Brand of the Pack Page 7

  The sheet pooled on the floor around his feet, and he cocked his head at his reflection. In his sides and chest, he had multiple gashes, one rather long and accompanied by multiple puncture wounds. A long claw mark had crisscrossed the scar down his stomach, a slash went from his ear down the length of his jawbone, and the wolf had taken a large chunk of meat from his outer right thigh. That was the worst, and looked bruised and irregular, even stitched up. Twisting in the bathroom mirror, his back looked okay if he ignored the silver knife scar he’d taken saving Lana. He was always conscious of protecting the back of his neck during a fight and had managed to keep it virtually injury free. He would pat himself on that unscarred back if he could reach one of his arms around without pulling stitches.

  The titillating scent of arousal filled the space, and he turned slowly. Leaning against the doorframe, Morgan studied him with a possessive spark in her eyes.

  “Like what you see?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

  A shy smile danced across her lips. “I’m a lucky woman.” She approached him slowly, then leaned her forehead on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  He ran his fingers through her long hair and kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter 8

  Morgan padded quietly downstairs to assess the damage from last night. How was she going to explain all of what happened to Mom? She was already suspicious, and who could blame her? A month ago, Morgan had been living in a tiny house in a bad part of town, and now she was shacked up in a ranch mansion and getting married on a week’s notice to boot. She’d already answered the shotgun wedding question at least ten times, and then the rehearsal dinner goes down in flames? It was damage control time.

  The sound of laughter vibrated against the bones of the house as it rang through the first floor. The wedding attendees were enjoying a huge breakfast around the island. Apparently, all tension from last night had escaped with the first rays of light. It seemed today wasn’t one to be ruined by the stubbornness of power hungry werewolves.

  Mom dropped a set of red oven mitts and rushed to hug her. “Oh, Morgan! Are you alright, honey? Rachel and the boys told me about the coyote. Wade said it was rabid, and he had to give you a shot, and let me see that.” She swatted Morgan’s hand away so she could look at her neck. She ran a light fingertip against the bandage there. “Oh, how are we going to cover that up? It’ll be in every single picture today. Thank goodness, Grey was there with you. Wade said he got the worst of it, but he will be okay. And why didn’t you go to the hospital? You ridiculous young people! You think you’re invincible, but you aren’t. I always say that, don’t I?”

  “Right. You always say that, yes.” She picked up and hugged Lana, who had been clinging to her legs. “Did you have fun sleeping in Mimi’s room?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Lana said with a solemn nod.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I wanted you to tuck me in and you didn’t even sing me a lullaby.” When Lana’s little lips puckered out, Morgan covered her in kisses until she giggled.

  “And where was your watchdog while that wild animal was after you?” Mom asked.

  Lana pushed her cheeks together until she probably resembled a dolphin, her lips barely moving when she admitted, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You know, the big white dog you gave Marissa for her birthday?”

  “Oh,” Marissa spoke up, “Snow…ball. Snowball. She ran off. I haven’t seen her since last night. She kind of comes and goes.”

  Morgan jerked her attention from Lana and stared in horror at her mother, who had seen her in all her furry, growling, four-legged glory last night. She wished she hadn’t remembered.

  “What is that look for?” Mom asked.

  “Oooh, I just, I uh—” Come on, Morgan. She tried to shake her thoughts loose and cleared her throat. “I think that Snowball is a terrible name for that poor…dog. She should be named something like Xena, or Rogue, or Kai the Mountain Warrior, or something else befitting a proper…guard dog.”

  Mom made a single clicking sound against her teeth and frowned. “Don’t be silly, Snowball is perfect. She is white like snow, and Marissa should get to choose anyway. It is her dog after all.”

  Marissa speared another bite of eggs and gave her a cheeky grin.

  The soft kitchen light glinted off Wade’s short blond hair and scarred face as he set his fork on an empty plate, took it to the sink, and rinsed it off. “Ladies, this was a delicious breakfast,” he said in a deep baritone. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I think we need to go upstairs and help Grey get ready for the big day.”

