The Pack Rules Boxed Set: The Complete Series of Wolf, Bear, and Dragon Shifter Romances

by Michele Bardsley

  Dibs, damn it.

  When he stepped toward her, she wrapped her arms around him. The press of her soft, luscious breasts pressed against his stomach nearly buckled his knees. He could scent her lust, and he longed to taste her sweet desire.

  Her hands fluttered down the muscles of his back as she melted against him. Mike grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the counter. Before she could protest, he popped open the jar of honey. He painted her nipples with the dark syrup and leaned in to suckle the hard points.

  Her nails bit into his flesh as she moaned, arching just a little to give him more access.

  While he paid homage to her breasts, he reached between her thighs. She was wet, the tight little bud of her clit sensitive to the lightest touch. Her little gasps of pleasure brought him so close to rapture, he couldn’t fucking stand it.

  He grabbed her by the thighs and jerked her to the edge of the counter. His cock was so hard, it hurt.

  “I need you,” he said.

  “I’m yours.”

  Her admission snapped his control. He spread her thighs and positioned himself between her knees. He pressed the head of his cock against her opening, and nearly lost it when she hooked a leg behind his ass, and said, “In me. I need you in me now.”

  He slid into her slick, wet channel and groaned as her sweet, tight warmth surrounded him.

  “Amelia,” he whispered raggedly. “Amelia.”

  She wrapped her other leg around him, her lips against his, breathing into him with each swift stroke as she dug her nails into his back. He couldn’t look away from her beautiful eyes. She held him captive, giving back everything to him, taking him all and demanding more.

  God. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold on, to make it last for both of them. Then he felt her clench, felt her give way. Her lashes fluttered as she cried out his name.

  He drove into her again, his hands gripping her luscious ass. Her sweet little pussy milked his cock. A shout tore from his lips, and he shuddered while pleasure writhed through him as he came.

  He’d claimed her.

  Amelia was his.

  5

  AMELIA WASN’T SURE how to proceed. Mike had covered her breasts in honey, gave her the best orgasm of her life, and he didn’t seem inclined to let her go.

  “We are going to be stuck together,” she said.

  “Damn right,” he muttered.

  “I mean, the honey. We’re going to be glued to one another.”

  His laugh rumbled as he pulled back and looked down at her. “I like you naked and covered in honey.”

  “Ditto,” she said. “But next time, I get to paint you.”

  He leaned down to brush his lips across hers. “We’re just getting started with the honey.”

  “Mike.”

  Amelia yelped at the sound of Gabe’s voice. She was naked! And still had Mike’s rather sizable penis inside her! Embarrassment flooded through her in a hot wave. “Ohmigawd.”

  “Relax. He’s calling on the intercom.” Mike moved away from her, which was no small effort thanks to the honey, and walked confidently naked to a little display near the refrigerator. “Yeah.”

  “I smell trouble. We need to move her.”

  “We’re out in five.”

  “Okay. Meet me—what the fuck?”

  The intercom went dead. Mike pushed at the button. “Gabe? Gabe!”

  Gabe didn’t respond.

  “Amelia.”

  She didn’t need to be told twice. She was already off the counter and shoving herself into her shirt and underwear, honey or no honey. Unfortunately, her jeans were toast. Between the two of them, they were dressed in less than ninety seconds.

  Amelia heard the swoosh of air compression and realized someone had opened the door to the panic room.

  Mike shoved her behind him, holding Amelia there with one hand, while he aimed his gun with the other toward the kitchen doorway. “Get down, sweetheart. On the floor.”

  Fear chilled her to the bone. She dropped down behind Mike because that was the safest place to be, but it took everything she had to stay still and quiet.

  Amelia heard two “ffffft” sounds, and Mike jerked backward.

  Her gut tightened when he fell to the floor, and she stared down at his chest. Two holes pierced his shirt—his flesh—and the blood oozed from the wounds. Horror filled her as she realized he’d been shot.

  “Mike!”

  He looked at her, his eyes round as saucers and whispered, “Run.”

  Then he completely collapsed.

