“I want to try out a couple of new cake recipes I found online.” Anny peered up at the sky. “It’s only going to get hotter, so I should get at it.” She rose from her seat. “You’re welcome to join me.”
Sylvie shook her head. “I think I’ll just sit out here and enjoy the morning.”
Cherise motioned to a hammock suspended between two tall oak trees at the edge of the yard. “Feel free to take a nap. There are books in the house too.”
“Help yourself to whatever’s on my shelves,” Anny told her.
“I think I will.” Reading in a hammock sounded like a great way to pass the morning. Sylvie couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a day off simply to relax.
Gwen stood and dusted off the seat of her shorts. “I think I’ll mosey on back to the house. If the men haven’t finished talking by now, they can take it outside.”
“If you wait for me, I’ll grab my laptop and join you.” Cherise looked at them all one at a time. “Remember, we’re not supposed to go anywhere by ourselves.”
“I hear Cole talking,” Gwen muttered. “But I know he’s right and so are you. It’s easy to forget to be vigilant when I’m only running from your place to ours.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Cherise pointed out. She disappeared into the house and returned moments later with her laptop. “Let’s go.”
The two women disappeared, leaving Sylvie and Anny alone. “If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here,” Anny told her. “I can’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through, but I’m a good listener.”
The offer touched Sylvie deeply. “Thank you.”
Anny’s smile was warm and concerned. “Gator’s a great guy. He comes across as gruff at times, but he’s all heart.”
“I know.” She hated that she was jealous of Anny’s relationship with Gator. The other woman knew him better than she did. Well, maybe not in all ways. Anny had never slept with Gator.
Sylvie stood. “I think I’ll go pick out a book.”
Anny followed her inside but stopped in the kitchen. “I’m here if you need me.”
Sylvie nodded and hurried to the room Anny shared with Armand. The two cats were sprawled across the bed and ignored her presence. She smiled and walked to the large bookshelf that dominated one wall. It was jammed with books. She didn’t take too much time to choose and simply grabbed one that had a sexy man and a wolf on the cover. “Howl of the Wolf,” she read. It would be interesting to see what the writer thought a werewolf was really like.
She tucked the book under her arm and headed back the way she came. She paused in the kitchen long enough to pour a lemonade for herself and for Anny. The other woman had the counter lined off with ingredients.
Anny rubbed her hands together. “This is going to be fun.”
Sylvie left Anny to her work and carried her book and lemonade to the hammock. She set her glass on a stump near the head of the swing and then lowered her body into it. The mesh and canvas cradled her and the sun peeked through the leaves, leaving her partly in shadow.
She opened her book and began to read about the curse placed on the wolf and his fellow warriors.
Sylvie wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she sensed she wasn’t alone. She’d read for a while and then dozed. The book was resting facedown on her stomach, still open to the last page she’d read.
She sat up, dislodging the book from its resting place on her chest. It toppled onto the ground with a thud. The air was hot and heavy and still, incredibly still. There were no birds chirping and even the insects had gone quiet.
Her wolf was agitated, and that was enough for Sylvie to move. She swung her legs over the side of the hammock and stood.
“Stay.” The low male voice came from behind several trees only a few feet away from her.
She began to tremble. She recognized that voice. It was so much like her ex-mate’s voice it was uncanny. Travis Dubois had found her.
She opened her mouth to howl for help. Before she could utter a sound, he was on her, one muscled forearm wrapped around her chest, his hand slapped over her mouth. “Make one sound and I’ll kill the woman in the house.” His fingers dug into her skin and she knew she’d have bruises.
Anny. Sylvie had forgotten her brother’s mate was alone in the house. How had Travis managed to slip by the men?
“Do you hear me? Make a sound and I’ll kill the bitch.”
She nodded. No way would she risk Anny’s life. She was Armand’s mate, but beyond that, she was Sylvie’s friend.
He gave a low laugh. “All your men are busy talking.” He snorted. “I’m a man of action,” he bragged.
Travis suffered the same affliction his brother had—conceit. She could use that against him. She was stronger now, smarter too. She was still afraid, but her fear was no longer debilitating. Gator would come for her. So would Armand. All she had to do was stay alive and look for a way to escape.
He dragged her away from the house. While she didn’t hinder him, she didn’t help him either. Her bare heels dragged on the ground, leaving furrows in the moss and dirt.
Travis swore when he noticed what she was doing. Before he could lift her, she picked up her feet, making herself a deadweight in his arms. He didn’t drop her, but it did put him off-balance. She unsheathed her claws and dug them into his arm.
He roared and dropped her. They were far enough away from the house that Anny would have time to run. Sylvie howled, hoping the men would hear her.
The sound was cut off when Travis brutally backhanded her across the face. She flew several feet in the air and rammed into a tree. She was dazed and hurt, but years of living with her mate had taught her to endure pain.
She staggered but remained upright. “That all you got,” she taunted.
As expected, he charged her. She waited until the last second and threw herself to the side. She almost made it. Razor-sharp claws ripped at her side. Excruciating pain radiated down her hips and leg. The coppery smell of blood filled her nostrils.
