Defying Pack Law

Defying Pack Law

By Eve Langlais

Copyright © May 2011, Eve
Langlais

Cover art by Anastasia Rabiyah © May
2011

Published by Amira Press at
Smashwords

www.amirapress.com

ISBN:
978-1-936279-89-0

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Chapter
One

She ran full out. Her heart pumped wildly, and
her breath came in harsh pants as adrenaline coursed through her
body. The rush gave her muscles the extra oomph needed for a speed
boost. She raced like her life depended on it, her paws landing
fleetly on the rocks she’d memorized. It would take only a small
misstep to enter a world of pain because the area was peppered with
dangerous foxholes, not all of them natural. She ghosted through
the woods on paths marked only in the map of her mind, a labyrinth
for the uninitiated. She practiced her escape route with
single-minded intensity because one day, her life might depend on
it.

Hours later, physically exhausted, she returned
to her home, which bordered the protected forest that spanned
thousands of acres in this lost and godforsaken part of the planet,
and shifted back to her human form. She strode, naked and proud, to
her rear porch, secure in the knowledge that the only eyes watching
her belonged to the simpleminded creatures of the forest. A rumble
in the sky preceded the hovering storm and the cleansing rain that
would wash the traces of her mad flight, keeping her secret routes
safe.

She knew with an instinct borne of survival
that the time fast approached when she would be forced to leave
this haven of peace. Staying too long in one place was never a good
idea, no matter the precautions she took. While currently Lycan
free, the town and its location were too tempting to remain taint
free forever. And when that happened, she’d move on, hopefully
before she had to kill again.

It wasn’t the life she’d dreamed of as a little
girl, but at least it was hers.

There were times, when she fought off an
unwanted werewolf suitor or fled yet another temporary home, that
she wondered if she might not have been better off staying and
accepting what fate held in store for her. Marrying the boy she’d
once loved, whom her father had approved of and whom, in her
foolish youth, she’d given herself to. Accepting the fact he’d
share her body with others because pack law deemed he must. If she
could only have believed him when he said it wouldn’t be so
bad.

Liar.

Immaturity didn’t equate stupidity.
She’d known even in her infatuation that he’d made a promise he
couldn’t keep. She’d seen it before in their little society, hidden
amidst the human one. She had too much self-respect to want the
life of a chattel, passed around with her husband’s permission to
other males in the pack all because theirs was a society that bred
males almost six to one. She’d watched the few women she’d known
enter such marriages only to see in some the light of love fade
from their eyes as they were treated little better than a vessel
for birthing babes and sating the lusts of multiple mates.
Like my mother,
her poor,
sad mother. No, she couldn’t imagine a life like that.

Better to run than live as a slave, even if her
dreams of the boy she’d left behind still haunted her, waking even
after all this time sweaty and aching.

She shook her mane of hair in a bid
to chase the melancholic memories and regrets that had no place in
her current life—
the life I
chose
.

Dana dressed in the robe she kept by the back
door and then locked the place up. She set the alarm and checked
her laptop for perimeter breaches even though her own scrutiny
while in wolf form had detected nothing. Everything appeared quiet,
which seemed at odds with her jumpy nerves.

Paranoia at bay for the moment—but never far
from mind—she showered and went to bed.

* * * *

She ran, legs pumping madly,
matching her breath coming in short pants. The crackling noise of
her passage echoed through the sun-dappled branches, but she dared
not slow. The one who chased her left no sound of his passage, but
even though he moved as quietly as a wraith, the birds fell silent
as they sensed the predator come amongst them. Her meandering
flight brought her to a sun-filled clearing. Her chest heaving, she
twirled, seeking him in the shadows. But as always, he snuck up on
her. Arms, growing solid with brawn, wrapped around her and lifted
her from the ground.

“
Caught you,” he whispered in her
ear.

She squealed. “Nathan! Put me
down.”

“
I will for a kiss.”

She pretended to think about it and
squeaked as he squeezed her tight. “All right, all right,” she
laughed. “You win. One kiss.”

He turned her in his arms and looked
down at her with those beautiful blue eyes of his. She could see
mirth dancing in their depths. It went well with the crooked smile
on his face, the one she wanted to kiss senseless.

She pursed her lips and tilted her
head, all the invitation he needed to touch his mouth to hers. Oh,
how she loved the electric current that ran through her when he
held and embraced her like this. It made her whole body thrum and
ache in the most intimate of places.

It was made even hotter by the fact
it was forbidden.