  Her heart twisted in her chest and began to pound like a jackhammer. She didn’t know what made her reach over her and grab the gun still in his hand. But she did. She rose to her knees and aimed. Tears blurred her vision, but her hand was steady. When she saw motion—watched the man come around the island, she lifted the .9 mm and pulled the trigger.

  “Fuck!” The person she shot lurched forward, clutching his shoulder. “You bitch!” He reached out as if to hit her, but someone else, someone she hadn’t noticed, grabbed him by the hair and twisted him around.

  “You don’t touch her, moron.” A massive bald-headed man dressed in black Armani shot the man in the throat and tossed him aside. He shook his head. “This is what I get for hiring local.” He looked at her, his expression impassable. His eyes were gray and cold. “Miss MacGregor, please come with me.”

  “That’s not my name,” she said, gulping hard. “I’m not her.”

  “I won’t hurt you. In fact, nobody’s allowed to hurt you.” His grim smile showed sharp teeth. “Your father’s been a patient man. But now it’s time to come home.”

  Whatever adrenaline had kept her going seeped away. The hand clutching the gun shook uncontrollably. The man reached down and plucked the weapon from her. “Miss MacGregor?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m not going with you.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Before she could protest more, he leaned down and scooped her up as if she were a bag of feathers and threw her over his shoulder. He turned, holding her tightly as she fought against his embrace. Her flailing arms and legs didn’t faze him, though, and he walked out of the kitchen with her toward the exit.

  “No,” she wailed, “No, damn it!”

  The hulking asshole stopped. He seemed to be listening, and she saw him flare his nostrils. They way he carried her put her within arm’s length of his genitals. Determined not to be taken, she balled her fist and hit him as hard as she could.

  He screamed in agony, dropping her to the floor. He bent at the knees, breathing harshly.

  Amelia landed in a heap, and a shock of pain radiated down her left side. She pushed the pain aside. She needed to get back to Mike. He wasn’t gone. He couldn’t be. They had too much to do. Too much to learn about each other.

  She wasn’t letting him go.

  Amelia heard the roar before she saw the beast barreling her way. She scuttled backward until she smacked against a wall. She watched as a bear—a big fucking pissed-off Grizzly bear—stomped out of the kitchen and toward Mr. Kidnapper.

  She heard the bald man growl and saw his face morph from human to … to something like a wolf.

  The wolf-man had no chance. The bear’s huge, black claws swiped his throat with one brutal slash. He collapsed to the floor, blood pooling around him.

  Amelia blinked.

  She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around what had just happened. Her gaze went to the bear. It was coming toward her, but as it walked it changed … changed into the form of Mike, who was very much alive.

  “Hey. Are you all right?”

  She looked at the dead man who had been a wolf a second before, and then at Mike who’d been a bear. A freaking bear. Naked and bloody, he crouched down beside her. “Are you okay?”

  Amelia stifled a hysterical laugh. “It’s been a really weird day.”

  “Amelia. I promise I will explain everything. And you’ll be safe. I’ll protect you.” He reached out, s
topping just short of touching her. His gaze begged her to understand, to give him a chance.

  “You believed me,” she whispered. “I believe you.” She took his extended hand and squeezed. The relief on his face made her smile. “So. Shifters. They’re real.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Why does it smell like honey down here?” Gabe limped down the stairs, his expression pissed off. He paused on the bottom stair and studied the body of Amelia’s kidnapper. He looked at his brother. “You’ve been busy.”

  Mike grinned. “You have no idea.”

  Amelia felt safe. Protected. With Mike she could look forward to a real future, one that didn’t include hiding and running. Feeling almost giddy, Amelia leaned in and whispered, “I think things are about to get sticky.”

  “Oh, they will,” promised Mike, “because I’m the bear for you, honey.”

  Bear Winter

  1

  HOPE BOLTED UPWARD, clutching the patchwork quilt to her chest. Shudders wracked her body as she gulped in deep breaths. She buried her face into the old, familiar blanket, reaching for any kind of comfort. The last wispy layers of the nightmare faded, but her skin crawled with residual fear.

