This thrilling and sexy bundle collects all four parts of Ethan White’s Building a Pack series!
Included in this book are:
THE BITE: When his boyfriend of four years leaves him for a woman, Isaac is despondent. At his moment of greatest need, a stranger shows up with an offer: the power to make sure he never has to suffer like this again.
RESCUE: After receiving the bite from Gabriel, Isaac is awakening to the werewolf powers that are now a part of him. His first order of business is rescuing his boyfriend Kevin from the clutches of an enemy that has been forcefully converting gay men straight against their will.
PUNISHMENT: Even though Isaac has already forgiven him for their acrimonious break-up, Kevin still harbors guilt for the things he said and did. He insists that Isaac punish him for his actions. It’s the only way he can think of to atone for the pain he put Isaac through.
REDEMPTION: Henry is an ex-gay priest who takes pride in his work turning gay men away from a life of sin. He also happens to be the perpetrator Isaac, Kevin, and Gabriel have been tracking. When they collide, and it’s discovered that Henry is as much of a victim as the men he converted, Isaac saves him from the life of lies that he’d been forced to live.
Building a Pack: The Complete Series 4-Pack Bundle is a 28,800-word collection of previously published stories.
“I just don’t know where else to turn to…”
The earnest words of the prayer, spoken in words slurred with drink, were like a whisper in the breeze that wound through the halls of the temple to the Étrad Sídhthe. The attendants laboriously polishing the gilded statues of men in all types of ecstasy looked about as if perturbed by the sound. “Is that what I think it is?” said one, hanging from the ceiling in a sling of ropes whilst absentmindedly rubbing a statue’s gleaming bicep with a cloth and his crotch.
“None of this makes any sense! I just want him back…”
“I think it is,” said another of the attendants, cleaning the toes of a golden Adonis with his tongue. He turned his eyes to the vaulted ceiling, to the glimmering silks crossing from one side of the hall to the other, suspended from the tops of the marble columns that paraded down the length of the corridor.
“I’ll pay any price! I’ll give you anything you want! I just want him back…”
Gaining in strength and bolstered by the benediction of the temple’s attendants, the prayer thundered down the central aisle of the main chamber. The words were steeped in the kind of desperation known only to the most sincere of loves. Disciples of the Étrad Sídhthe in their leathers and sheer cloths looked up from their coupling. Even the Cáel Sídhe took notice.
Perched upon a dais where an altar should have been were two tall thrones. Atop one, Cáel draped his slight, effete body over one of the armrests. In that position, the bright pink veils he wore, that left very little to the imagination to begin with, revealed even more of his lithe form.
With the twitch of an eyebrow, the Cáel looked across to the man seated on the other throne. His eyes glowed with the light of divination as he sought the source of the prayer’s pain. When he found it, he gave the Brogda Sídhe a meaningful look and said, “Well…that’s not good. I’m tempted, but do we even want to touch this right now?”
“It’s definitely not good,” said Brogda. His deep, sensual baritone voice sent a shiver down the spine of every man in the room whose heart held even the slightest dreg of submissiveness. He leaned forward, his brows furrowed with thought.
The dignified purple toga edged in gold stretched across Brogda’s broad chest and bulging muscles as he considered the situation, and the prayer. “But I don’t think that we want to touch it. Not directly, at least. He’s declared war, but you know what it took last time. We need time to get ready.”
“But we are going to do something, right?” said Cáel, emphasizing his words with exaggerated gestures with his right hand. He would have used both hands, but his left was busy stroking the massive cock of the disciple perched on the other armrest of his throne. “This isn’t something we can just let go.”
Brogda leaned back with a small, wicked smirk. “Correct. Which means that we’ll have to use someone who is, on the surface at least, not directly affiliated with us.” He rested his palms on the ends of the armrests of his throne. The disciple that had been worshipping his feet doubled his efforts as Brogda’s mighty cock stirred to life. The front of Brogda’s toga tented upward, parting around the rock-hard pillar that was his erection.