Page 57 of Into the Fire: Before
He’d made the omega cry.
He needed to die.
After a few blows to the face, the intruder managed to get his wits about himself, landing a blow to my ribs that made Taryn whine and rolling me off of him. He was up in a flash, pulling a knife from his pocket and backing toward Taryn again.
What was redder than red? Because my primal rage somehow expanded, and I lunged at him again, knocking him into the edge of the breakfast bar with a grunt. His hand wrapped around my throat as he tried to bang my head against the counter.
But my inner alpha was stronger than the human me, faster than me.
I reached around him for the hand holding the knife. I grasped the wrist with as much strength as I possessed. I stuck it into his side. The beta’s breath hitched and his hand slackened around the blade. Behind me, Taryn whined as I pulled the blade out and did it again.
The beta faltered, stumbled back. His hand went to his bleeding side, coming back with beautiful red.
I liked it.
As I stepped in to strike again, and again, and again, the omega behind me whimpered, mewled. I looked at her, breathing hard. Her face shone with tears, her bound hands shaking as she looked at me.
I wanted to end this man. I wanted to cause him immeasurable pain. But I didn’t want Taryn to watch. My alpha didn’t want her to watch. He wanted to secure her, comfort her. The fucker wanted to purr for her.
The moment of distraction was all the intruder needed to stumble around the bar, hand clutching his shredded side, and lumber out the door.
Fucker was still breathing. Shouldn’t still be breathing. Needed to make him stop breathing.
Another whine, loud and shrill, halted me. I was already to the doorframe, almost through it. I didn’t remember taking a step.
My alpha was taking over, and fast.
I turned to Taryn, visibly shaking on the floor, eyes wet and pleading where her voice could not.
Don’t leave me.
Human Caine was losing his grip on my actions. I clung to him as I turned around back to Taryn. I reached for her, pausing as I noticed the blood tarnishing my hands. I couldn’t touch her like this. But I couldn’t not touch her. Hold her. Cage her against any outside foe that would do her harm.
“Omega…”
She sobbed, reaching her bound hands toward me. I sighed in relief, practically collapsing to the floor as I reached to pull her into my arms. She came willingly, eagerly even, her hands gripping at my t-shirt and her face nuzzling into the crook where my neck met my shoulders, where our scents were strongest. I felt her shaky breaths there, her tremors and sobs.
The violence slowly left my brain, my limbs. But my alpha was still quickly hijacking my being, my primal drives taking over. Except now, it wasn’t to eviscerate. It was to protect, to comfort. With one arm wrapped around the back of her shoulders, I held her head against my neck with the other, willing my heart and breath to slow. For her.
I turned my face, burying my nose in her disheveled hair, taking a deep breath. Her scent was still acrid, panicked. Hands still zip-tied together. I raised my hand to use the knife to cut the shackle.
Hand was empty.
I’d dropped the knife. It lay eight feet away. When I stretched my arm out to reach for it, she whined, curling up impossibly tighter.
“Okay, it’s okay,” I whispered against her hair, putting my hand back to cradle her face against my chest and shoulder. “You’re okay.”
Her fingers, wrists still bound together, twisted into my shirt and tightened, her fists pressed into my chest. Fresh tears continued down her face, wetting the skin of my neck.
Comfort.
Protect.
Provide.
My alpha’s influence grew by the breath, the ferocity of it shocking me. It felt as though he were emerging and I was shrinking back. The strangest part of it was I didn’t mind. I wanted my alpha at the forefront. He’d know how to make this right, how to stop her trembling, how to make her feel safe and content.
With the last vestiges of my logical brain, I pulled my phone from my back pocket, quickly navigating to Lin’s number and pressing the call button. It rang five times before his voicemail cued up. A discontented growl rumbled from the back of my throat as I hung up and pressed call again. Another five rings, then a voicemail.
