Page 31 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
The three of them advance on me as I strain to get up. My vision is blurred from the blow, but I still see the death in their eyes.
“Any last words?” Kane asks, flexing his claws.
I close my eyes, thinking of Andrew, of Selene and Daciana, of Luna’s still form by the tree. At least I tasted freedom, however briefly.
A roar like thunder explodes through the clearing.
When I open my eyes, a man stands between me and the warriors. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with jet-black hair and an aura of deadly grace that makes my breath catch despite everything. Even injured and feverish, I can’t help but notice how devastatingly handsome he is—strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and an air of dangerous authority that makes the warriors step back in obvious terror.
Denzel goes pale. “We were just—”
The stranger moves faster than my eyes can follow. One moment Denzel is talking, and the next his head is rolling across the forest floor.
“Who’s next?” the man asks coldly.
Henrik tries to run. He makes it three steps before the stranger catches him, snapping his neck with casual efficiency.
I flinch.
Kane is backing away, his face white with terror. “Please, I was just following orders—”
“I know.”
The stranger advances on him, but Kane suddenly lunges forward with desperate courage, his claws extended and dripping with something dark.
Those claws rake across the stranger’s abdomen, tearing through his shirt and leaving deep gashes. The man staggers toward him, the color draining from his face.
“Wolfsbane,” Kane pants triumphantly. “You’re not so—”
His words end in a gurgle as the stranger’s fist punches a hole through his chest.
But the damage is done. The stranger collapses to one knee, pressing his hand to his bleeding stomach.
“Shit,” he mutters, his voice strained with pain.
I stare at him in shock, my fevered mind struggling to process what has just happened. This man—this impossibly attractive, clearly powerful man—just killed three trained warriors to save me.
But now he’s dying from wolfsbane poisoning, and I have no idea who he is or why he risked his life for a nobody like me.
I scramble toward Luna’s still form by the tree. My hands tremble as I gently touch her small body, feeling for any sign of life.
A weak meow escapes her throat, and relief floods through me so intensely, I nearly sob. “Luna? Luna, come on, girl.”
She lifts her head woozily, blinking those amber eyes at me. There’s a small cut on her forehead, but she’s alive. She’s okay.
“Thank the Goddess,” I breathe, scooping her up carefully. “You scared me to death, you brave little idiot.”
Only then do I turn my attention to the stranger who just saved my life. He is slumped against a tree trunk, his face pale and drawn with pain. Dark blood seeps through his fingers where he’s pressing his hand to his stomach.
“Oh no,” I mutter, setting Luna down gently and rushing to get my knapsack. “Please don’t die on me.”
Wolfsbane poisoning. I recognize the symptoms at once—the gray pallor, the way his breathing has become labored, the faint tremor in his hands. For shifters, wolfsbane is a death sentence if not treated quickly. The stronger the shifter, the faster it kills, and there is no doubt that this man is incredibly powerful.
The stranger’s eyes flutter open as I rummage through my supplies. They’re the most striking blue I’ve ever seen—likecobalt touched with ice. Even poisoned and in pain, there’s an intensity to his gaze that makes my mouth drop open.
“You need to lie down,” I tell him, pulling out my mortar and pestle. “That wolfsbane is going to spread fast.”
“I’m fine,” he grunts.
