Page 94 of Ravaged Wolf
“As soon as I let her go, he’ll be at my throat,” Dad says. He’s talking about Trevor’s wolf.
Trevor’s wolf snarls low in his throat as if to confirm that Dad’s right.
“You don’t have an out,” Cadoc says, perfectly cold and calm. “Put her down and beg. Maybe she’ll have mercy.”
My dad scoffs. He can’t help himself. He’s beaten and scared, andstill, he can’t admit that a female has the upper hand. ThatIdo.
Suddenly, I can’t bear this standoff for one single second more. I can’t fight him off—he’s too strong—but I can make him suffer. I can hurt him worse than he’d dare hurt me.
Cracking my jaw, I summon my wolf. She’s wary, but when she grasps what I’m thinking, she’s all in. My fangs descend.
I seize Dad’s wrist, holding him in place, and I clamp my teeth on his forearm so hard that bone crunches. He screams and tries to fling me off, but I’ve got him. I’ve hooked my canines between his radius and ulna. Blood spurts into my mouth, and it’s disgusting, but his roar of pain makes it worth it.
This male terrorized me from as early as I can remember. I didn’t dare make a sound when I walked through our apartment. I lived in terror of shutting the door too hard or waking him from his nap on the sofa.
For my entire childhood, I tormented myself over scales and ladder drills and times tables and figuring out how to earn the fifth star on my performance evaluations that in all of pack memory, no intern had ever earned.
I let my mate go into rut because I feared this male—because my mother warned me over and over what his wolf would do to me if I stepped an inch out of line—and I just now realize, with my teeth sunk into his flesh, his wolf never once tasted my blood, buthisis dripping frommymouth.
Ripping my fangs free, I lift my head and howl. He shoves me forward into Trevor’s wolf.
Trevor’s wolf shifts back into his skin as I pitch into him, so part of my fall is cushioned by fur, and the rest by muscle.He runs his hands down my body and sniffs my neck to assure himself I’m okay, and then thrusts me into a female’s arms.
It’s Arlais. She was one of the wolves surrounding Dad. The others take their skin, too, as she wraps me in her arms and presses me to her chest. “You’re okay,” she says. “It’s over. We’ve got you now. Everything is going to be fine.”
It’s just what a mother is supposed to say.
Then she covers one of my ears with her hand and tucks my head firmly into the crook of her neck to muffle the other. I can still hear her, though, when she screams, “You come near my fated daughter again, I’ll kill you! You piece of shit! You have taken enough from my family. No more!”
No,thatis what a mother is supposed to say.
I burst into tears.
Trevor, who had been looming over Dad, snaps his head around to see what’s wrong.
“She’s okay,” Arlais assures him, rocking me as I stand in her trembling arms. “She’s just shaken up.”
Trevor nods, and then, without another second’s hesitation, he drags Dad to his feet by the collar of his shirt and slams a fist into his face. Dad throws a few punches back—he’s righthanded, and I bit his left—and he lands a few, but Trevor’s younger and grimly determined. He’s set on his purpose, which seems to be making sure Dad never tries anything like this again.
He’s got Dad on his back, and he’s raining blows down on him when Cadoc and Macsen finally drag him off. Maybe he has lost it a little.
“Easy, son, easy. He’s your mate’s father.” Macsen looks over his shoulder at me. Arlais has me tucked to her side, so we can both watch. Macsen sees our intense interest and arches a brow. “Well, she might not mind now, but she couldhave a change of heart later. Females are softhearted.” Arlais snorts. “Best to let him live,” he finishes.
It still takes Tarian and Garan’s help to haul Trevor away from Dad.
For a few seconds, Trevor stands stunned, his haunted stare alternating between his clenched fists and Dad cowering in the dirt, cradling his arm. Then he turns to me. His eyes flare, the gray glinting silver in the last rays of sunlight.
“Trevor,” his mother warns.
“It’s fine,” he answers, his wolf thick in his throat. Then he strides over, seizes me by the waist, and throws me over his shoulder.
I hold on tight.
“Trevor!” his mom protests.
“Leave it be,” Macsen says to her, moving to take my place by her side. “We’ve mucked things up enough. Let them sort it.”
Upside down, I watch the pack’s wolves stare at me as one while Trevor carries me off into the woods. His distress wafts from him in waves, agitating my wolf. She’s whining at me to mark him or groom him or do something to settle him. I’d like to see her try to lick a male while dangling down his back.
