by Lia Connor
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Sensing his need, Chantal half-turned so that Saint Sin could kiss her, pressing his lips against her own. Pulling back, she wrinkled her nose. “Either you need some mouthwash, or I do.”
“Crystal?” Saint Sin called. “Bring us that bottle you lifted from the store last time you were in town.”
A small, red-haired woman rose from where she was rummaging in a pack for clothing and grasped a small container of spicy mint mouthwash in one hand. Bowing her head, she trotted over the sand and went down on her knees to present her offering.
Chantal drank in the sight of someone kneeling to her, then reached out to take the bottle. “Thank you, Crystal,” she said warmly. “You get first choice of meat, after the Alphas, tonight.”
“And what about me?” Juarez dropped into a crouch beside them. He’d already gotten dressed in a black wife-beater and a pair of camouflage pants, along with some sturdy steel-toed boots. He wore leather cuffs around his wrists, and had tied his hair back in a long braid wrapped around with a thong at the end. “Do I get my pick of the meat?”
“You get to hunt for it,” Chantal informed him. “Hunt, fish, trap, whatever it takes where we end up as the sun sets. And you can have your share, too. But one thing, from now on, everybody eats. Not just you two, or me. We all get a taste or no one does.”
Saint Sin shook his head. “One day in and already she’s making rules.” He grew serious. “I’ve been letting the Pack hunt on their own. Most of them choose to do it in human shape, finding what they can at convenience stores and such. Some have a little money left.”
“Man, or wolf, cannot live by chips alone,” Chantal said, shaking her head. “Especially not Pack. They need meat, and lots of it. I don’t care if you have to lead a raid into a chicken farm, Juarez, but tonight you find enough meat for everyone to share.”
“You’re going to whip me on until the day I die, aren’t you?”
“Mm-hmm.” Chantal turned to the side to cup Juarez’s face in one hand and pressed a lusty kiss to his lips. “Being pussy whipped isn’t so bad when it’s the right pussy,” she whispered. “You’ll learn to love living under my thumb.”
“We share,” he warned her.
“And I’m fine with that. Share and share alike. But that only applies in bed. For the rest of it, you obey me and you obey Saint Sin. Are we clear?”
“Si, perfecto,” Juarez growled before kissing Chantal back, his lips rough, but she knew by now his bark was far worse than his bite and she didn’t let it worry her a single bit.
Pushing him aside, she stood and turned around in a lazy circle, working the kinks out of her arms. “Everybody,” she shouted. “Get ready to ride! We’re out of here today, moving on up north.”
A chorus of whoops greeted her announcement. Men and women alike circled around Chantal, all seeming to want to touch her, petting her shoulder and arms or bending their heads to brush their scalps against her skin. Some came in closer to sniff her, and she let them.
It was all part of being a wolf. She didn’t mind.
“That old bike of yours won’t make it halfway through a day’s ride,” Saint Sin said in disdain. “Until we find you a new one of your own, you ride behind me.”
Chantal wrinkled her nose. She’d put that old dirt bike together with loving care, but Saint Sin was right. It wouldn’t last. “All right,’” she said. “Hand me my clothes and let’s get this ragged wild bunch together. We’re wasting sunlight.”
“Mmm.” Saint Sin nipped at her earlobe. “And you don’t want to waste a minute of your first day as Alpha, do you?”
“Not if the second night is close to being as good,” she murmured back, reaching around to slap his flank. Her pussy ached and burned to feel him inside again, but she could wait. Maybe they’d have a chance when they stopped for lunch and the pack went hunting.
She pulled forward, clapping her hands at the dressing wolves. “As soon as I’m dressed, every last one of you had better be on your bikes and ready to go. Hear me?”
“We hear you, hear you, hear you,” she heard echoed back at her. The Lobos began throwing their clothes on with even more haste, some of them scurrying toward their bikes.
“Good,” Chantal said in a low, rumbling voice. “Good.”
Look out, world -- she and her Pack were on their way.
Lia Connor
Lia Connor supposedly lives in the South, but her job takes her almost everywhere but there. Her laptop is her best friend as she travels. She’s thrilled to be working with Changeling Press. She loves to write about BBW’s, hot, hot, hot threesomes and were-animals. Lia would love to hear from you. You can contact her at [email protected].
