This Dark Wolf: Soul Bitten Shifter Book 1

by Everly Frost

  Blood streams down her face. She gives a howl, but I feel no regret.

  Spinning to the next woman, I put all of my strength into a kick that connects with her chest and sends her flying backward. My wolf’s energy rises inside me, a response to the violence around me, making me stronger and faster.

  Exchanging rapid blows with another woman—a blonde—I duck and dodge to evade an attack by a woman behind me at the same time, aware of yet another elevator full of shifters emerging into the room—some male this time.

  The women in the new group immediately run to join the fight against me.

  Oh, for fuck’s—

  I stop defending and start attacking, ripping one woman off her feet as she runs toward me, smacking her with my fist and using her own momentum against her to knock her out cold. I duck through an assault from three others to target a fourth woman, flipping her off her feet and kicking her spine.

  She screams, but again, I feel no regret.

  They picked this fight, not me.

  I kick, hit, punch, swing, and flip my way through the rest of the attacking women, until only Bridget is left standing.

  She’s ranked the highest. I see that now. The others were following her lead. She’s not Tristan’s beta, but she must be some sort of delta.

  My chest heaves and sweat drips down my face, but I haven’t sustained a single wound from the altercation.

  She was cocky in the beginning, but now she’s wary, eyeing the eleven women groaning on the ground around us as I prowl toward her.

  “Come on,” I say, my voice rising. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To make sure I know my place? Well, I know my place. It’s right beside Tristan. Not lower than him. Certainly not fucking lower than you.”

  Her gaze flicks to Tristan.

  It’s the first time she’s checked his response to our fight.

  He looks like he might kill her if I don’t, his fists clenched, his lips drawn back in a snarl, his focus lined up with hers.

  Her eyes widen and the blood drains from her face.

  If she were in wolf form, she’d tuck her tail between her legs right now. I guess there are many pack laws I still don’t know about, but it looks like she broke one of them by engaging me in a fight.

  She drops her gaze from mine and backs away from me.

  Her body language is probably an acknowledgment of my status, but my human side is wary of another challenge. If I don’t end this now, the shifters in Tristan’s pack could keep coming at me.

  Spinning away from Bridget, I discover that a crowd has grown at the entrance to the gym, both men and women, even some older teens. The women I beat slowly stumble to their feet and also back away from me, clutching their ribs, arms, even heads, but I know I didn’t do them any serious damage.

  “Who else?” I scream at the crowd, my wolf’s energy rising inside me so that my scream turns into a shrieking howl. “Who else wants a piece of me?”

  In the background, I finally see Iyana and Danika trying to push through the men and women gathered in the opening, but the shifters won’t budge, blocking their way.

  Iyana looks like she’s ready to bite the next wolf who keeps her from me. Her fangs are fully descended while Danika keeps reaching for her hip as if she’s expecting to find a pistol with a handy silencer on it.

  I wait in the silence that ensues.

  “Come on!” I scream. “No men? Are you all fucking cowards? Fight me!”

  Tristan flinches, suddenly more subdued, and I’m not sure why my challenge had that effect on him.

  “You either challenge me now or you challenge me never!” I scream, my gaze raking over the crowd. Waiting for someone to answer my call.

  “Really?” I ask when the silence continues. “Nobody else?”

  “Nobody is stupid enough,” says a quiet male voice at the side of the room.

  Jace steps out of the crowd, approaching me cautiously, warily. I put him on his backside at Hidden House and I guess he remembers it.

  He looks like he got dressed in a hurry. He was probably out patrolling the city for most of the night—might have only had a few hours of sleep before he came up here to the gym. I can only imagine how quickly the news must have spread that a fight was going on to bring all of these shifters up here to see it.

  Jace steps to my side, placing himself carefully where I can see him, as if he’s wary of my wrath. He turns to the pack. “Tessa Dean is the daughter of Andreas Dean, former alpha of the Middle Highlands pack. You’ve heard the stories—the rumors.”

