Page 47 of Brock’s Mate

He would not hurt us, her wolf said. Even when he is angry. He thinks we are his mate.

His what, now?

His true mate. The wolf paused, obviously searching for words Desi would understand. His… soul mate?

Oh, hell. And then, as the words sank in, she said, Are we?

Outside, Brock’s wolf let out a high, wild howl. There was a world of pain and frustration and fury in it, and it cut straight to Desi’s heart.

He sounded so mournful, so lonely.

Her body responded with that feeling she’d begun to recognize, of going every which way inside. This time she let it happen. There was agonizing pain, and popping sounds as her bones broke and changed.

And then she was a wolf.

She pushed the door handle down with her paw and opened the front door. Brock’s wolf was in the front yard, and he whirled to face her as she appeared.

He needs to run, her wolf said. So we run.

And they shot across the porch and past Brock, heading for the woods.

Desi’s wolf passed Brock in a flash of cream-colored fur, and was away into the forest before he could react.

His wolf gave an outraged snarl. She runs from us! She must submit!

And they were off.

She was fast, but his wolf knew this territory and she didn’t. He knew the obstacles that would slow her down or make her have to change direction, and gained ground by short-cutting around them.

Brock could feel the anger simmering inside his wolf. Wolf liked control. Being responsible for something that went out of control scared him, which pissed him off. Which made him lose it.

And he’d already been losing it, because Brock couldn’t keep a lid on his emotions.

They caught up with Desi a couple of miles from the house, near the edge of the National Forest. Brock put on a burst of speed and circled around from the downwind side, coming in perpendicular to her path and herding her into a rocky dead-end at the base of a small cliff.

She turned on him, yipping defiantly, but he didn’t stop—just leaped on her and took her down, maneuvering his jaws to the back of her neck.

Submit! he demanded.

Somewhere inside, his human side told him this was a bad idea, but his wolf paid no attention. He was angry and… hurt? That she didn’t trust them?

Desi bit and snapped, drawing blood with her teeth and her nails.

His wolf barely noticed—they’d shed more blood than this in recreational brawls with their crew.

He was a much more experienced fighter, bigger and heavier, and he was the more dominant wolf—though not by much.

He closed his jaws around the back of her neck—the wolf way of asserting physical dominance over a pack member.

Her wolf responded instinctively, going limp and submissive.

That’s better, his wolf said. He got slowly to his feet, letting go his grip. She was still on the ground, head bent submissively. She was a beautiful wolf, her creamy fur blending to brown up her back and into the top of her head and her ears, and she smelled so, so tantalizing.

Want, his wolf murmured. He began growling.

Oh, no.

Desi’s wolf scrambled to her feet, flicking her ears. And then with a flip of her tail, she made a run for it. Before she was out of sight she turned once, looking back at him, tongue lolling as if she were laughing at him.