Page 13 of Wolf's Keep

“Good God! Where did she get it?”

“Is she one of us?”

“Are there others out there?”

They leaned forward, hungry for answers, and Gaharet’s hackles rose. His fists clenching under the table, he stopped the growl in his throat before it even started.

What has gotten into me?

“She is not one of us,” said Ulrik, and Gaharet regarded him, mistrust lingering.

Ulrik had reason enough to resent him, but he did not wish to believe it. It hurt to eventhinkthat one of these men,hismen, would betray them, especially Ulrik. One of them had.

Ulrik’s gaze took in the whole table. “She is not one of us, or she would be here. In this room. At this table. Unless, of course,” he said, eyeing Gaharet, “you do not wish to fight for her in case you lose.”

Exploding from his seat with a growl, Gaharet drew himself up to his full height, towering over Ulrik. Ulrik sprang up to meet the challenge. Teeth bared, the bones in his face shifting and contorting, Gaharet’s jaw elongated, his canines extending.

Ulrik responded, beginning to shift.

Lance jumped to his feet. “That is enough, Ulrik! This time Gaharet might kill you. We are too short on numbers to lose even you.”

How dare Ulrik challenge me? Again.

He had found her. She washis. Ulrik would not have her. None of them would. Gaharet snarled, teeth snapping at Ulrik’s jaw, a strong, musky scent filling the room. He stood over him, ready to pounce, waiting. What would Ulrik choose? To fight him for the woman? Or back down and concede to Gaharet’s authority?

An expectant silence filled the room as he stared down the partly shifted, sandy-colored wolf. With a grunt and a slumping of his shoulders, Ulrik averted his gaze, baring his neck in submission. Gaharet snapped his teeth close to Ulrik’s neck, close enough for fur to brush against his gums. He growled, berating the wolf for his insolence. Ulrik’s shoulders drooped further, and he reversed the change, lowering himself to his seat, his head bowed.

Gaharet snarled, staring down each of his men. With a growl, he forced his wolf to recede, shaking his head as the last vestiges of it disappeared, his face becoming human once more. He sank into his chair.

What have I done?

He had never asserted his dominance like this before. His men stared at him, wary.

“My apologies.” Ulrik’s eyes remained downcast. “I did not realize you had intentions to claim her.”

He frowned. Was that what he wanted? He had met the woman but hours ago. He did not even know her name.

“But if she is not one of us, why is she here? Now? Of all times? Using a sacred amulet? Is it merely a coincidence?” Ulrik looked around the table. “I say bed her, turn her andthenask her questions. It will be too late for her then, and we are not in a position to be choosey. If he does not plan to mate her, maybe one of us will.”

A chorus of snarls echoed around the table—dark looks sent in Ulrik’s direction. Gaharet’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. The thought of her in the arms, in the bed, of one of his men made his gut recoil. Brushing aside the sensation, he held his hand up for silence.

“Your points are valid, Ulrik. That is why she remains here and will continue to do so until I have answers.” His gaze swept around his men. “As for turning her… We will see. It is not entirely off the agenda.”

His men grinned. Hope had returned. He should have known he could not hide her from the pack.

Chapter Six

Erin drifted into awareness, the left side of her forehead throbbing and her skin feeling stretched. Warm, cozy, cocooned in thick blankets and a soft mattress, she fought the desire to sink back into oblivion. The last thing she remembered… She scrunched up her face, searching for details.Ooh, that hurts.Erin raised her hand to her forehead, feeling the lump and the dried blood. It all came back to her. She groaned. She’d tried to run. He’d stopped her. She’d screamed and…nothing.

Her eyes fluttered open. She lay in a four-poster bed beneath a timber ceiling. A subtle shift of her head confirmed she was alone. Relief washed over her. Almost afraid to look, she lifted the covers.

Oh, thank God.

Fully clothed, although… She wiggled her toes. No shoes or socks, but no bindings or restraints either. That had to be a good sign.

Easing herself onto her elbow, a lead weight lodged in her stomach, she examined her surroundings. Rough stone walls not unlike those of the keep ruins met her searching gaze. A timber floor covered in rushes, a rough handmade candle on a small table beside the bed and a warm, golden glow emanating from hot coals in a brazier in the corner. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. A sweet, cloying smell saturated the room.

A loud crack of thunder split the air, and she jumped. Where was she? She’d passed out in the clutches of a naked Gaharet d’Louncrais look alike who’d spoken to her in long dead languages. She frowned. What was this? ACriminal Mindsepisode? A history loving serial killer trolling excavation sites for unsuspecting victims?

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