All Chapters of The Pack's Rebels: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Havermouth, Present TimeMeguitte stared up at the ceiling. The warehouse was very, very empty without Talen and his mates, and Connery. Although she knew that Harry and his mate were very close, their moans as they made love audible through the too-thin walls combining with the creaking of the building as it settled on its foundations, in the room by herself, she felt very lonely in the dark.She rolled onto her side and reached out to touch the table that separated her bed from Connery’s. She would feel better, she thought, if he was on the other side of that barrier… She breathed in, trying to capture the shadow of his scent lingering in the room, the mix of his cologne and the arcane components that he carried with him.No one would know if she went to the other side of the table, she thought as she rolled onto her back. Harry and his mate wouldn’t care, and… Did it matter if anyone knew? She rose carefully, trying not to make a sound anyway, and tiptoed around the protruding tabl

Havermouth, Present TimeThey were woken too early by the delivery of a breakfast tray and plastic wrapped clothing. The early wake up was a deliberate ploy to prove that the pack controlled them, that the pack decided just how long they slept for, what and when they ate, and what they wore, Aislen thought sourly as they began the cycle of showering and dressing for the day. The breakfast only just made up for the early hour, the bacon and pancakes taking off the edge of her annoyance.The plastic wrapped clothing revealed more khaki-green for her men, and a grey version for herself. She stood, wrapped in a towel, her hair wet and cooling against her back, the trousers in her hands, and her mouth dry. She had been wearing this clothing in her dream, she realized.“I was more pregnant then,” she told herself trying to shake her unease.“What’s that?” Cameron sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.“I… Um,” she dragged in a deep breath through her nose and released it. “I hate

Concordia, Six Hundred and Ninety-Five Years BeforeThaelen slept later into the morning that he had intended and woke to a rumpled, empty bed that still reeked of sex. After dispatching the cutthroats, he and Harithen had continued home, creeping through a sleeping household to the bedroom floor. Harithen had followed Thaelen into his room and had seduced him, however there had been something different behind the sex, a tension in the other vampire, something which Thaelen could not quite grasp.Waking alone after that night and that sex made Thaelen uneasy, and that uneasiness increased when, after washing and dressing for the day, he stopped by Harithen’s room to find it empty. He made his way through the luxuriously appointed house with it’s polished floors and thick, exotic rugs, delicate porcelain vases filled with fragrant Estrean flowers, and the sounds of the city drifting through the large street facing windows, to the sitting room which Sigrid favored.A maid holding a silv

Concordia, Six Hundred and Ninety Years BeforeThaelen’s office was the one room which had been decorated according to his taste rather than Sigrid’s interpretation of what a fashionable merchant’s home should look like, and thus it was a simpler space, functional, with the only piece of furniture which existed for more decorative purposes being the High Chair of his ancestors which he set behind a desk, facing towards the door.He heard the arrival of the carriage and was not surprised when Sigrid paused in the doorway within a few minutes, attracted by the flickering lamplights. He took a sip of the whiskey that he was drinking and looked up as she paused by his door. She was wearing a day dress rather than evening wear, the cheerful floral pattern of the fabric Concordian design but cut in the Estrean way – the fabric imported probably by one of his own ships.That she was dressed in day wear well into the night was a sign that one of her temperamental artists was having dramas. “L

Concordia, Six Hundred and Eighty Years BeforeThaelen had established Medelyn in a small house within a short walk of his own, although in a less fashionable and exclusive street. The Estreans liked to have outward markers of their place in society and their wealth, and where the houses on Thaelen’s street were declarations of wealth and power, in Medelyn’s street they were neat and tidy but of a more modest size.He knocked on the front door and the maid that he had employed to help with the house opened it, bobbing a curtsey. She showed him straight into the parlour before heading upstairs to fetch down Medelyn.Medelyn did not keep him waiting long, hurrying into the room, fidgeting with her hair before smoothing her hands down over her skirt in one of those unconscious gestures that women performed when concerned about their appearance.“Tasan,” she greeted him the warmth not disguising her nerves. “Forgive me. I was just putting my youngest to bed. He is going through that age…”