Chapter 6 - Dash
CHAPTER 6 - DASH
Trigger warning: violence against a female secondary character and corresponding violent fight.
Silence gripped the throng. The priest moved to strike the gong to quiet the upheaval. I cracked my knuckles, and my wolf snarled, eager for a fight.
“I’ll pass, boss.” Bad move from the lieutenant. Insubordination led to violence or death at TJ’s deranged hands.
Didn’t blame those assholes for defiance. Females paired with any Malice male became his property to sample whenever he desired. Shared with the whole damn pack as punishment if the male pissed off that mangy mutt.
Hell would have to burn down before I let another male touch one hair on my mate’s head. I felt sick to the stomach at Liv degraded and shamed in that way.
The beta guard curled his shoulders, gaining confidence from his buddy’s defiance. “Don’t want no mate, boss.”
Normally, I wouldn’t give a fuck what TJ did to his pack members because they were Malices, scum of the fucking shifter world. Pity reminded me of the conquered packs forced to absorb into his and follow his rule despite hating his fucking guts. Pride kicked my heart into a gallop, and my mouth arced up in a smug grin. Rebellion within the pack’s ranks implied TJ’s rocky leadership, and this pleased me. Surrounding packs needed more Malice males to mutiny against that bastard and the whole structure to topple. I’d be there to contribute and stab that motherfucker through the eye and watch him bleed out, my wolf dining on his brains.
“You do what you’re told, and I’ll be the first to taste your bitch.” TJ kicked the beta guard in the ass, and he stumbled into the circle, locked into the ceremony.
Splinters of ice stabbed my guts at glancing at Liv. Her jaw clenched so hard, she worked her teeth to dust. Wrath crackled under my skin seeking an outlet, preferably that motherfucker’s skull beaten to a pulp for daring to touch her. For hurting Whitney if he was responsible for her vanishing.
Darkness shadowed my thoughts at my wolf sliding into place. Hunched low, I stalked forward, snarling, guarding Liv’s back, warning Malice not to touch her.
The cocksucker’s black gaze swiveled in my direction and narrowed. Challenge fucking accepted. Not the first time we squared off. Last time, I broke his wrist. This time, I’d break more.
Two firm hands dragged me back ten paces. “Easy, tiger.” Steele, his voice choked with barely controlled rage. “Save it for later when we get Whitney back, and we tear that fucker’s head off and burn his body.” He reminded me of my earlier counsel.
Agony speared me at my separation from Liv’s side, and I rolled my shoulder to release Steele’s hands on me.
The priest’s stern gaze swept over us like the goddess’ wrath for interrupting her ritual. Fuming over lost opportunities, I lost track of most of the ceremony until it neared the end. By the time he chanted the final word, a stream of moonlight bore down on the participants, silvery tattoos made of pure moonlight marking the wrist of every matched couple.
Females hunched over, groaning as the goddess worked her magick on them, stretching their vaginas, shaping them to match the knot of their mate. Partnered males sought out their females by the corresponding tattoo, howling with joy at finding her. They stroked the backs of their pained mates, nuzzling, cuddling, soothing until the pain died.
The poor Malice bastards thrust into the ceremony glanced over at TJ and earned a smug sneer that promised to break their mates. Fire snapped in my veins to put that mutt down before he became more of a problem for us. Tonight maybe, when he wasn’t looking. A knife to the throat. I just had to get close enough.
At the ceremony’s conclusion, couples leaped into each other’s arms, the males carrying away their conquests to mate in the forest.
My wolf wailed at being left out, and I felt the reciprocated longing down the pack link between the four men in the club. Steele wasn’t ready for another mate yet. Arden’s broken heart never healed after he lost his childhood sweetheart, and he turned into the pack’s manwhore. The others, well, I didn’t know their reasons for abstaining from the ceremony. That was their business.
A lone female remained in the circle, eyes on the verge of crying, mouth downcast.
“Heather,” Liv whispered, gesturing at her sister to come to her.
