The Macconwood Wolf Pack Volume 2

fuckin'

ed his immense frame back into his oversized, black leather chair and

then as he did now. Tall at six foot three inches, muscular, and more than a little intimidating to the Wolves under him with his

I gonna do on a vacation? Com

his positively glowing mate. She wore a long, flowy dress. The shade was a pale-yellow color that, Randall admitted to himself, looked damn good with her cre

erience, Randy," she dropped a kiss on Randall's cheek and walke

s the room. Randall had noticed it took a while for Rafe to get used to his mate's habit of greeting everyone with a kiss or hug.

asn't going to change for any, how had she put it? Neanderthal brow-beating husband regardless of how cute his a

on rooms to strum his guitar or play a few keys on the piano. Charley liked music too. In fact, they bonded

e a large hand over her swollen belly and rub it in small slow circles, a gesture that was as loving as it was inti

e pretty big secret. She was a normal, she knew nothing of his world, and he liked it that way. When he suggested they

s sad, but not uncommon. His experience with love was short-lived, but there it was

y. It was all he needed. Randall didn't believe in happily ever after for anyone. Except maybe these two. He wished a lon

th no one around to bug you. You could get room service day and night, a deep tissue massage,

unhappy? Is something wrong?" Rafe looked mildly insulted and

big brown eyes laughing, as she turned and kissed her husband on hi

ley, I didn't mean to snap, but shi-, I

He picked up an envelope and tossed it to Randall, a small smile played at the corne

this looks

re to?" as

int, South

h the European settlers over a variety of reasons, such as unfair trading terms, ending in battle which ran the waters red with blood," Randall read the b

t. The older woman beside him gave him hard looks as he jostled her elbow for the tenth time since they took off from Newark International

man. Literally. Even in the best situation, Randall hated planes. It was too close, to

en hearing their Wolves until the full moon was losing power, Randall was still savoring the unp

eard. Or the hair. Or both. He looked like a damned lumberjack out of a fairytale in his worn jeans, brown

erature at a steady fifty degrees for the health of the equipment. Werewolves ran hotter than most

he travel brochure Charley gave to him before he took off that morning. She kissed his cheek goodbye and stuffed it into his travel ba

had a Chromebook. And his phone. And if he got really desper

d patch-ins that he sold to big name corporations under a sub-branch of Graves Enterprises called Upw

e beyond his years and a much better man and Alpha than his father, Zev Maccon. He shook his head at the difference in them a

k his head. He was not in the mood to talk. He was too anxious. The young blon

ime physical specimens. He was used to getting looks by men and women alike, though it had been a while since he had left his "coding cave" as the guys called it. The

, sir, did you

d couldn't have been more than twenty-four years old.

ri

sir? I am

wondering if you ha

allergies, you know? But I do have a few organic

ian held out to him. He had just about as much interest in eating the overpri

planes? He shook his head and bumped the woman next

he chewed until it was swallow able. He chased it with a bottle of spring wat

him. A hungry Werewolf was not a friendly one. And wasn't that the understatement of

lf, only two hours left in