The Pack Rules Boxed Set: The Complete Series of Wolf, Bear, and Dragon Shifter Romances

by Michele Bardsley

“Let’s get them tied up. Is there a place we can put them?” I said.

  “There’s a janitor’s closet down here,” said Chris. “We can lock them inside.”

  I offered my sword to him. “Let’s free them.”

  Chris smiled. He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a jackknife. “This might be more practical.” He began removing the ties from everyone’s bound wrists.

  “It safer for you all to stay down here,” I said to the crowd. “As soon as Grey deals with Kelt, I’ll send someone to get you.”

  “Belle!”

  I turned at the sound of the familiar voice and saw my former boss, Charlie, stride across the room. He was in late ‘50s and was long-time friends with my father. He hadn’t had any girls, so he’d never needed to worry about sending a daughter to the Choosing. But he was a kind man with a gentle wife and two grown sons who’d joined the Army.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To join my husband.”

  “It’s not any safer for you out there,” he said, concerned. “You’re better off in here with us.”

  “I’m the alpha’s mate. I stand with him.”

  Charlie grasped my shoulder. “What happens to us if Grey doesn’t win?”

  “He will win,” I said. “So that question is pointless.” I shrugged out of his grip and hurried up the stairs.

  15

  I RAN THROUGH the library, dodging carts and books and turned over shelves. Kelt’s werewolves had been destructive, completely inconsiderate of the town and its possessions. Such actions told me Bleed City was in for a world of hurt with Kelt as the Shadow Pack alpha.

  He will never be alpha, I assured myself.

  I wanted to barrel outside and make sure Grey was still alive, but I managed to calm myself enough to slow down and stop at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows near the entrance. I leaned the sword against the wall and peeked out the glass pane.

  A group of werewolves in both human and wolf forms stood on one side of the library’s rock-strewn garden. On the other side were two men taking swings at each other.

  Grey and Kelt.

  My husband was leanly muscled and fast. He ducked, punched, whirled away. Kelt was clumsier—perhaps because he was heavier, older, or maybe just exhausted. He’d had a busy day of being a complete and utter asshole.

  If Kelt’s battered face was any indication, Grey was winning. Hope trilled in my heart. How soon would this be over? Did alphas fight to the death or just until one knocked the other out?

  I didn’t know.

  Movement caught my eye and I tracked it to a blue flutter near an oversized cactus plant. A blonde head poked up—and I immediately recognized Cacie Lynn.

  She held a gun.

  Her arms were steady. Her gaze locked onto Grey. She was waiting for the perfect shot. Once her own lover moved out of the way, she would kill my husband.

  I grabbed my sword. I couldn’t bust out there because my sudden presence might distract Grey enough to get shot.

  I flew across the library, to the far right side. There was a side entrance, one I only knew about because as a little girl I liked “sneaking” into the library. Carolyn and I pretended to be spies who needed to find our enemy’s secrets—which were usually tucked into the books we checked out.

  Mr. Sanders had started locking the entrance after one too many teenagers used it to sneak inside and put their overdue books onto the shelves without paying the fines. What can I say? Bleed City bred more than its fair share of book nerds. Ruffian behavior in children or adults was unusual. A run-in with a Shadow Pack enforcer curbed any of those tendencies.

  I unlocked the metal door and eased out. My heart pounded so hard it pulsed in my throat and banged in my eardrums. I could only think about stopping Cacie Lynn before she had a chance to use that gun.

  Neela’s boots were loose on my feet, but I’d gotten used to their weight. I reached the edge of the building, my gaze seeking out Cacie Lynn. She was still huddled behind the cactus, her gun aimed at the fighting men, waiting for the opportune moment to kill Grey.

  I only had seconds.

  I rushed across the garden, coming up behind Cacie Lynn. She heard me, of course, as did everyone else in the area. But my focus was on the blonde betrayer who’d been part of this whole mess from the start.

  Cacie Lynn’s expression was one of pure hatred, her sweet face only a façade for her true nature.

  She whipped her arms up and the gun went off, but I whacked her on top of the head with the flat side of the blade. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped over.