  She slept on a too-soft mattress that occupied an elaborate bronze frame. Across from the bed, a white marble hearth housed a low-burning fire. She glanced at the rose-covered wallpaper and elegant mahogany trim and frowned. Where the heck—oh yeah. Silver Creek. Cripes. She took a deep breath to still the pounding of her heart.

  A terrible ringing thrummed in her head. She pressed her palms against her ears, but the unceasing bells wouldn’t stop. She pulled away her hands, realizing with shaky chagrin that the trill of the phone had woken her.

  She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Hope?” Her grandmother’s gravelly voice pierced the static-filled line.

  Hope blew out a relieved breath. Gran’s voice had comforted her on nights long ago when childhood monsters had haunted her dreams. But her grandmother no longer held sway over Hope’s demons. She knew the truth: Monsters were real. Some were so evil, so vile, they could never be vanquished, and the ugly memories they created could never be purged.

  “Hope? You there?”

  “Yeah.” She grabbed the clock off the nightstand and groaned. Damn. She’d only been out twenty minutes—if the restless fear-filled journey into dreamland could be considered sleep. “Jeez, Gran. It’s nearly midnight.”

  “Midnight? So what?”

  Hope rolled her eyes. Her grandmother’s motto should have been “screw propriety.” When she figured something needed to be done, she didn’t wait for the so-called “right moments.” According to the old woman, there was doing it or not doing it. Virginia Matthews, age 76, was a lot like an Old West Yoda.

  “I’m staying in Reno until the end of the week.”

  “Gran! You’re already supposed to be here.”

  “You ready to talk about it yet?”

  No. Never.

  Stop asking.

  She bit her lip to keep the words from spilling out. Every day for the last three months Gran had asked the same question. Dread curled through Hope, stabbing at her conscience like hot knives, and seeping into the raw wounds left by guilt and self-damnation.

  Hope stared at her red strands of hair draping her nightshirt. She took a curl and looped it around a finger. “I managed to pull the sheets off the tables and inventory the bar. We’re going to need some more rum—last year it seemed like everyone wanted Long Island Teas.”

  “It’s only February. We don’t open until April.” Gran’s voice was soft, reproaching. “How long do you plan to run away from your problems?”

  “I was thinking along the lines of forever.” She tugged on the coiled lock of hair. “I can’t get this place ready by myself.”

  “We have plenty of time to bring the ole girl back to life.” Her grandmother paused. “Why do you sound skittish? You usually like being alone.”

  Hope settled against the pillows, released the trapped ringlet, and rubbed her left temple. “It’s scary here at night.”

  Her grandmother chuckled. “There isn’t a soul there who would hurt you. Even the ghosts are friendly.”

  The line clicked then the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Gran never said good-bye. As Hope hung up the phone, she shivered. She couldn’t possibly close her eyes now. The fire in the hearth crackled, reminding her that there wasn’t any more wood in the bedroom. The flames sputtered, allowing enough light for shadows to creep around the room. She sighed. The wood was stored outside in the shed, which meant she’d have to tramp around in the cold desert air.

  Goosebumps pimpled her arms at the mere thought of leaving the bedroom. On top of the impending storm and bitter cold, the lights in the outside hall, stairs, and bar had gone out earlier in the evening. Another electrical problem that would cost a fortune to fix. Last time she checked, only the lights in the kitchen worked.

  The nightmare, the one she’d been unable to escape, coupled with Gran’s reminders of ghosts, made her feel particularly vulnerable. She kicked aside the quilts, uncovering a Stephen King novel: The Shining. She picked it up and shook her head at her own foolishness.

  “That’s what you get,” she muttered as she dropped the book and pushed the quilt off her, “for reading a scary story while stuck in a ghost town.”

  She sighed. Time to go downstairs and grab the damn firewood...and raid her stash of Hershey’s Kisses from the kitchen freezer. Chocolate. Now there was suitable motivation to get her ass out of bed.