  Dean gripped Brent’s slight shoulders and shook him slowly. Brent smiled under his alpha’s open affection. Logan’s designer scruff itched Morgan’s face as he gave her a quick side hug, and Jason and Brandon looked like two matching muscle-bound behemoths as they led the others up the stairs. So many intoxicating men in one room, Mom was preening her hair and biting her bottom lip as she watched them leave. Morgan stifled a private smile.

  “We only have a couple of hours before the wedding. The florist is already setting up and the caterer should be here any minute,” Rachel said as Morgan grabbed a plate and loaded it with eggs, bacon, biscuits, and gravy.

  “Are you going to eat all of that?” Mom said a little too loudly as she stared at her piling breakfast.

  “Oh, uh. No, I guess I wasn’t paying attention to how much I was putting on my plate.”

  She scraped a spoonful of the eggs back in the pan. Her mother was still staring so she grumbled but dutifully put back six pieces of bacon as well.

  Mom gave a satisfied “humph” and turned on her heel, headed toward the guest bedrooms. “We need to get going if we are going to ever get you presentable by one o’clock,” she sang over her shoulder.

  After she disappeared down the hallway, Morgan shoveled eggs straight from the pan into her mouth and chewed as fast as possible. Rachel had followed her mom into the other room but Marissa sat at the island slowly spinning her rotating chair back and forth, watching her with an amused look on her face as Morgan snarfed down bacon and eggs at the speed of a lightning bolt.

  “Whoa there, Snowball. Slow down or you’ll choke.”

  Morgan narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side. “Har har, very funny,” she said around a huge bite of food. She finished chewing and piled food on another plate.

  “Can you take this up to Grey? He’s going to need a good meal with all the healing he needs to do.”

  “You got it,” she said, hopping down from the stool. She grabbed the plate.

  “You were amazing last night,” Morgan said. “I watched you working to save Grey. You had no fear. Wade was lucky to have your help.”

  Marissa glowed under the compliment. “I was thinking I might want to go into medicine when I get older. Lord knows this pack is going to need its own doctor. Grey gets into more fights than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

  “Morgan!” Mom bellowed. “What’s taking so long? We need to get to work on your hair.”

  She shoved a piece of bacon in her mouth, picked up her plate, and marched to the room.

  By trade, Mom had been a hairdresser for longer than Morgan had been alive, so she was the obvious choice to take on the task.

  Pressing on her shoulders, Mom pushed her into the chair facing the mirror and ran her fingers through her tresses. “I had planned on curling it and leaving it down and natural in the back. That would be the best look with your dress, but now I have to cover up the cuts on your neck as best I can.”

  More interested in the flavorful pork that was turning her mouth into a disco, she shrugged. “Whatever you think, Mom.”

  “And where is the photographer? He should be taking pictures of you getting ready.”

  The doorbell chimed a shortened version of the wedding march, and she snorte
d. When had Grey even had time to mess with that?

  The sound of Marissa’s footsteps echoed down the stairs and she muttered, “I’ll get it. It’s probably the caterer.”

  Morgan relaxed back into the chair while Rachel took the dresses out of the bags and hung them from the door. Mom stopped brushing out her hair. Her mother’s eyebrows arched in a look Morgan knew well from childhood. “Isn’t anyone going to answer the door?”

  “Marissa’s getting the door. She said it’s the caterer,” Morgan said, eyes closing as the rhythmic brushing sound picked up again.

  “When? I didn’t hear her say anything. Where has she run off to anyway?”

  “Well, I heard her and she said she would get the door.”

  Mom glowered at her in the mirror and stopped brushing again. Her flustered face said she was ticking off yet another odd thing that had happened since she arrived at the cabin yesterday.

  “I’ll go and make sure Marissa got the door,” Rachel said, effectively smoothing the tension.

