow obediently and climb on behind him, careful to keep my hands to myself, unless he careens around a turn, laying the bike on edge. Then, I grab on.

When he first started driving, it scared me, but once I realized it was just like running as a wolf but faster and louder, exhilaration poured through me. On the way home, I keep my exuberance to myself, though, since Warrick seems to be in one of his grumpy moods. When Mama got like that, it was best to shut my trap and let her come out of it herself.

When we get back to their house, he jerks his head and says, “Get your shit out of my saddlebags.”

I climb down and unbuckle the shiny clasps on the black leather bag. After pulling the bags from the store free, I give him a big smile, hoping to cheer him up. I want him to feel as happy as I do right now.

“Thank you,” I say. “I had a great time.”

“Welcome,” he grumbles. “Tell the boys I’m off to hunt.”

I perk up at that. I haven’t hunted since I left the swamp.

“Want company?” I ask, but the question is drowned by the roar of his bike, and then he’s gone in a cloud of dust.

Whatever Callan was cooking, I’m glad I wasn’t around for it, because it doesn’t smell too good in the house. I can barely breathe over the chemical scent. The noise of the washing machine running echoes from the back room. Callan is on his knees, scrubbing the floor, which consists of big squares in black and white. A blue bucket full of water sits by his side, green plastic hand-shaped things cover his hands, and pinkish water pools around his knees.