Prologue

My skin is sticky with sweat and the smell of sex permeates the room.  I slide off the bed and start searching the floor for my clothes while the man behind me, a warrior from our pack, stands and begins walking towards the bathroom.  “You can let yourself out.”  He utters without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

The bathroom door slams shut, and I hear the spray from the shower turn on.  I’m a little irked that he didn’t even bother to thank me for helping him relieve his stress, but not all of them do.  I know what I’m getting myself into when I come home with a guy like this.

He’s a bit of a slob too, so it takes me a minute to find my clothes.  My dress is in the corner, and it has a small tear in it, but at least it’s still wearable.  I quickly pull the dress over my head and glance at myself in a mirror as I comb my fingers through my long chestnut brown hair.  Swiping my fingers under my golden-brown eyes to remove some of the black smudges from my eye makeup.

It’s always important to get out of the room before they finish showering, otherwise they think you’re getting clingy.  I pride myself on my reputation.  I know that probably sounds strange coming from someone who is known as the pack slut, but I’ve worked for a few years to establish myself as the woman who can help you deal with your stress and pain without adding to it.

Becoming the pack slut was never a goal of mine, and honestly, I hate the title, but it won’t deter me from what I do.  My position in the pack does not mean that I’ll sleep with just anyone for any reason.  I think of it like a service.  I offer physical comfort to those in need, and although I don’t receive money for what I do, I like to think that I add value to the pack by helping our warriors to get out of their own head so they can do what they need to do.

As I slip out of the bedroom, I quietly make my way down the hallway of the pack house towards the front door.  It’s 2 AM and pretty much everyone is sleeping off the alcohol they drank tonight.  I don’t drink anymore because I need to have a clear head when I decide who might need me on any given night.  I’m not going to just give it up to any guy looking for an easy lay, I want to make sure I find someone who is truly in need.

Stepping outside I can feel that the heat of the day has been replaced by a slight chill in the air. It’s late June, but when you live in the semi-arid mountains the altitude helps the temperature to drop at night.  A human would probably be freezing, but as a werewolf, our body temperatures run hot, so it’s not so bad.  I love breathing in the cool evening air as I walk home barefoot, my stiletto heels in hand.

I still live with my dad, but he’s always asleep when I get home.  I’m sure he’s heard about my reputation, everyone in the pack has, but we never talk about it.  We actually never talk at all, about anything.

If I had been in wolf form, my ears would have perked up as I heard footsteps approaching.  I quickly glance around and see two very drunk warriors following me.  They’re still several yards behind me, but they are obviously plastered.  They can’t even walk straight, and their footsteps are extra heavy from the liquor in their systems.  These two are newer to the ranks, and a few years younger than me.

Most of the warriors live in or around the pack house, so there’s no reason for them to be following me towards the neighborhood that was set up for families.  It’s not hard to figure out that they think they can get something from me.

Every summer, there are a few new recruits who just graduated from training camp that have heard of my reputation and think they can use me for a good time whenever it’s convenient for them.  Well, I went through training camp too.  Most don’t realize it because I dropped out and never graduated to become a full-fledged warrior, but I was the top recruit in my class.

I don’t particularly enjoy putting the new recruits in their place, so I try to give them a chance to back down first.  I turn to face them while still walking backwards towards my home.  “What are you boys doing all the way out here?  You look like you need to sleep off a few drinks.”

“Awe, c’mon baby!” one of them coos at me, “We thought you could help us relax and unwind a bit before bed.”  He tries to sweet talk me, but it isn’t working.

“Sorry boys, but I’m headed home, and you should be too.  Go sleep it off and I’ll see you around tomorrow.”  If they cooperate, I can always have a chat with them later to set them straight on how I operate.

“First of all, we’re not boys, we’re MEN.”  The other starts to raise his voice and I can tell this is going to escalate.  “And we don’t want to sleep it off, we want YOU to satisfy us.”

He picks up the pace a little as he stomps over to me, but I can tell it’s a struggle for him to stay upright, and his breath wreaks of bourbon.  I casually drop my black stilettos to the ground as I prepare myself to handle these two.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but it’s not happening tonight guys.  It’s time for you to go home and go to bed.”  I offer a final warning to back down.

