The Pack's Triquetra is Book 2 of the Series, which begins with The Pack's Secret Keeper.
**Trigger warnings for this book: this is a dark romance werewolf story containing gaslighting, dub-con, assault, rape, violence, bondage, in a Reverse Harem scenario, involving bxg and bxb group sex scenes. **
Havermouth, Eight Years Before
Heath’s mother was crying.
The sound was quiet, smothered, and yet somehow it caught the ear, the drag of air into her lungs precisely toned to carry through the interior walls of the house, to echo through the ducts, to bounce off the polished floorboards, to ricochet off of the perfectly painted walls.
A beautiful house, filled with beautiful things… And ugly doings.
Heath lay in his king-sized bed, upon Egyptian cotton sheets, staring up at the vaulted ceiling of his room, with his nails digging into the palms of his hands.
“Charlie,” his mother sobbed in. “Please…” She gasped out the word.
“F-k it,” Heath muttered under his breath.
He couldn’t stop his father’s cruelty towards his mother. He couldn’t call the police to stop his father from beating her – that was a worse crime in the pack than beating one’s mate was, as calling the human police endangered the entire pack. He had appealed to the pack’s hierarchy many times to intercede on his mother’s behalf, but what happened in an alpha’s own home was that alpha’s business, he had been told. If Marion wanted to report her husband and mate to the pack, then the pack would take action, but until she did… Well, they could do nothing.
A tear slid down his cheek and he shoved his way free of the bed covers. He dressed in the darkness, before creeping out into the back hallway to the French doors. He was a couple of years off getting his car licence, but that didn’t stop him riding around on his dirt bike. The police would have to catch him in order to arrest him, after all.
He shoved the helmet onto his head and walked the bike across the paved driveway, past the elegant fountain ad sculptured rose beds, and out the front gate. Once he was on the street, he straddled the bike and started the engine, the roar overloud in the quiet suburban area, even muffled as it was by his helmet.
He revved the bike and raced along the pretty jacaranda lined streets, until he broke free of the town, heading out into the true countryside. The night air whipped by him, fragrant with the harvested crops. He turned off into Edison lands.
They had been Cartwright lands, until Jules Edison had married Catherine Cartwright, uniting the two neighbouring properties that had long been in competition. In fairy tales, it would have been a love match, and Catherine had, perhaps naively, convinced herself that it was so, when she had accepted Jules’ proposal.
Jules, however, had one love, and it wasn’t Catherine - it was the land.
Near the new Cartwright house, a sprawling modern structure that had appeared in many Country Home magazines when it had been built twenty years prior, using local stone and floor to ceiling glazed windows that reflect the beautiful fields that surrounded it, Heath killed the motorbike engine and walked it the rest of the way, the gravel grating loudly under the wheels.
He leaned the bike against the wall beneath Cameron’s bedroom window, before springing up, catching hold of the windowsill and lifting onto it, until he squatted, his toes on the ledge, and eased the large glass pane back so that he could step inside.
Cameron’s room smelled like him, the slightly salty, testosterone laden scent of teenage male mixed with cattle and hay, overlaid with the latest Ralph Lauren body spray… Heath breathed in deeply, fighting a groan. It wasn’t right, he told himself. He could breathe in the scent of teenage girls, vanilla and strawberry all day long, without losing control, but the moment he smelled Cameron…
Ah, f-k, he was hard again.
He tiptoed across the room to where Cameron was a monochrome lump beneath the covers. Heath heeled off his shoes and his top before sliding under the sheet. In his mind, they would both be naked, their skin meeting in the dark, but in reality, Cameron wore satin boxers and a t-shirt.
Cameron grunted as Heath laid against his back and reached back to grip and squeeze Heath’s thigh. “Parent’s arguing again?”
“Yeah,” Heath breathed out against Cameron’s shoulder. “Is it alright if I stay?”
“Sure, man,” Cameron was already settling back to sleep. “M’house you’house.”
“Cam,” Heath whispered into the warm silence of the bed.
“Yeah?” Cameron’s mutter was muffled and delayed by sleep.
“You’re my best friend.”
Heath closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to stroke his hand down Cameron’s chest, over the tightly packed stomach muscles, to Cameron’s c-ck, to close his fist around it, and for Cameron to arch back into him, groaning in pleasure…
He pressed his face into Cameron’s shoulder and suppressed the ache within him ruthlessly. Werewolves were not gay, he told himself. Alphas did not want to f-k other alphas. They found female mates, and f-ked them instead, and when the mating urge rose after they turned eighteen, they f-ked human girls until they found the right she-wolf, because human girls were nothing, didn’t count, didn’t matter…
He breathed in the sleepy-scent of Cameron and felt his c-ck throb. He didn’t want to f-k a human, he confessed to himself. He wanted to roll Cameron onto his stomach, and he wanted to wrap his fingers into the russet curls that grew overlong. He wanted to suck along the column of Cameron’s throat and feel the graze of his stubble against his lips. He wanted to hear Cameron groan in pleasure as Heath gripped his c-ck in his fist.
He wanted to make Cameron beg him not to stop…
He breathed out slowly, fighting the urge to press his hips forward, to thrust his hard, throbbing c-ck against Cameron’s arse. Cameron was asleep. He might not have noticed that Heath was hard, but if Heath started grinding against him, that wouldn’t last.
