The Golden Pack Alphas

Midnight Mistletoe: Chapter One

Prey always made the same mistake—they ran.

Standing motionless at the floor to ceiling windows of his hotel room, Marcus Legrand looked out at the umbrella dotted beach beyond. He savored the weight of anticipation and awareness that had cloaked him ever since he’d learned that Gigi had run—again.

A smile twitched his lips. She would never admit that, nor would she appreciate his use of the pet name he’d assigned to her. Strong willed and stubborn Georgia Walker never ran from anyone or anything—except him.

From the moment he’d first visited her pack, the prickly woman loved to avoid and drive him crazy in equal measure.

As a High Council Maat, an enforcer of the laws and rites agreed upon hundreds of years ago by the original wolf packs, he preferred his life well ordered. He knew all too well the chaos and destruction that came with flaunting pack rules.

He was that chaos. He was that destruction.

Gigi didn’t seem to care. She was out there on the beach. No doubt celebrating her supposed coup in evading him.

It always amused Marcus how easily a person underestimated a were—specifically a werewolf—specifically him. But Gigi should have known better. As the daughter to Darius, the Golden Pack alpha she was more than privy to Council politics and the foolishness in taunting him, and yet she did it anyway.

Her willingness to pick a fight stirred more than just the wolf in him—it woke the man. It had been a long time since any woman, shifter or otherwise aroused any interest in him. Even longer since one did more than make his cock twitch in interest. But from the moment he saw her and inhaled her heady scent, he’d wanted nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder and steal her away.

He’d been overwhelmed with that urge, and even now, after a year to come to terms with what it all meant, he struggled to tamp down on the compulsion to drag her to the nearest surface and fuck her until they both passed out into oblivion.

I have to catch her first.

Marcus gave a mental shrug. For him, the hunt was always the easy part. He reached up and ran his left hand along his opposite arm. Although, covered by the thin layer of his shirt, he traced the fine lines of the tattoos beneath. Every one as firmly etched in his memory as on his skin. Each symbolizing a kill or judgment made. They were reminders of what he was and the role he’d chosen to play.

As a lone wolf, the Council had recruited him years ago—more years than most knew. They’d taken him in, shielded his true origins and in return he’d become their hammer. The one they called upon to meet out justice. He’d never regretted his choice.

He understood the necessity of having a feared weapon on your side when approaching the bargaining table. Fear often created the best compromise. When the Council called upon his services it signaled the end of negotiations.

He’d become accustomed to people watching him with unease and deference. Even the few women he engaged with, were more interested in the thrill of sleeping with an enforcer, than anything else. Yet Georgia’s eyes contained a different look entirely.

Her deep brown eyes challenged and aroused with each look, each raise of the brow and each drop of eyelash.

Thinking back on the cool reception she’d given him when he’d first arrived in Golden Valley a year ago, the sadistic part of him smiled at his choice of conquest. Unlike other women, Gigi was not in awe of him. She didn’t hold her tongue or pretend meekness. Her countenance screamed alpha, and had his wolf—and another part of his anatomy, standing up to take notice from the start.