One of the Malice mutts hollered at her, and she flinched, shoulders hiking, head lowering in a protective mode.
TJ snorted, tossing his unfinished beer can at Heather’s head. The clunk on her forehead, the split in her eyebrow, and leaking beer desecrating the sacred space.
Liv’s snarl and flash of teeth urged me forward in three long strides, and I grabbed her shoulders, preventing her from doing something stupid.
“Look at the sad, pathetic bitch,” the cocksucker slurred and stumbled into the circle, stirring menacing growls from beside and in front of me. “Her mate’s dumped her and run.” His filthy arm covered in leathery crocodile skin circled her and captured her shoulder. “We’ll make good use of her.”
Liv balanced on the edge of the circle. “You want to insult someone, you insult me.”
Worst possible move. Challenging TJ promised her pain and more humiliation than what was aimed at Heather.
“You want to make it official here, my blushing bride?” TJ grabbed his non-existent cock. “Let me mate you here in front of everyone. Teach a woman to respect her man.”
Liv’s body shook with the threat of transformation. Blood. Maul. Fight to the damn death. Free her of the chains that bound her to him.
My claws scratched her upper arm. “Don’t. Let Heather sort it out.”
Wolves sorted conflict with challenges, physical or bluff. Liv’s sister was smart. A psychologist. I put my bets on her to bluff these assholes. Except she didn’t. She stood there, swallowing as if she were about to burst into tears. Hopes of finding her mate dashed.
I scanned The Grove for any remaining males, but they vanished into the forest with their matched female. Except for Chase. Did that asshole reject her?
TJ lifted a lock of Heather’s hair and sniffed. “No one wants you, bitch! I’ll take you as my whore.” He cracked a hand on her ass, and she whelped.
Steele thundered beside me. I never saw him like this. He never lost his control. Stress from Whitney’s disappearance got to him.
“Heather, come here,” Liv beckoned, but her sister refused to bow to TJ and leave the circle, standing her ground.
Heather cranked her arm back and slapped TJ square in the jaw, the connection resounding throughout the grove.
I had to admit, it was pretty ballsy.
“Bitch.” TJ backhanded her and sent her sprawling.
She wailed as she hit the ground and stumbled to regain her footing. The action bent her swollen knees and caused her pain.
“Heather!” Liv’s cry prompted my grip on her to tighten.
Thoughts of my pack’s safety fell away at my wolf’s desperate need to protect our mate, body wound so tight, desperate for a fight, his control close to snapping.
TJ kicked Heather in the thigh, and she whimpered, clutching her knee. “Useless bitch. Just like all the Hester scrags.”
My claws drew blood at Liv’s bolt from my grasp into the circle. The curtain of silver moonlight swallowed her, and she bent over in pain as the Lunar goddess worked her will. Her hand scissored over her womb, where her knot groove shaped for her mate. Glimmering moonlight sprawled her wrist with an ethereal tattoo. A wolf’s paw with a half-moon circle for one of the foot pads. Fuck. Who was she paired with? Another shifter I’d have to kill.
Her mate’s identity was the least of my damn worries as Steele bounded into the circle and crouched down beside Heather. Silver lines crawled along his wrist, forming his mark.
“Here, Moonshine. I’ve got you.” He lifted her off the ground, carrying her out of the circle, Liv at his side, holding onto Heather’s leg.
The moment they exited the circle, I caught Liv’s arm, growling at her for leaving the safety of my side. White teeth bared to tell me to fuck off. I laughed off her dominance matched by my own. Alpha to Alpha. My dick jerked, imagining our hot sex, both of us warring for top spot.
My second-in-command gently set Heather down and she held onto his jacket for stability. “Did that asshole hurt you?” His forefinger traced the edge of a bleeding laceration.
Heather hissed and dabbed at the wound on her forehead, making Steele’s throat thunder. His thumb stroked her cheek, flashing the tattoo on his wrist. Stars falling from the sky over a wolf. She let go of Steele’s clothing and feathered her branding with her nails. Fuck. Matched to my second-in-command. Justification for his wolf going rabid and championing her.