“I was going to claim you as my own,” he told her as if that was some huge honor.
Breathing was more difficult than it normally was. Her chest ached and she hurt all over. She didn’t look down. It was better not to see the damage he’d inflicted. And it was too dangerous to take her eyes off Travis for even a second.
He was a big man with a well-honed body and a trim beard. Like his older brother, Travis was a good-looking man, until you really looked into his eyes. It was then you saw what he truly was—a sadistic animal.
“I think I’ll pass,” she told him. It was tough to keep her voice level, but she managed. She had to believe Gator, Armand and the others were coming to help her. And if they weren’t, at least Anny had time to run to safety. That gave Sylvie some level of comfort.
Travis spit on the ground. “You’re not good enough anymore. You slept with that swamp trash,” he accused.
“He’s a better man than you can ever hope to be.” No one was allowed to talk about her Gator like that.
And he was hers. It had happened fast and it was a miracle. No, he was her miracle. Gator had swept into her life and turned it upside down in such a short time. Her wolf knew it and so did she. They belonged together. And now they’d probably never have that chance.
“You better run before the rest of the pack arrives.” Maybe she could frighten him off.
Travis laughed and started to circle around her. She moved her feet each time he did, keeping him in front of her. Each step sent a shaft of pain through her rib cage and down her left leg. Liquid dripped over her skin. She knew she was bleeding heavily even as her body tried to repair itself.
In the distance, she heard a wolf howl and then several more. Travis seemed so caught up in stalking her that he didn’t even seem to notice the sound.
“You’re not worth
y to be my mate. Now I just plan to fuck you before I kill you. Payback for what you did to my brother.”
No thank you. She’d rather die first than have him touch her. She needed to shift. As a wolf she had a chance. But she didn’t think she could shift fast enough. He’d be on her the moment she attempted it.
Her wolf howled inside her, but there was nothing Sylvie could do. Not unless she could distract Travis.
Travis jumped, the movement so fast it was a blur. He struck hard, knocking her to the ground. The breath left her lungs in a big whoosh and agonizing pain shot through her entire body.
He tore at her top, shredding it. He wasn’t careful either and tore her chest as well. She drove her hands upward and clawed at his eyes. She missed but managed to gouge his cheeks.
Travis swore and hit her again. The blow rocked her head to the side. “You’ll pay for that, bitch,” he promised.
Think, Sylvie, she told herself. She had to hit him where he was most vulnerable. He tried to catch her hands but she managed to get one free. She shoved it between their bodies. Travis was aroused by the violence, by the thought of hurting her.
She grabbed his cock through his pants and twisted as hard as she could. He howled and shoved away from her. She tried to scuttle back but moving was difficult, almost impossible.
Travis growled low in his throat. He ripped off his shirt and pants and shifted. Sylvie tried to shift too but she was too weak. She needed to concentrate. If she could shift, she’d be able to heal faster and maybe run closer to help. She was under no misconception that she could outrun Travis. He was too strong. And despite the fact she’d hurt him, he was still on his feet and very, very angry.
She faced the large brown-and-black wolf, knowing her lifespan was measured in seconds now, not minutes or days or months. It wasn’t fair. She’d survived hell itself. No way was she going down without a fight.
Sylvie tried to concentrate on shifting. She was weak, and even with her wolf helping, she wasn’t sure she could actually do it. Travis launched himself at her while she tore at the tattered remains of her top and bra.
It was all over. She wasn’t going to make it.
A flash of black hit Travis before he reached her, driving her attacker into the thick trunk of an oak. He hit hard but rebounded quickly.
A large black wolf stood in front of her. He bared his teeth and growled low in his throat, the rumbling sound a deadly promise of retribution. Gator had come for her.
Still in her human form, Sylvie stood, or tried too. She was still bleeding in several spots. The wounds were closing rapidly but she’d lost a lot of blood.
Weak but determined, she pushed herself to her feet. The pain threatened to make her pass out, but she took a deep breath and clung to consciousness. She wouldn’t allow Gator to fight Travis by himself. She would stand with him.
Silent as ghosts, four other wolves emerged for the surrounding woods. She recognized them all. Armand stood closest to Gator. Then Cole, Louis and finally Jacque ringed the intruder.
The Salvation Pack males had all come to protect her.
Chapter Twenty
Gator’s anger went right to his bones. No, deeper. To his very soul. In most people, anger was a hot emotion. In him it was utterly cool and calculating. Like the creature he was named after, Gator was a stone-cold killer when it came to protecting what was his.
And Sylvie belonged to him.
Travis had made the monumental mistake of attacking her. For that, he would pay with his life.
Gator knew Sylvie was hurt. The smell of her blood and sweat burned his nostrils. As much as he wanted to comfort her, he knew he had to eliminate the threat first. While Travis lived, she would never be safe.
He’d lost at least two decades of his life when he’d heard Anny screaming for Armand. All the men had been patrolling, but Gator had been closest.
Anny had been out of breath and afraid but she’d pointed toward their house and said one word. “Sylvie.”
Gator hadn’t waited for the rest of them. He’d taken off as fast as his wolf could go. He’d heard Anny howl. The others had responded in kind and he knew they were coming.