  Murmurs grow among the onlookers, but they hush when Jace says, “They’re all true. Tessa’s wolf is unique but formidable. Two months ago, Tessa fought Dawson Nash, Cameron Griffin, and Cody Griffin at the Conclave. She challenged her alpha, Peter Nash. But as a consequence of defending herself, she lost her father. He was one of the last true alphas. A friend of this pack. We feel his loss deeply.” Jace gives me a careful nod. “Tessa is part of our pack now. You will welcome her and treat her with the same respect with which you treat each other.”

  Some of my rage evaporates with Jace’s firm and clear speech, but my underlying distrust remains. I was within their presence for two seconds and these shifters turned on me.

  Nothing has changed. I’m a target and that’s what I’ll remain.

  Jace continues to eye me warily, cautiously, before he turns toward Tristan.

  I hold my breath, waiting for Tristan to respond, waiting to see if he’ll reinforce Jace’s statements and make sure the message is clear—that I’m safe among the pack.

  Tristan’s gaze flicks from me to Bridget and back again. The muscle in his jaw clenches and I sense his inner turmoil again—about what, I’m not sure.

  He strides across the room, but everything freezes when he passes behind me and walks straight to Bridget.

  Ignoring me, he grips her shoulders and murmurs something to her.

  Shock passes through me.

  He has disregarded me in favor of my attacker.

  A quick check of Jace’s reaction reveals that he has also frozen, his shoulders suddenly tense. Jace’s gaze flicks to me and I can’t stand the apology in his eyes.

  Fuck this. I can’t stay here in this room a second longer.

  Taking a quick breath, trying to control the rising tide of hurt and anger inside me, I turn away from Tristan and Jace and stride toward the elevator, my fists still clenched.

  The crowd parts immediately to let me through, every shifter backing away from me in a hurry, casting quick glances from me to Tristan.

  I don’t look back, snarling at them as I pass by.

  Now that the crowd moves out of the way, Iyana races toward me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and pulling me away from the watchful shifters. Danika holds the elevator door open for me, gesturing for us to hurry inside it. There’s no direct sunlight in this room or I imagine their roles would be reversed.

  As soon as Iyana and I enter, Danika lets the doors close, thumps the button for the seventh floor, and throws her arms around me. Iyana follows, their arms tangling in a group hug that makes it hard for me to suppress my misery.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Iyana says, stroking my hair as I drop my head to her shoulder. “That was seriously fucked-up pack bullshit.”

  My eyes are burning with tears. The fight was bad enough, but Tristan consoling Bridget at the end has now sent a message to his pack that rips away my worth: They can attack me and he will side with them.

  They are his pack and I am not.

  I can beat them, knock them down, but I will never be one of them.

  Danika rubs my back and I can’t stop my tears from flowing.

  “Fuck mornings,” I say.

  Chapter Twenty

  The corridor is deserted as Iyana and Danika help me to their room. I’m a shivering, shaking mess by the time we reach it.

  The aftermath of my fight with the women is worse than all of the times Dawson took his shit out on me, and I d
on’t understand why it’s affecting me so much right now. It’s not like I’m physically wounded.

  My teeth chatter as Iyana pushes the door open to their room at the end of the corridor. “This is where they put us.”

  It’s a corner room with windows on two sides—both covered with block-out blinds that Iyana has taped to the window frames around the edges to keep the sunlight out. Separate beds sit along each far wall, and a small bathroom is located off to the left. I remember Tristan saying that the seventh floor is for the single women, some of whom I’m assuming are currently upstairs—the ones I put on their butts.

  Iyana firmly closes the door but mutters unhappily that there’s no lock.

  I stumble inside the room while Danika keeps hold of me.

  “Are you hurt, sweetie?” she asks, guiding me to the nearest bed and helping me sit. “We can get ice if you need it.”

  I shake my head, pressing my lips together, unable to speak.

  Iyana crosses to the bed and kneels in front of me, looking me over with alarm when I start to rock back and forth, curling over my knees.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” she asks.