Liv’s lips arced into a smile, and she excused herself to give them a moment. Guided by my wolf, I claimed her hand, squeezing, luring her eyes to mine. Emotions walled behind her gaze; residual attraction that time hadn’t smothered, blended with dark, raw hurt that I didn’t show up at the Harvest Dance. Regret forced my gaze away to my VP.
Heather winced and shifted her legs. “Don’t start anything stupid, big guy.”
Steele’s neck reddened as deep as lava. “No one calls you a bitch.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “No one disrespects a woman.”
Heather shrugged like it was nothing, a tough little shewolf. “I’m used to bullies.” Her eyes lifted to Steele and flashed silver at her mate, a sign of her wolf’s growing need to mate with and claim him.
Spikes of heat scorched the bond, warning me of Steele’s temper surging to nuclear. “Excuse me, Moonshine.” He gently stepped around her, then barreled into the circle, all razor-sharp growl, twitching muscle and blazing eyes. “Apologize to the female you offended, Malice, you piece of shit.”
“This is none of ya’ business.” The cocksucker jabbed at Chase. “Your prince spurned her. Now she’s fair game.”
Wrong. Chase wasn’t matched. His mate never showed up in the circle. Sometimes this happened when one of the pair attended the ceremony and the other didn’t. The goddess still branded the other half of the match, and eventually, fate brought them together.
TJ swaggered up to Steele. His breath reeked of beer and weed, detectable from a damn mile away. “Git the fuck outta here, ya’ mongrel. Before my men and I put ya’ dogs down.”
Go ahead and try, asshole.
We were sober and a hell of a lot stronger than his flabby, unfit men. They got all the fit soldiers from other packs to do their dirty work while those fuckers took their women. In my case, the full moon left me vulnerable and lacking half my regular strength. Regardless, my wolf would put up a hell of a fight, and I was dying for blood to avenge Liv’s sister.
Steele seized the collar of TJ’s flannelette vest and lifted him off the ground, the material tearing. “Apologize before I make you, asshole.”
Malice mutts circled him and snarled. Steele was big enough to handle himself and take on at least four men at once.
TJ huffed and glanced at his six-man army, then at my men, fists clenched, bodies poised to attack. Ten of his men disappeared for mating. Four patrolled The Grove. “You and who’s army are gonna make me apologize?”
“Mine.” Steele’s thunderous growl prompted Heather to stagger into the circle to calm him, and Liv to drag her back.
One of the Malice mutts took the bait and threw the first punch, getting the back of Steele’s head, all the justification he needed to start a fight. Shaking off the pain, his elbow cracked back into the jaw of the wanker who hit him from behind. Only pussies attacked from the rear. A loud crunch filled the space, and I smiled. Another fist snaked out and caught TJ’s jaw and teeth crunched.
Five more men slithered out of the shadows. Malice mutts we didn’t see earlier who came to defend their Umbra.
TJ spat blood and three teeth to the ground. “Get him.”
Four men leaped onto Steele. Nothing he couldn’t handle. Fights in a bar or a dark alley were how he released pent-up rage every once in a while. Grief. Loneliness. Longing for one more moment with his lost mate.
Fuck. Father ordered me to keep Pack Lumbry in line. For letting this get out of hand, he’d discipline our asses for months on end. We were supposed to come here to observe the ceremony. Show our faces. Not involve ourselves with other pack business.
Cowards left their brothers alone to show these Malice assholes how to treat a lady. Craving blood and revenge, my wolf compelled me into the circle, followed by three of my men. Pain seared across my wrist as the Lunar goddess’ magick marked me. Dammit. Moon matched. It better be to Liv. Make it worth the death sentence for my pack. Before my men and I went to Hell and burned for an eternity, my wolf and I were taking as many Malice mutts with us as possible.