Chapter 7 Karina #2
I stare at him, processing this information. Another thing my parents never told me. “That can't be right. My mother—”
“Was one of the lucky few,” he cuts in. “Which is probably why your father took her and ran. Pack politics around females can get...intense.”
“So, I'm what, some kind of endangered species?” The thought makes my skin crawl.
“In a manner of speaking.” His voice drops lower. “Most females are kept under lock and key by their alphas until they're properly mated. Protected from other packs who might try to claim them.”
I recoil against the door. “That's barbaric.”
“Not barbaric. Practical. Females are the future of any pack. The ability to produce pups is...valuable.”
“This is insane. All of it.”
“Welcome to wolf politics, kitten.” His nostrils flare again, and I know he can smell the changes in my scent. “Your parents sheltered you from this world, but they couldn't keep you from it forever.”
I turn away, unwilling to let him see how his words affect me. The trees outside continue to grow denser, the road narrower.
“How much longer?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
“Ten minutes.” He shifts gears as we climb a steep incline. “When we arrive, stay close to me. Don't look at anyone else. Don't speak unless spoken to. And whatever you do, don't let them know you're afraid.”
“I'm not afraid,” I lie, though my racing heartbeat probably gives me away.
“You should be. Fear keeps you alive in places like this.”
The compound emerges like something out of a nightmare, all timber and stone, designed to blend seamlessly with the forest while projecting an aura of barely contained power. Security lights illuminate a gate flanked by guards who straighten as our car approaches.
My wolf whimpers as we slow to a stop, her earlier confidence dissolving beneath the sheer intensity of so much concentrated dominance. The guards are wolves—I can sense it even through the car windows. Their attention locks onto us with a steady, unsettling focus that makes my skin crawl.
“Reaper,” the guard greets, respectful but wary. “Alpha Anselm is waiting for you in his office. He’s not pleased.”
“When is he ever? I’ll report directly to him.”
The guard’s attention slides toward me, nostrils flaring as my scent reaches him. His pupils expand, a growl rumbling low in his chest before he can smother it.
“Who’s this?” he demands, leaning closer, intent locked on me.
Damien’s arm snaps out, pressing me back against the seat as he shifts his body into a shield between us. “None of your fucking business, Kenny.”
The comment makes my wolf purr even as I bristle at being handled like property. Kenny raises his hands in mock surrender, but the way he studies me carries a sharpness that leaves my skin crawling.
“Just asking,” he says, backing away slightly. “Alpha might want to know why you're bringing an unknown female into his territory.”
“Alpha can ask me himself. Now open the gate before I decide to use your face as the key.”
Kenny hesitates for a fraction of a second before nodding to someone I can't see. The iron gates swing open with a groan of the metal, revealing a winding driveway that leads deeper into the compound.
As we pull forward, I catch Kenny speaking into a radio. Reporting our arrival.
“Fuck,” Damien mutters under his breath. “He’s already spreading the word.”
My stomach clenches as the implications hit me. “What does that mean?”
“It means we need to get you somewhere safe before they start showing up at my door with flowers and poetry.” His jaw ticks. “Wolves aren't exactly subtle when they're courting.”
“Courting?” The word comes out strangled. “I thought you said I was your mate.”
“You are. But they don't know that yet.” He parks in front of a building that looks like a cross between a luxury cabin and a fortress. “And even if they did, some of them might be stupid enough to challenge me for you.”
The burn under my skin spikes at his words, and I press my thighs together harder. My wolf preens at the idea of males fighting over us. I want to strangle her.
“This keeps getting better and better,” I mutter, unbuckling my seatbelt.
Damien’s out of the car before I can blink, moving around to my side. He opens the back door, retrieves my bag, then steps closer and extends his hand. I stare at it like it might bite me.
“Come on, kitten. Standing here in the open isn’t helping.”
