 by Evangeline Anderson.jpg)
Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
My parents died before they could tell me what I am. I never had a Were Mark, so they thought it would be safe to leave me ignorant of my heritage—my birthright as a Female Were. So I had no idea why my body started behaving so strangely when Daddy Jack showed up.
Jack was my Father’s best friend—they swore an oath to protect each other’s families. After my parents were killed in a car wreck, he showed up on my doorstep, ready to take care of me and protect me from the big bad world.
Despite his fearsome appearance—piercing blue eyes, a bristly black beard, and tattoos everywhere—Daddy Jack was kind and sweet to me. He let me crawl in bed with him at night when the nightmares got bad and cuddled me close to his broad chest until I could fall asleep again.
But being near my new Daddy seems to have changed something inside me. My breasts are filled with sticky-sweet nectar and I feel so empty inside—like I need to be filled. I hear people whispering about my “Heat Cycle,” though I don’t know what that means. Jack swears he can’t help me with my new cravings because that would be violating the Unbreakable Laws of the Pack—he says we could be killed for our forbidden love. But my body is crying out for his and I don’t care about the danger—I just want my Daddy Jack to give me what I so desperately desire— him .
Author's Note--Please read the warning at the beginning of the book before purchasing. This is an unapologetic age gap, Call me Daddy romance. If you don't like that kind of book, please don't buy this because it's definitely NOT for you.
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ONE
(Stop! Did you read the Author’s Warning at the beginning of the book? If not, please go read it now. If you’ve read it and you’re all good, then enjoy the book. Thanks, Evangeline)
Daddy Jack was my father’s best friend—a big, burly man, muscular and dark, with thick black hair and a bristly black beard. Blue tattoos covered both muscular arms, painting his olive skin in mysterious curving patterns I used to love to trace with my finger.
“What does this one mean, Daddy Jack?” I would ask, hanging over the arm of his chair and pointing to one or the other.
“Why, that’s my Pack Sign, Princess,” he’d say. Or, “That’s my Were Mark.” Or, “That one tells that I’m an Alpha.”
“Now, Jack—don’t you go telling her about that kind of thing,” my mom would say, frowning in a worried way.
“Don’t worry, Melissa—you know this little Princess doesn’t have a Were Mark. She won’t have to worry about Pack politics,” I remember Daddy Jack telling her.
“What does that mean?” I asked, looking up into his piercing blue eyes, thickly fringed with black lashes.
He only laughed and shook his head.
“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it, Princess.”
And that was all I could get out of him.
I tried to get my mom to talk about it, but she was quiet too.
“It doesn’t concern you, Madison,” she’d say primly. “You won’t have to worry about it—any of it. And that’s a good thing.”
But at night, I heard her talking to my father and she had other things to say.
It was one of those nights when I heard them “wrestling” around on their bed—the sounds used to scare me when I was little until my mom explained that she and my father were just “having grownup fun.” I didn’t know what that meat exactly, but I guessed that “fun” couldn’t be a bad thing, right? So I stopped being scared, but I didn’t stop listening.
That night I snuck out of my bed, both fascinated and frightened by the sounds, which were different from usual. This time it sounded like my mom was actually crying.
“What is it, Melissa? What’s wrong, honey?” I heard my father asking her. “Was it the dream again?”
“Yes…” My mother’s voice hitched with a sob. “I don’t know what it means! And I don’t understand why Madison’s Mark hasn’t appeared. You’re an Alpha and I’m an Omega—how can she not have a Were Mark?”
“Some kids are born without one. It’s rare but it happens—you know that,” my father said, still trying to comfort her. “It’s a good thing, actually—you and I both know from personal experience how twisted Pack politics can be. Hell, we moved across the country to get away from the mess back at our home Pack!”
“I know…” My mom sighed. “It just seems wrong and the dream…”
“Forget the dream,” my father said soothingly. “Madison is safe. And you know if anything ever happened to us, Jack would step in. He’s my Blood-Brother in the Pack and he’s sworn an oath to protect her.”
“I know,” my mom said. “And it does make me feel better. I just feel bad for him—losing his Mate like that. It’s so sad.”
“He’s doing okay,” my father said.
“No—I don’t think he is, Patrick. He puts up a good front, but I don’t think he’s ever going to find a female he’ll want to mate again, after losing Jessica.”
“Well, then he can stay here with us,” my father said. “He’s better off away from Pack politics too. We all are. Now come on, baby—let’s go back to sleep. I have a long day tomorrow.”
There were sounds of rustling and I could imagine my parents getting comfortable under their soft down comforter and crisp white sheets. The sounds comforted me and I tiptoed back to bed.
But once there, I lay away wondering. I hadn’t understood what they were talking about and it puzzled me. What was the dream my mom kept having and what did it have to do with me? What were “Pack politics” and who was the girl that Daddy Jack lost? Was he really sad? He didn’t seem sad to me—with me he was always happy and laughing—that deep, rumbling chuckle I liked so much. Aside from my parents, he was my favorite person in the whole world.
Let me tell you a little more about Daddy Jack—or what I knew back then. He was my father’s best friend—the best man at his wedding, the one my father depended on to always be there. I’d heard them say they were “Blood brothers,” just like my father had mentioned, but I didn’t understand what that meant. He was around our house so much I started calling him “Daddy Number Two” when I was little, which eventually changed to “Daddy Jack” when I got a little older.