by D. M. Turner
Close enough to hear the almost subsonic growl emanating from her mate, she slowed to a walk and lowered her head to a neutral position.
Menace radiated from Ian, unrelenting even as he stared at her, threatening to strip away her courage.
Now’s not the time to allow a dominant male to intimidate you. If you give up, he dies. It’s as simple as that, and as brutal.
She paused when she stepped between Ian and Brett, putting no more than a few feet between herself and her mate. It isn’t the time to pick a fight or possibly throw fuel on an already out-of-control fire, so what now? She lowered her head further, curved her body slightly away, and whined softly, taking a step toward him and to one side so the wind would catch her scent and carry it to him. Would he perceive a female to be a threat like other males?
Ian fell silent, the snarl softening somewhat. His nose twitched, and his breath huffed faintly as he scented the breeze. Blood seeped from various wounds on his back, neck, and sides. A gash across his muzzle proved to be the source of the blood dripping from his mouth. He turned and stepped toward her.
Excitement sped up her heart. She raised her head to show interest and invite him closer, but one of the others made some movement that captured his attention, reminding him they were a threat.
He spun back to face them.
Subtle isn’t working. What else can I try? She narrowed her eyes. Movement. Perceived threat. Maybe a fight was what he needed. Sort of.
The big wolf gathered himself to launch at Brett and the others.
Sophia didn’t give him a chance to take action. She lunged, quickly closing the short distance between them to nip the side of his head.
He sidestepped and snarled at her.
Then she called on every bit of speed and strength left in her body and ran for the forest, glancing back only once to make sure he followed.
A few feet behind her and running flat-out, Ian’s focus rested solely on her. Success!
Now what do I do with him? She couldn’t run for long. No way. Too injured. Even as she lengthened her stride and skirted a tree, weakness spread. Running would increase blood loss, for both of them, and slow them down. Would he weaken soon enough? She wound through trees, hoping she hadn’t gone too far from the house. She needed to lead him far enough from the others to keep them safe. Until what, she wasn’t sure.
Pain flared in her shoulder and worsened with every step, but she continued onward until the force of his pants reached her ears, audible over her own. Braced for further agony, she planted both front feet and allowed her momentum to carry her hindquarters around to one side and slammed to a stop, facing Ian. Her shoulder screamed, and she stifled a yelp.
Ian skidded to a halt a few feet away and studied her, panting heavily, his coat soaked in blood. He made no move toward her, appearing curious what she’d do next, even as rage lingered in feral, pale green eyes.
Come on, Ian. Recognize me. I can’t let you die. The pack needs you. I need you. New tension wove through her as she considered that thought. Yes, she needed him. She should’ve recognized the truth the day before at the church. That desperation to marry him hadn’t been fear of being alone. She’d spent most of her life alone. It had been a deeply-rooted desire to be with him. A need she’d been trying to deny. Relying on others had never worked out well for her.
Sophia took one cautious step toward him, her body curved slightly to one side to let him know she was no threat. No change in her mate. So she took another, then another, slowly, one-by-one, until she was close enough to touch him with her nose. Was love the answer to rage? If so, how did she reach him with it? Taking a deep breath and steeling her courage, she nuzzled his chin.
Ian growled softly but made no aggressive move.
Emboldened by his lack of overt hostility, she moved closer and rubbed her head against the underside of his muzzle then moved toward his rear, rubbing herself along the length of him. She froze when he snuffled the base of her tail.
In one sudden move that caught her off-guard, he mounted her and bit down on the back of her neck, one canine tooth catching the edge of the wound in her shoulder.
She bit back a cry of pain and surprise, worried that it might make matters worse. His weight almost collapsed her legs under her, but she braced them and ducked her head.
* * *
Awareness flooded the darkness. Blood flowed over Ian’s tongue. The adrenaline-laced aroma of it filled his nose, along with a familiar scent. Sophia. Tinged with fear and pain. Her blood in his mouth. Her warm body trapped under his and by his teeth.
