Chapter 61

Axel looks up from his seat at the table. A tray of smoked and dried meat and cheeses rests in front of him, along with two uncapped beers in frosted bottles. His hair is damp, and it hangs in soft curls at his neck. He's wearing jeans and a skin-tight t-shirt that shows off his rippling muscles. Before I can stop my thoughts, my wolf pushes forward with pride and admiration at the strong, commanding presence of our Alpha.

No, not our Alpha, I remind her. Warrick is our Alpha.

Our mate, then, she argues. But he's not our mate, either. He's our captor.

"Have a seat," Axel says. "I want to talk to you about pack law. As the Alpha and his mate, we're part of a larger family—the Jacksonville pack. And that pack is part of an even bigger family—the southeast territory. Then there's the United States, and beyond that, the werewolf race as a whole. There are packs all around the world. Each of those levels within the hierarchy has rules and structures to maintain."