All Chapters of Outside The Pack (Mated To The Night Book 1): Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Ten years ago…I furtively began my walk home from the schoolhouse. Nine years old and with a chest full of worries, I wished I could enjoy the expanse of forest on either side of me, the smell of pine, and the sound of dead leaves crunching underfoot. Instead, I had my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t encounter any of my classmates on the way home.Maybe if I stick to the trees, they won’t notice me. If I’m quick, I might get home before they see—A pair of quick footsteps sliced across my thoughts. I should have run, but my small legs—my cursedly human legs—refused to move. Instead, I turned my head, though I knew in my bones what was about to happen.The first thing I saw was his auburn hair, swishing around his head like flames. My fingers clenched around the straps of my old, beat-up bag just as his hands touched my shoulder. He shoved me down as hard as he could, and I went sprawling across the path. Dust kicked up around me and was caked into the arm of my oversized shirt.I ski

I stopped in my tracks, my face warming. Oh no. She didn’t hear me, did she?“What’s with that face?” She chuckled. “I ask because you look like you woke up in the middle of something intense.”“O-oh. Yeah. I had one of those dreams again.”“Ah, the man with the haunting eyes?”I nodded. I elected to leave the sexual part out of my description, though I couldn’t help the slight warmth that returned to my cheeks. Thankfully, Mom didn’t seem to notice.She moved with the grace of a dancer as she grabbed the honey jar from the counter. As we lived on the outskirts of the pack in our small house, honey was one of the few indulgences we could afford. The tea, however, was something we had in abundance thanks to our little herb garden in the kitchen window. The small garden included lemon verbena, thyme, rosemary, and basil.As Mom let the honey drip into her mug, she said, “Have you ever tried speaking to the man in your dreams?”I shook my head. “I don’t have much of a voice in them.” If

My cheeks warmed when I thought about how his hands had felt on my skin. If he were real, would he treat me the same even though I was human? Would he open his arms to me? The fantasy of being somewhere safe, of being accepted, put a small smile on my face as I worked.Suddenly, a woman burst in from outside, the same one who had been carrying the fabric napkins. She still smelled of cigarette smoke. Her face had gone pale, and her mouth was a trembling line. I didn’t need the elevated senses of a wolf to see how hard she was shaking or to clock the way her eyes darted from face to face until they finally settled on my mom.“What’s wrong?” Mom asked as the woman approached.“It’s the Alpha,” she whispered.I froze, staring openly at the woman.Mom’s face grew still. She placed her hands on the woman’s shoulders and squeezed until the woman’s wavering gaze focused. “What about him?”“He…he passed away in his sleep last night,” she said. “He’s dead.”He’s dead…he’s dead… The words echoe

Unfortunately, life had done more than enough to convince me that if magic was real, it didn’t want anything to do with me—and honestly, the possibility of magic was beside the point. The benefits that Mom’s green thumb provided for the Kings’ pack were evident. I liked to think that I had some connection to the land, but it wasn’t as strong as my mom’s. I could only hope that I would one day accumulate a fraction of her knowledge.As we stepped over the tilled fields, I switched out my winter gloves for the old, worn gardening ones. They were designed for hands larger than mine, but they fastened at the wrists for easy adjustability.The garden expanded for acres. Corn, squash, and even tomatoes and cucumbers were among the plants that spread across the ground. Though we were well past the last frost of the season, it still got cold at night in the mountains, so the vegetables that required the warmest temperatures grew in a greenhouse of PVC pipes and green-tinted plastic. I had des

“Rough night?” she had asked me that morning when she saw my black hair messy with sleep and the crease from my pillow imprinted on my face, just below my cheekbone. “Did you dream of the girl with the ghostly eyes?”I’d rubbed my face with my hand. It wasn’t uncommon for Mom to let herself into my cabin while I slept. It used to annoy me, but I had given up on telling her to keep away long ago. Besides, her visits didn’t interfere with my duties, so there was no reason for me to fuss about it.“It’s too early for this, Mom,” I’d said with a sigh.She had grinned, and her teeth shone in the morning light. Her hair was pushed back from her face; her small hands wrapped around one of my larger mugs. “I disagree. Now is the best time to talk about your dream while it’s still fresh in your mind.”Reluctantly, I had admitted that yes, I’d dreamed of the girl again, and no, I was no closer to figuring out who the hell she was. As always, it was too dark in the dream for me to make out any d