All Chapters of The Pack's Triquetra: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Havermouth, Present DayChris Arren stood, blocking her into the u formation of the kitchen. He held an odd-looking gun in his hand.“Hello Aislen.”Aislen threw a bowl at him in a spray of soapy water. It struck him in the center of his forehead, the impact throwing his head back, and he jerked the gun up in response, sending two darts into the ceiling.Aislen threw herself across the floor, slipping in the soapy water that had splashed on the linoleum, and falling hard onto her hip, the impact sending shocks of pain through her body. She slid out, her foot connecting with Chris Arren’s ankles, kicking them out beneath him, so that suddenly they were face to face on the floor.His face pulled into a ferocious snarl, and he gripped her upper arms with cruel fingers and nails that dug into her skin. She slammed her forehead into his face, the impact sending sparks through her vision, but his nose exploded into blood, and he roared, releasing her in order to throw his palms up in defenc

Havermouth, Present TimeThe pack’s headquarters was also the original homestead of the area, built back before there was running water and cars, and when there were hundreds of servants to maintain the property. According to local legend, the Havermouth family and every last servant had disappeared one night, inexplicably, leaving clothing and valuables untouched. The vanishing of Havermouth was discovered over a month later, when one of the Havermouth’s daughters’ suitors, mystified how his letters to his beloved were going unanswered, rode to the property from Rideten, then a journey of several days, in order to investigate.He described the sight in a letter to the Havermouth’s next of kin, as a scene from a horror book – horses, sheep and cattle grazing amongst the roses and kitchen gardens, chickens wandering the main hall, and the house and outbuildings untouched. Not a single human being to be seen, no corpses, no sign of packing or preparation. Just empty.The Havermouth’s ne

Havermouth, Eight Years BeforeHeath watched as Rhett and Cameron laughed, trading the bottle between them. The music thrummed through him, the pulse throbbing in an echo to his c-ck. He was oblivious to the party around them, to the scantily clad human girls in their miniskirts and mid-drift tops, to the laughter and shrieks.What would he do, Heath wondered, if Cameron turned his face just slightly towards Rhett, if Rhett leaned forward just a little…? If Rhett’s hand slid down from Cameron’s shoulder, over his chest and stomach, would Cameron lean back…?“F-k,” he muttered and adjusted his jeans. He was sitting in the middle of a house filled with humans and pack members, fantasizing about his best friend and the new boy getting it on. As he cast around desperately for a distraction, he saw Lauren Bascall enter the party with her best friend Alice Kelly.What would the senior alphas do? He asked himself. They would take what they needed and do what they wanted.He shoved up from th

Havermouth, Present TimeTalen drove just out of town, deep into the forest that followed the contours of the hills, turning off the main roads onto dirt roads, and then from those to little winding tracks that were little more than two furrows carved into the undergrowth.He stopped at a gate and let the Ute idling whilst he went to open it. Aislen could see at the top of a hill a modern house that overlooked the forest. The front windows were mirror glazed, reflecting back the sky.“Where are we?” She asked Talen as he returned to the car. He left the gate open behind them, following the winding driveway, but turning away from where it rose up to the house.“Vampire safe house,” he told her. “New house up there, but there’s also the old farmhouse down here, along with a couple of smaller cottages.”They bounced along the track, and she imagined Chris Arrens being tossed around in the tray with malicious enjoyment. “What the f-k is an oubliette, daddy?”“It is called the Forgotten Ro

Havermouth, Present TimeBy the time Heath and August walked back to the house, there were more cars parked in a neat line up of luxury and excess. The Merc belonged to Lilith Boyston, the BMW to Harry Ridgeway, and the Porsche was Phillip Salem’s.“Shit,” Heath muttered sliding a look at August who did not look surprised. “This is going to be fun.”August chuckled under his breath as they stepped onto the porch.Due to the number of werewolves present, the meeting had moved from the office to the dining room and as Heath and August made their way down the wide, luxurious hallway with its antique furniture, brightly threaded rugs, and grim-faced paintings, Heath could hear the angry voices silenced abruptly.“We will not overtalk each other,” Abigail announced calmly, her voice carrying. “We will discuss this like the civilized adults that we are. Yes, I am aware that there are a great number of incidents of concern at this time, but we will address them one at a time.”“I am sure tha