Cat's Howl: A Macconwood Pack Novel (The Macconwood Pack Series Book 2) Read Free

time ever she felt feminine, beautiful, and
free, truly free. Tate had whirled her and twirled her all around the dance
floor until she gasped for air. Just like a dream! A wonderful, fantastic
dream. And she didn’t want it to end.
    They got invited to go down to the beach with some of her
classmates for an after prom party. And Cat had jumped at the chance. Anything
to make the night last.
    She didn’t notice the chilly night air or the clouds that
had gathered. All she noticed was the man next to her and how he made her feel.
As if her heart was singing inside of her chest.
    Tate danced with her and only her all night. He held her in
his arms. He smiled and laughed at her jokes. He made her feel special in every
way possible.
    To her mild annoyance, he was very, very respectful. His
hands never wandered. Not an inch. No matter how desperately she wanted them
to. Still, she had a wonderful time.
    He was gorgeous to look at, intelligent to talk to, and oh,
that smile. Her heart skipped a beat every time she saw that dimple winking at
her on his right cheek. And the way everyone had stared at him when they walked
in!
    Cat had to work overtime to keep in control. She almost snapped
at one or two of the girls who had brazenly strutted up to him and asked him to
dance. But there was no need.
    One look from his black eyes had sent them running. He could
be cruel she realized, but that was okay as long as it wasn’t directed at her.
    To her, Tate had been kind, funny, and courteous all night. A
little too courteous, but she had a plan to change that. Finding her courage,
she decided there was no time like the present.
    She pulled him by the hand until he stood up and wiped the
sand from his very nice backside. He took a swig of the warm beer someone had handed
them and put it back down before raising an eyebrow at her.
    “What’s up, Cat?”
    “You’ll see,” she laughed and pulled up the hem of her dress,
kicking off her shoes as she did so. She raised an eyebrow at him, mimicking
his own questioning expression.
    “Race ya!,” she yelled and then she was off.
    Cat sped alongside the dunes kicking up sand as she ran and
jumping over the tall grass that grew there. She could hardly catch her breath.
She was so nervous. Anxious maybe.
    “What the heck? Cat!,” Tate followed her across the sand and
wondered if the half a beer she had went to her head.
    He doubted it since most Werewolves had such a fast
metabolism that alcohol had little to no affect unless taken in mass
quantities.
    He didn’t know what she was up to. He just wished he had taken
the time to remove his dress shoes before he ran after her. It didn’t matter
for long. She had stopped running.
    Underneath an old rotting dock, down by the edge of the
water. That was where he found her. The waves were loud as they crashed into
the nearby rocks and sand and Tate realized they were out of sight of everyone
else. He ran a hand through his hair. His chest was heaving and not from the exertion
of following her.
    “Cat, what are you doing? Watch out! Your dress. It’ll get
all wet.”
    Cat stopped when they were far enough away from the crowd
and the music that they were nothing more than a hum in her sensitive ears. She
turned towards Tate, her chest very near to bursting. This was it. This
was the where and when. She reached behind her, biting her lower lip as her
hands moved.
    “Cat? What are you-”
    Tate couldn’t finish his thought. He heard the sound of her zipper
being lowered and he froze like a deer in headlights.
    She wouldn’t, would she? He didn’t have a chance to
talk or even to think. A second later, it was too late.
    The beautiful blue confection that was Cat’s prom dress fell
to the compacted sand in a soft whoosh that sounded much louder to his
supernaturally heightened ears.
    She stood there before him, barefoot in the sand, in nothing
but a pair of white silk panties. The soft moonlight hit her body through the
gaps in the wooden slats