  Hope pulled her pink bunny slippers from underneath the bed then she reached inside the nightstand’s drawer and grabbed the flashlight. As she walked to the door, the bunnies’ fuzzy ears flopped back and forth, tickling her ankles. Just as her hand touched the cold brass doorknob, she heard a groan, a creak, and an “ooooooohhh.”

  Her hand clenched the knob, but she couldn’t find the courage to twist it. She debated diving under the covers to hide until morning came and sunshine swept away all the shadows.

  A storm had been brewing all day and was still threatening to unleash its fury. In an old building like this, creepy noises were common and made worse by the fierce wind and ominous thunder. She just hoped it wouldn’t turn into a snowstorm.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. She stepped onto the landing, stopping when cold uneasiness pooled in her stomach. She touched the smooth wooden railing with her fingertips and looked down. The only discernable light was the moon shining through the big square windows. She nibbled her lower lip as she glanced to the blackness waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

  Her grandmother loved to tell the tragic story of the first saloon owner’s murdered daughter, and how her ghost now haunted the upper floor. As a psychic, Hope accepted many weird things about life. After all, she was aware of shifters, and one bear shifter in particular. Gabe Pearson. Former handsome stubborn fiancé. She missed his face, damn it. But the only way for her to protect him was to stay away from him. As long as they were apart, he would live. She knew that as the truth because ever since she’d walked away from him, she stopped having all the ominous visions about his death. And if she knew one thing about her gift, it was to heed its warnings. She knew Gabe wouldn’t. As a bodyguard and bear shifter, he thought himself damned near untouchable.

  Yep. I’d rather deal with the ghost.

  After a short debate with her irrational fear, she decided chocolate was worth facing the dark. Hurrying wasn’t an option with her unwieldy slippers flopping around, but at least her feet were toasty-warm.

  Gusting high winds lashed at the building; the windows rattled and shook.

  Letting out a startled scream, Hope nearly turned around and fled to the safety of her bedroom. She took several deep, shaky breaths until she calmed herself and shored up her courage. She pointed the flashlight at the stairs. Chocolate awaits, remember?

  2

  GABE FINALLY FOUND the town of S
ilver Creek, Nevada. He’d passed Virginia City five miles back—which felt more like a hundred in the steep, winding mountain roads. He checked the map spread on the passenger seat of the Jeep. This had to be the place.

  The ghost town, a summertime tourist attraction, wasn’t much to look at. Six buildings, two tall, three squat, and one crumbling, leaned against each other like drunken soldiers trying to stand at attention.

  The sun had set about half an hour before and dusk slowly turned into night. Wind whipped through the parched street and dust swirled, dancing to the brewing storm’s ominous tune.

  Yellow light flickered in an upstairs window of the structure second from the left in the misshapen row of derelict buildings. Gabe resisted shuddering. He stayed in the Jeep, procrastinating the inevitable as he watched the shadowy movements in the distant window.

  A blustery gale roared suddenly, viciously, startling Gabe out of his thoughts. Thunder rumbled. Seconds later, lightning cracked open the dark, rolling clouds.

  Goddamn it. He didn’t want to come to her like this. When she’d walked out, he’d been gut-punched. He’d been shocked and angry. He felt rejected as hell. Three months he’d been without Hope, and it had sucked. Now, here he was, not woo her back, but to ask for her help. He hadn’t involved his brothers in this situation, because they were off doing married couple shit. He knew they’d drop everything if he asked, and that’s why he didn’t ask. They deserved to have personal lives.

  Gabe gripped the steering wheel, shored up his courage, and drove the Jeep to the Silver Creek Saloon & Hotel and parked next to Hope’s white Honda.

  Reluctance clawed at him. He had the same heavy feeling he’d experienced when he hadn’t gotten the weekly check-in from Donna. Four months ago, Pearson Security had rescued Donna and her young son from a domestic violence situation and re-located them to the California side of Tahoe. One month before Hope left him.

  Damn it.

  He got out of the Jeep and took the three rickety steps to the plank wood street in front of the saloon-hotel. Just as his boots thudded onto the timber, the skies opened and rain poured down.