He pressed his face into the thick curls at the base of Cameron’s head and breathed in, suppressing the urge to moan.
A sin, Heath’s father would say, to desire another alpha in such a way. But ever since they had been children, Heath had known that Cameron was his. At first it had been a possessive jealously that excluded others from their friendship, but in the last couple years, as they had grown closer to their eighteenth and the sexual maturity that werewolves recognised as being old enough to take mates, Heath had known that no female in the pack had the same level of appeal to him as Cameron did.
He was fifteen, three years from it being acceptable to take a mate from within the pack. Cameron was fourteen, almost entirely a year younger.
It was going to kill him, Heath thought bitterly, if Cameron took a mate. He could imagine it. Someone like Lillian Ridgeway, pretty and blonde, one of the most popular girls in the pack and high school. She’d be pregnant within a year, the first in a long line of pure-bred werewolf cubs.
They’d go to his father’s church, hold barbecues, and donate to charities, the picture-perfect werewolf power couple…
And Heath would die in small increments, in aching heart break, his mate married to another…
He gripped Cameron tighter to him, and Cameron turned in his sleep, wrapping around Heath in return, his face pressed in the hollow beneath Heath’s chest, his breath warm and moist against Heath’s skin and their legs tangling.
Heath buried his face into Cameron’s curls and let the musky scent of the other alpha lure him into sleep. He woke in the morning, with the sunlight spilling golden into the room, and Cameron’s cheek on his chest, his hand over Heath’s heart, and his knee resting against Heath’s c-ck.
Heath suppressed his groan and resisted the urge to stroke down the column of Cameron’s spine to his arse. The was a dark sin, he told himself, a dark and dirty lust, something to be buried and hidden, not to be indulged in.
He needed to hide his shame before it exposed him to the pack, and to the wider population of Havermouth.
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, Eight Years BeforeHeath parked his dirt bike in the bike rack. There were several of similar makes and models parked there, owned by other pack alphas too underage to hold a driver’s license in order to legally drive a car. The police turned a blind eye to the dirt bikes, as long as they were licensed to pack members.Heath hung his helmet over the handle, without fear of it being stolen. Anyone who stole from Heath Gale was certifiably insane, and even the foolhardiest of thieves knew it. He would let them get away it, only to hunt them down to where they felt most safe, and he would appear there, beat the crap out of them, set their safe haven on fire, before taking what was his home safe and sound.That was how it worked. You didn’t screw with an alpha. It was an alpha’s job to ensure that it was well known that there would be repercussions. An alpha’s reputation was built, it was earned, it was not given to him by birthright.It had only taken twice for the message to
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, Present TimeTalen had trussed Chris Errans up like a pig ready for the rotisserie, and Aislen enjoyed, very much, watching the man grunting, dragging air in through his broken and swollen nose as he was gagged, and squirming as if seeking relief from his predicament.“Be careful of the broken glass.” Talen scooped her underwear up off the floor, shaking them free of glass shards, and his eyes hardened as he passed them to her, his hand stroking under her skirt. “Did he…?” He growled.“No,” she assured him as she stepped into the panties and pulled them on. “He f-king tried though, the raping bastard. I kicked his balls so hard that I’m pretty sure they’re lodged in his throat, now, and he can taste his own come.”“Good,” Talen’s search had discovered the bruise on her hip, and he shook his head, his glower darkening.“I have a few lumps and bruises,” she admitted. “But I gave pretty good back, I think.”“I agree,” he caressed her hair. “I am sorry,” he leaned forward unti
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 TimeThe house looked sad, Cameron thought as he parked in front of it. It was too much house for just Jules Edison, his father being more focused on the land around it than the architect designed mansion. The curtains were drawn in the rooms that Cameron knew his father did not use, the internal doors shut as if in doing so Jules could shrink the house to something more manageable.Cameron had begged his father to employ a house cleaner and grounds keeper to maintain the property, but it was the Edison way, it seemed, to let their empty houses decay around them, to shut off what they didn’t need or want, and to focus entirely on what they did. It was, after all, what the Edisons had done to the river house. Simply closed the doors and walked away from it, and all the history that it contained. Jules had employed two new field hands instead. Cameron headed to the stables and found Tim mucking out. “Hey.”Tim looked up and grinned. “Hey. How’s your lady?”“She’s o
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, Eight Years Before“That one,” Rhett rested his elbow on his knee, and nodded his chin in the direction of a human girl walking by. On the grassy knoll behind them the cheerleaders shrieked as Rohan sprayed them with his water bottle held at groin level, gyrating towards them as if it were his c-ck. Rhett looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. “Arsehole.”“She’s a bit… round,” Heath wrinkled his nose. He leaned slightly against Rhett as he tracked the girl with his eyes, and Rhett breathed in the scent of the other alpha, feeling it unfurl with him, heating through him until his c-ck leapt to life.F-k, Rhett thought. He wasn’t sure which alpha he found more attractive, Cameron or Heath, and sitting between them was f-king dangerous. He was pretty sure that they were straight, from the way they talked about sex with human girls constantly, and that his mum was right, and the pack was generally intolerant, which sucked, because Rhett had always known that he was open