Chapter Thirteen
“I’m not sure what’s going on,” he said dully.
“It’s complicated,” I said.
The two wolves came out from behind the stairs leading to Ronan’s place where they’d been hiding. They were still in wolf form, and their gazes were glassy and fixed.
Zombie wolves. Just what I needed to top off this hellish day.
“Your wolves are not well.” I indicated the one closest to me with a nod. “I’m going to be straight with you—I’m irrationally afraid of zombies, so don’t be surprised if I lash out at them.”
This seemed to snap Miles out of whatever self-inflicted spell he’d been under. “What are you talking about?”
The wolves padded to the foot of the stairs and turned their snouts toward Ronan’s apartment door, tongues lolling. Unblinking.
Yuck. The wolf on the ground had rotated on his belly and was now facing the same direction as his cohorts. I inched back.
Miles moved closer to me, his gaze locked on the wolves. “What’s wrong with them?”
The wolves began to howl. A soft whine that went from the lowest ranges of the vocal register to the highest in seconds. It sounded like a dirge, a funereal song.
“They’re sad,” I said.
Miles ripped his gaze from the wolves and turned to me. “What curse did you place upon them, demon?”
“Curse? Hey, I don’t even know how to curse someone into being a maudlin zombie. Sure, I made that wolf sit, but that was all soil magic. I didn’t do anything to the others except verbally shame them for being dumbasses.” I frowned at him. “I thought you were doing it.”
He shook his head. Looked back at the wolves. “No, I am certain it’s your doing. I’m here to force you to tell me where you’re hiding Mason Hartman, and you’re retaliating by making them incapable of rational thought with demon magic.”
Ick. “Oh, I hope not. That’s a power I wouldn’t want to have.”
Miles scowled at me. “Why not? You demons love to strip beings of their souls and force them into reanimation to do your evil bidding.”
I looked at him. “You’re so fucking weird.”
“Weird?” His glowing white forehead creased again. Gods, he was creepy.
“Why would I want their souls? I have my own.” I made a shooing motion, showing him I was finished with that line of conversation. “Can we please focus on whatever the heck it is your minions here are doing?”
He appeared to take umbrage at this. “I am paranormal. I do not have minions. That’s your territory, demon.”
“I wish. Honestly, I could use the help. Lots of irons in the fire at the moment,” I said.
The wolves howled again, this one even sadder.
“Why are they mourning?” Miles whispered to himself.
Maybe it was the head damage or perhaps the numerous distractions, but until Miles said that, I’d forgotten what Ronan had been up to in his apartment.
Aurora.
That had to be it. For some reason, the wolves were picking up on Ronan’s emotions and mourning Aurora.
I wasn’t traditionally religious, but I sent a supplication to the goddesses that it wasn’t because she was dead. Ronan wouldn’t be able to stand it. He’d pick off every godsdamned alpha wolf in the Pallás pack in a violent rage or die trying.
“Oh my goddess, I’m going to be the best cunada ever. Just you wait and see. I’ve always wanted a sister.”
And I’d be right there beside him.
The door at the top of the stairs swung open. Ronan’s fully shifted wolf sprang over the railing on the top landing and landed on the toes of Miles’s dress shoes.
Like, on the man’s toes.
Miles pressed his lips together. He looked like he wanted to scream. Tears trickled from the corner of his eyes and dribbled down the sides of his face.
Ronan snarled.
The muscles in Miles’s jaw twitched as he worked to keep his mouth shut.
Ronan showed his teeth. His landing hadn’t been accidental. Had he wanted to, he could’ve landed on Miles’s head and crushed it like a melon under a car tire.
This had been a show of power.
See how precise I can be? If I choose to put power behind my surgical accuracy, I can rip your heart from your chest. You’ll be dead before the first pump of blood squirts from the wound.
Ronan’s next snarl was eardrum-perforating loud. I lost focus and dropped the spell on the meanest of the three wolves, the one I’d forced to the ground. The second he was free, the wolf climbed to all fours and jogged up behind Ronan with the others.
Ronan didn’t even bother to peer over his shoulder. He shifted into a hybrid form that left him looking mostly wolf but with the ability to stand upright. Like the Egyptian god Anubis with more bulk.
We stood in silence, the wolves panting, Miles breathing like he’d just finished a marathon, and me staring at Ronan.
“This is the weirdo who thinks I kidnapped Mason,” I said.
The enormous wolf glared at Miles. I took a quick look around to ensure there weren’t any humans nearby.
This side of town tended to be deserted when the pub was closed, which was a blessing while four enormous wolves—one of which absolutely could not pass for even the biggest German Shepherd—and a silver-eyed witch surrounded a man choking back tears.
