Page 63 of Mate

Mother fucking shitballs.

I hadn’t been at that party even a full hour, not even long enough to get a bite of that alligator that was somehow starting to smell really good, or a nibble of that probably too spicy shrimp. I had a few drinks in my system, but it turns out I needed a whole fuckinggallonof liquid courage. That would have been nice.

Turns out Fate had different plans for me tonight.

“Rog?” I whined, looking over my shoulder from him to the rogue pack. The biggest one took a step towards me, and I took one back, losing all semblance of my cool in literally half a second. There was no way Mr. Big-and-Mighty-and-Sold-Me-That-Necklace wouldn’t know it was me now.

This guy was built like a freight train. Hell, he could probably lift a truck with one fucking arm. He was muscle upon muscle. I knew for a fact that I wouldn’t want to be stuck in an alley with this guy. I’d be good as dead. That was for sure.

Danger, Will Robinson.Danger!

I took another step back, glancing from Rog’s bike to Wendy’s storefront. Immediately, I realized that his bike was too far to make it, especially if the rogues gave chase because they were glaring back at me like I was their next meal and not in a hot way.

Fuck, I missed Caelum and Ry right now. It would feel really nice to have their protection. I kind of missed Caelum’s serious, broody, alpha male attitude, not to mention Ry’s cocky yet somehow sweet roughness. I could still feel the soft tingle of Ry’s touch against my cheek, and I lifted my fingers to rest there for the briefest of seconds.

The big guy took another step towards me, and a blast sounded around the crowd; a silent flash of blinding light, and then complete darkness coming from where Wendy had gone. That must have been my distraction.

I didn’t waste any more time thinking about my mates. I ran like the fucking wind. I busted my ass trying to get back to Wendy’s shop. I didn’t even look back to see if Rog was following because it was his job to keep an eye on me anyway. He was supposed to be my babysitter, for Christ’s sake.

My feet slapped against the pavement, and the wind raced through my hair. I heard footsteps tailing me, but I didn’t know if it was Rog or the rogue wolves. I just sprinted as though my life depended on it.

I finally got the idea of the mate bond and why the pack was so concerned with my vulnerability. The rule was ‘Kill one and kill them all,’ and I didn’t feel like dying today.

I pushed harder, but Wendy’s shop seemed farther and farther away. Boots pounded into the pavement behind me, getting closer by the second, and I put everything into that run. After all, I had been a hell of a hurdler not too long ago.

But it wasn’t enough.

An arm reached out and grabbed my bicep roughly. Fingers dug into my skin, and I cried out because it fucking hurt. But the sound of the music drowned it out, and no one turned their heads.

It wasn’t Rog.

It was Mr. Big and Mighty.

I would have screamed louder, but he jerked me back towards him and slapped a hand over my mouth. I slammed against his rock-hard chest. Fuck, were all wolf shifters made from fucking marble?

I tried to lift my other arm and slam my elbow back into his chest, but he caught it with ease. Then I lifted my foot and shanked it backwards, hoping to catch his shin and completely missed. I tried again, but he lifted me off the ground and carried me into a side alley between buildings. Even though his hand was still covering my mouth, I screamed like a freaking banshee and tossed my head from side to side, struggling as much as I could just in case anyone happened to turn their heads to see, to help.

Spoiler alert. They didn’t.

The whole fucking crowd was too busy resuming their dancing to the music or stuffing alligator and shrimp down their throats to see anything around them. Several people were already blitzedout on booze, weed, and whatever else Wendy sold at her party, and the sun hadn’t even gone down yet.

His low chuckle made my blood run cold.

“You’re not marked yet. Even better,” he snarled, and I stiffened in his arms.

“Let me go, you bastard!” I screeched against his hand, doing my best to try to break the iron lock he had around me and failing miserably. Why couldn’t I just break out into the She-Hulk right now and fucking kick this guy’s ass like it was nothing?

Wait. What if She-Hulk was real too? Captain America? Ironman? Where were they right now to save my butt? This had to be more important than all that saving the world bullshit.

“I can smell them on you. The spell worked, didn’t it?” His grip tightened around me. With a hard shove, he slammed me against the white plaster wall, and I shrieked, the sound still annoyingly muted by his thick, sausage fingers.

I jerked my leg up and kicked backwards again, but this time I made contact, and the brute yelped like a little girl, which was oddly satisfying. My victory was short-lived because another rogue moved beside him. He shoved a black cloth over my face, covering my nose and mouth, and I swore it smelled like some fancy, flowery perfume.

I knew what this was. I wasn’t dumb.

I stopped breathing.

I turned my head to see Rog running towards me, but the rest of the pack descended on him in seconds. A fist the size of a sledgehammer connected with the side of his skull, and I watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.