Pack

Chapter Twenty-Five

The werewolves made quick work of slamming me face first into the ground. Hands held me down, while fangs dug into my arms and legs, threatening to bite. I coughed out dirt as a hand wrapped around the back of my neck, pressing me further down into the rough soil. I swallowed down a yelp as their fingers dug deep into my bruises, making them throb.

"Let her up." A council member ordered.

Slowly, the fangs released me. The fingers remained firmly clamped around my neck, as another set of strong hands pulled me to my feet and pinned my arms behind my back.

"She's a bit feisty." One of the council members commented. He squinted, his eyes examining me.

"Defiant." The oldest werewolf of the three agreed. He had long unruly gray hair, a full beard, dark eyes, and a heavy accent. French maybe?

I stared blankly in response. Was I supposed to be polite to them? I felt no need. My mother would be ashamed of my complete disregard for etiquette.

"Avery."

I turned to face the youngest council member. He had short golden blond hair and blue eyes. He reminded me of a younger version of Stephen, but with less cruelty etched into his features. I assumed this was his brother. "Hi." He smiled. "I'm Dorian. This is Francis." He pointed to the older werewolf. "And Jesus."

"Wonderful," I stated in a tone that indicated it was anything but. I fidgeted trying to pull free from the hands that gripped onto me with no success.

The council continued to study me. Francis stared at me with a look of fascination. Jesus looked shock, and Dorian looked amused. Glad he thought my predicament was hilarious, because I really couldn't see the humor in it.

"State you claim, King Stephen," Francis ordered, pulling his gaze off me.

"My intention is to add Avery Grier to my pack, as my mate."

"No way in hell," I spat, tugging against the hands that held me.

The council ignored me, except for Dorian. His eyes stayed focused on me, and I thought I saw his lip twitch. Was he laughing at me, now? I knew my efforts were in vain, but I refused to submit. If the council made me stay with Stephen after he beat the crap out of me, I'd make his life so difficult he'd beg me to leave.

"I plan to perform the mating ritual tomorrow night," Stephen continued.

"I will rip your throat out." At my threat, I smelled Christian's scent as he shifted behind me and placed his hand over my mouth. I bit his palm, but he didn't budge.

"Has she had her first shift?" Dorian asked.

All eyes looked to me. Unable to speak, I shook my head. Stephen's eyes widened, as if he hadn't expected that. A smug smile curled my lips. Maybe there was still a chance I could get out of this.

"You haven't gone through your first change yet?" Francis confirmed.

I nodded.

"In that case, I propose," Stephen started. "That she lives with me until her first shift. I'll teach her about our laws, and what is expected of her as my mate. Once she has shifted, we'll perform the ritual."

I started cursing into Christian's palm, but all he did was press it tighter against my mouth.

"That seems reasonable," Francis agreed, scratching his graying beard.

"Bring her forward," Dorian demanded.

I heard some shuffling as the hand around my neck released me. Christian nudged me forward and gave my wrists a short squeeze. Was he trying to reassure me? Or was it meant as a warning not to attack the council members?