No! He released his bite, lowered his front paws to the ground, and moved to one side, looking around. Where were they? That rock formation. Those trees. A familiar trail through some undergrowth. Near the house then. He turned back to his mate.
His nose told him she was covered in his blood as well as her own, as was he. Had they fought? Panic shot fresh adrenaline through his veins. I can’t remember. The last thing he remembered was facing Brimfield after killing a second of the alpha’s pack that had jumped him from behind.
He lifted his nose into the air and sniffed for the enemy. Nothing. Was Brimfield dead? Had the threat been neutralized?
Sophia whined and took a step toward him.
Ian snarled at her then Shifted. Wounds he’d barely acknowledged made the process more painful, but he finally knelt in human form. “What were you thinking?” His voice remained an octave lower than normal, gruff and guttural. He stretched his neck and rotated one shoulder to help the last of the Shift settle in.
Her head lowered, but her gaze remained on his face. Another whimper preceded her closing more distance between them.
“I could’ve killed you! You knew the plan. You should’ve left well enough alone.” He growled.
She growled softly back, even as surprise flitted through her amber eyes. Had she thought he’d be happy about the fact he’d almost killed her? What if he hadn’t regained control before the wolf finished her off?
A mournful howl echoed through the canyon, soon followed by other voices, both wolf and human.
Ian turned toward them. Someone had died. One of their pack.
He lunged to his feet and cast one last glare at Sophia. “I’ll deal with you later.” Then he ran to the house, stumbling a couple of times on sharp rocks that cut into bare feet. As he rounded the garage, the scene spread before him brought him to a stop. So many dead…. “Brett?”
“Here.” Clothed in jeans, Brett waved from across the clearing.
Colin, also partially dressed, stood beside him. Three others in wolf form stood over a downed human. Graham, Carlos, and David. Jeremy moved among the dead as his human self, his expression grim as he bent to verify death.
There was no sign of O’Neil or Peter. The dead man had to be one of them.
Ian took a deep breath and headed that way.
* * *
Slowly trailing her mate, Sophia tried not to be overwhelmed by the sight of so much blood and death. Her killing of the serial killer had been the worst she’d believed possible, but it paled in comparison to the destruction of an entire pack of werewolves. Then she realized part of the blood she walked through was coming from Ian. Shifting had closed up some of his wounds, so only the worst of them still seeped, but he left bloody footprints.
She’d prevented his death. Shouldn’t he be relieved? So, he probably didn’t approve of how she’d gone about it. Still, it had worked. The man was in control again. That was what mattered, so why was he so angry?
His footsteps slowed then halted when he reached the others.
She stopped behind him, peering around his legs. Who was on the ground?
“Peter.” Grief underscored the whispered name. Ian took a deep breath. “Please, tell me I didn’t do this.”
Brett shook his head. “Based on scents, two of Brimfield’s wolves did it.”
Sophia’s heart ached. She’d barely known Peter, but he’d been a friend to the me
n around her. The breeze carried the scent of their grief. She lowered her head.
“That should be me, not him,” Ian muttered almost too softly for anyone to hear.
Her breath caught. Had he wanted to die? Was that why he was so upset? He’d told her himself that he had never wanted to be alpha, still didn’t. And hadn’t he said at some point, or had she read it in one of his stories, that he’d lived too long, seen too much? Maybe a man couldn’t lose two women he loved and have to kill a friend without losing the desire to live.
Brett had to have heard what Ian said, since he was standing right beside him, but he left the comment untouched. “There were eighteen, including Brimfield, plus five more that flanked us through the forest and attacked Tanya and Max.”
“Are they alright?”
“Yes. According to Max, that’s thanks to Sophia who took out two of those five after they ganged up on him and Tanya.”
Ian grunted. “Twenty-three men. That’s more than Clara told us to expect.”
“I know.”
“I’ve never heard of a pack that big.”