He’d almost been too late. Sylvie had been down and Travis had almost been on her when he’d arrived. He couldn’t worry about what might have been. He had to concentrate on the enemy in front of him.
It was time to deal with Travis Dubois.
Gator knew Travis would die here. Even if by some chance he killed Gator, Cole and the others would make sure Sylvie was safe. That was all that mattered.
The two of them squared off against one another, both of them strong male werewolves. Where Travis was agitated and driven by anger and the need for blood, Gator was driven by the need for justice. Travis had to pay for what he’d done.
Andre Dubois was dead. Gator couldn’t go back and kill Sylvie’s former mate, but he could remove this threat from her life.
Travis shook himself and finally seemed to realize they were no longer alone. He was penned in with nowhere to go. He shifted back to his human form so Gator shifted as well. If he wanted to fight as a man, Gator would oblige him.
Travis swiped a hand over his mouth as if tasting something foul. “Afraid to fight me on your own, swamp trash?”
He heard Sylvie gasp behind him, but the slur didn’t bother him at all. He’d been called much worse and by better men than Travis Dubois.
Gator’s silence seemed to unnerve Travis. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “Don’t tell me you were taken in by the little slut. She’s spread her legs for half the Louisiana Pack.”
Sylvie made a sound of distress behind him. Gator prayed she wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t engage with Travis. He was a sick man who thrived on that kind of power.
Armand growled but held steady. Gator appreciated his friend letting him handle this situation. It proved to Gator more than anything else that Armand accepted his claim to Sylvie and recognized Gator as her mate.
They hadn’t made it official, but Sylvie belonged to him. And Gator protected what was his.
“You told Pierre about Sylvie, didn’t you?” Gator needed to find out any information he could. Travis had always been a braggart. Couldn’t seem to resist. He didn’t think time had changed that character trait.
“He knows and he’s coming for her. In fact…” Travis trailed off and glanced over his shoulder but Gator and the others weren’t buying it. They’d been out patrolling. And while it was possible one wolf had snuck through, a large group wouldn’t have been able too.
He also knew all the women would be holed up at one of the houses. They were tough females and they also had several weapons at their disposal. If anyone else were around, the women would alert them.
“Give it up, Travis,” Gator taunted. “We know you’re alone. I bet Pierre told you to keep an eye on things but you couldn’t resist trying to take Sylvie for yourself.” It was a stab in the dark, but it seemed like the kind of thing the other man would do.
Travis growled and Gator knew he’d hit a nerve. “She wouldn’t have you, would she?” Gator drove the cold dagger of truth deeper. “Your brother had her, but you never have. You always wanted what Andre had, but you were never quite as good as he was, were you?” He’d baited his enemy and waited for him to strike.
Travis’s face turned red with fury at the taunt. He roared and launched himself into the air. Calm and controlled, Gator was ready for the attack.
Sylvie cried out his name, but Gator didn’t flinch or turn away from his enemy. At the last possible second, he struck. He went low and fast, ducking behind Travis’s outstretched claws. He grabbed the man’s head and twisted hard, using his momentum to give him added strength. The loud crack echoed through the forest.
He watched, totally dispassionate, as Travis’s body fell to the ground.
He heard a gas
p and whirled around, his cloak of cold calm falling away the second he set eyes on Sylvie. There was blood on her side and legs, splattered on her arms and hands. Her face was bruised and swollen.
It hurt him to look at her. “Oh, chère.”
Travis Dubois was forgotten as Gator reached for her. He hesitated and started to pull back when his brain began to process what he’d just done. She’d just seen him cleanly and coolly kill a man. For a woman who’d dealt with far too much violence in her life, that had to be shocking. He wasn’t worthy of her.
Before he could lower his arms, she was in them. Maybe he wasn’t worthy of her, but she was here and she needed him. He scooped her into his arms and started walking back to the house. The others could handle getting rid of the body. He needed to get Sylvie home and tend to her injuries.
“It’s all right, chère,” he crooned. “I’ve got you.”
Armand was right beside him, his concern palpable. “How is she?”
Sylvie held out her hand to her brother and he took it. Gator never slowed his step. Sylvie needed her injuries seen to. Armand kept pace.
“I’m okay,” she told him. Her brother might believe that, but Gator didn’t. Travis had attacked and beaten her, might have done worse if he hadn’t shown up in time.
Anger filled him, this time it was hot and irrational. “How did he get you by yourself?” Gator demanded. “You were supposed to stay at the house. You promised,” he growled.
Armand stiffened beside him. “Watch your tone.”
“Stay out of this,” he snapped back.
“I didn’t break my promise,” she told him. The fact that she was being all calm and rational only made him crazier.
“Then how did Travis get his hands on you.” Gator would have nightmares about it for the rest of his life.
“I was reading in the hammock. I must have dozed off. When I woke he was there.” She paused and took a steadying breath.
She had to be hurting. She didn’t need to relive what had just happened before she was even tended to. He was being an ass. “That’s okay, chère,” he told her. “We’ll discuss this later.” He had to calm down. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him.
Wolf from the Past: Salvation Pack, Book 4 Page 21
