Wild Hunger (The Phoenix Pack, #7)(69)

Packing up the sculpture wasn’t a quick or easy process, but they all pitched in so that both the creepy kid and the hellhorse could be transported to New York at the same time.

Later, as Frankie unpacked the last of her things in their room on pack territory, Trick came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. He dabbed a kiss on her claiming mark, breathing her in. He fucking loved her scent; he wanted it mixed with his own.

“That’s me all moved in,” she told him, closing the drawer that he’d cleared out for her. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” He sucked on her earlobe, splaying his hand possessively on her stomach. “Now you’re exactly where you belong.” Her head tipped back as he licked, kissed, and nipped at her neck, paying particular attention to his claiming mark. He snaked his hand under her shirt and traced the tattoo he knew as well as the back of his hand. “You’re damn distracting.” He tapped her ass and stepped back. “Come on, time for dinner.”

Breathing a little hard, she scowled as she pivoted to face him. “Hey, you can’t get a girl all revved up and then not follow through.”

“I’m hungry.”

“So am I.” But not for food.

Trick smiled and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. “Later, I’ll be doing all kinds of very dirty things to you. Right now, we eat.”

She groaned, dragging her heels as he led her out of the room. “You can’t say shit like that when I’m horny.”

“Of course I can, baby.”

“Asshole.” She slammed the door behind them, giving emphasis to her insult.

“So you often say.” Keeping his fingers linked with hers, he kept her close as they walked through the tunnels. A few days ago, when he’d announced to the pack that he and Frankie were officially mated, they had all been overjoyed. He’d sensed Frankie’s surprise at just how happy they’d been. He’d realized then that although she’d known they wanted her living on their territory, she hadn’t realized just how much they’d all come to like and respect her. Probably because she simply didn’t expect people to like her much.

He blamed her grandparents for that. In making her feel that she lacked, they’d left her with some self-esteem issues. He was proud that, despite all that, she was a confident female who went after what she wanted in life. Was proud that she was his mate.

“Okay, now that I can smell food, my appetite is building,” said Frankie. “But I still think a quickie wouldn’t have been a bad idea.”

“We don’t have quickies, Frankie. We try, but it never quite works out.” He always got too carried away in her, always needed to taste and touch as much of her as he could.

“I can’t really deny that.” She’d taken one step into the kitchen when she jumped out of her freaking skin as a bunch of voices shouted, “Surprise!”

The whole pack was gathered there, smiling, raising glasses, and blowing party poppers. Behind them on the wall was a large banner that read “Welcome Home, Frankie!” There was a huge cake on the table in the center of an impressive spread of food. And damn if a lump of emotion didn’t build in her throat.

Trick draped his arm over her shoulders and kissed her temple. “It’s an official welcome to the pack.”

Frankie bit her lip. “I don’t know what to say, except . . . wow.”

Laughing, Taryn came forward, shoved a glass of something bubbly in Frankie’s hand, and said, “Come on, let’s get absolutely hammered and torment Greta.”





CHAPTER FOURTEEN



It was the soft murmurs that tugged Frankie out of sleep. Or maybe it was the mouth pressing light kisses to the palm of her hand. Both of those things would have been fine if she hadn’t woken with the hangover from hell.

Her eyes throbbed, her stomach churned, her body seemed drained of energy, and her head—oh God, her head. Apparently she’d chugged down cosmos like they would grant her the gift of eternal life.

Her mouth was dry as a damn bone. She licked her lower lip. Tasted something. Toothpaste crust. Awesome.

“Time to wake up, baby,” Trick whispered, one hand smoothing the hair from her face.

“Turn the light off,” she slurred. Because it made her feel like someone was stabbing the backs of her eyeballs with toothpicks.

“No lights are on.”

“Then close the curtains.” She tried tugging the covers over her head, but she only managed to flap her hand.

Trick softly chuckled. “You need to get up. It’s past noon.”

She wasn’t moving from the bed. Ever. Nuh-uh. She wasn’t fit to be seen anyway. She’d had enough killer hangovers to know that she probably looked like a reject from The Walking Dead. She felt like a reject.

Another light kiss to her palm. “I’d pegged you for a lightweight, but it took countless drinks before the alcohol seemed to actually hit you.”

Why was he talking? Did she look like she was capable of conversation right then? Her wolf snapped her teeth at him, warning him to go away and leave her to recover. But the bastard didn’t.

“Come on, baby. I’ll help you up.”

She moaned. “Dying. Get. Priest.”

Trick’s body shook, and his amusement buzzed down their bond. “Open your eyes for me, Frankie.”