Chapter Four #2
While part of me is uneasy, another senses this is a long time coming.
Watching my back has been exhausting. Secretly, I hoped they would end my misery.
The guilt has been difficult to carry, and I’m a glutton for punishment.
Yet there hasn’t been one fitting enough to make up for what I did.
That’s probably why I didn’t fight them harder.
Subconsciously, I had already decided I would go with them willingly and accept my fate.
“Did you see which way the other one went?” Punchy asks.
Are they talking about Casey?
“Yeah. I saw someone go that way.” Grabby points in the direction Casey ran. “I’ll get her.”
No. Not her.
My heart races, and red clouds my vision.
The beast in me surfaces. And there’s nothing I can do.
Try not to kill anyone, I tell my wolf.
No promises, he replies.
Then she takes over.
They sense my wolf’s aura and my resistance as I squirm against his hold.
“Hey, hey! Stop. Relax!”
It’s too late. My wolf is in charge. Even I can’t stop me.
Grabby pushes on my shoulders to try to keep me on the ground, but I rise despite his force.
“Quit resisting!”
My resistance is a distraction. While he’s focused on making sure I don’t get up, he isn’t focused on making sure I can’t bring him down.
When he’s not paying attention, I sweep his leg from beneath him, and he crashes to the ground.
Bolting, I flop as he seizes my ankle. Then I roll onto my back and land a kick to his torso and another to his face, followed by a crack.
He clasps his nose and yelps.
Unhanded, I scramble to my feet and leap at Punchy. Fur ripples from my skin mid-air, and I land on my paws.
By the time he sees me coming, it’s too late. I clamp onto his shoulder. He shrieks when I toss him into a tree trunk.
He falls with a thud.
I plant myself firmly in their path to Casey.
With puncture wounds, a torn shirt, and tender spots that’ll bruise by tomorrow—if he lives to see tomorrow—he recovers. Then he prepares for a second attempt at overtaking me. If he knew who I was, what I can do, he would stay down.
Unfortunately for us, my reputation doesn’t precede me in his world of privilege.
Punchy rolls out his neck. I blink, and he’s shifted into his wolf.
Alright, then. Round two. Here we go.
He charges me, and I’m ready for him. We clash, and I bite his paw, tearing out a chunk, causing him to howl.
Considering my lack of proper nutrition due to food scarcity, I’m doing pretty well holding my own. This guy is an amateur.
Thank you, muscle memory.
But it doesn’t make him any less of a threat to Casey.
I don’t need to win for me. I just want Casey to be safe.
But since I intend to protect her, he won’t stop. His hatred for me only incentivizes him to go after her.
He vigorously shakes his head.
My wolf and I come to the same conclusion.
He’s not going to stop unless we stop him.
I sigh. I didn’t want it to come to this. Do what you have to do, I tell her. Protect Casey.
I watch from the safety of my brain as my beast prepares to end this threat. I hate having to take a life. But if the ends justify the means . . .
I lunge.
Unexpectedly, my pursuit is halted. I’m tackled from the side, sending me rolling across the dirt. My skin stings from the impact with the rocks I tumbled over.
Fuck. That hurt.
Vision blurred, I pull myself to my feet. Grabby must have short-term memory loss because no way did he forget the embarrassing beating.
I shake my head. When my vision returns to normal, it’s not Grabby whose shadow looms over me but a massive wolf with golden eyes and reddish-brown fur.
Now there are three Bloodhounds. Quite frankly, my wolf didn’t like that sucker punch.
My wolf’s eyes are locked on her target.
From the depths of my mind, I brace myself for what comes next.
But it never comes.
What’re you doing?
She’s unresponsive. Entranced and confused, she’s frozen. This behavior is so unlike her. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Right now, I’d rather her be the little ripper I know she can be instead of . . . whatever this is.
Attack him!
Seemingly confused and astonished by her behavior, she says, I . . . can’t.
What do you mean you can’t? He hit us! Remember, Casey?
The wolf shifts into his human form.
My eyes travel up long, tanned legs to find a toffee-blonde-haired, blue-eyed beast of a male.
Caleb?
