Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
When she tried to run from me, I bent Nicky over and spanked her bare a$$ red, then carried her off to breed her the way an alpha shifter breeds his mate.
But it’s going to take more than just my belt and my knot to tame my feisty little she-wolf.
It’s going to take my pups in her belly.
Publisher’s Note: His Runaway Mate is a standalone romance that includes spankings, rough, intense sexual scenes, and strong D/s themes. If such material offends you, please don’t read this book
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Rex
I haven’t been at work in weeks, and my suit feels too tight. I have stuffed myself into it and now I am bulging at the seams because my muscles have gotten too accustomed to being in my wolf form in the wild.
“We could have it tailored, sir.” Fescue frowns at me with an expression of deep concern. “I believe there are still emergency tailors.”
Fescue comes from the south of England. He is a tall man, with a very smooth face and an even smoother demeanor. He is younger than me by a good decade, and yet somehow manages to throw his weight around. When I became alpha of the Regent pack, he was my servant. Over time, he has become my effective second in command.
That does not stop him from having all manner of opinions when it comes to fashion.
I tolerate it because he keeps me civilized, and doing that is a practically impossible task. Before Fescue got here I was far more animal than man, and the pack was suffering for it.
He’s one of several checks and balances I have instituted over the years in an effort to improve things. When my father died, we were nothing. Less than a dozen mangy wolves working the docks and hoping not to be noticed on a full moon.
It is different now.
I am standing on the thirty-third floor of the Regent building, and every floor of this place is occupied with pack business. We run one of the largest shipping channels on the globe, moving almost everything almost everywhere. We are strategically placed to have alliances at every level of industry and government. I find myself moving in circles I could never have dreamed of when I was whelped on a cold warehouse floor thirty-eight years ago.
So I let Fescue be pedantic, and I ask him a question I very much already know the answer to.
“It’s not that bad, is it?”
“You look as though you are about to rip it off and attend a WWE match as one of the wrestlers, sir,” he says.
He doesn’t mean it as a compliment.
He might be right, though. My hair has grown too, it’s thick and down to my shoulders and I know he wants it to be back in the corporate cut that helps me blend in better with the rest of the world, but I think I like it this way. Less fuss.
I turn back and forth in front of the mirror, already knowing he is right, but also loathing the idea of putting work off for an emergency tailor’s appointment.
“Don’t I have anything less fitting?”
“By all means, sir, you could wear sweatpants, or…” His lip curls derisively. “Jeans. Or, if you prefer, you could run about naked as the day you were born. Why not. If nothing matters, then nothing matters.”
The way Fescue pronounces the word jeans somehow puts a ‘u’ in there between the J and the E in a way that does not feel good.
“Very well,” I sigh. “Call the tailor. I will tend to business via phone until I am decent enough to leave the house.”
“I could also call a barber? Sir?” He puts two questions in one sentence in the hopes I will not notice he is telling me what to do. Unfortunately for him, my radar for dominance challenges is pretty well calibrated.
“No, thank you, Fescue,” I say. “I think you’ve pushed matters enough for one morning.”
“Very good, sir,” he says, his tone suggesting it is only halfway good, and he’s going to be suffering until he sees my hair cut. I let him suffer. A little of that is good for him.
“If you keep mentioning the barber, I’ll tie my hair up in a man bun, Fescue,” I threaten.
He gives me a horrified look and departs.
I chuckle to myself. I do miss the wilds. The open spaces. The way I, and everyone with me, can be as free and as feral as we care to be.
It’s important to spend time in the city too. We have to maintain our position. You cannot ever truly rest when you are in business. Someone else is always trying to move in on your territory.
And that is why I’m back early.
I had planned to take six months off to run wild. Half a year, spring through summer. The pack keeps nudging me to take a mate and breed her and I was hoping I’d find a suitable female out in the reserves we purchased and put aside for our use, and the use of other friendly packs.
There are a hundred thousand acres of forest, mountain, and stream for us to explore. I’ve opened it up to other packs, and it has become a fundamental part of the breeding ecosystem for our kind. Inbreeding because packs are too small is a real issue, and having a place where wolf shifters can be who they are without fear of a bullet or worse, a scientific investigation, is crucial to our survival.