Page 34

I didn’t want to throw Warrick’s name around, it would scream pathetic-weak-female to a male like this, but I would to stop this, whatever this was. With everything that was happening here at the clubhouse with Maddox and Edric, and locking the place down to keep more spirits out, some of the hounds were bound to be going through some stuff. How much had Warrick told them all? Maybe he thought I’d caused this? “I’m sorry about your brothers, but it has nothing to do with me.”

“I know.”

“Then what do you want?”

“To fuck you, right here on the ground,” he said, his eyes now glowing red.

Again, I stood there stunned. Had he really just said that?

He squeezed my wrist tighter; the force making me wince, and if I didn’t do something soon, he’d snap it. “You really want to risk pissing off your alpha?”

The hound barked out a gravelly laugh. “Warrick is weak. You weaken him. You turn him down in front of us. If I have you, they’ll know I’m more of a male than he is.” He dipped his head, his hot breath washing over my face. “He won’t take you, but I will. I’ll show him, I’ll show all of my brothers who is alpha.”

My free hand was pressed against his massive chest, trying to hold him off. “That logic is seriously messed up. And if you even try it, I will fucking end you.” And I meant it with everything in me. Or I’d die trying.

“Your tiny knife won’t do shit. I’ll heal as soon as you pull it from my flesh.”

I opened my mouth but never got the chance to curse him out. He swept my feet out from under me and threw me to the ground, his massive body coming down on top of me fast. So incredibly fast.

I slammed my hand against his ear, and when he reared back, I punched him in the throat.

He was ten times stronger than me, but I sure as fuck wasn’t defenseless, and he was about to learn why he’d made a mistake coming for me. A thick branch lay at the base of a nearby tree. I called it to me, and it flew through the air and slammed into the side of his head. He roared and his grip loosened on my wrist. I tugged my hand free as his claws extended from the ends of his fingers and he shoved my legs apart with another roar of rage, those vicious claws slicing my inner thighs and tearing up my favorite jeans.

With a cry, I shoved my blade into his side, and he snarled, his face partially shifting into his hound, his jaws snapping, and thankfully missing my face. I stuck him again, and he sprang off me, shifted fully, and lowered his head, about to attack again.

“I throw this”—I held up my blade—“and you lose an eye.”

He roared a third time, so loud and with such force, my hair blew back, then he turned and ran off.

Motherfucker.

I groaned and pushed myself up.

The scratches stung like hell and I wanted to go inside, take a shower, wash off the oil on my skin, and now the blood on my scratched-up thighs, but I had to finish spelling the perimeter. Stopping now would mean having to start from the beginning all over again.

It took half-an-hour longer than usual with me limping around, while watching out in case that fucker came back, and when I walked inside the clubhouse, everyone was eating. There was a table laid out, groaning with food. I had two hours to eat, shower, and nap before I needed to go back out there and do it all over again, and right then the most pressing sensation I had, after pain, was hunger. So I hobbled to the table, grabbed a plate, and loaded it with steak, potatoes, and rolls.

“What the hell happened to you?” Ren said, suddenly at my side, gaze raking over me. “Was it the hound you exorcised?”

He looked kind of banged up as well, but not too bad, thankfully. I didn’t have the energy to fight another one of these big bastards tonight. “Nope, but I’m fine. What happened to you?”

“Training.”

“If you’re having second thoughts…”

“I’m not. I want to keep training, and I’m more interested in why you’re bruised and bleeding,” Ren said, his expression growing more intense. No, pissed. This was his pissed-off face.

“It was just some asshole…”

Warrick was suddenly in front of me, growling, the sound vibrating through his wide chest. “You’re bleeding. Why the fuck are you bleeding?” he said, lifting my wrist and checking out the fresh bruise there. I hadn’t even noticed it. “Someone held you by the throat,” he said with so much fury I winced. And only then realized it hurt there, too. I guess the fucker had grabbed my throat at some point.

“One of your brothers, with delusions of grandeur, thought it would be fun to try to force himself on me. Apparently, the fact that you haven’t, makes you weak.”

His gaze sliced down my body, taking in my tattered jeans stained with my blood, and he roared so loud the windows rattled. I froze, stunned at the violence of his reaction. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing, silence filling the big space.

One of Warrick’s massive hands cupped the back of my head and he drew me against him, his nose dropping to my throat, pressing in and breathing deep. His head jerked back. “I will fucking kill him,” he said. “I will make him bleed.” He barked out words at Jagger in that same guttural language he had used with Maddox, then turned back to me.

“I stabbed him,” I said, trying to calm things down. “I already made him bleed. He took off. I doubt he’ll come anywhere near me again.”