The first guy is average sized, and he has dark brown hair that hangs just past his eyes and over the tops of his ears.  His light blue eyes shine in the low light of the moon, and I can see from his expression that he’s second guessing their decision to pursue me tonight.

The second guy is much larger, and his wavy blond hair is long enough to hit his shoulders, but it’s pulled back with a hair tie at the base of his neck.  His hazel eyes are glowing with a green ring around the outside edge.  There’s an anger visible there that confirms I’m going to have to get physical with him, but not in my usual way.

I dig my heels into the dirt and plant my legs firmly as I prepare for his assault.

“You are the pack slut,” he spit the words out with disgust “and that means that you can NOT refuse me.  If I want you right here, right now, I WILL have you.”  The rage in his eyes sent a chill down my spine, and if I would have considered helping him out at some time in the future, he just ruined that now.

All the men who take advantage of my services know that I choose who and when.  They do not control me.  This young pup thinks that just because he’s officially a warrior, and no longer in training, that he can manhandle me and order me around.  He’s about to learn the hard way that Gina Akir is not a toy to be played with.  I am a strong independent woman who chooses who she shares a bed with and who she doesn’t, and he just got blacklisted.

The blond warrior reaches out to grab me, but I’m much faster than him.  In just a couple swift movements I slip to the side avoiding his grip, force the heel of my palm up into his nose and smile at the satisfying crush of the broken bone.  Then I grab his arm and swing it around pinning it behind his back.

He shouts out in pain and drops to his knees as I grab his other shoulder with my free hand to secure my hold.  There’s a snapping sound and I know I broke his wrist.

The other man stands there, eyes wide, in stunned silence watching his friend cry out for mercy as blood pours from his nose.

“I know you guys are new to the team, but no one tells me who or what to do.  I suggest you learn some respect if you ever hope to have me warm your bed when you’re in need.”  I smirk as I release the larger man’s arm pushing him down into the dirt.

I glide past them, stopping only to pick up my black stilettos, and then I continue down the path to my home.  I hear the smaller guy trying to help his friend as the larger warrior pushes him away mumbling curses under his breath.  I don’t feel bad for him, and with his shifter healing, his nose and his wrist will be back to normal in a day or two.

Our house is at the end of a quiet street, and I’m relieved when I see the blue house with chipped paint and faded yellow shutters come into view.  The far side and back of our yard meets the edge of the forest.  It’s perfect for when you just need a quick run by yourself.  I’ve run through this forest to work out my own frustrations more times than I can count.

The first time I can remember was when I was only 8 years old, and I hadn’t had my first shift yet.  Our pack was attacked by rogues, and my mom was one of the casualties of that attack.  The rogues were dealt with, and we mourned the losses as a pack, but when I returned home with my dad he was changed.

Struggling and missing my mom, I felt like I couldn’t rely on my dad because he was dealing with his own grief.  At first, he just zoned out, like he was stuck in some sort of zombie state.  I needed support, but I wasn’t getting it from him, so one night I just took off into the forest.

I think at first, I was hoping more rogues would come and take me too.  I didn’t want to go on without my mom.  I was basically alone in the house because my dad was worthless in his mourning.

After hours of running through the forest, I started to feel better.  I was able to burn up all my frustration, and even though I was exhausted, somehow, I felt stronger.

When I finally made my way back home, my dad was drunk out of his mind and fell to the floor gripping my legs saying how worried he was, and how glad he was that I was okay.  I thought things would get better from there, but they didn’t.

Now, as I open the door and walk inside, I’m startled briefly at the sight of my dad on the couch.  It only takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s passed out with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.  There is a half-naked woman passed out on the couch beside him and it looks like they both fell asleep immediately after they finished their copulating for the night.

Gently closing the door, I tiptoe upstairs to my room and crawl into bed.  I need a shower, but I don’t want to risk waking them up with the noise, so the shower will have to wait until the morning.  This dress is trash now anyway.

I lay in bed thinking through the fading memories I have left of my mom and a tear slips down my check and drips onto my pillow.  A few more tears fall before I eventually drift off to sleep.