Page 21 of Howling
I reluctantly step back, fighting the instincts that beg me to pull her close and comfort her. The only reason I retreat is to avoid her issuing me a challenge. Though she’s female, she’s still a strong alpha.
While part of me is repulsed at the thought of lifting a hand against her, another part of me relishes the thought of going up against someone so strong. It’s been too long since we had such a fierce challenger.
Something tells me she would give my wolf a run for his money.
Not to mention, if we do fight and I win, I can’t guarantee I would be able to hold back from claiming her as my mate.
The girl shoots to her feet, shaking her head as if to clear it, leaving us basically kneeling before her. I wait for my beastto protest the subservient position, but we’re frozen as the most delicious scent fills our senses—sunshine and lemons and something so elusive that I can’t place it.
She smells forbidden, reminding me of a future I’ve long since given up.
When she slowly backs away, we tense, each of us tracking her like she’s a tasty morsel to be devoured. The ancient mating ritual where males compete for a female—where the female would run and the males would give chase—pushes to the front of my mind. If she allows herself to be caught, it’s like granting us permission to court her.
Surprisingly, my wolf practically quivers in eagerness at the opportunity. I’m not so far gone that I don’t realize the problem, and I’m chilled to the bone at the very real possibility that the instant we shift, we would see her as prey.
If we caught her, we could very well kill her.
As if sensing we’re not exactly in control, she pauses just a foot away.
We are at a standoff.
Considering the glare she casts in our direction, she’s clearly not receptive to the idea of being claimed by the likes of us—not that I blame her.
We’re barely a step above rogues. While we may be alphas in our own right, we don’t have our own pack. We don’t own any territory. We’re not rich, we’re not exactly sane, and we’re definitely not a prize, especially since female shifters are so rare that they have their choice of mates.
Females often chose three or more men to keep them safe.
It’s not unheard of to have females stolen from unworthy packs.
I tilt my head as I observe her, a furrow forming between my brows as I slowly rise to my feet. “Where are your guards?”
“Guards?” Her face scrunches up in confusion, her head tilting to the side. “Why would I need guards?”
Thoughts evaporate, and I catch the concerned glances Tyler and Dante exchange as they rise to their feet. She’s either running from something, or she’s completely clueless about shifter laws.
Either way, it means someone is after her.
No pack would ever allow a female to leave their protection.
They are too valuable, either as breeding stock or an asset to be sold. Both are vile options, but still our sad reality.
My beast growls in my chest, snarling at the thought of her being in danger, not to mention being touched by anyone else. While everything in me wants to come to her aid, claim her for our own, we have nothing to offer her but a future that will slowly kill her.
I refuse to doom her to that fate.
My wolf thrashes in my chest in denial, doing everything in his power to break free of my influence, but I refuse to relent, mentally wrapping him in silver chains. As much as I want to rush her out the door, the territory isn’t safe for a female alone. The least we can do is return her to her guards.
We just have to contact them to come and collect her.
When I open my mouth to demand names, the fire alarm blares in the silence. The girl jolts, her golden eyes brightening until they shimmer with her wolf. Black claws tip the ends of her fingers, and her muscles coil, ready to leap into action.
The change takes less than a second, which means she’s incredibly strong.
It also means she’s been trained—a rarity for a woman.
It’s a male’s job to protect a female.
That she felt the need to be trained breaks my heart.
