Blue-Collar Werewolves III: Making Tracks
Breaking pack rules, Mark goes AWOL to find his missing physic, certain she's in trouble--and she is--deep trouble.
Word Count: 60,330
Genre: Paranormal/Werewolf Romance
Available formats: PDF, RTF, Epub, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc)
© Cover Art by Kat Richards, June 2012
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Still a bit dazed, Bailey jumped when the door to their room opened.
Packhome was a huge log house with plenty of empty rooms since some of the pack were building smaller houses close by on the property. They pretty much had an entire wing to themselves.
This would be their first real night together without Justin’s presence as a buffer between them. Neither Mark nor she would be sleeping on the low bed in the adjoining room. For the first time it would be just the two of them, alone.
She clutched her wedding dress to her chest and stared at her husband’s, her mate’s bright blue eyes. After a moment, she felt his hesitation at her nervousness.
Mark licked his lips.
“He’s as settled as four pups at a slumber party are going to get.”
Bailey nodded, staring at him. What if he thought she was too old for him? Too saggy, maybe?
“It was nice of Karen and Brandon to keep Justin tonight.”
The door closed with a soft click. He leaned back against it. The full force of his gaze unsettled her more.
Searching for something to say, Bailey finally nodded at the garish shirt she’d given him as a gag.
“You changed clothes.”
Mark smoothed a hand over the front and smiled.
“I like it. Where did you find monkeys and bowling balls anyway?”
She snorted a laugh. “The Internet. Where else? And those are coconuts and palm trees, not bowling balls.”
He pulled the fabric up to his nose, exposing a lean, totally ripped, abdomen.
“Huh. I guess they are.”
“I’m apparently not the only blind one here.”
She didn’t mean to sound harsh or understand why she was still so unsure.
Looking away, Bailey missed his super fast move until she was pulled tight against his shirt-covered front. Stunned, she stared openmouthed at a field of purple and green dancing monkeys on a yellow beach with tiny neon palm trees.
Her breath whooshed out as her back pressed tight against the wall. The protective barrier of her wedding dress jerked from between them and she was left in her new lacy underwear.
The almost feverish heat that all the wolven had radiated from his body, immediately soaking into cold places she hadn’t known she’d had.
One calloused hand pressed into the curve of Bailey’s waist, sending a shiver up her spine. The other fisted into curls at the back of her head, pulling her back into the submissive angle she’d seen the pack impose on one another. Seeing the others in that position, she hadn’t known what to think, feel.
Now, here pressed so vulnerably against Mark, there was an element of raw sexual excitement. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, wanting the feel of his skin in her palms.
Her eyelids fluttered closed expecting his kiss. Only, Mark stopped. His warm breath fanned over her lips until she opened her eyes in question.
Connected so closely to him, she felt some of the sexual need. The evidence of it pressed against her belly. Beneath that was another, darker emotion she couldn’t discern with her own churning feelings confusing her.
His beautiful blue eyes were hard as he stared into hers intense enough that she’d have turned away if she weren’t trapped.
“I’m not blind. I can see you.”