“Neither have I.”
Movement out of the corner of her eye captured her attention. Sophia glanced toward the house as Jeremy knelt over a fallen human. Not only did he speak softly to the man, but the body moved. Puzzled, she trotted over to investigate.
The doctor laid a gentle hand on a too-thin shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“Michael. Michael Phillips.” Fear laced the soft, weak voice. “Please, make it quick.” He tilted his head to expose his throat.
“Make what quick?”
“My death. Please, make it quick.”
Jeremy met Sophia’s gaze for a moment, horror apparent, then caressed the man’s head. “I have no intention of killing you.”
An odd scent reached Sophia’s nose. She sniffed the man. He smelled… different. Wolf, to be sure. The sour smell of fear, both old and new, was obvious, but anyone in his position would be terrified, so that wasn’t surprising.
Michael cringed as her nose touched him, almost curling into a ball on the cold ground.
Insight flashed. That’s it! He didn’t smell like a predator. Not like the other wolves in the pack. Wolves smelled like a combination of blood, earth, fur, and the blend of scents unique to each individual. Under it all, they all smelled like danger.
This man didn’t. Neither did he smell like prey, despite the terror he emanated.
She raised and cocked her head. How could a wolf not smell like the dangerous predator it was?
“I didn’t want to hurt any of you,” the frightened werewolf whispered. “I swear. Mr. Brimfield ordered me to fight. I couldn’t avoid it.”
“I understand. An alpha’s orders must be followed.” Jeremy continued to stroke Michael’s head. “You’re undernourished. Didn’t he feed you?”
A thin shoulder shrugged. “Sometimes.”
Not enough, if his emaciated condition was any indication. Had Brimfield truly thought a wolf in such a weakened state could fight? Sophia snorted softly. Why not? She had. Granted, she’d had a few days of more than normal food intake to help her body recover some of her previous condition, but her weight still left something to be desired.
“How long have you been a wolf?”
“It’s April?”
Odd question.
Apparently Jeremy thought so, too, because he frowned. “Yes.”
“About six months then. One of Mr. Brimfield’s pack Turned me last October. He thought it was a good joke on Mr. Brimfield.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a crypto-zoologist.” He shivered. “At least, I was before I was turned into one of the very creatures I’d been trying to study.”
Jeremy’s brows shot up. “You studied werewolves?”
“Tried to.” Another weak, one-shouldered shrug. “I guess I got too close to the truth.”
“I’d say so.”
A shift in air currents carried Ian’s scent.
Sophia glanced up.
He moved alongside her, his gaze on the two men. A scowl darkened his face even as the muscles at his temples flexed as he clenched his teeth. “Jeremy? What’s going on?”
“One of them survived.”
“Well, kill him and be done with it.”
Sophia stepped between Ian and Michael, baring her teeth at her mate. There had been enough death for one day. For one lifetime.
Ian’s scowl tightened even more. “He’s the enemy, and you would protect him? They killed Peter!”
“Dad?” Colin’s voice was hesitant but bore a thread of determination, as though he knew contradicting his father wasn’t the smartest thing to do but it was right.
“What?”
“I remember this man from the fight. He fought only until you killed Brimfield.”
Jeremy nodded. “That makes sense. He was under orders from his alpha. He had no choice, but the moment Brimfield died, he would’ve been released from those orders.” The doctor met his alpha’s gaze briefly, pleading rather than challenging. “He’s as much Brimfield’s victim as Clara was.”
Ian growled. “Fine, but lock him up. I won’t have one of Brimfield’s wolves wandering the property until we know he can be trusted.” His gaze fell on the man, who trembled without looking up. “It’s either that, or kill him. No third option.”
“Come on, Michael.” Jeremy helped the weak man to his feet and turned him toward the far end of the house and the outside entrance to the basement.