  Hannah had Morgan’s dark hair separated into sections by the time Rachel came back to inform them that it was, in fact, the caterer who was now setting up in the kitchen.

  “If you really aren’t pregnant, do you think you and Grey will have more children? I wouldn’t mind more grandbabies.” Mom’s intelligent green eyes studied her in the mirror.

  She caught Rachel’s slight shrug from the corner, but tried not to sigh too loudly. “I don’t know, Mom. Grey and I have our hands full right now. I’m satisfied with Lana, and I know Grey would be, too, if it was what I wanted. But I know he would love more children, and I’m warming up to the idea of having a baby who looks like him. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens. I’m in no rush.”

  Actually, the thought of bringing another child into this mess was terrifying. She was one of a kind and the only chance to give a new beginning to a nearly extinct clan of ancient, super werewolves. The pressure would cause anyone hesitation.

  The photographer showed up just as Mom put the finishing touches on her hair. Any wedding vendor who managed to find their house out in the middle of the forest wouldn’t find a negative word from Morgan. Mom, however, wasn’t so lenient.

  One more shower of hairspray and Mom stood back, admiring her work. “Done,” she decreed.

  “Oh Morgan, it’s beautiful,” Rachel said.

  Her hair was curled and gathered under an elaborate rhinestone barrette. To cover the bandage, Mom had gathered her dark, wavy tresses to the injured side, and her hair cascaded down one collarbone. Hair sprayed neatly into place, her hair was a masterpiece made for a fairytale princess.

  Mom’s eyes filled and she touched Morgan’s cheek. “Sometimes you look so much like Marianna.”

  Morgan pursed her lips and steadied herself. Hopefully, her late sister was watching from wherever she was. Hopefully, she was proud of the way she was raising Lana and of the family she was creating for her. She would have approved of Grey. Her sister had missed meeting him by minutes.

  While Mom curled Rachel’s hair, Marissa brought in nude-colored Band-Aids and put them over the white bandage on her neck so it would be less noticeable. Mom was able to up-do Rachel and Marissa’s hair quickly as they only wanted a simple French twist, and they were both finished by the time she was done putting on her makeup. While her mother was fixing her own hair and makeup, Rachel and Marissa left and made sure everything was being set up right. Then it was time for them to get into their dresses.

  Morgan clenched her shaking hands together. She wasn’t worried about marrying Grey. Instead, her fears circled the ceremony like a roiling tornado. At the very least, she’d probably fall on her way down the aisle. And the flailing would probably pull her dress down, popping her perky little boobies right out of the top before she sprawled out, legs spread and face down on the aisle runner. Something along those lines. Hopefully the photographer could catch that one in black and white. It would definitely be a framer.

  As Rachel finished tightening the laces in the back of her dress, a knock rapped against the door.

  “It’s Dean. Can I come in?” She nodded to Marissa who opened the door and ushered him in. “Whoa, ladies, you look beautiful. I wondered if I could talk to Morgan alone for a minute?”

  The ladies filed from the room one by one.

  “Five minutes until show time, honey,” Mom said before she closed the door behind her.

  “Delivery,” Dean said, smiling. He placed a package on the dresser and hesitated. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for last night. I know I got a little… Well, I’m sorry it has to be like that sometimes.”

  “Dean, you don’t have to apologize for that any more than I need to apologize for the way I acted when I defended him. It’s how we’re made. I’m accepting that. It probably wasn’t the first time that happened, and it certainly won’t be the last, but what else can you expect when you try to do what you boys are doing? I know it’s unheard of for two separate packs to live so close and operate together, and I know you are forcing yourselves into that position because of me. I wanted to talk to you, too.” She hated to think about it but something had to be said. “If anything ever happened to Grey, anything where he could no longer protect us, I would still want us to stay here.”

  Dean’s questioning look said she wasn’t doing this right.

