"If that's all the business we have for tonight?" Logan glanced around the room at his packmates. The meeting had gone quickly - once he arrived late from his patrol.
Before anyone could reply, his skin goose pimpled. His head swiveled toward the door, and he frowned.
Do I hear screaming? A shiver ran through his body like the shadowy step of death on his grave. For a moment, he felt an urge to run to the woman's apartment. To check that she was safe.
Except, judging by the chatter of his pack, no one else heard it.
Only me. And he was being stupid. He couldn't hear the woman from here. You're just looking for an excuse to see her again. He squashed that idea. He needed to get to bed. The workday would start in only a few hours because even alphas had to pay the bills. If his mysterious lady survived the night, he'd see her on the morrow.
Maybe even get her name and number. And buy her a steak, with a potato loaded with all the fixings. The woman looked as if she'd not had a good meal in a long time. She could use a few pounds. I like my ladies with a little cushion. Feed her a few steaks, maybe pop some bite-sized cream puffs into her mouth, and lick the filling cleanÉ
Freeze right there.
She wasn't his lady.
Yet. Funny how that had an ominous sound to it.
After his pack had left, he readied for bed. He gave one last look out the window, still convinced he heard distant cries.
He shoved a pillow over his head.
A pack alpha did not go running willy-nilly, chasing after imaginary sounds.
But as the crying continued, he wondered if perhaps he should change that rule.