37. Tank
Tank
My head throbbed, each microscopic movement sending shards of glass deeper into my brain. Fucking Markus. I knew he carried a mage stun gun, but the fact he’d had the audacity to use it on me made me want to rip his head from his shoulders.
I didn’t bother waiting for the shower to warm up before I stepped under the spray. Cold water cascaded over my head and shoulders, easing the ache inside my skull. It did nothing to cool my blood, however.
My wolf paced inside his cage, howling and raging at his confinement. He wanted out. He’d smelled the female wolf and was desperate to go to her. Mate, he kept insisting.
Not mate, I told him.
Mate. Mine. Claim mate.
I scoffed under my breath. The small male wolf shifter wasn’t our mate. There had to be some mistake. Siren magic? Perhaps a rival of my father was trying to fuck with me so I’d throw the fight.
If so, he’d failed.
The bear shifter had proved no match for me, despite his arrogant posturing for the females before I joined him in the octagon.
Fortunately for him, I wasn’t in the mood to drag the fight out. It took less than thirty seconds to knock the asshole out cold. Much to the fury of the watching audience, many of whom had bet on the fight lasting the full three minutes.
An enraged bull shifter threw a bottle at my head when the bear shifter dropped to the mat. The bottle didn’t hurt me, but it triggered my wolf, and in the second my control weakened, he burst free.
All hell broke loose at the sight of my wolf.
Shifters of all sizes ran screaming as my wolf pinned the bull shifter down, snarling and slavering in his terrified face.
My beast could easily have killed the disrespectful bastard—and very much wanted to—but I yanked him back before he tore the cunt’s throat out.
I had tried to shift back at that point, but my wolf refused to let go. He wanted to find the female wolf shifter. Not caring that we were causing chaos, he howled and swiped at anyone who tried intervening, including Tate.
Not even Tate’s alpha command to shift back got through to my wolf. The chains tethering him had snapped.
As the water washed away the blood and sweat, I wondered how long it would take for my father to call. Markus would have told him about me losing control. No doubt the croc bastard would embellish the story to make it sound worse than it was.
I’d heard Tate and Tobias discuss the possibility that I was in the early stages of feral shifter disease. A small part of me wondered whether that was why I lost control of my wolf, but I dismissed the idea.
Scenting the female had shredded my self-control.
My abs clenched as I thought about the burned sugar scent that haunted my dreams. The way she had calmed my fractious wolf, cooling his aggression. I’d been hard since that night.
It didn’t matter how many times I fucked my hand to completion. Nothing helped.
My cock wept as I closed my eyes, lost in a fantasy where the little female let me chase her pretty rust-colored wolf through the forest before we claimed her and made her ours.
I gripped my shaft and pictured what she’d look like when she shifted back to her human form. Red hair, green eyes, and a body made for me.
It took mere seconds before my release painted the tiles in hot bursts that seemed to go on forever. I sank to the floor of the shower as the water cooled. Tomorrow, I’d search the entire campus.
The female had to be here somewhere.