Edited version of "The Protector."
Excerpt:
"You are my mate," he said to her coldly.
Tracy looked at him intensely. "What does that mean in werewolf?" She asked curiously.
"It means that you are my soulmate.'"
"You don't sound...
The rogue ranch house was a flat, single story structure that resembled a warehouse. With gabled wings on both side and three dormers protruding through the top, its appearance was nothing to admire. Just Inside the front entrance, the sitting rooms off from the foyer was just as peculiar. Modern furnishings were strewn about in the ornate space, their bright, bold colors resembling the receiving area of a two-bit modeling studio or pornographic set.
Tracy and her crew were lead through two metal doors into a large open room. They could hear the blaring music before entering where people were dancing wildly, drinking alcohol and doing drugs. The thick layer of smoke that hung heavily in the stagnant air stung their eyes. Strung along the bare white walls were long wooden benches where others sat stoned or passed out. At the end of the room was another partially closed off area. A large shirtless man lounged comfortably in the middle of a plush, velvety green couch that was placed near the room's center. Two catty looking, skimpily dressed blondes sat on either side of him. It was king Dameon. To Tracy, he was definitely a sexy figure, but he didn't make her heart race like Jonathan did. As far as she was concerned he was just another handsome face, a stranger that had no effect on her senses. Debonair in his manner, he got up and walked towards them. Kissing the hands of his female guests, they remained indifferent to his advances. Tracy and Carla knew that no one could ever compare to their mates.
"I don't know if you remember me." Jackson spoke first.
"You were my bodyguard for a while when I was a child." Dameon responded . "You saved my life on four different occasions. And now you're back, bringing with you the very lovely Protector." He said, his voice turning husky as he looked again, at Tracy.
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^Dameon Wilde^
"Get over yourself!" Tracy said with a grin. "My Jonathan is way more sexier. Do I want to trace your abs with my tongue? No I do not." She said sarcastically before realizing that everyone was staring at her. "Oh crap!" Tracy gasped, her cheeks flush with discomfort. "Did I really say that out loud?!"
"Yup. And it was awkward for all of us." Reilly responded with a grossed out expression. "Now I'm going to have to go home with that mental image every time I see my Alpha."
Before looking at Dameon, Tracy buried her face in her hands and groaned. "If you're going to kill me, please do it quickly before I die from embarrassment."
Dameon burst into laughter. Wiping away tears he said. "You're not at all what I expected."
Returning to his seat he was immediately served an icy mug of cold beer by one of the blonds. The other one offering him a lit blunt. He gestured for them to sit while taking a long drag from the unusually large joint. Slowly releasing a plume of thick smoke from his lungs, it curled up around his head like a fat grey genie before he asked if they wanted anything. No one answered.