When his hands grew bold, tracing
the contour of her buttocks, she pushed away from him. With a
mischievous grin, she took off running again. And, with his
laughter surrounding her, he gave chase.

Her alarm clock rang shrilly,
jolting her from the dream. At least it had been one of the nicer
ones, from a time when she still innocently thought things could
turn out differently for her.
I used to be
so oblivious.

A hot cup of coffee—extra strong and bitter
enough to make her grimace—further dispelled the foolish
remembrance of her youth. She gulped down a bowl of Cheerios before
she dressed in well-worn jeans, a faded plaid shirt, and steel-toed
boots. Practical attire for her job at the lumber mill, a dirty,
muscle-straining job, but one that helped her stay strong, not to
mention it also paid the bills.

It served another purpose as well because being
the only place of real employment in town, she could easily keep
track of the transients who came to work and ascertain their
species—Lycan or human. When it came to the former, she took no
chances. Run or die.

So far, she’d managed to fly under
the radar of any packs in the environs and live peacefully. She’d
stayed here long enough to even grudgingly come to like the mill
and the people she worked with there. The idea of starting all over
again didn’t please her. Not only did the constant fresh starts get
wearying, she was tired of constantly having to prove her worth.
She’d worked hard to get to her current position of leader in the
headsaw division. Only the best of the best could do it. Unlike the
b
ull-chain operators who simply pulled the
logs into the mills, or the barkers who ran the stripping machines,
she needed skill. Not that she couldn’t do their jobs. She could
take over any position in the place, including that of the deck
workers who rolled the logs onto the platform, or the block setters
who placed the logs into position. But, any idiot with a little
muscle could do those jobs. As leader of the headsaw crew, she was
the one they counted on. She made sure they got as much high-grade
lumber as possible from each log. It required precision and an
ability to
feel
the wood, something she had a knack for.

In the beginning, she’d had to
prove herself to the other workers in the male-dominated field.
Many had scoffed at her when she’d shown up and applied with
confidence. Used to mockery, she’d bet the doubters a round of
drinks she could do it, and won, of course, to their
chagrin.

It didn’t end the pissing contests,
but she’d gotten the job and grudging respect. Employed, she’d
rented a house on the edge of the immense forest reserve and lived
a careful life. One free of pack politics and emotional turmoil. A
lonely existence empty of family and a partner. But better to live
on her terms than as a sex slave to numerous men, which was what
awaited her should she run across a Lycan who got past her
defenses. A fragile freedom that required constant
guarding.

Not trusting just her animal
instinct to protect her, she’d splurged and set up a simple
perimeter alarm. Anything bigger than a cat, and the alarm went
off, sending a signal to her laptop, which was always on and which,
in turn, would alert her via cell phone.
How can I be lonely when paranoia is my constant
companion,
she thought wryly.

She drove to work in her beat-up
truck. Old, noisy, and a pig on gas, it served the purpose of
getting her back and forth to work, and she wouldn’t cry if she had
to leave it behind, a lesson learned in one of her previous
temporary homes where she’d had to ditch her lovingly restored
Mustang.
But I don’t need objects to make
me happy,
she told herself even as she
still regretted the loss.

She parked in the muddy parking lot
and squelched her way into the building. The stench of the mill
this close to the source was almost eye-watering, but she’d had
plenty of time to get used to it. She dumped her lunch in the
humming fridge and mumbled some good-mornings to the crews already
there sipping coffee from their travel mugs. She snagged her time
card and punched in. Grabbing a Styrofoam cup, she poured some of
the sludge that passed as coffee.

“
Why the hell aren’t you lazy
bastards already working?” she demanded.

“
Line’s down,” Big Mike
announced.

Stupid malfunctioning equipment. A
delay like this would mean they’d have to work twice as hard to
make up for lost time. “Again?” She rolled her eyes. “When is
fucking management gonna get its head out of its ass and fix the
damned belt with something other than spit and prayers?”

“
When shit’s worth gold,” another of
her crew answered.

She laughed as she nudged Mike to
move over on the picnic table management had brought indoors for
their use since chairs didn’t seem to last. “Move over, fat ass,”
she ordered.

Big Mike chuckled as he slid over
to make her some room. “Honey, my ass might be fat, but my cock is
even wider.” Mike held his hands apart two feet, and Dana grinned
as she shook her head.

Dana didn’t take offense. Working
with men, she needed to have a laxer attitude, and getting up on
her high horse over companionable ribbing would shut her out
quicker than tattle-telling to the boss. “Damn, Mike. You are just
too much man for little ol’ me.”