Page 16 of Reformed Wolf

The twins, one now leaving a trail of blood from his injured tail behind him, tried their best to corner and surround me, leaving no chance of escape.

Our sides were heaving to catch our breath. Fatigue was starting to drag at our body, adrenaline burning through our energy stores. We could only keep this pace for so long, but we had to win. Losing meant giving up our mate. Even now, I could still scent him, so damn close. Dylan was ours. Fate had deemed it, and no one would stand in our way. Vesta would not have sent me here unless she’d seen that I had a chance of winning.

Lowering on our front paws, we prepared to lunge.

I felt Jude through the cage at our back. “Don’t fight hard—fight smart,” he instructed, and it knocked something loose in my brain. I was going about this all wrong.

My wolf, clever as he was, functioned primarily with a survival instinct. Me? I didn’t see it as black and white, alive or dead. I didn’t mind a little pain if it meant getting what I wanted. So the next time one of the roos leaped at us, and my wolf tried to dodge out of the way, I resisted him. It took my whole will to stand still, our legs shaking in the tug-of-war. The full moon added to his strength, and if he hadn’t trusted that I would do what was right for our mate, he probably would’ve won.

The kangaroo hadn’t expected us to stay put; he’d been hoping to drive us to the right, straight toward his brother. Instead, we braced for his full body weight and took the hit. It brought him far too close to be able to kick. Something snapped in our shoulder, but I was feeling no pain—not yet, anyway. Right now, all I felt was a sense of triumph as we rose up on our hindquarters and closed our teeth around the kangaroo’s neck, sinking into tender flesh. Twisting, we used our body to throw his center of balance off, taking him sideways to the mat.

He went down hard, an involuntary squeak forced from his throat. When his brother flinched, ready to come to his rescue, my wolf let out a low, menacing growl and shook our head, opening the punctures wider. He froze on the spot, before quickly shifting back to his skin, hands raised in surrender.

“Please,” he whispered, “not my brother.” I could still hear him even as the mob outside the cage roared its approval, chanting for the man’s death. Reveling in the bloodshed. Fuck, these monsters made me sick. “You win, okay? I forfeit. Just please don’t kill him.”

A sliver of doubt slithered through me. Could I take him at his word? I didn’t even know if competitors were allowed to forfeit. They didn’t seem the granting-mercy type. But the man before me lowered to his knees, fully prepared to beg if he had to. There were a few boos from the crowd, nasty jeering, but he refused to look away. He bared his throat to me in submission.

I wasn’t here to kill anyone. I just wanted my mate, who’d begged for a competitor’s life to be spared already this evening. He did not respect senseless violence—and neither did I.

Let him go, I said, and I swore I felt relief from my wolf as we opened our jaws and backed away. His brother scampered over and put his hands over the wound, his skin painted red in seconds. “Someone get a doctor!”

Injured and bleeding out as he was, it wasn’t safe for him to take his skin, but I could see the kangaroo’s brown eyes focused on me. He would make it, but he would probably have some wicked scars.

As the adrenaline receded, we were left shaky and exhausted. I needed sleep bad. Our eyelids were so heavy, dragging us down toward sleep. I didn’t care where I was, could barely hear the crowd anymore. But then Jude was there, digging his fingers into our fur and tugging enough to sting, and our eyes snapped open. “Hey, brother. How about you take your skin. You have a victory to celebrate.”

It didn’t feel like I’d won. It felt like I’d gone toe-to-toe with a semi-truck and lost.

Shifting back to my skin hurt like hell. Every cut reopened, bruises blooming across my torso. I whimpered through clenched teeth.

“I bet it smarts,” Jude said, examining the bite wound on my back where I could feel blood dripping toward my bare ass.

“Well, it doesn’t tickle, that’s for sure.” I grunted as I prodded at my swollen face. Jude grabbed my shoulder, and I choked on a shout as he twisted my arm, popping the joint back into place.

He was grinning, clearly energized by the fight. “You’ll live. Now, let’s go find out what you won.” I didn’t want to remind him that this was only round one. I suspected the only thing I’d won tonight was the chance to do this all again tomorrow.

When I walked through the crowd this time, there was no need for me to shove. They parted for me willingly, leaving space for me to move, albeit slowly as I limped forward. A few of them even reached out and patted me on the back. It seemed I had earned the respect of a few. Though it was impossible to miss the wary suspicion from others. I was not one of them.

The path led all the way to the stage where Mr. Caruso was waiting. Dylan was standing behind him, at such an angle that I felt comfortable watching him for a brief moment. I kept my expression neutral, even as my heart soared, my soul reaching for him. I had to put my faith in fate, and in Vesta, that the competition would be worth it in the end—but if I saw an opportunity to grab him and run, I would take it.

“Fair enough,” Mr. Caruso said, offering a slow nod of grudging acceptance. “Same time tomorrow. Be here.”

As he walked off the stage, Dylan stood there a moment longer, his eyes roaming down my body. I had no doubt I looked the worse for wear, and there was a hint of concern in his gaze, but there was likewise a flare of heat.

Please don’t get a boner, please don’t get a boner, I chanted in my head.

“Dylan,” his father snapped.

“Coming,” he said, jogging to catch up. He looked back over his shoulder one last time. And it was that glimmer of his amber eyes, that tilt of his lips, that would sustain me through the night. I would dream about him tonight, I knew that for sure.

Jude led me outside on numb legs. I was moving on autopilot. He steered me into the passenger seat of the truck where we’d left it at the curb and grabbed a blanket from the back to drape over me, covering up my nudity. Humans had laws about that. He tossed my clothes in at my feet before shutting the door and moving around to the driver’s seat. The thought of trying to lift my arms over my head to get the shirt on had me leaving them right where they were. To hell with it.

Unfortunately, Jude wasn’t the best driver in the world, like he’d learned by reading Driving for Dummies, but he got us back to the motel in one piece. It was the most I could ask for after a night like this. Wrapping the blanket around my waist, I barely managed to stumble into the room before flopping onto the bed face first, legs hanging off the end. The smell of laundered sheets was foreign after all the blood and sweat. It was the trigger that signaled it was time to rest. I had about 18 hours to sleep, and I was going to need every minute of it.

Before sleep could claim me, I turned my head to the side to look at Jude where he’d sat down on the other bed. “Jude, I need you to go home.”

He reared back like I’d slapped him, startled. “What?!”

“You need to tell Shan what’s going on. He’s expecting us back, but I can’t leave. Not yet. He’s my fated mate. I need to see this through.”