Page 131 of Claimed By Prince Daddy

I eyed him through narrowed eyes for a moment longer.

“But no, it’s too late,” Rick uttered. “The Dark Lord knows about your precious Sasha. She’s as good as dead.” He lifted a shoulder.

A tremor rippled through my muscles. My vision brightened, turning crimson red as the inner bear pushed just beneath the surface of my skin. He roared within, lusting for Rick’s blood. In this, man and beast were both in agreement. My fangs stabbed out. Rick met my glowing eyes, his own flashing with defiance.

I inhaled a deep breath. No, I wouldn’t… couldn’t end it this way. My anger rode me hard. I tattered on the edges of rage. So easy would it have been to give into my primal violence and tear him apart into tiny chunks of bloody flesh.

I took in several more breaths, steadying myself.

“Oh, can't you kill me?” Rick asked in a mocking tone, grinning. Already his wounds were beginning to heal, his regenerative powers kicking in.

I allowed a wicked grin to lift my lips in response. Then I turned from him and headed for the exit.

“Where are you running to, Damon?” Rick jeered.

I paused before the door. “Just rounding up the other prisoners.” After opening the door, I said, “We’re all going to have a brief visit.”

“Where the hell is he taking us?” one of the captives asked a nearby werebear prisoner.

I ignored the questioning murmurs and kept prodding through the thick underbrush. My sentinels flanked the werebears who had betrayed us—encircled them to prevent escape.

The sun had dipped below the mountain; the moon hovering in its place. Shadows lurked within the trees. Darkness closed in around us, only thin shafts of moonlight illuminating the way. But our night vision made up more than enough for it.

Another prisoner hissed, “I-I smell wolves and… and latents!” A tremor shook his voice. “Where are we going? I don’t like this.”

Dark satisfaction rippled through my insides.

“D-Damon…” Rick’s voice crested above the whispers behind me. “Why?—”

I whipped my head around. “Silence!” My eyes narrowed and his expression clouded over.

The prisoners drew up short. As if they feared to step any closer to me—though they trailed a few yards behind. My sentinels paused, claws sliced out at the ready.

Rick’s gaze skated away. His hard audible swallow, heard by all. No one dared to say anything more. I spun around and resumed trekking through the woods. The others followed. I clenched my jaw. Sasha’s teary eyes flashed to mind.

Sasha…

I only hoped it wasn’t too late.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: ACCEPTANCE AND TRAITORS

SASHA

“Alpha, bears sighted!”

My hair stiffened, resembling hackles on an angry wolf. “Where?” I demanded, speaking into my phone.

“Along the northern rim,” Kevin, my senior sentinel, said. “They’re several miles out from the heart of our pack. I have sentinels in position. Do you wish for us to engage?”

A full day had passed since the werebear’s attack and the Hopecrest pack was still picking up the pieces. We had just buried our deceased pack mates and held the funerals that afternoon. The realization that more werebears were closing in on our pack, when we were still weakened and battered, made my chest burn with anger.

“Hold them off,” I snarled. “Engage if they attack. I will round up the warriors and meet you there.”

I went to jab my thumb on the end call button when Kevin spoke up. “Sasha, there’s something else you should know.”

I stilled. “What?”

A pregnant pause. “Damon is here.”

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