by JC Holly
Pack Rules
Ethan Stevenson, one-half upstanding bar owner, one-half wolf-shifter and pack leader, wants sex. A casual encounter to get his urges back under control and relieve the stress of new pack tensions. His heart has other ideas.
After an aborted hookup with newly un-closeted Conor Black, Ethan finds he can't get the man out of his head, and it's not long before they find themselves in each other's arms once again.
Unfortunately for both, a member of Ethan's pack is attempting a power play, and is not above dirty tricks to reach his goal.
Will Ethan and Conor come out unscathed, and will they still feel the same about each other after the dust settles?
Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 35,814 words
PACK RULES
JC Holly
EROTIC ROMANCE
MANLOVE
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ManLove
PACK RULES
Copyright © 2012 by JC Holly
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-748-0
First E-book Publication: June 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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DEDICATION
Sweetie. Every book is for you.
PACK RULES
JC HOLLY
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Ethan Stevenson flipped the cap from the cool bottle with the tip of his thumb and took a long, slow sip of the first beer of the night. Heaven. The bar was quiet tonight, but it was early. He was sure he could find someone to fuck before closing.
All right, so that sounded a little blunt, even for him. He smirked and glanced up as the head bartender, Avani, walked past on the other side of the bar. She stopped and cocked her head.
“What’s so funny, big guy?”
“Nothing.” He tapped the counter with a finger. “Line ’em up.”
She bent over, the generous contents of her tight top entirely lost on Ethan, and retrieved two more beers from a fridge. “I’ll put them on your tab, shall I? Or are you going to actually put money in the register for once?”
He raised an eyebrow as she flicked a stray black hair from her dusky-skinned face. “Tab will be fine, thanks.”
“Thought it might.”
The woman walked off to abuse another customer, leaving Ethan to his thoughts once more.
It had been too long since he was out, and even longer since he’d been out with another person. The relationship with Rory had ended on such a sour note that for the longest time, the idea of dating made him want to punch holes in a wall. Still, it had been long enough. He needed to get back into the game.
He spun on his barstool to take in the sights. There weren’t many yet.
A few overly camp twenty-somethings were dancing on the small raised dance floor in the centre of the room, and one or two of the red leather booths were occupied by solo drinkers. Nobody caught Ethan’s eye, especially not the twink who kept winking at him. Who the hell winks these days?
Regardless, he didn’t go for that kind of guy. He wanted someone he could play pool with. Before he bent him over the table and showed him his own cue, anyway.
He adjusted his jeans as he swivelled back to face the bar. It was still early. Someone would show, ideally with a tight body, good hair, teeth...He shook his head. Damn full moon was on the rise. Tendrils of fog crept into his mind, dulling his thoughts and sharpening his already dagger-like senses.
“Damn it,” he muttered as he rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes.
“You all right?”
He glanced up at Avani, who was polishing a glass. “I’m fine.”
Someone dropped onto the stool beside him and rapped their knuckles on the bar. Ethan winced at the too-sharp sound.
“Hey,” the new person said. “Can I get some service here?”
Avani gave him a cursory glance. “In a minute.”
The man muttered under his breath as she fussed with a few more glasses. Ethan restrained a smirk. He’d seen her do it a dozen times to a dozen different people, but it never got old. If she wasn’t feeling friendly, you waited your damn turn.
“You believe this?” the man said to Ethan.
Ethan turned his head just enough to acknowledge the man—typical trendy arsehole with too many beers in him—and grunted in reply.
“I’m a fucking customer,” the man continued. “I should get what I want, when I want.”
Ethan nodded, restraining the urge to rip the man’s goatee from his face. On the best of days, he had a short temper, but when the moon was high and he hadn’t shifted in a while, he was not a man to irritate.
The man slammed his fist on the counter. “Hey! Take my fucking order!”
If Avani was in the least bit fazed, she didn’t let it show. “No.”
The man looked like his head would explode. “What did you say?”
“I said no.” She put her glass on the counter, her hands either side of it. “You’ve had too much. Go home.”
“I’ll say when I’ve had enough.”
