Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy by Evanne Lorraine Read Free Book Online

enforcers do.”
    “Is that what you are?” The odor of her fear grew, making
Chet blink back tears from the sharp sting. He reminded himself she was scared,
and she hadn’t grown up in a pack. Most likely her only exposure to werewolves
had been bad books, worse movies, and abusive rogues. She had no idea what
being wolf meant.
    Where to start? With
the good stuff, dolt . He gave himself a mental shake.
    “Werewolves live longer. We’re much faster, stronger, and
healthier. Werewolves have keener senses, especially smell.” He finished
undoing the last snarl and took his time putting away the comb to order his
thoughts.
    “How much longer do you live?”
    “Depends on the type of wolf.”
    Ivy met his eyes in the mirror. “What kind of wolf are you?”
    “Alpha.” He admitted, already uncomfortable with where this
was leading.
    “As in Alpha male?”
    “Yeah, but there are Alpha females too. The designation has
more to do with personal power than physical size.”
    “The pack leader is an Alpha, right?” She cocked her head.
    “Always.”
    “But that’s not you?”
    “No.” He hurried on to more general topics. “Our political
structure is different—more like a feudal system than a democracy. Packs are
run by an Alpha. In turn those pack leaders answer to a sardar.”
    A gentle chiming interrupted his monologue. Fuck, I shouldn’t have ignored Daniel’s
call. He’s going to try to take Ivy away from me. I can’t allow that.
    The doorbell pealed again. It was too late to beg Ivy to
refuse to leave, which was the only thing he could think of that would make his
Alpha back down. He was royally fucked.
    Ivy tucked the terrycloth more securely over her slender curves
and lifted her gaze to him. “Are you expecting company?”
    “I should have been,” he muttered. “That’s the pack leader,
Daniel. His mate—wife—Scarlet will be with him.”
    “Time to meet the boss already?” Her lips quirked on one
side in a shaky, almost smile.
    He snatched a robe from the back of the bathroom door and
offered it to Ivy. “’Fraid so.”
    She accepted the robe, rising gracefully, and donned the
garment. Once she’d overlapped the front, she loosened the bath sheet, let it
drop, and tied the robe in a floppy bow. The sleeves hung over her hands, and
the hem dusted the floor. The material would have covered three of her with
room to spare.
    Pleased she was completely covered, he folded back the
sleeves to free her hands. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything your size.”
    She patted his arm.
    When was the last time anyone worried about hurting his
feelings?
    “This is great—a classic fashion statement.” Her brave
teasing surprised a chuckle out of him.
    “You should do that more.”
    “What?”
    “Laugh. It does good things for you.”
    She did good things for him. But he didn’t correct her.
    A third warning chimed. As with most shifters, modesty
wasn’t an issue. He dropped his towel, tossed the used underwear and shirt in
the wash bin, and then yanked on jeans. “Daniel and Scarlet will offer you
sanctuary. I want you to stay here, but you have choices.”
    Ivy’s jaw opened in unflattering surprise.
    He pulled on a clean shirt during the trip to the door,
still stinging from her shock. He was one of her monsters. What the hell had he
expected?
     
    IVY GAPED LIKE a guppy tossed on the carpet. Unless she’d
totally misunderstood, Chet had just offered to let her go. She should be
relieved. So why did she feel so needy—so utterly lost?
    She shoved aside the overload of information and emotion to
deal with it later and trailed behind Chet. There was no denying the male made
one fine distraction.
    Ogling a captor’s ass had to be a sin or at the very least a
huge mistake. Or was he really a jailor? She’d never eyed the monsters with
anything but dread. Chet’s butt was definitely worth a stare or three and not
anywhere near as intimidating as the front view. The brief image of his