  “Arabelle!”

  Grey’s voice sounded far away. Further than it should have. I walked toward him, him and Kelt who both stared at me strangely. I guess there wasn’t such a thing as time-out in a werewolf fight because I watched Kelt bunch up his fist and aim it at Grey’s head.

  I don’t know how I reached them before he landed that punch, but I did and I kicked Kelt in the shins with my steel-toed boot. He went down yowling. Then I raised the blade and brought it down.

  The sword missed his skull, but sliced through his long, brown ponytail. He screamed like I’d actually stabbed him. I don’t think I really meant to decapitate Kelt, but I was getting sick and tired of him hurting people I loved.

  “Does cutting off werewolf hair hurt?” I asked Grey, befuddled by Kelt’s odd reaction. The man was grabbing at the hair now scattered across the ground like it was strands of gold.

  “Shadows wear their hair long as a sign of strength. Getting it cut off by an enemy is the ultimate insult.”

  Good. I hoped Kelt choked on his defeat.

  I felt suddenly, unaccountably tired. I was sweating, too, particularly on my left side. I slid my hand down my T-shirt, frowning when it came away red. “How very strange,” I said. The words tripped over my tongue.

  “Sweetheart.” Grey scooped me into his arms. “You’ve been shot.”

  “Oh.” I looked at him, but blackness edged my vision and his face went all blurry.

  As Grey turned to walk away, Kelt snarled and bounded to his feet. I opened my mouth to shout at Grey, but before I could utter a warning, a coffee-brown werewolf appeared like a wraith. Neela. She grabbed Kelt’s leg and jerked him off his feet.

  Other werewolves joined her. After a moment, I couldn’t see Kelt at all as the wolves snarled and snapped. He screamed as they tore at his flesh, but I had no empathy.

  None at all.

  Grey didn’t even turn around. He strode away, obviously confident in pack justice.

  “We won, right?”

  “Yes, Arabelle. We won.”

  Those were the last words I heard.

  I DREAMED OF the ocean. I’d never seen the Pacific—never gone outside the borders of Nevada—yet I stood on the beach, my toes digging into cool, wet sand. Night clung to the water and to the sky, clutching both in slippery black folds. A curl of moon hung in the midnight sky, the only light in an otherwise stygian world.

  I walked into the ocean sedately. The water covered my calves, my hips, my waist. I felt at peace. Buoyed by its strength. Its unaccountable warmth.

  As the water hit my shoulders and my feet left the sand, I heard him.

  “Arabelle!”

  I felt pulled in two directions. One toward the horizon. The other toward shore.

  I tread water, considering.

  Forward—into the ocean, into the arms of God.

  Backward—to the shore line, into the arms of man.

  One man.

  Grey.

  MY EYES FLUTTERED open. As I looked around the room, I wondered if I’d died and gone to heaven. A very luxurious heaven that had big, dark furniture, gold and brown accents, comfortable bedding—and was that a chaise? Beyond that, I saw a huge hearth with bookshelves all around it.

  “Arabelle.”

  I turned my head. Grey lay next to me. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. I reached out and touched the hair that had spr
outed along his cheeks and chin. “You grew a beard in a day? How often do you werewolves have to shave?”

  He choked out a laugh. “You’ve been unconscious for nearly two weeks. I’ve had doctors, healers—hell, I even called Lisa Pearson to come look at you.”

  “But I’m not a werewolf.”

  “You are the best werewolf I have ever known.” He kissed my lips, my cheeks, my forehead, even my eyelids. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “What happened?”

  “Cacie Lynn shot you.”

  “I whacked her with Colt’s sword.” I gasped. “Colt!”

  “He’s fine. He came through surgery like a champ. He’s been back here for almost a week, driving me crazy, as usual.”

  “I would like to see him. I owe him an apology for using his sword wrong.”

  Grey chuckled. “You used it exactly right.”

  My head throbbed, and my side was really quite sore.

  “My parents? Aunt Lila?”

  “Everyone’s fine. There were tunnels hidden under the elder’s house. She took everyone out that way. Cacie Lynn is in prison awaiting tribunal.”