I reluctantly take it, hating the way my skin tingles at the contact. His palm is rough and callused, his grip firm yet careful as he helps me out of the car. The moment I’m standing, he tugs me against his side, an arm locking around my waist.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, trying to push space between us.
“Making it clear you’re spoken for. Your scent’s getting stronger.”
“This is mortifying,” I groan as he guides me toward the entrance of what I assume are his quarters.
“Better mortified than mauled.” His hold tightens as a group of men emerge from a nearby building, their attention snapping toward us like predators catching wind of prey. “Eyes down, kitten.”
I obey without thinking, some instinct warning me against challenging dominant males in this state. My wolf goes quiet, unnervingly submissive.
The men change course angling straight for us. I count five. Damien’s arm tightens around me protectively as they approach. My heartbeat spikes, sweat beading at my brow. The pheromones I’m giving off must be a beacon to them.
“Reaper,” the tallest one calls out, his voice deceptively casual. “Didn't know you were bringing company home tonight.”
“Not company. Mine,” Damien growls, the vibration of his chest against my side sending unwelcome tingles down my spine. “Keep walking, Jackson.”
Jackson's nostrils flare as he inhales deeply. “She doesn't smell claimed to me.”
“That's because your nose is too far up your own ass to smell properly,” Damien retorts.
The men laugh, but there's no humor in it, just tension and something predatory that makes my skin crawl. They're circling us now, not close enough to touch but near enough that I can smell their interest—musky and sharp.
“Alpha Anselm will want to meet her,” says another, a stocky wolf with a scar bisecting his left eyebrow. “She’s a pretty little wolf. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
I don't get a chance to answer. Damien drops my bag on the ground next to my feet. His now free hand moves to his waistband, and suddenly there's a gun pointed directly at the scarred wolf's forehead.
“The next person who speaks to her dies,” he says conversationally, like he's commenting on the weather instead of threatening murder.
“She's under my protection, which means she's under Bellandi protection.
Touch her, look at her wrong, even think about her, and I'll paint these grounds with your blood.”
The wolves freeze, their casual predatory stance shifting to something more wary. I can smell the sudden spike of adrenaline and aggression rolling off them in waves. My wolf whimpers, pressing closer to Damien's warmth despite my mind's protests.
“Easy, Reaper,” Jackson says, hands raised in mock surrender. “We're just being friendly.”
“Your version of friendly looks a lot like stalking prey. Back off. Now.”
I hold my breath, acutely aware of how quickly this could turn violent. The scarred wolf's hand twitches toward his own weapon, and I know we're seconds away from bloodshed.
“Is there a problem here?”
The new voice cuts through the standoff like a blade. All eyes turn toward the compound's main building, where a tall figure emerges from the shadows. Even in the dim lighting, I can see the authority radiating from him.
“I’m sure you all of you have somewhere else to be.”
The wolves hesitate, clearly torn between their interest in me and their respect for the pack hierarchy. My wolf shrinks further into herself, overwhelmed by the competing dominance displays surrounding us.
“We were just welcoming the Reaper's...guest.”
“How thoughtful. I'm sure she appreciates the warm reception. Now fuck off before my father decides you're all expendable.”
The mention of his father has the desired effect. The wolves back away reluctantly, but I can still feel their attention burning into my skin as they retreat. My legs weaken with relief.
“Thanks,” Damien mutters.
“Don’t thank me yet. My father wants to see you.
Immediately.” Elias pauses, his attention sliding to me, taking in the way I’m pressed against Damien’s side.
“Though I think he may be more interested in her than in murder. I’m Elias, by the way, since Dom hasn’t bothered to introduce us.
” He extends a hand but freezes mid-motion when Damien stiffens beside me. “Nevermind…”
“How did you get back here so fast?”
“Shifted.” He shrugs. “Not like I can call a car service to bring me back to the compound after you abandoned me at Crimson Howl. Though… I had some fun while I waited. You know, passed the time while you ran for your life. Looks like you won’t be spending your night alone either, brother.”