Sophia watched them and sighed softly with relief. Hopefully Michael wouldn’t mind being locked in a cage until Ian had a chance to calm down and could think rationally again. At least, she hoped that was the problem. Would Ian really kill a man who cringed at a look?
Ian tapped her on the shoulder. “Go with them. Get Jeremy to look at your wounds.”
She hesitated, wanting to stay with him.
He growled. “I said, go! I don’t want to deal with you at the moment. You’ve countermanded my orders enough for one day.”
Head down, she followed Jeremy and Michael to the basement, pausing only once, at the corner of the house, to look back.
Ian glared at her then turned his back on her.
She limped to the stairs then hobbled slowly down them, her shoulder screaming the whole way.
Had he truly expected her to let him die? Shouldn’t she, as his mate, have some say in such things? Sophia paused at the bottom of the stairs. Was that part of it? Had he wanted to die and not expected to be stuck with her long-term? No, that was ridiculous. Totally asinine.
Wasn’t it? He wouldn’t set out to die and abandon her. Would he?
No way.
She crept through the open basement door and hunkered against the wall in one corner, scarcely able to breathe. A different kind of pain twisted her heart. What if she was wrong about the whole thing being stupid? What if he wanted to be rid of her? Her father had certainly had no trouble casting her aside like an old newspaper.
The hum of voices around her slipped into the distance.
Chapter 31
Twenty-three dead. Twenty-one of them because they’d followed the wrong alpha. One because he’d chosen the path of evil. Another because he’d refused to abandon Ian and the pack in a crisis. One of the enemy still lived. Not an enemy though. Maybe. If Ian heeded the words of his son and the pack physician. Time would tell.
Even if he discounted a low-ranking wolf who hadn’t wanted to fight, that still left a count of twenty-two that had descended to reclaim a woman who was broken, possibly beyond recovery. A testament to how valuable Brimfield had deemed a female werewolf to be. Only through her could his children be born wolves, rather than having to be Turned, and thereby increase their chances of surviving their first Shift. Not to mention the fact that a female werewolf could endure a lot more and worse abuse than a human had any chance of surviving.
Lord, You must have intervened tonight. That’s the only explanat
ion I have for the body count not being as high as it truly should be. More of us should’ve died tonight.
He glanced over at his best friend as Brett came to his side. Then he allowed his gaze to return to Peter’s still form. “You need to bring Tommy out to see all of this.”
“Any particular reason?” Brett’s tone carried only curiosity, no challenge or disapproval.
“He’s too eager to fight. He needs to see for himself the reality of battle. The cost….” He shook his head.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Ian shook off deepening melancholy. It wouldn’t change anything that had passed or help the pack. He turned his gaze on his friend. “Status?”
“Jeremy determined earlier that O’Neil is down at least for tonight with a busted leg. Graham said he and some of the others will take care of the bodies and all. Everyone else who fought alongside us is banged up but healing well already. O’Neil can give direction from bed for the clean-up.” He snorted and smiled. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy bossing Graham and Colin around for a few hours.”
Ian forced a faint smile. Aside from Ian and Brett, Colin and Graham were the only members of the pack who outranked O’Neil. It was doubtful there’d be any issues. O’Neil was a good man. He might take a bit of advantage of the situation, but it wouldn’t be serious. Chances were, Colin and Graham would take it in good humor. They were like that.
“Colin said Max got pretty torn up by three wolves. Tanya apparently took damage from two others. It would’ve been worse if Sophia hadn’t helped.” He paused. “It all would’ve been worse if Sophia hadn’t been here,” he muttered, as though the words were an afterthought.
Ian clenched his teeth and took a deep breath through his nose. Blood overpowered all the normal scents of their territory. They’d smell that for weeks, most likely. Worse still was the lingering taste of Sophia’s blood in his mouth. He wasn’t ready to speak of her. The panic would resurge. He couldn’t deal with it. Not yet. “How many did I kill?”
Brett cocked his head and gave Ian a sideways look, one brow raised. “You don’t remember?”