  “Kelt is dead.”

  “Yes. The pack took care of that.”

  “I cut off his hair,” I said. “I didn’t mean to.” I glanced at Grey. “I think I was aiming for his head.”

  “That act was enough to denigrate him in the eyes of the pack. Our hair is important. Keeping it long is part of our tradition, part of our belief in the old gods. It represents our strength. It’s like your Samson and Delilah story.”

  “I cut off his hair … and he lost his strength?”

  “It was the ultimate symbol of his defeat.”

  I was glad that Kelt was dead, and out of our lives. “How is Neela?”

  “She’s … Neela. After Kelt was defeated, Mac took off. I have enforcers looking for him, but I doubt we’ll find him.”

  “I don’t think Mac was a good person.”

  “Nor was he a good werewolf,” agreed Grey.

  “I’m not sure Neela is a good person, either.”

  “We’ll see,” said Grey. “She’s young. Impulsive. Ruled by her anger.”

  “She has daddy issues.”

  He smiled. “That, too. She’s still taking sabbatical to the Earth Pack. She needs to learn patience.”

  I couldn’t say that I liked Neela all that much, but maybe given time we could learn not to snarl at each other too much. She’d shown her true loyalties, and for that, I would always be grateful.

  “I’m tired, Grey.” I yawned. “By the way, where are we?”

  “This is our bedroom.”

  “Sweet mercy! It’s amazing.”

  “Wait until you see the rest of our place,” he murmured. “I’ll show you the compound. I’ll show the whole world, Arabelle. Just please stay with me.”

  “I’m right here,” I said.

  “You left for a while.” He looked at me. “I’m in love with you.”

  “I’m in love with you, too,” I said.

  “I thought as much—after you took a bullet for me.”

  “That’s what wives do for their husbands.”

  “When you’re better, I’ll reward you probably.” His gaze turned wicked then he gave me smacking kiss. “Rest now, sweetheart.”

  “Okay.” I settled into his embrace, resting my head against his chest, the beat of his heart my very own lullaby.

  It is a wonderful thing, I tell you, to be loved by the alpha.

  The Werewolf Bodyguard

  1

  “RANDALL HAS AN excellent chance of recovery. He’s strong, somewhat healthy, and he’s as stubborn as a mule.”

  “Don’t you mean stubborn as a werewolf?” Stephanie Draper had never known any other creatures as stubborn as werewolves. She looked into Dr. Lee’s kind brown eyes. The small private hospital had been built by the Moon Pack specifically to treat shifters. Her stepfather’s heart attack had landed him inside the facility. If she hadn’t moved back home last week, he probably would have died. He lived alone in a house far too big for a single being, but since it was a family home, he wouldn’t sell. She didn’t blame him. She’d love the gigantic house, too.

  Stephanie looked down at her dad, not of blood but certainly of heart, and thought him too pale. He’d always been so strong, so confident. God! She’d lost enough. Randall had raised her since she was six-months-old. She didn’t know anything about her sperm donor—and never had the urge to find out.

  Randall Draper was her father.

  And that was that.

  Stephanie was human, but she’d known about werewolves her whole life. Randall, in both the human courts and in the werewolf pack, had adopted her. She was considered a Moon Pack member even though she couldn’t sprout fur and howl at the moon.

  When she was ten, her mother died in a car accident, and after it had been Randall and Stephanie against the world.

  Well, until five years ago, when she went to off to California to attend college and ended up marrying the wrong man.

  But she wasn’t going to think about that.

  “Dr. Lee, when can he come home?”

  “It will be at least a week, maybe longer, I’m afraid. I want to monitor his progress closely. And it will give me the chance to get him to exercise more and eat right. Maybe if he gets into the habit at the hospital, he’ll continue to do it at home.”

  She smiled slightly. “I doubt Dad will give up his double-decker cheeseburgers. But it’s worth a shot.”

  Dr. Lee patted her on the shoulder. Stephanie flinched, gritted her teeth, and sent him an apologetic smile.