  “She must be in shock,” Danika says, leaning across the gap between beds to snatch the blanket off the other bed and wrap it around my shoulders, rubbing my back and holding me close. “She let her guard down and they attacked her. I’ve seen it happen. It’s worse than when you expect an attack.”

  With my arms now wrapped up in the blanket, I can’t swipe at my tears, hating the continuing burn at the back of my eyes. I wasn’t prepared for someone to try to hurt me. Despite the conflict with Tristan, I thought I would be safe among his pack at least. Hell, last night I was eating cake.

  All of my rage has evaporated and left me vulnerable. Having friends who care about me is only making it worse, giving me a safe place to fall apart.

  Except that it’s not so safe after all.

  Tristan’s presence suddenly floods my senses again. His footsteps thud in my hearing, rapid beats approaching along the corridor.

  My heart lurches. Iyana’s head snaps up. At the same time, Danika’s arms clench tighter around me.

  “I’ll tell him to fuck off,” Iyana says, rising to her feet and storming across the room, throwing open the door before closing it firmly behind her.

  I sense Tristan pull to a stop. I count the beats of silence while I imagine Iyana is casting death stares at him if he comes a step closer.

  When he finally speaks, he’s a lot quieter than I was expecting. “I need to speak with Tessa.”

  “Fuck off, Tristan,” Iyana snaps, true to her promise. Her footsteps are quiet, and I picture her muscling up to Tristan, who is practically twice her size. “You and your pack have done enough damage for today.”

  I was expecting an aggressive response from Tristan, but he remains subdued. “Nothing like that will happen again. Can you please make sure Tessa knows that?”

  Iyana pauses now too. But she rallies quickly. “It had better not happen again. Or we’re out of here, and from what I hear, you need our help.”

  “I do.” There’s another pause. “Does Tessa need anything?”

  “She needs to be left alone.” I picture Iyana holding her head higher. “And she’s staying with us from now on.”

  “Okay,” he says. “I’ll have Jace move you to the family floor upstairs. There’s more room there.”

  Now I picture Iyana unfurling her fists, maybe tipping her head to the side. If she’s surprised, she doesn’t sound it. “Good.”

  I sense Tristan turn swiftly on his heel and stride away.

  Iyana returns to the room, closes the door behind her, and presses back against it. Her eyes are wide, her lips pursed. She looks shell-shocked. “What just happened?” she asks.

  I drag air into my chest. “He hasn’t left.”

  My senses are going haywire because Tristan’s presence is like a burning flame, a scorching spot nearby, burning brighter than normal. So fiercely bright that I must be feverish. His footsteps stop at the end of the corridor and pause. I sense his inner turmoil like a growing wildfire about to rage out of control and then…

  “You need to step away from the door, Iyana,” I manage, still gasping for breath, trying to fight the clawing sensation inside my heart and chest. No matter how hard I try to hold myself together—no matter how firmly Danika hugs me—my insides are coming apart.

  I fight the moan that threatens to slip between my lips.

  I’m stronger than this.

  I’m stronger—

  My groan releases, a painful, wrenching sound.

  A second later, the door flies open.

  Iyana steps clear just in time.

  Tristan looms in the doorway. His shoulders are hunched. He’s partially shifted, his eyes nearly full wolf, his animal dominating the room with its presence.

  “No.” He growls at Iyana, his voice barely human.

  She stands her ground, edging between him and me. “Get out of here, Tristan…” She flounders. “Or Tristan’s wolf. Or whomever I’m speaking to right now. Get out, or I swear I will grow a taste for wolf blood.”

  “No.” He growls again. “She needs me.”

  “Tristan’s wolf,” Iyana addresses him while her fangs descend and her lips draw back. “Tessa needs you like she needs a claw in her back.”

  Tristan’s response is low and dangerous, simple statements that make me run cold. “Her wolf is breaking. I can sense it. You can’t help her. I want to walk away, but I can’t. She’s my responsibility.” He glares at Iyana. “She needs me.”

