Page 38 of Banished From the Pack

The thought of her dragging a five-hundred-pound alligator through the bog tickles my funny bone, and I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, babe, you could have pushed him home through the swamp.”

Resting a hand on her shoulder, I turn her toward the women’s clothes. I have no idea what size she wears, but her shoulder feels delicate under my calloused paw. In the clothes section, I hold up a few things that look practical and the right size, letting her approve the ones she likes before I toss them in the cart.

When we’re done, I gesture to the personal care section. “Do you need your own shampoo and shit?”

“No,” she says. “I like yours. It makes me smell like you.”

Not going to touch that jerk-off grenade.

The next aisle is the toiletries aisle. A woman in that section takes one look at me, drops the basket she’s carrying, and scurries away.

Good. We can use the privacy. I scan the woman’s abandoned basket and note several items that Luna will need—a toothbrush, deodorant, razors and shaving cream, and tampons. I dump the contents of her abandoned basket into our cart and decide we’re done.

“What is all this stuff?” Luna asks, picking up the deodorant.

Christ. I forget she’s lived like a savage her whole life.

“That’s so you don’t stink.”

“I stink?” she asks, her eyes widening.

“You smell fine,” I grit out, resisting the urge to take in a lungful of her scent. It’s bad enough to have her always padding around the house on her cute little bare feet, leaving her womanly scent everywhere she curls up. I won’t let my brain follow that train of thought to the logical next station—what she might taste like.

She picks up the package of razors. “And this?”

“Some men like it when you shave the hair off your legs.” The devil whispers in my ear, so I add, “And when you shave the hair between them.”

Luna’s face twists into a frown. “You don’t like my hair?”

“Real men don’t mind real women,” I say. “Hair and all. But sometimes you might want to be smooth and soft for him. Just to change it up.”

She nods and reaches into the cart for the toothbrush. “I don’t need this. I share Ethan’s toothbrush.”

“You can have your own damn toothbrush,” I grit out, an irrational annoyance with my brother grinding into me. It’s not like he was sharing a dildo. And now I’m fucking thinking about whether Luna masturbates, and whether she needs a sex toy to keep her satisfied. The rest of us have been jerking off like teenagers since she moved in.

“Go,” I snap, and she obediently resumes pushing the cart. We wander up the aisle, heading for the checkout stand, and I spy some hairbrushes. I toss one at her, and she deftly catches it.

“I’ve used one of these,” she says. “You could use one, too. All of you. Can we share this kind of brush?”

“We don’t need a goddamn girl’s hairbrush,” I snap. I’m starting to not like this experience. I’m not afraid of anything or anyone, but this sweet little barely legal scrap of ass is getting me flustered.

“Oh, look!” She grabs a box of purple hair dye and holds it up so I can see the smiling woman pictured. “Ama said I can’t put color in my hair, but look how pretty this is.”

“Ama’s a bitch,” I say, pitching the box of dye into the cart. “You should do what you want and have some fun—if you even know what that is.”

“Thanks!” she says, and she flashes me a smile that threatens to make me hard all over again. The day when a smile can make my dick hard is the day I really need to pound some pussy before I do something stupid.

I increase my pace.

She scampers after me, only to get in line behind the same woman who ran when she saw us coming. She glances nervously between me and Luna, a fretful stitch in her brow and her foot tapping nervously as the cashier scans her items. She probably thinks I’ve kidnapped Luna to turn her into a club whore.

“What about these?” Luna asks, reaching into the cart and fishing out the box of tampons.

“Not my place to tell you,” I say. “You’ll figure it out.”

“How can I figure it out if you won’t tell me?”

“Ask Callan,” I say, flashing her an evil smile. Let him deal with her feminine problems. He’s the one who dragged her home.