Ruled by the Pack: Wicked Wolf Shifters, #5

By J.K. Harper and Anna Craig

Wicked Wolf Shifters volume 2, part 1

***this is a CLIFFHANGER short novella that is part of a serial. This is NOT a full-length book. Parts must be read in order.***

As the fearless, loyal second-in-command of the powerful Wicked Mountain Wolf Shifters, Jackson Rule has sheer animal magnetism, almost limitless influence in his pack, and legions of adoring female fans. He's prowled through life as a charming bad boy for centuries, and so far it's been one sweet ride. 

Except for the undeniable temptation by the only woman he can never have: Tamsin, the incredibly captivating but utterly off-limits sister of his pack's alpha.

As the sister of the alpha, Tamsin Reginald is strong, reliable, and completely driven by the needs of her pack. She's always stayed far away from wild Jackson and his ladykiller ways. Besides, her eventual mating is expected to be a smart political alliance. And impossibly sexy Jackson is anything but a smart decision.

But Tamsin is on the verge of losing control, heart, body, and soul—because she's about to be Ruled by the pack.


To the reader: This story contains hot sex with all the dirty details, naughty language, characters who say "oh, hell yeah" to the fun times, the potential edges of shifter violence, and yes, a cliffhanger. If that isn't your thing, this story probably won't be either. But if all that sounds great, this short serial is for you!

Wicked Wolf Shifters reading order:

Trevor & Cassie:

Surrendered to the Pack

Claimed by the Pack

Taken by the Pack

Mated to the Pack

Tamsin & Jackson:

Ruled by the Pack

Hunted by the Pack

Destined for the Pack

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.K. Harper
• Release date: May 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386961932

Book preview

1

Jackson Rule reached up to touch his cheek. It stung like a bitch. That little vixen had claws, and she hadn't been afraid to use them. No wonder his face still stung. She'd smacked him with what seemed like every ounce of her strength. At least she hadn't literally clawed out his eyes. He rather liked having his vision intact.

Glancing around the enormous ballroom decorated to festive overload while he pretended not to be searching for the saucy wench, his gaze swept over the throngs of laughing, merry guests. The excessively joyous mood in the room was something he found both mildly intriguing yet slightly nauseating. His alpha was mated and married now, and was by all accounts just as excessively happy as the mood here. Not that Jackson begrudged his pack's leader, and his own best friend, that sort of bliss. Trevor more than deserved it after his decades of tightly bottled grief.

It was just the general concept of being elatedly mated that made Jackson a bit—fidgety. The word mate did not go with Jackson Rule. Never had, never would. Not if he had his way. He damn well enjoyed being a wolf endlessly on the prowl for a good time.

Ruefully, he touched his cheek again. Being on the prowl for a good time apparently was what had earned him that resounding slap earlier. It had been delivered in front of the entire pack and a multitude of guests, as well. Quite the welcome home, and from a she-wolf he'd always considered a part of his inner circle. A very trusted packmate, if not exactly a close friend.

Jackson wasn't friends with women. Not real friends. How did one do that, when women were all soft and pretty and sexy and much too fascinating, so much so that he always got distracted around them? Generally speaking, he couldn't have a real conversation with a woman. It usually ended up being a far more physical encounter. As it should be.

Except for this one particular woman. He'd always managed to talk to her easily, since due to very solid reasons there'd never been a diverting undercurrent of animal attraction between them. Until now. And he still wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to so thoroughly enrage her, especially since he hadn't even been here for two weeks.

I've never even kissed the woman, he thought yet again, simultaneously intrigued and mystified by that very fact. Every other woman in the world he'd ever pissed off, he'd always kissed first. That apparently at least gave them a legitimate reason to become enraged with whatever they later found to be lacking in his words or actions.

This one? Not even once had his lips touched hers.

Not, however, for lack of his very recent, totally unquenchable desire to do just that. Only a lifetime of understanding that this particular she-wolf was beyond off-limits, not to mention his own utter surprise at the situation, had kept him from acting on his suddenly raging hormones around her.

Casually, he allowed himself to glance over yet again at the vixen in question. She was making her rounds of the room, looking somewhat like a silky-smooth, deadly kitty cat. A furious, beautiful, deadly cat. All sleek hair and sharp claws and somehow—pettable. Not that he would ever say something like that to her. Comparing the delicious, deadly sister of an alpha wolf to a cat was something that would definitely would get his eyes clawed out. First she'd slice open his face, then her brother the alpha would disembowel Jackson on the spot.

Nope. Keeping this sweet vixen at a distance was more than smart. It was his only option.

Right then, the sweet vixen in question swung her head and caught him looking at her. Gorgeous eyes narrowing, Tamsin Reginald glared daggers at him. Her expression was so fierce that if looks could kill, he'd be one hundred percent dead where he stood.

Without thinking, Jackson gave her his famously charming half-grin, the one that had been known to melt the panties right off of unsuspecting women.

Nope. Didn't work on Tamsin. If anything, he now could practically feel his skin peel from the blistering heat of her furious gaze.

Earth to Jackson, a voice broke into his thoughts. The bendy-twisty redhead on the beach? Finish telling us about her. The speaker gave a lascivious grin as he elbowed his companion. Sounds like she was very talented.

Jackson looked back at Mac and Finn, automatically laughing with them as he continued their conversation with all the casualness he definitely was not feeling. She was hot. Hot, willing, and naked on the white sand beaches under the full moon. How was I supposed to say no to that? I have a reputation to uphold, after all.

His reputation had ensured long, lazy days spent lounging on the pristine beaches of the private island his alpha had sent him to, followed by wild nights of the debauchery for which he was famed. He'd fully lived up to the legend of Jackson Rule. Hordes of shifter groupies had bombarded him on the island, vying for his attentions with the sort of eagerness that a mere month ago he would've found completely fulfilling and satisfying as he went through them, one by one. Or sometimes two at a time, maybe even three or four if he was particularly lucky. My reputation remains intact, he added, still keeping the grin on his face.

To himself, though, he snorted in utter self-disgust, feeling another twinge of his fascinated attention on the only woman in the world who might be able to ruin said reputation.

It wasn't as if he could let anyone know he was questioning his wild renown for the first time ever. Not when he didn't know exactly what was happening here.

But yes, this was what Jackson Rule was known for. He was the ladykiller. The charming wolf shifter who, as salacious lore had it, had slept with thousands of eager and willing conquests, both within the boundaries of the Wicked Mountain Wolf Shifters pack as well as a large swath of the country. All the way from here to the Caribbean.

Or so those words had been flung at him, the sharp taste of bitterness underlying the usually cool tones