 by Evangeline Anderson.jpg)
Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Cole: Ever since she came to live with my family, Delilah has been a little ray of sunshine in my life. There are no blood ties between us, but she’s still my little sister and I adore her. That is I did, until my parents died in an accident, which suddenly made me Packmaster of our Pack.
I tried to comfort Delilah, but I found myself wanting her in a way that wasn’t right. I put some distance between us but then Delilah started getting into all kinds of trouble. I’ve been bailing her out but her latest scheme is too much—I just got word that she’s started stripping at a sleazy club called The Doll House in downtown Tampa. Now my hand is itching to redden her lush behind and you’d better believe she’s going to find out what happens when she decides to bare her body for strangers!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
COLE
“Sir, excuse me. I need to speak with you.”
“Not now, Kurt.” I waved a hand at my second in command without looking up from my laptop.
“But, Sir—”
“I’m too fucking busy—the Council wants this report by tomorrow,” I growled, glaring at the screen.
“Cole, I really think you need to hear this.”
His use of my first name made me look up at last. Kurt’s very good about keeping things professional. I’m his Packmaster and he treats me with respect—the first name never comes out until things get serious.
“What is it?” I asked.
Kurt took a deep breath.
“It’s about Delilah. She’s…” He stopped talking, seeming to be at a loss for words.
“What about Delilah?” I asked warily.
My little sister is a pain in my ass and I wondered what the hell she’d gotten up to this time. Lately it seemed like she was always in trouble.
Last month she’d gotten a speeding ticket I had to take care of. The month before that, she got into a MLM and I had to extract her before she sank every cent in her savings account into worthless yoga clothes she was supposed to resell to women even more gullible than she was. The month before that, she was arrested for protesting against animal cruelty, even though she’s deathly afraid of dogs. She and some friends from PETA staged a sit-in at a local medical testing facility and when she got arrested, guess who had to bail her out?
That’s right—me. The big brother. The one who’s always there to fish her out when she swims out too deep.
The thing is, I’m not even really her brother—not by blood anyway. Though in a very real and important way, I’m as much her sibling as if we’d been born to the same parents.
If that sounds contradictory, well—it is. Let me explain.
Delilah—or just “Lilah” which is what I call her when she’s not being a pain in my ass—came into our family when she was eleven and I was seventeen. Her parents were part of our pack. They had both been killed in a burglary attempt gone wrong and she had nowhere to go. My Dad was the Packmaster—a title I have since inherited from him—and he felt a deep sense of responsibility to our Pack members. Also, my mom had always wanted a little girl, so we took her in.
I was a teenager at the time, which meant I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself. I was out of the house more than I was in it, so I told myself I didn’t care about my new little sister. But there’s something about Delilah—she just sucks you in.
She has this curly, strawberry blonde hair that’s always all over the place and this cute little nose with freckles right across the bridge of it. Also, she has these big, mismatched eyes—one blue and one gold—which means she’s got Royal blood somewhere in her family tree. Probably one of her grandparents or great grandparents slept with one of the First Wolves and that one golden eye is the result.
Anyway, I remember one of the first nights we had her in the house. Her room was right beside mine and I was trying to get to sleep when I heard her crying. Not bawling, you understand—it was just this quiet sobbing that tore at my heart. Even though I was a selfish little fuckwit back then, my new little sister’s misery affected me.
I waited for a while to see if my mom would come and comfort her—then remembered that my parents were both out at a Pack meeting that night. So it was up to me.
I’ve never been much good with kids, but I couldn’t just lay there. I think I had some vague idea that maybe I’d offer her a glass of water and she’d drink it and go back to sleep or something—I don’t know.
I went into her room and saw she was curled on her side in a ball with just her long, curly hair sticking out from under the covers. She was the picture of misery, huddled up like that with those low, choked sobs shaking her little body. I felt my heart go out to her, even though I wanted to be annoyed that she was keeping me from getting to sleep.
“Hey, uh, Delilah?” I said uncertainly.
I felt awkward around her, even though she’d already been adopted into our family. In fact, the adoption ceremony had happened just that morning. It’s a Pack ritual, involving blood and fire and it’s very serious.
Some Packs use a brand to mark the new member of the family, but my mother had objected that branding would be too traumatic—especially for a little girl who had just lost everyone she loved. So we all pricked a finger instead and let a drop of blood fall into a candle flame while my father repeated the ancient words.