  On the bed, I drag my knees up to my chest. This pain has to be a consequence of more than the aftermath of a fight. It’s a deep, tearing sensation, as if I’m about to lose a part of myself and I’m afraid of what will happen when I do.

  Iyana casts a quick glance at Danika, who chomps down on her lip. “I hate to admit it, but Tristan’s right. This is more than shock. Tessa wasn’t hurt in the fight—not that I saw—but she’s in physical pain. I’m not sure what’s causing it or what we can do…”

  “Her wolf needs my wolf,” Tristan snaps, apparently impatient with the conversation already. “If you don’t want her to break, then you will let me pass.”

  Iyana’s fists clench. With a groan of frustration and defeat, she finally steps out of Tristan’s path, but she jabs her finger at him, her fangs clearly visible. “If you hurt Tessa, things are going to get very messy between us, wolf.”

  Tristan stops when he’s level with her, his eyes narrowed, but he suddenly reaches into his pocket and flips her a card that looks like a security card. “Do not come near the twelfth floor for twenty-four hours. After that, you’re free to come and go.”

  Iyana stares at the security card before she snatches it from him. “Fine.” Her gaze darts to me. “Please, make sure Tessa’s okay.”

  Tristan ignores her plea, scooping me up blanket and all, one arm under my legs, the other supporting my back, keeping me as curled up as possible as he pulls me against his chest and strides from the room with me.

  Giving in to my increasing pain, I allow my head to rest against his chest as he carries me to the elevator, but I tug at the blanket, making sure it covers me and forms a barrier between us.

  It’s infuriating that he suddenly seems to have spare security cards everywhere, pulling another one from his jeans pocket to trigger the elevator to take us up to the twelfth floor.

  When the blanket slips a little as he bends to scan his card, I grab at the material to pull it tight again.

  “Stop that.” He growls at me as he straightens and adjusts his hold on me. “You’re not helping yourself.”

  I can’t even scowl at him. Right now, I’m simply desperate not to throw up all over him.

  I’m both suffocating and tearing apart. The blanket is my final defense, keeping all of my pieces together.

  The elevator doors open into his penthouse and he launches into action
. I freeze in shock when he rolls me onto the couch and rips the blanket away from me.

  I’ve barely registered that the blanket’s gone when he hauls me up by the front of my shirt so fast that he rips the buttons off it, tearing my shirt open, exposing my bra. His arms whip around my waist, sliding against my naked ribs as he yanks me up against him.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I scream at him, my fists flying out, punching into his shoulders milliseconds before my chest can collide with his.

  My defensive maneuver barely has an impact on him.

  “You need skin on skin,” he snarls, his voice throaty, his big hands unrelenting where he grips my waist.

  I’m still processing the ease with which he nearly undressed me, still coming to terms with his strength. I thought fighting Cody Griffin was terrifying. I thought the white wolf was intimidating.

  But if Tristan hadn’t chosen to stop right now, I wouldn’t have a chance.

  Fuck.

  My forearms press against his chest, my arms bent at the elbows, the only barrier between us. I seek my wolf’s strength, but she’s writhing inside me. She’s hurting. And the worst part is that where my arms press against Tristan’s chest… I’m receiving the smallest relief from the pain.

  His wolf’s power—his power—promises to be the drug that will ease my pain. But if it means embracing him—worse, stripping off—I’ll have to make myself completely vulnerable to him to get it.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he says, his voice thick. “But you need to give in to this.”

  I tip my head back, my hair falling heavily to my waist. I search for any hint in his eyes that he sees me as anything other than a means to an end.

  I don’t find it.

  “No!” I thump him and he releases me, his arms dropping to his sides.

  I crumple to the floor, unable to stay upright without his support, one arm outstretched to ward him off as I gasp my speech. “Stay… the fuck… away from me…”

  “Tessa, you need my help. You need my body. Nobody else can help you right now.”