“READY TO GO HOME?” I called up to my pack mates when I finally achieved my destination. Cinnamon was laughing in delight at his sister’s antics, Lia had finally discovered the beat, and Ginger had stripped down to a b*a and miniskirt with nothing underneath.
I knew the latter fact not only because I could see straight up her skirt but also because she was stepping out of lacy undies and preparing to fling them into the crowd as I spoke. The female trouble twin flicked the aromatic garment away with one finger, and the lucky males close enough to have a chance at claiming the prize fell to the ground in a pile of testosterone-crazed aggression and greed.
Unfortunately, though, most of the shifters wanted a piece of the original, not just a scrap of fabric that had picked up the pack prin