“Ronan, please get off his toes,” I said. “He knows he’s been bested. We don’t need to kill him to further make that point, right?”
His muzzle lifted, and he sniffed the air. Growled.
My guess was he was picking up the scent of my blood.
“That was one of the wolves, not him,” I said, “and you’ve already got all three of them under your control.”
Ronan’s wolf snapped the air in front of Miles before releasing him. Miles stumbled back, windmilling his arms like a cartoon character. His shoe caught a divot in the dirt, and he went down, hitting the ground on his ass.
After giving the pale man another derisive snap of his teeth, Ronan turned to the wolves present and sniffed each forepaw, zeroing in on Mr. Clawsy. He growled directly into the wolf’s ear in dark and threatening whispers that made even me shiver in fear.
Miles bicycle-kicked his injured feet in the dirt to get away. The two wolves who’d held my arms cowered, showed throat. Mr. Clawsy flipped onto his back and sprayed urine like a lawn sprinkler.
I ducked out of his line of fire, keeping a close eye on Miles and the other wolves. I needn’t have bothered. They were mesmerized by the bigger, more immediate danger.
Ronan let out another growl and lunged at the wolf’s head, driving two claws into the canine’s skull.
“Never. Touch. My. Mate. Again,” he said, in halting lurches. His voice was dark and edged with cruelty—and truth. He meant every word.
Mate? Did he really say mate? Did he really mean mate? What did it mean if he did mean it? Was I ready for that? Yes? Yes—a firm yes, not a wimpy one. Even so, was I truly prepared for the whole—
Betty, stop. I made myself hide my reaction. This was a subject to freak out about when Ronan wasn’t on the verge of ripping the fur off another wolf’s head.
“Never,” he repeated, “again.”
The wolf whimpered, and his body reacted in fear—stinky, wet fear. Honestly, how much had the guy had to drink today? I’d have thought he’d be on empty by now.
Ronan retracted his claws then seized the wolf by the throat and hoisted him high. The wolf’s furry feet dangled in the air. Ronan’s hazel gaze locked onto the wolf’s copper one.
“Shift.”
The word squeezed my chest like a hug from a hungry anaconda.
Miles grunted.
Wolves Two and Three writhed and whined and wheezed.
Wolf One froze.
Weaker wolves, like low-ranking betas, sometimes experienced pain with their shift unless a stronger wolf aided them. This was done slowly, and with careful attention paid to their pain. The idea was to command and manage a minimally painless shift from human to wolf.
Or wolf to human.
However, when Ronan commanded a shifter in that tone of voice with that much alpha power behind it, it didn’t matter if the shifter was a high-ranking alpha or the lowest of betas. There was going to be pain. This was meant to be a lesson in crossing him.
He wanted it to hurt.
Seconds after the command was issued, the wolf who’d hurt me exploded in a mess of fur, flesh, and fat.
And blood. A lot of blood.
Squelching, shivery chunks had skidded halfway across the street, but most of it covered the dirt, the staircase, Ronan, the two wolves, and Miles.
“Ahhhhh,” the truthseeker shrieked. “Get it off me!”
“Why were you so close? Wait, were you trying to sneak up on him? You honestly thought the right time to ambush an angry alpha wolf was when he was raging at the guy who hurt his mate?” I let the word sit on my tongue. Smiled a little as I rolled it around my mouth.
Mate.
Miles cast a hateful glance at me. Blood, fat, and bits of canine viscera speckled him from head to foot. “Shut up.”
The wolf-shifter Ronan had just explosively forced to human form shivered in the dirt, hissing and whimpering as it coated his naked skin.
“His flesh seems a little sensitive,” I said.
Ronan gave me a barely perceptible shake of his head, and the sides of his oversized mouth lifted into a smile. “Like the skin beneath a bad sunburn,” he responded then glanced at Miles dismissively. “He’ll be disoriented for a couple of days. Take him away before I kill him.”
“Don’t come near me. I quit,” the wolf croaked, as he pushed to his feet. “You and this bitch can kiss my—”
Whomp.
Ronan spun around, leg straight, foot extended. The kick caught Mr. Clawsy in the chest and sent him flying. He slammed into the wall beside the stairs, hung in place for a couple seconds, then faceplanted on the cement.
The other wolves whined, again showing throat.
“Go,” Ronan commanded.
They broke free of whatever hold had been keeping them in place and dashed to the injured man. One shifted to hybrid, just enough to enable her to rise to her feet. She slung the battered man onto her shoulder firefighter style. She fled, the other wolf at her heels.
Mr. Clawsy’s moans echoed down the lonely section of street. Again, I hoped we were alone. It was rare to see humans around the pub, but it wasn’t impossible.