Page 68 of Wolf's Redemption

Merde.

He raced along the game trail, his claws digging into the soft earth and his heart thudding in his chest. Please God, let him find her first.

A woman’s scream split the night. Ulrik put on a burst of speed. Rebekah’s curses, loud violent words, spewed into the still air. A soft thud and a man’s muffled groan had Ulrik grinning. She was fighting them.

That is my girl. Hold on, Rebekah. I am coming.

A loud slap, a hand meeting flesh, and a cry from Rebekah had a snarl ripping from his lips. They had his Rebekah. They were hurting her. He gnashed his teeth. They would pay for laying a hand on her. He would rend them, limb from limb. Tear out their throats.

He made no effort to conceal his approach now, crashing through the forest. A horse whinnied.

“Give her to me.” A guttural voice, a scuffle, and Rebekah’s denials guided him toward them. “Keep still, woman.”

“Ulrik!”

The fear in that one word screeched into the night, squeezed his heart and nearly took his legs out from under him.Hold on,baby.He glimpsed a horse’s rump through the trees.I am here. I am coming.

The terrified whinnies of the horses echoed through the forest. They sensed his presence, a predator closing in on them. A guard yelled, and hoof beats pounded away from him.

No!

He had lost his family to Lothair. He could not lose Rebekah, too. Ulrik dug deep, calling on every bit of speed his wolf could give him, but with the terror of the horses giving the keep guards speed in their escape and his body tiring, he fell behind. Ulrik gritted his teeth and plowed on, pushing his body to its limits, but the gap between him and the horses widened until all he had were the sounds of their retreat.

Ulrik slowed to a stop and howled his anguish to the moon. He shifted, slumping to his knees, his lungs heaving and his head in his hands as his wolf continued to howl in his head. His chest burned as though he had ripped out his own heart. He could not lose hispetite cracheuse de feu.He did not think he could survive it. Not Rebekah. Not his… He stared at the forest floor.

Mon Dieu. Gaharet is right. She is my mate.

He staggered to his feet, staring after them as the thudding of hooves and the jingle of the horses’ bridles faded. They would take her to Langeais Keep. He could follow them, slip in through the postern gate and into the storeroom through the secret tunnel. And then what? Face Lothair’s army by himself? He had lived a decade regretting the impetuousness of his youth. He was no longer a pup. Racing off after them alone would not serve Rebekah.

He straightened, his jaw set. Though it pained him to do so, he turned his back on the distant sounds of the keep guard’s retreat, shifted once more and headed back toward the d’Louncrais estate. He would seek the aid of Gaharet and Aimon. They would come up with a plan that would have a better chance of success.Ulrik would not allow another person to suffer because of him. Lothair had targeted Rebekah, like he had targeted his family. She might not want to be his mate, but his wolf did not care. She was his to protect, and he would save her from Lothair’s clutches. No matter what it cost him.

Chapter Thirty-One

Crushed in the burly arms of her captor, the pounding of hooves beneath her reverberating along her spine and the forest flashing by, Bek struggled to free herself. The way they’d scrutinized her hair, her piercings, pulled up her sleeves to reveal her tattoos—it all pointed to the keep guard. They’d come for Ulrik and they’d found her. Now they were taking her back. Back to the keep, to the count and, most likely, to that dungeon. The last place she wanted to go.

Her captor cursed at her in French, his hold around her ribs tightening, making it hard for her to breathe. The sour stench of his body odor mingled with the metallic scent of steel stung her nostrils and made her eyes water. If he squeezed any harder, he’d cut off her air and she’d pass out.

Be smart, Bek. Think.

She stopped struggling and willed herself to relax against him. If she could remain calm and bide her time, an opportunity to escape might present itself.

The tight band of his arm around her eased a little and she sucked in deep lungfuls of air. Behind them, the sounds of pursuit faded, her captor’s laugh cut off by the mournful howl of a wolf.Ulrik?Did she imagine the anguish in the long notes as the howl trailed away? Or had the wolf pursuing them been Gaharet? She hadn’t seen it, only heard its snarls, the crashing through the forest undergrowth and the panicked squealing of the horses as it closed in on them.

She’d tried to fight, to free herself and run toward it, but her captor had been too strong.Her cheek burned from his brutal backhanded slap, and her arm throbbed from where she’d tried to elbow him in the ribs, only to be met with the steel links of his armor. Now the wolf had fallen behind. Or given up?

Gaharet had a pregnant wife to think of. Would he risk his own life to save her? And Ulrik… Would he come after her, mount a rescue attempt? Bek swallowed the feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t blame him if he didn’t. She’d given him a damn good reason to walk away. The risk of him returning to the keep would have to outweigh any responsibility he might feel toward her. Especially after what she’d said. A few rounds of awesome sex didn’t a connection make. She couldn’t pin her hopes on something that might not happen.

You’re on your own now, Bek.

Déjà vu slapped her in the face. Again she was being marched toward prison, on a horse this time, instead of in the back of a police van. Again, her reason for apprehension was a man. But as she’d come to realize during her time in prison, the blame did not solely rest with them. Nobody had forced her to be a biker Vice President’s old lady. To throw her lot in with a bunch of criminals. Just as no one had forced her to leave the cottage to find Ulrik. That was all on her. Gaharet and Ulrik had both insisted she stay. That the danger was too great to risk her going out alone. She’d ignored them.

Will I ever learn? Am I doomed to make poor decisions for the rest of my life?Which could be rather short, if Erin’s talk of Count Lothair was anything to go by. Bek needed a plan.

Her captor reined in the horse, and they settled into a jolting trot, the pommel of the saddle jarring against her ass. She was going to have more than a bruised face and elbow by the time they reached the keep. She supposed she should be thankful they’d not slung her face down over the saddle. The horse slowedfurther, to a walk. Thank the lord for small mercies. It still wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but it was better.

The guard said something, and the other guy looked over his shoulder and laughed. Ulrik had been helping her with her French, but the guard spoke too fast for her to make out more than the odd word. As the two men bantered, Bek took stock of her situation. Would the horse tire carrying two people? Would they stop to rest? Maybe. It was a big horse, a warhorse, bred for carrying armored men with weapons and shields. But if theydidstop, what chance would she have of escaping them? Both men were armed, armored and bigger than her. She’d no hope of overpowering even one of them. The dark forest offered no help. If she did manage to slip away, they’d be on her in a flash. Two men on horseback versus a woman on foot could only end one way.

She could wait until they rode through a village—ifthey rode through a village—and beg the villagers to help her. That hadn’t worked for her before, and if these men were keep guard, villagers wouldn’t dare come to her aid. She shifted, angling for a better look at their surroundings and a more comfortable position, and something dug into her hip. Something in her pocket.The amulet?She traced the round object and a trickle of hope blossomed. She peeked up at her captor. Though his arm still caged her against him, his conversation with his fellow guard held all his attention. The other guard had his back to them, occasionally looking over his shoulder at them to comment or to laugh.

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