Pack

Chapter Fifteen

"I'm not sure about this."

I stood in Logan's great room staring at the back doors that lead outside to where people had started to gather for the jamboree.

Logan rubbed my back. "Relax, doll." He shot me a lopsided smirk. "It'll be fine."

"How about I stay in here, and you go have fun."

He rolled his eyes. "You're coming." Sliding his arm around my waist, he pulled me to him. "I'll be your bodyguard tonight, promise."

His new close proximity made my head spin. Something about him made me nervous and excited at the same time. His grip tightened as his eyes lightened, the gold ring emerging. I wondered if he could feel it between us too. But then again, he was probably trying to use his werewolf mojo to make me follow his commands.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Fine. But if anyone gets handsy, I'm out."

"Doll, the only one that'll get handsy with you—" he grinned "—is me."

"Not reassuring."

He laughed, and the sound echoed through the house like a bass drum. I couldn't help but smile. Logan bent down and kissed the top of my head. His power strummed over me like an invisible breeze, causing my stomach to clench. "Come on, doll." He slowly slid his arm from around my waist and grabbed my hand. "It's time to meet your people."

Logan's backyard was huge, not surprising considering the size of his house, but it was like, soccer field big. Paper lanterns hung from the trees. Along with the moon, they illuminated the backyard in a pale radiance. Someone had randomly set up picnic tables that held small white candles along with plastic containers filled with food. People mingled around picking at their contents and chatting.

I counted about thirty-five werewolves and humans milling around the yard. Besides a few wives, and some scattered kids, most of them were werewolves. That didn't leave a great female to male ratio or female to male werewolf ratio either, for that matter.

Jonathan's warnings about werewolves started to burn a hole in my head. The scent of wolf in the backyard became overpowering, not to mention, the scent of Logan's dominance as he stood beside me. I was suddenly drowning in werewolves. I took a step backward causing Logan to tighten his grip on my hand.

"No you don't." He spun me around to face him. "No running. What you're feeling is Jonathan's fears. You're stronger than this. Besides . . ." A slow grin started to form on his lips. "Anywhere you go, I'll find you."

"Please." I tried unsuccessfully to rip my hand from his. "I feel . . . sick." I wasn't really lying, the knot in my stomach made me want to puke.

Logan arched his scarred eyebrow before pulling me by our linked hands. Leading the way down the steps of his large wooden deck, he practically dragged me toward his waiting pack.

As we walked across the grassy yard and into the heart of the gathering, all conversations stopped. The closer we moved to the pack, my breathing started to increase to embarrassing levels. Once we got to the group and Logan stopped walking, my inhalations had increased to the point of panting. It sounded like I'd just completed a marathon, not walked across the lawn. My fight or flight response hovered dangerously high as the realization of how greatly outnumbered I was became the driving force behind my fear.

Logan had sworn that no one would hurt me, but I barely knew him. Despite my obvious attraction to him, I had no idea if he had ulterior motives. Crap, when had I become such a moron? Despite Jonathan's warnings and my own personal interactions with werewolves so far, I'd done the exact thing Jonathan had said would get me into danger. Here I stood, at the heart of a pack of werewolves, exposing too all of them the anomaly that I was.