Fangs of Anarchy - Forbidden Alpha (Part 2) Girl Most Lycan: A Werewolf Vampire Shifter Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Dakota Cassidy
hand in his involvement in creating a livable environment in Rock
Cove—luck and his father’s connections with some of the leading clan sires.
He’d been thrust into this role, this agreement to find a
balance between races, and he’d invited business acquaintances, other
professionals who were weekend riding enthusiasts like him to join the Fangs.
Most of the members, while once powerful individuals, were also levelheaded,
cautious, and paid great attention to detail.
They’d chosen the word “anarchy” as a joke—a way to mock the
fact that they had been, in their former lives, quite the opposite. But now
that he’d had a hand in the grassroots stages of this race agreement, he didn’t
always agree with the bullshit rules that came with the role.
Especially after the other night with Claire. Who he hadn’t
been able to stop thinking about since his fingers had touched her silky-hot
skin and he’d buried his cock in her tight body.
But the synthetic
blood, Irish. You need to keep that supply coming until you can find out who
makes it and how it can be replicated. Do you want to risk it all for a woman
you can’t even be with by taunting Courtland?
“Irish?”
Liam’s voice tore him from his thoughts. He looked up to
meet his brother’s eyes—eyes full of concern. “Yep?”
“First, don’t do that shit again, brother.”
Irish grabbed one of the folding chairs and straddled it. “Do
what?”
“Sacrifice yourself for a werewolf, dipshit.”
Irish narrowed his eyes at Liam, who dropped into his own
chair. “I didn’t sacrifice myself for a werewolf. I was just keeping the peace.”
“By telling Courtland you killed his brother? Very peaceful.”
He hoped to keep his explanation simple so Liam wouldn’t
catch on. “They were going to skin her alive, Liam—before she even had the
chance to say a word. You know what those dicks are like. They don’t have three
brain cells between them, so you don’t really think they were going to actually
ask her questions, do you? The more Twink egged
Courtland on at Ahab’s, the more riled he got. He was drunk. So I did what I
had to in order to keep someone who might be innocent from ending up dead. One
thing we don’t need here in town is mass hysteria. You’d have done the same.”
Liam pursed his lips, his clean-shaven jaw rigid. “Except
she’s not innocent, and it’s none of our business. It’s pack business, not clan
business. That’s what we agreed to when we all got stuck here with each other.”
Liam’s resentment over leaving his thriving practice and his
life in Manhattan never faded. If anything, it burned brighter. He’d agreed to
help with Hadley rather than join his parents in the Opposition so they’d
always have backup for her, but he didn’t always like that he wasn’t raging
against the machine on the front lines.
Irish nodded his head. “Yep, we did. But we damn well didn’t
agree to total lawlessness—we agreed to work together. I’m a part of that
‘together’ thing and so are you. I wasn’t going to let them try and convict her
with alcohol as their star witness, Liam. I’d like to think one of their
less-moronic sidekicks would do the same if the clan had an issue like this.”
“But we won’t because we’re not a bunch of drunk,
out-of-control, brainless fucks like the werewolves.”
“They’re not all brainless.” Fuck if he didn’t hate hearing
Claire grouped in with the lot of Dogs.
Liam slammed his fist on the back of the chair, cracking it
in half. “I knew it. I damn well knew
it, Irish!”
Irish kept his face expressionless, his words calm. “Knew
what?”
“Don’t play like you don’t know what I mean. She did it and
you slept with her.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re babbling about over
there, brother.”
“You covered up the fact that she murdered Gannon Dodd and
then you slept with a goddamn werewolf, Irish!” he bellowed, his face twisted
in anger.
Irish
Cove—luck and his father’s connections with some of the leading clan sires.
He’d been thrust into this role, this agreement to find a
balance between races, and he’d invited business acquaintances, other
professionals who were weekend riding enthusiasts like him to join the Fangs.
Most of the members, while once powerful individuals, were also levelheaded,
cautious, and paid great attention to detail.
They’d chosen the word “anarchy” as a joke—a way to mock the
fact that they had been, in their former lives, quite the opposite. But now
that he’d had a hand in the grassroots stages of this race agreement, he didn’t
always agree with the bullshit rules that came with the role.
Especially after the other night with Claire. Who he hadn’t
been able to stop thinking about since his fingers had touched her silky-hot
skin and he’d buried his cock in her tight body.
But the synthetic
blood, Irish. You need to keep that supply coming until you can find out who
makes it and how it can be replicated. Do you want to risk it all for a woman
you can’t even be with by taunting Courtland?
“Irish?”
Liam’s voice tore him from his thoughts. He looked up to
meet his brother’s eyes—eyes full of concern. “Yep?”
“First, don’t do that shit again, brother.”
Irish grabbed one of the folding chairs and straddled it. “Do
what?”
“Sacrifice yourself for a werewolf, dipshit.”
Irish narrowed his eyes at Liam, who dropped into his own
chair. “I didn’t sacrifice myself for a werewolf. I was just keeping the peace.”
“By telling Courtland you killed his brother? Very peaceful.”
He hoped to keep his explanation simple so Liam wouldn’t
catch on. “They were going to skin her alive, Liam—before she even had the
chance to say a word. You know what those dicks are like. They don’t have three
brain cells between them, so you don’t really think they were going to actually
ask her questions, do you? The more Twink egged
Courtland on at Ahab’s, the more riled he got. He was drunk. So I did what I
had to in order to keep someone who might be innocent from ending up dead. One
thing we don’t need here in town is mass hysteria. You’d have done the same.”
Liam pursed his lips, his clean-shaven jaw rigid. “Except
she’s not innocent, and it’s none of our business. It’s pack business, not clan
business. That’s what we agreed to when we all got stuck here with each other.”
Liam’s resentment over leaving his thriving practice and his
life in Manhattan never faded. If anything, it burned brighter. He’d agreed to
help with Hadley rather than join his parents in the Opposition so they’d
always have backup for her, but he didn’t always like that he wasn’t raging
against the machine on the front lines.
Irish nodded his head. “Yep, we did. But we damn well didn’t
agree to total lawlessness—we agreed to work together. I’m a part of that
‘together’ thing and so are you. I wasn’t going to let them try and convict her
with alcohol as their star witness, Liam. I’d like to think one of their
less-moronic sidekicks would do the same if the clan had an issue like this.”
“But we won’t because we’re not a bunch of drunk,
out-of-control, brainless fucks like the werewolves.”
“They’re not all brainless.” Fuck if he didn’t hate hearing
Claire grouped in with the lot of Dogs.
Liam slammed his fist on the back of the chair, cracking it
in half. “I knew it. I damn well knew
it, Irish!”
Irish kept his face expressionless, his words calm. “Knew
what?”
“Don’t play like you don’t know what I mean. She did it and
you slept with her.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re babbling about over
there, brother.”
“You covered up the fact that she murdered Gannon Dodd and
then you slept with a goddamn werewolf, Irish!” he bellowed, his face twisted
in anger.
Irish