  The doctor said nothing, although she was sure he knew what she’d went through—everyone in the pack did. As soon as she’d called him to ask for help, he’d immediately got her onto a private jet and whisked her back to Tulsa. Then he’d gone straight to Kade Stonewell, the Moon Pack alpha, who’d promised her protection.

  The doctor left her father’s dark, quiet hospital room. The monitor’s constant beep-beep reassured her that all was well. At least with Dad. She slid into a chair and clasped her father’s limp hand. He’d regained consciousness in the ambulance and had given the paramedics hell all the way into the hospital. Dr. Lee had confirmed that he’d suffered a heart attack, ordered a battery of tests, and promptly shut up the old man’s mutterings with a shot of pain medication.

  The door opened. Stephanie turned, expecting the nurse.

  “Hello there.” The man stood inside the door, his broad shoulders blocking out most of the light spilling in from the busy hallway. Stephanie’s mouth dried. He was so big. Dark hair curled around the collar of his pale blue shirt, and he wore faded, tight Levis. He might have been handsome, but his face was all angles, his nose crooked in the middle, his chin rough with stubble. He smiled at her, and she noticed the sensual fullness of his lips.

  “Who are you?” Her question sounded brusque, but she didn’t apologize. She didn’t want him here. Didn’t want him evoking the rusty desire screeching upward—a starved beast wanting a meal.

  But the normal feeling of attraction one human had for another brought her no joy. Following her heart had led her straight into hell.

  “My name is Nolan Wright. The alpha sent me to look in on you. I’m an officer with the Tulsa Police Department.”

  He was a werewolf. That explained his size and why he exuded so much machismo. Her girly parts awakened in his presence, and she didn’t like it one bit.

  She glanced at him through her lashes, finally seeing the offering in his left hand. “Are those flowers?”

  “Leave it to a woman to notice gifts,” he teased, stepping forward. The door shut behind him. Stephanie released her father’s hand, stood, and blindly reached for the light switch. She couldn’t remain in the darkness with such a powerful man. Before her fingers could touch the panel, soft light invaded the room.

  “Light. The better to see you with.” The teasing glint in his voice made her u
ncomfortably warm. She sat in the chair, and then stood, not wanting him to tower over her—although he already did by at least a foot.

  “Are you making a Red Riding Hood joke?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I try to stick with the classics.” He pulled a wallet out of his back pocket, flipped it open, and handed it to her. “I’ve been assigned to oversee your security.”

  Stephanie studied his badge, memorizing the number etched in the metal. She looked closely at the picture ID, flipped it closed, and handed it back. “I’m Stephanie Draper.”

  She felt foolish for introducing herself. He knew who she was … that’s why he was here.

  “Stephanie.” He said her name as if he were savoring a fine wine. She shivered—desire winding through her like silk ropes.

  Her gaze locked onto the bouquet he held. “You can put them over there,” she said, pointing to a table in the corner. Many flowers and balloons already inhabited the room. Her Dad had a lot of friends.

  “These aren’t for your father. They’re for you.”

  He handed her the bouquet and stepped away as if he knew how his size affected her. Stephanie blinked down at the unexpected gift. She brushed the delicate tulips with a fingertip.

  “Beautiful,” she whispered. Gratitude and wonder fill her, but she thrust the flowers at him. Who was he to give her flowers? She’d had enough of niceties followed by earnest promises followed by ... she pushed the ugly thoughts away.

  “I don’t want them.” God, she sounded rude. He made no move to take the bouquet. The plastic wrapping crinkled in her hand as she clenched it. The flowers shook in her trembling grasp.

  “My mother once told me tulips were kissed by angels and sent to earth to give us happiness.” He looked at her, his midnight eyes holding her hostage. “She planted them every spring. Said they gave her hope. Renewed her spirit.”

  His hand curled gently around hers. The heat of his skin penetrated her fingertips. A warmth, a calmness flowed through her, which was as unexpected as the flowers. “Enjoy them, Stephanie. Please.”

  Words failed her. She nodded, and then clutched the flowers close, as though hope really was somehow imbued in the petals and could belong to her again.