The Werewolf’s Bride: The Pack Rules #1 by Michele Bardsley Read Free Book Online

ten!”
    “No, Sally. You’re number eleven!”
    The girls began to squabble, and Neela stomped over to handle the conflict. Colt took the opportunity to sidle up to me. He bumped me with an elbow.
    “You ready?” he asked.
    “No,” I answered honestly.
    He chuckled. “You’ll be all right, Belle.”
    “Really? Is Grey’s bark worse than his bite?”
    “Nope. His bark is pretty bad-ass, but his bite is worse.” He grinned at me. “I have a feeling you’ll like it, though.”
    No doubt he was referring to our first mating, and that subject was not something I wanted to discuss with anyone. “Don’t you need to be lined up with the other grooms?”
    He shook his head. His long blonde hair had been braided into a thick rope that draped over the sword strapped to his back. “I’m an alpha. If I choose a bride tonight, that’s the same as saying I’m going beta. No can do. As soon as you and Grey make a baby, I’ll move on to find my own pack to lead.”
    “So the pack has two alphas?”
    “Not technically. I’m Grey’s half-brother. Grey’s mom died in childbirth and the alpha re-mated a year later to my mother. Then I was born. I’m younger by two years. Right now, I’m Grey’s heir.”
    “Until he has a son.”
    “Or a daughter. A pack alpha doesn’t have to be a man, you know.”
    Surprised, I turned to him. “It doesn’t?”
    “Don’t get me wrong. Werewolf packs tend to be patriarchal because so few females are born full shifters. But everyone can earn the right to be the alpha—doesn’t matter what’s between your legs.”
    “Oh.” I felt heat rush up my neck and flood my cheeks.
    “Whoops. Sorry, Belle. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to speak to a proper lady.”
    “It’s all right, Colt,” I said. “Bleed City’s daughters tend to grow up sheltered.”
    He slung his arm around me and squeezed—the same affectionate way a brother would try comfort his little sister. “I think it’s adorable.”
    “Colt!”
    Neela’s strident tone had us both looking toward the annoyed werewolf. She stood ram-rod straight, her arms crossed. The pinched expression on her face made her look like she’d sucked on a lemon. The girls in the queue looked from Neela to the two of us, their gazes wide and curious.
    “Are you going to tell me that Neela’s not so bad?” I whispered.
    “Hell, no,” Colt whispered back. “She’s a complete bitch.” He gave me one last squeeze and moved away, joining Neela at the head of the bridal line.
    She offered a heated, pointed gaze at Colt, which he completely ignored. He grinned widely—dare I say wolfishly—at the ladies. “This way, my beauties,” he said. “Let’s get your marry on!”
    Excited twitters and giggles emitted from the nervous girls and then they were moving, following Colt and Neela into the hallway.
    I trailed behind the last girl—Mary Stiller. She was probably the most naïve, the most sheltered daughter in Bleed City. She’d only turned eighteen a couple of weeks ago. Her parents had homeschooled her. She’d never had a job, and had never gone to any town socials. The only place I’d ever seen her was in church and at the diner’s Sunday brunch, but always in the company of her parents. I noticed the slight tremor of her shoulders as she walked forward jerkily, almost like she was being yanked forward by an invisible rope. She didn’t exude the enthusiasm of the other women.
    I eased up behind her. “Mary.” I reached out and gave her arm a brief squeeze. “You’ll be all right. We all will.”
    She didn’t respond, maybe she couldn’t with all the tension she was keeping boxed in, but she gave me a slight nod.
    We walked up a short set of stairs that led directly into the orchestra . This semi-circle of stone—and the risers of carved seating called cavea behind it—were the most reminiscent of an ancient Roman theatre. I’d had something of a fascination for the Romans in high school and once wrote a