The pair argued back and forth as Ethan tried to stay out of it. The man wa
s now standing and leaning over the bar, his face an inch from Avani’s. Thin ice, buddy. And it’s getting thinner.
“Get. Me. Your. Fucking. Manager!”
He screamed the last word, and Ethan could hear the sounds of murmured conversation behind him. Everyone was watching. Avani’s gaze flitted to Ethan’s for just a moment, and he raised an eyebrow. She smiled back at the drunk.
“Sure thing.” She turned to Ethan, tugging one of her many ear-piercings in amusement. “Boss? This gentleman wants a word.”
With a sigh, Ethan climbed from his stool and pulled himself up to his full six-and-a-half-foot height. To the drunk’s credit, he didn’t back down.
“What kind of place are you running here?” he shouted, his fists clenching at his sides. “Rude staff, shit music, and overpriced fucking beer!”
Ethan rubbed at the back of his neck. The hairs were thickening already, and he could feel the pressure in his fingers as his nails tried to lengthen despite his control.
“Leave.”
The man laughed. “Leave?” He glanced around the bar. “Who’s going to make me?”
Ethan opened his mouth to reply and the man tried to put a fist in it. The blow never got close. Ethan knocked the fist aside and slammed his own larger fist into the man’s gut. He crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, and Ethan dropped back into his stool and finished his beer.
“I’m surprised you held off so long, boss,” Avani said, the glass back in her hands.
Ethan scratched at his ear. “If we give in to our urges too easily, even on the full moons, we become nothing more than animals.”
She nodded in reply. “I tell ya, if I hadn’t had a run myself last night, I’d be a wreck right now.”
“You thought ahead, though, unlike me. Shows brains.” He smirked. “That’s why you’re my right-hand wolf.”
Avani grinned, allowing her canines to lengthen for just a moment before retracting. “Go home, boss. Throw your clothes on the floor, and go hunt.”
“Now that sounds like a plan.”
* * * *
The walk home was a short distance, but it seemed to stretch into eternity. Every step was a fight against his instincts to shift. His body screamed at him to forget the busy street, the cars, the witnesses, and just give in. Become the wolf and worry about the rest later.
I shouldn’t have waited so long. It had been a week since the last shift, and with the strains of work and pack issues, it felt much longer. It was all right for the young Weres like Avani. She was only a year old, in shifter terms, and could go for a month without the shift if necessary, only hunting on the full moon. As a Were got older, though, the wolf started to take a firmer hold. Though age wasn’t everything.
He smirked at the memory of his announcement that Avani would be taking the role of his second. She, a slim twenty-something woman, promoted above men three times her age and weight. Not only did she hold her ground against their complaints, though, she took on each and every challenge and won flawlessly and with honour, not killing a single wolf. Nobody else argued after that night.
He paused by a traffic light and waited for the cars to come to a halt, before moving across the road, almost running now.
Ethan wasn’t old compared to some Weres—sixty-eight, and looking thirty-two—but on nights like these, he felt more wolf than man. It didn’t help that he hadn’t had a good fuck in a long time, either.
Any frustration could add to the urge to shift, and sexual frustration was way up on the list.
I need to run, hunt, and ideally, fuck. He’d missed out on the last one, but the first two were doable.
Chapter Two
Conor Black woke with a start to find it was ten in the evening, rather than the six in the morning he’d expected. An hour? He had to have been asleep longer than that. His watch confirmed what his alarm clock said, though. He dropped his head back to the pillow with a groan. Damn it all.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled, and out of curiosity, Conor turned to peer out of the window. He could see nothing more than the edge of the large park his house was built near. What few lights were lit along the main path showed nothing more than bright patches of grass and gravel.
For a large city, there were a lot of wolves in the outskirts. It made no sense. Howls travelled a long distance, didn’t they? That was one of the points of howling, after all. It was probably miles and miles away.
He turned back and tried to get comfortable.
“Thanks again, Michelle,” he muttered.
Her phone call came five minutes before he had headed to bed, and had managed to remove the previous two hours’ attempts to de-stress. Once again, she felt the need to abuse him for twenty minutes, and once again, he’d just sat there and taken it until she hung up.