“I need you to do me a favor. Watch her while I deal with your father.” Damien lowers his weapon, sliding it back into his waistband, then retrieves my discarded bag and hands it to me.
Elias arches a brow, studying the space between us. “And why exactly would I do that?”
“She's my mate.” The declaration leaves no room for argument.
“You left to commit your second murder of the night, and you come home with a mate? I never thought you’d be so full of surprises, Dom.” He steps closer, but Damien moves to block him. Elias takes a sniff and smiles, understanding dawns on his face. “Well, that explains the welcoming committee.”
“I need her safe, Elias. Take her to my quarters and keep everyone else away. Everyone.”
I bristle at being discussed like I'm not standing right here. “I don't need a babysitter.”
Both men ignore me completely.
“Fine,” Elias sighs, running a hand through his blond hair. “But you owe me. Big time.”
“Consider it payment for all the times I've saved your ass.” Damien's arm finally releases me, though he doesn't step away. “Don't let anyone near her. Not even your brothers.”
“Yes, Mom. Anything else?”
Damien's hand shoots out, grabbing Elias by the collar and yanking him close enough that their faces are inches apart. The sudden violence makes me flinch.
“This isn't a joke,” he growls. “If anyone—and I mean anyone—touches her while I'm gone, I'll rip their fucking throat out. Starting with yours. Your balls will be next.”
Elias doesn't seem fazed by the threat, but I see the subtle way his body tenses. “Relax, Dom. I'll guard her with my life. No one gets past me.”
“They better not.” Damien's attention flicks to me. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”
Before I can respond, he's striding toward the main building, his shoulders set in a rigid line. I watch him go, hating the way my wolf whines at his departure, like she's being abandoned.
“Well,” Elias says beside me. “That was intense. Even for Dom.”
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed without Damien's presence. The night air feels cooler, and my skin prickles with awareness of how vulnerable I am in this unfamiliar territory.
“Is he always like that?”
“Like what? Homicidal? Overprotective? Brooding? Yeah, pretty much.” Elias grins, but there's something cautious in his expression as he studies me. “Though I've never seen him claim anyone before. That's new.”
“He hasn't claimed me,” I snap, though my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
He turns to look behind him, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “And now I know why Dom threatened me.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” I ask, glaring at Elias as he leads me toward a cabin at the edge of the compound. His cryptic smile only irritates me further.
“It means you're spicy. I like it.” He unlocks the door with a key from his pocket. “Most women who encounter Dom either run screaming or fall at his feet. You're doing neither.”
“I tried the running part. Didn't work out so well.”
He chuckles, pushing the door open and gesturing for me to enter. “Ladies first.”
I hesitate at the threshold, my wolf suddenly alert and wary. This is Damien's space—his den. Entering it feels like crossing a line I can't uncross.
“It's just a cabin,” Elias says, misreading my hesitation. “Dom keeps it clean, I promise.”
Taking a deep breath, I step inside. Damien’s scent hits me immediately — pine, smoke, and something darkly male that curls through the air and wraps around me.
My wolf stirs beneath my skin, restless and alert.
The warmth that’s been simmering inside me surges, and I have to lock my knees to keep from swaying.
The cabin is sparse but inviting, the kind of space that feels lived in without ever being cluttered.
An open kitchen lines one wall; the opposite side holds a sitting area furnished in dark wood and soft leather.
A single door at the back likely leads to the bedroom, though I don’t dare look too long in that direction.
“Make yourself at home,” Elias says, shutting the door behind him and turning the lock with a quiet, deliberate click.
The sound makes my pulse jump. The air feels thicker here, saturated with Damien’s scent until it’s almost tangible. Each breath drags more of it into my lungs, clouding my thoughts, quickening my heartbeat.
“So,” Elias drawls, sinking into one of the armchairs like he owns the place. “Want to tell me how you managed to almost mate yourself to the most antisocial wolf in Northern California?”
If only I knew that answer myself.