were minimal and healed quickly. We wore no armor when we played here. Heck, half of us were without shirts.
Human men used shirts versus skins mainly for basketball. With our high metabolism and tolerance for temperature fluctuations, it was good for any battle. We were currently on the skins side.
I usually stayed out of the paint gun wars, which were a favorite among the Pack. I told everyone it was because I had an unfair advantage as Alpha and could sense where they were. In reality, I found the whole thing rather foolish. Doc brushed some errant green paint blowback from his eyebrow. He had taken a head shot awhile back. There were really no rules in our paintball wars. Mostly the guys who played seemed to like to shoot each other in various places to try and cause pain. Stress relief at its finest.
“The guys needed some bonding time. And we needed an excuse to get out of the apartment and closer to our meeting spot with Shelly.” Trevor fired off two more shots before ducking back behind our barrier. “Besides, if the two of us go off together without explanation much more, the Pack is going to think there is a major reason why neither of us are mated.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Doc was probably right. There were already whispers. There was a small gay community in the wolf population, but it was frowned upon by the eldest Packs as taking away potential breeding opportunities. If all they wanted was semen, they were welcome to it. Some of the more boisterous males offered to jerk off into a cup for the elders at a Council meeting. The majority politely declined.
Wolves are usually very fertile once mated. Who was I to say the mating pheromones wouldn’t activate between two men or two women? Who was I to say the pheromones wouldn’t activate between a trio?
I looked at Trevor and frowned. Not going there.
I smacked him with my paint gun to get his attention. “We need to get going.”
“I am well aware of the time.” My Beta said as he ran behind the barrier next to us and dodged a few dozen shots.
No need to worry about sexy feelings between Doc and myself. The man was pissing me off. I didn’t want to be late.
“I am just ready to get this thing with Shelly started.”
Doc grinned. “I am too.”
The growl left my chest and bounced around the clearing. I stood and left the field. I didn’t need this. Luckily for my Pack, no one shot at me.
Chapter Eleven
Shelly
I knew these woods like I had a picture of it in front of me. A favorite hunting ground for werewolves, it wasn’t some place I was supposed to be.
A deep growl echoed around me, reminding me of exactly that. I followed the directions to where I was supposed to meet everyone. Just like the text said, I turned down the third trail to the right from the edge of campus. One hundred feet until I hit the burned tree with the sign about avoiding forest fires nailed on the stump.
With the sudden electrical malfunction in the donor’s living space, I had to go out to get food. I was close enough to home that a walk through the woods wasn’t unusual if anyone happened to see me. Adding in a quick text to the Matheo that I was still in search of the gluten free pasta one of our donors needed and I was on my way to the meeting.
The source of that growl broke through the trees. They really were a sight. The ground level bushes parted. They wore no shirts. Trevor had a strange looking rifle strapped to his back. The nylon cord rested between well-defined pecs, brushing just the right amount of chest hair back and forth as he moved. Richard was just as impressive. How could a man emanate that much power wearing only a pair of well-worn jeans? Their knees were dusted with dirt.
What had they been doing? Images of Rick and Trevor rolling around the forest floor were flooding my brain. The miasma gave me all kinds of rational possibilities for their strange decoration, but the woman in me fought for the images of two men rolling on the
Human men used shirts versus skins mainly for basketball. With our high metabolism and tolerance for temperature fluctuations, it was good for any battle. We were currently on the skins side.
I usually stayed out of the paint gun wars, which were a favorite among the Pack. I told everyone it was because I had an unfair advantage as Alpha and could sense where they were. In reality, I found the whole thing rather foolish. Doc brushed some errant green paint blowback from his eyebrow. He had taken a head shot awhile back. There were really no rules in our paintball wars. Mostly the guys who played seemed to like to shoot each other in various places to try and cause pain. Stress relief at its finest.
“The guys needed some bonding time. And we needed an excuse to get out of the apartment and closer to our meeting spot with Shelly.” Trevor fired off two more shots before ducking back behind our barrier. “Besides, if the two of us go off together without explanation much more, the Pack is going to think there is a major reason why neither of us are mated.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Doc was probably right. There were already whispers. There was a small gay community in the wolf population, but it was frowned upon by the eldest Packs as taking away potential breeding opportunities. If all they wanted was semen, they were welcome to it. Some of the more boisterous males offered to jerk off into a cup for the elders at a Council meeting. The majority politely declined.
Wolves are usually very fertile once mated. Who was I to say the mating pheromones wouldn’t activate between two men or two women? Who was I to say the pheromones wouldn’t activate between a trio?
I looked at Trevor and frowned. Not going there.
I smacked him with my paint gun to get his attention. “We need to get going.”
“I am well aware of the time.” My Beta said as he ran behind the barrier next to us and dodged a few dozen shots.
No need to worry about sexy feelings between Doc and myself. The man was pissing me off. I didn’t want to be late.
“I am just ready to get this thing with Shelly started.”
Doc grinned. “I am too.”
The growl left my chest and bounced around the clearing. I stood and left the field. I didn’t need this. Luckily for my Pack, no one shot at me.
Chapter Eleven
Shelly
I knew these woods like I had a picture of it in front of me. A favorite hunting ground for werewolves, it wasn’t some place I was supposed to be.
A deep growl echoed around me, reminding me of exactly that. I followed the directions to where I was supposed to meet everyone. Just like the text said, I turned down the third trail to the right from the edge of campus. One hundred feet until I hit the burned tree with the sign about avoiding forest fires nailed on the stump.
With the sudden electrical malfunction in the donor’s living space, I had to go out to get food. I was close enough to home that a walk through the woods wasn’t unusual if anyone happened to see me. Adding in a quick text to the Matheo that I was still in search of the gluten free pasta one of our donors needed and I was on my way to the meeting.
The source of that growl broke through the trees. They really were a sight. The ground level bushes parted. They wore no shirts. Trevor had a strange looking rifle strapped to his back. The nylon cord rested between well-defined pecs, brushing just the right amount of chest hair back and forth as he moved. Richard was just as impressive. How could a man emanate that much power wearing only a pair of well-worn jeans? Their knees were dusted with dirt.
What had they been doing? Images of Rick and Trevor rolling around the forest floor were flooding my brain. The miasma gave me all kinds of rational possibilities for their strange decoration, but the woman in me fought for the images of two men rolling on the
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