Thick, neatly trimmed beard blanketing his defined jawline connects to a mustache.
He’s bare along the neckline, and his cheekbones give him an edge.
Sculpted and raw, trimmed and wild. He does fit the description Colin gave us.
Except he forgot to mention how attractive the male is, even as pissed off as he looks.
Beware the pretty ones. Trauma taught me those who haven’t been burned usually do the burning. A narcissist can’t be hurt if they’re constantly on the offensive.
“Shift.”
The male’s stern demand is directed to my wolf.
If he weren’t pissing me off by trying to tell me what to do, I might have swooned at the smokiness to his voice.
The way he’s trying to order me around like I’m one of his little pack minions is laughable. He’s not in charge of—
My body rumbles, like I’m about to shift.
What’re you doing? I ask my wolf.
Nervous and confused, she says to me, I . . . I don’t know. Shifting?
Well . . . don’t.
She doesn’t listen.
I’m pulled from the safety of her mind to the forefront of my own, standing naked.
What has gotten into you?
Her ears go back.
The male bends down and cups my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his.
When he touches me, I don’t feel sparks like people say, but there is a flood.
His sharp jawline flexes, and his eyes bore in. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I gulp. I tell myself not to be so nervous, and to remember this is someone Colin thought was worth protecting. But jeez, this male is intimidating.
He won’t hurt us. He’s one of the good ones, my wolf reassures.
Here’s hoping Colin was right.
My voice quivers when I ask, “Are you Caleb?”
“You know my name?” Caleb transitions his grip from my chin to my hair. He pulls my face to his, roughly. He grits his teeth as he searches my face, squinting. “How?”
I hiss under the pain. “I was a friend of Colin’s.” Hoping to find recognition of the name, I search his eyes.
I immediately regret saying anything.
Caleb scowls, and the men circling us break out into murmurs. They know the name, and unfortunately for me, it doesn’t appear to be a good thing.
One glazed look from Caleb, and their murmuring stops.
Their mindlink reminds me of people gossiping, like when you don’t know what they’re saying, but you know they’re talking about you. I don’t like feeling out of the loop, but I’m grateful Caleb silenced them.
Maybe there is some hope for him, after all.
Caleb inspects me.
I cross my arms and rub my biceps. The slight movement alerts me of a tender spot on my torso. I wince.
Ow. They got me good.
“Is this her?” Grabby asks him.
Caleb’s piercing gaze scans my naked form. Under different circumstances, I might like the way he’s looking at me. “No.”
His mouth forms a hard line, and his jaw ticks.
What is it about a guy looking all pissed off? Why is it so hot?
Behind his sexy smolder, I see pain. He’s probably been looking for her. I can only imagine how much pressure he’s under . . .
I kick myself for feeling even a slight bit of empathy. Pack wolves are privileged beings. What did they have to complain about? He may not have his mate, but unloved, he is not.
“Should we execute her?” Grabby asks.
I glimpse Caleb’s flashing gold eyes before he quickly closes them, breathing in deeply.
They’re back to their normal color when he opens them again.
With his stare fixed on me, I notice his eyes aren’t just blue but resemble clouds before a downpouring storm, hues of polished steel circle his pupil like a hurricane.
A storm is a perfect way to describe him.
The signs of a natural disaster can be subtle if you aren’t paying attention.
The boyish charm of his perfect, straight teeth, the sun-kissed skin, and his clean-cut, preppy appearance is all so inviting.
It’s almost enough to forget about his immense stature, veined arms, slabs of muscle, and other masculine features.
Intriguing to look at but dangerous to be near.
When Caleb doesn’t respond, Grabby tries again. “Sir? What do you want us to do with her?”
“I’m thinking,” Caleb snaps.
Caleb’s back is turned, so he doesn’t see Grabby’s fictional tail tuck between his legs at the public lashing he just received.
“It seems we need to send you rogues a stronger message not to come into our territory.” Caleb’s demeanor changes to something darker, deadly, and lacking humanity. He stands a little taller.
“Execution would be too kind.” With a sly grin, Caleb leans in and whispers, “And I could use a slave.”