What the hell did she want? Would she honestly prefer it if he’d continued seeing her and ignored his own feelings? He’d lived a lie for the entirety of his adult life, and something had to give.
He threw the covers off with a little too much force and jumped to his feet. If he wasn’t going to sleep naturally, he’d damn well tire himself out instead.
As soon as his feet hit the floor, he heard a thumping on the stairs, and a moment later Tommy was flying toward him, huge paws first. Conor caught the collie and just managed to spin and drop them both onto the bed, rather than crashing to the floor.
Tommy responded by rolling to his feet and licking Conor’s face. Conor laughed and pushed the dog away, which only encouraged him. They wrestled on the bed for a few minutes, and then Conor stood and gestured to the door.
“Come on, downstairs. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Tommy must have been feeling particularly obedient for once and padded out the door, his tail wagging low. Conor stepped into the small adjoining bathroom to clean the drool away, then followed his prize pooch.
Tommy was waiting in the kitchen by the back door, and Conor let him out to go and relieve himself, then flipped the coffeemaker on. Not exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep, but he knew his body. If he was up now, he’d be up for at least another four or five hours, so he might as well make them enjoyable.
While the coffee did its thing, he dropped onto a chair and rubbed at his aching eyes. At least he didn’t need to be at work tomorrow. Or the day after. Three more weeks of downtime, in fact, by order of the doctor.
He’d always mocked those who’d taken long times off from work due to stress, but it was no laughing matter when you were the one who could barely function. A number of events converged at the same time, and something had just snapped. Coming out a few days before really hadn’t helped either.
That had been at the beginning, though. Now he just wanted to get back into the fun-filled world of accountancy.
Tommy reappeared with a chuff and a doggy grin, drawing Conor out of his maudlin reverie. He scratched the animal’s black-and-white head and planted a kiss between his ears.
“You’re a rock, you know that?”
Tommy cocked his head to one side then wandered off to the other side of the room where his bed lay, beneath the radiator.
The coffee machine beeped to tell him the water was hot, and Conor poured himself a cup of vanilla-flavoured ambrosia and took it into the lounge in search of his running shoes. He wasn’t intending to actually run, but they were damn comfy for walking in, too.
He laced the shoes up tight and then knocked back the coffee. He’d stop and appreciate the second one when he got back.
“Walkies, Toms.”
A scrabble of claws sounded from Tommy as his excited feet fought for purchase on the tiled floor, and a moment later, he was at Conor’s side, his leash in his mouth and his tail wagging hard enough to knock his back end from side to side. Conor laughed, clipped his leash on and headed out the door.
By the time they reached the end of the street, Conor already regretted not bringing a jacket with him. The wind from earlier in the day seemed to have developed a bad moo
d, and whipped along the wide streets, hassling the few people out and about in it. At least the rain had held off.
If Tommy cared about the cold in the least, he didn’t show it. All he was interested in was the end of the next street, and he pulled on his leash whenever Conor slowed.
“You’re eager tonight, boy.”
Tommy chuffed in response and Conor sped up to appease him. Might tire me out a bit quicker. The wind whipped up again, forcing him to dip his head or lose all the moisture in his eyes. Tommy wasn’t in the least bit hampered, of course, and kept pulling at his leash, almost yanking Conor’s arm from its socket.
The dog stopped, and Conor glanced up to find they were standing at the corner, next to a lamppost, which Tommy was paying a large amount of attention to.
“Ah, I see.” Conor crossed his arms as Tommy sniffed the area. “Someone on your territory?”
The dog chuffed in response, then moved closer to the lamppost and sniffed again. Conor frowned as the normally very territorial animal yelped and disappeared behind his legs, its tail tucked underneath itself.
“What’s wrong, boy? Was he bigger...”
Before he could finish the sentence, a low growl came from around the corner. Conor’s heart sped at the deep sound. It seemed to reverberate in the air, almost sounding as if multiple animals were growling in chorus.
Tommy yelped again in response, and Conor stepped back in surprise, almost tripping over the dog. He glanced back to make sure he wasn’t about to step on him, then turned back to the street to see the largest dog he’d ever seen step out from around the corner.