Page 44 of The Wolf's Captive

Malone chuckled and shook his head. “Not right now but soon…”

The sentence hung in the air between us as sparks ignited in the pit of my stomach. His brooding eyes watched me, his gaze burning into my soul. Shit, I wanted the man. In every single way.

“Yes,” I breathed, nodding. “I want you, all of you.”

The corner of his lips lifted into his cheek, the smirk almost knocking me off my feet with its sexiness.

“Was that a yes?” Rochelle held her hand to her ear.

Rolling his eyes, Malone shuffled on his feet and cleared his throat, the gesture silencing the pack. “As soon as the Crawley Pack is dealt with, the ceremony will go ahead.”

Every wolf in the vicinity lifted their head and sniffed the air. I followed suit, cringing when the scent of something different filtered up my nose. Talking of the Crawley Pack.

Flutters of nervousness gripped me as the mood in the camp changed. How had the other werewolves found us? And how many were there?

Malone’s gaze snapped to the woods on our left, his scenting loud as he held a hand in the air and motioned for everyone to stand. They did, their stances ready for action.

I glanced at Rochelle whose feet were bouncing on the dirt. She looked so effortlessly cool and collected, her gaze searching the area.

Following her lead, I allowed my senses to overtake my thoughts. It had taken some practice, but now that I was back in the woods, I could tune into the nuance of our surroundings. There, a footstep sounded on the outskirts of the camp.

“What will we do?” Manual asked Malone.

Shaking his head, the alpha gritted his jaw. “We fight.”

Lifting his hand, Manual waved a signal that I didn’t understand. The rest of the pack did, instantly forming into a circle that faced out towards our enemy. Malone gripped my arm, moving to stand in front of me.

A part of me wanted to be offended, but the rest of me knew that he was protecting me. I would use my magic in order to save our pack, that went without question. However, if I could avoid using it, I would. I hated giving Kieran power when I channelled him.

The scowls of the pack rose around me as yellow eyes appeared through the trees. It was dusk and the sky was turning into a hazy navy blue. The hairs on the back of my arms lifted as several wolves stalked into the camp, their growls loud. How the fucking hell had they broken through my barrier?

“What do you want?” Malone called, his gaze snapping to the three human werewolves who followed the others.

“We want justice,” one of the females called. “Della needs to die in order for us to end Kieran.”

My stomach churned as the remainder of the Crawley Pack closed in on us, apparently not afraid of a pack bigger than their own. They must have reached desperation point.

“You dare to enter our pack lands,” Malone shouted, “and threaten my mate?”

Before the female could reply, Henry ran forward, his frame dropping to the ground as he shifted into a wolf in two steps. He launched onto the nearest enemy wolf and tore out its throat, his teeth effortlessly slicing through the skin and fur.

Gulping, I glanced at Malone, who held up his hand to stop the rest of the pack from following suit. It was too late, the first blood was shed.

I was whirled around as the Crawley Pack flew for us, each ducking and diving to try and reach me. Several of our pack shifted, immediately clashing with the enemy, their snapping and snarling causing me to jump.

“Don’t leave my side,” Malone ordered.

Rochelle appeared beside me, her arms extended as she caught a wolf who was in mid-air. The force of them colliding almost knocked me off my feet as they bashed into my side. The wolf’s canine sliced my arm, causing me to gasp and back away.

What was I doing? I was a kickarse witch hybrid, not a wallflower. My pack was in danger. That meant only one thing.

Taking a deep breath, I felt into the ground, summoning the power beneath my feet.

Malone felt a change in me, coming to stand near as the female who had spoken approached.

“We don’t want to hurt your people,” she said, her voice carrying over the sound of fighting. “Just give us Della and we’ll leave.”

Malone’s laugh was contradictory to his tightened shoulders. “Over my dead body.”