Page 43 of Claimed by the Pack

Strangely,as I saw her pretty eyes flash in my direction and she turned the hose on me once more, my heart swelled with more love for her than I'd ever felt.

“Are you going to stop this?” she yelled. Chase and Gray were already lying in a docile position on the ground. I was the only one still trying to move.

The fight had gone out of me, I wanted to move toward her.

I stopped and did the same thing my pack mates had done.

I lay down in a submissive pose, just long enough to get her to stop.

She didn't take her eyes off of us as she turned off the hose, but as soon as the water was off and she'd taken her hands off the hose, I shifted.

I could see Gray and Chase doing the same out of the corner of my eye.

The scratches and bites all over my body were already healing and I assumed theirs were doing the same. They'd be much more sore and bruised than I was, probably for days, but they would heal. Even if Cheyenne hadn't turned the hose on us, I would have stopped before I ripped open anyone's throat. I didn't want to kill my pack mates, my best friends...Only slightly maim them.

As wolf shifterswe can heal ourselves quickly, thanks to our incredibly hot metabolism. It's why we live so long.

But there are ways to kill us.

We can be starved to death, dehydrated, stabbed through the heart so the flow of the healing blood is interrupted...or, as wolves, we go for the throat. Once a wolf's throat is ripped open there's too much blood loss for him to heal properly.

Sometimes he can pull himself together enough to keep breathing for a while, but if it's done right, he'll either die on the spot, or very soon after. Now that the rage was receding, it was quickly being replaced by the shame of attacking my friends at all.

“You're insane,” Cheyenne said, “All of you.”

It was at that moment that I realized, though we were all bleeding, Grayson was the one she was approaching. Although he was no longer her dog, but now a bloody teenager, she was kneeling down next to him, using part of her sweatshirt to stop the blood that was oozing from a wound in his neck. He was staring up at her and I could feel the love pouring out of him, so strongly that it seemed to wash over and dilute the jealousy I was primed to feel at that moment.

I looked over at Chase.

He was watching her too, and I felt his own envy toward Gray and his admiration for Cheyenne...more than admiration...his connection.

Gray and Chase were connected to Cheyenne, my mate, almost as strongly as I was. Or maybe as strongly, and I just didn't want to see that.

Was it possible that she was meant for us all? I thought about Chelsea and the alphas and wished I had asked more questions of them, about how their relationship came about and how they tolerated sharing the love of their life with someone else.

I was sure the men's close friendship had something to do with it, maybe everything. They loved each other as much as they loved Chelsea, just in a different way.

I never imagined that I would be able to share my mate with anyone else, but in that moment, there was so much warmth and love rippling through the four of us, that I had to wonder.

Maybe it was worth exploring...that was, if we hadn't completely blown it with Cheyenne for good. I looked back at her and Gray and concentrated on her this time.

She definitely felt something for him...but he'd been her pet.

Would she feel the same way about him as a man? She turned her head suddenly to look at me and in a commanding tone that I'd never heard her use she said, “Get him into the apartment. I need to clean up these wounds.”

“He's healing...” Chase started. Cheyenne whipped her head in his direction and it was almost like daggers were shooting out of her chocolate brown eyes. I saw Chase do something I'd never seen before, cower to a female.

“We'll get him,” he said, struggling to his feet. I got to mine as well, deciding things would be better if I just kept my mouth shut for now.

Chase and I lifted Gray underneath each arm, and the three of us, naked as the day we were born, followed Cheyenne to her apartment. I was just thinking how glad I was that it was such a quiet place when the door three down from Cheyenne's opened and a middle aged woman stepped out. Her eyes widened when she saw us and I smelled Cheyenne's anxiety as she said,

“Excuse us Mrs. Garrett. My friends had a little too much to drink tonight.” The woman's eyes looked like saucers as she watched us walk inside and I heard her say,

“I wonder what the hell they were drinking,” as Cheyenne closed the door. My poor, beautiful mate would be the talk of her complex by morning, I was sure. But since I still planned on changing her address soon, I wasn't worried. As soon as the door was closed Cheyenne said,

“Go put him on my bed, I'm going to get some bandages and antiseptic.” Neither Chase, Grayson or I thought to argue with her.

Her tone left no room for it.

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