Runt of the Litter (Halfbreed Chronicles Book 1) by Isabelle Hemlock Read Free Book Online Page A

likes to read.
 Does she eat fruit for breakfast?  Does she bite her lip when she
gets nervous?  Does she enjoy (or cringe) at family reunions?  

 
    I want to fuck her, but I also want to know what makes her
tick, what makes Riley, Riley .
 I want to understand what makes me want to get lost in her so easily,
that every wall I built up - always on the defense, always ready to fight for
the scraps of life - is now willing to crumble under her gaze.  It has to
be more than just sexual attraction, right?

 
    “Right up here, hun .  Make a left, then another on the dirt road.”

 
    She’s leading me to her home, and I don’t know what awaits
me there.  I plan on leaving, not even stepping off my bike, afraid that
whatever little control I still have, will be lost by her pleading to join her
in her room.  I’ll give in, and then I’ll sink into her so easily that
it’ll make both our heads spin . . . I grip the handle a little tighter,
fighting the urge to tell her what is swirling around my head.  The last
thing I need is her permission right now, it’d be too
easy to agree with her, without figuring out where we stand first.

 
    I know reasonably it makes sense to talk first, then fuck,
but my cock has never been this hard in my life.  And I swear, when we
lean a little over, turning onto the dirt road, I feel her hand just ever so
gently swipe across the bulge of my pants.  It takes all my reserve not to
let us tumble off the damn bike, and pull her under me, making her feel just
what she was reaching for.  

 
    But just when I think I can’t take it anymore, we reach
our destination, and a huge, older man stands on his front porch, quickly
approaching us, “Riley Connolly, where
the fuck have you been?  Savannah came home two hours ago - “  His intense eyes flash my way, before he looks back at her, “And who the Hell is this?!”

 
    Well there goes my erection.

 
    Obviously this is her father, I can tell by the familiar
smell, and the nose which is straight and almost
angular, like hers.  She’s got his hair, too.  But I’m not calling
him a raven Goddess anytime soon.  Riley pulls herself away from me, and
though I feel like a whine might emit from deep down inside of me from the
absence of her touch, I repress it.  I get the sense that if her father
realizes how I’m feeling, he might actually growl at me.

 
    I’ve never met a male werewolf before (or at least not
that I was aware of).  He’s massive, easily as big as Lou, and maybe even
another inch or two taller.  And though he might be a middle
aged man, his muscles easily strain the t-shirt he’s wearing.
 There’s no play for dominance here, because we both know there’s no
point.  He’d win, hands down.

 
    He glares at me, but I don’t realize why until I feel
Riley’s hand take mine.  His mouth twitches just enough to make me think
he’s holding back his contempt at the sight, though he doesn’t stay quiet for
long, “Who is this Riley?”

 
    “His name is Avery
Gallagher,” she leans into me just a little, “And he’s my mate.”

 
    I feel like both her father, and me, give her this mutual
double take.  If I questioned her motives before, now I know them for
certain.  I would love to puff out my chest in male pride for somehow
having a girl like her, give me such serious contention for her heart, but with
her father’s glare back to me, I try to loose the smirk before he spots it.
 He gazes at me, from top to bottom, and back up again, shakes his head,
and looks back to Riley, “I don’t see it
- nor do I smell it, you aren’t mated.”

 
    I’m willing to agree, but Riley won’t hear of it, she
takes a half step forward, but clings to my hand all the same, “He’s mine, Daddy.”

He seems confused, I am confused, and
then he steps closer too.  With his chin in the air a little, he’s taking
a deep whiff, and I realize it’s to catch my scent - and I guess hers on