Desired by the Pack: Part One: A BBW Paranormal Romance Read Free Page A

warming her blood, she threw a searching look around the bar. Still no sign of Prince, not that she thought he would deter these hard-edged men.
    Beautiful, fine-featured Prince might just make these guys a little happier.
    “Some of us like our women mouthy.”
    The way the hand at her nape tightened, January guessed the deep-voiced newcomer wasn’t an invited guest. She tried to get a look at him but Biker God seemed dead-set on breaking her neck. Her pulse kicked up, sending hot waves of blood to her face and ears.
    The entire bar seemed to still. January tried to hold her breath but she was panting instead. A heavy throb of interest pulsed between her thighs, and a distant memory broke through the fog of Heat.
    She knew that voice. Knew that man. But how? From where?
    “My brothers have no business with yours,” Biker God said. “Why don’t you walk away and we’ll all keep moving in our separate corners?”
    “Can’t do. Maybe if she was one of yours, but she isn’t. Get me?”
    The biker jerked his hand away like she’d burned him. No longer held by his mean grip, she stumbled forward. The other men in the leather-wearing bunch tripped over each other in their hurry to avoid touching her and she fell into a table. She caught herself on the sticky surface. Embarrassment momentarily pierced her fear and arousal.
    “Let’s go, baby.” A strong arm hooked around her waist. Her rescuer drew her close to his side.
    “That was an interesting choice you made.”
    As his fingers dug into her hip, possessive, like she already belonged to him, her good sense started to unravel like a cheap sweater.
    Her reproductive hormones were all for losing the sweater. “Must have been thinking with my clit,” she mumbled.
    She’d meant the dry comment for her own benefit, but somehow he heard her in the noisy din of grating, rough masculine voices and the high, shrill squeals of drunk women. The sound of his laugh felt like velvet over her skin. Calming, soothing. Promising.
    If she had a functional brain cell in her skull, she would run hard and fast.
    Instead, she looked up at him.
    And if catching that biker’s eye was the mistake of the year, allowing herself a look at the man beside her was the mistake of the century.
    Dark stubble lined his strong, square jaw and framed firm, full lips. He wore his hair on the longer side of respectable. Waves fell against the tops of his ears and across his forehead, which furrowed as he glanced down and caught her staring.
    Gray eyes mesmerized her. She could have spent the rest of the night studying the nuances of color there.
    Somewhere deep in her body, the sleepy pale shadow of her wolf stirred, submissive and wanting.
    January swallowed hard.
    Alarm warred with anticipation as she swung her head left, then right, counting her escort. The wolf pack had lost a couple members since she last checked them out. Instead of the five who’d walked through the door, two others flanked her and the man whose spicy scent flipped her body into overdrive.
    The young-looking one, shorter than the others by a couple inches--not that those couple inches made a difference to her own five-seven--eyed her with an intriguing combination of lust and hostility shifting back and forth across his smooth, classically handsome features.
    “What’s his problem?” She nudged her guardian and angled her head toward the angry one.
    “He doesn’t like crowds.” As one entity, they all moved toward the exit.
    January’s sense of self-preservation prickled. A sexy wolf pack was bad news for her. She could have handled the biker if she’d kept her derision to herself, but these men were different. They compelled her in a way human males didn’t.
    A glance over her shoulder met watchful, disgruntled biker stares.
    Limited options. She sighed.
    Cool night air washed over her when she stepped outside. Even though the crowd inside had thinned a bit, the parking lot was packed.
    Drawing a cleansing breath,