  “I mean. You are my friend. The pack are my friends. More like family, if I’m honest about it. I would want us to pledge to your pack if, God forbid, anything unexpected happened. What you are doing by forcing an alliance? It won’t ever be in vain as far as I’m concerned. Grey and I talked about it, and he thought I should let you know. You know his Wolf and all of his backup plans.”

  Dean bowed his head. “Of course, you’d be welcome. I can’t imagine Grey letting it get that far, though.” A quick rap at the door signaled that it was time to go. “See you out there.”

  The package on the dresser was small and unassuming. It was wrapped in brown paper with a light pink ribbon tied around it. She opened it slowly. Thick wrapping like this begged to be revered, not ripped into. She pulled out a thin, white-gold necklace with a circle of diamonds dangling delicately from the chain. In the middle of the circle hung spiderweb thin loops around a circular cut ruby. An interpretation of the Silver Wolf Clan emblem. The sunlight streaming through the window danced off the jewels with sparkling clarity. It was breathtaking. How thoughtful Grey was to give her such a meaningful gift.

  “Morgan!” Mom knocked again, this time hard enough to rattle the room.

  “Just a minute,” she said, fastening the treasure around her neck.

  Now, she was ready.

  Chapter 9

  The breeze weaved lazily through the trees, lifting the fabric of the ribbons that decorated the single row of white chairs and bringing a hundred scents to Grey. He could smell her. He just couldn’t see her yet. The moment was surreal and profound. A silent anticipation crept into the forest, daring only to rustle the leaves in the canopy above. Light filtered through the woods to create tiny beams of illumination like guitar strings.

  The attendees weren’t many, but they were important. Waiting, the pack sat turned in their chairs. Dean stood beside him with an arched eyebrow. He nodded slightly and gave Grey a reassuring smile that halted his fidgeting. She’d be here soon.

  If he looked hard enough, he could just make out the ghost of the cabin through the trees. Their home. The perfect backdrop to the ceremony that would tether their fates together.

  The sound of soft footsteps preceded Lana. Marissa walked beside her, whispering encouragement, while the smiling child tossed rose petals to the forest floor beneath their feet. Her dark curls bounced with every step. She beamed when she saw him standing at the front and started to run.

  He laughed, the gesture expelling all of the nervous energy out of him. They would be his to protect. Wolf crowed with satisfaction and purpose.


  And then his breath caught. Morgan appeared and disappeared through the trees as she made her way toward him. Her arm intertwined her mother’s, and her dress billowed softly behind her. The pack stood in honor of her.

  She was exquisite in a formfitting, layered white dress that flared at the bottom. A stream of flowers, rhinestones, and pearls wrapped around her waist and traveled up and over her right shoulder, creating a strap on one side and leaving the other bare. Her collarbone arched gracefully and a jeweled necklace sparkled against her neck. Her long dark curls trailed down the other side. His fingers twitched with the need to touch the silken strands.

  He searched her clear, green eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he said softly, swallowing hard against the thickness that crept up his throat.

  Her mother took her bouquet and sat down as Morgan took his hands and squeezed them. “So are you.”

  Grey reached out and ran his finger over her exposed collarbone, and she shivered.

  “Eh-hem.” Wade cleared his throat. He began.

  The wedding was sweet and simple. Grey kissed her gently when Wade announced them as husband and wife. Grey leaned his forehead against hers and laughed breathlessly. Instead of walking back down the aisle, everyone rushed in to hug and congratulate them.

  His wife. The importance of this day, of the vows promised, would resonate throughout the rest of their lives.

  * * * *

  The trail through the woods was thin, and Morgan stepped carefully, sidestepping brambles that would tear at the fabric of her dress. Grey’s hand was strong and warm in hers. A great difference from Lana’s small, dependent hand that clutched her other. Surrounded by the people who meant so much, Morgan couldn’t have been happier than in this moment. Such a life didn’t invite many sweet occasions, and their rarity made them all the more potent. She lived for here and now because she might not get another experience so beautiful.