Saved by Wolves (Shifters Meet Their Mate Book 1) (9 page)

“This is none of your business, Marcus,” Lash said, backing up the crest of the hill one step at a time. “Take my advice and leave. Forget you ever met this one. She’s not worth dying for.”

If she wasn’t worth it, why was Lash so determined to have her? He and Monroe were naked, and sweat slicked their bodies, so they’d been traveling in their Cat forms. Taking Kirra hadn’t been an impulse. They’d crossed into Wolf territory fully intending to kidnap her. More than ever, he regretted not pressing her for answers.

“If she’s not worth it, why are you breaking the treaty over her? You’re on our land, Lash, and she’s under our protection. You have to know that’s not going to end well.”

Smirking, Lash tightened his arm around Kirra’s neck and yanked her up until she stood on her tiptoes, eyes wide. His fingers formed wicked claws, and one of them pressed against her throat, right above her jugular. “I think it’s going very well. My alpha wants the human, so he’s going to get her. He didn’t specify dead or alive, however.”

Monroe scratched at the dirty-blond stubble on his shin. “But Lash, he said that if we came back without her, he’d—”

“Shut up,” Lash snarled.

They’d reached the top of the hill. Marcus inched closer, ready to spring into action the second Jackson made his move. Just another few seconds...

Kirra suddenly kicked back, driving her boot heel into Lash’s shin while wrapping her hands around the fingers at her throat and pitching herself backwards, smashing her head into his face.

T
he pressure at her throat let up, and Kirra bit down, clenching her teeth in the fleshy part between her attacker’s thumb and forefinger.

He hissed and wrenched his hand away, shoving her to her knees with his other hand and wrapping his fingers through her hair. Everything was a blur through the tears in her eyes, but she thought she saw Marcus. Where had he come from? How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly? Getting up the nerve to leave Wolf’s Run and travel through Shifter Territory on her own had been hard—made harder by the fact that she’d felt a sense of loss at leaving Marcus and Jackson—but it had been the right decision. And it started off well. According to the map, she’d been making good time.

And then two Cats—a huge black panther and a cheetah—had landed in her path. She’d reached for energy to defend herself with, but there was nothing to tap into. When she’d tried to run, they’d shifted, and the ugly blond one had clubbed her with a branch.

That was the last thing she remembered before waking up to Marcus’s voice. He’d sounded angry. When she felt the hand around her throat, she’d felt angry, too. She had enough problems to deal with without the Cats adding to them.

“What are they paying you?” she gasped. “What could they possibly promise that would get you to betray your own people?”

In her peripheral vision, she saw the blond man begin to shift into his cheetah form. His head and arms changed, but his legs were still fully human when a reddish-brown Wolf—Marcus?—rammed into him. They tumbled down the hill in a snarling mass, away from where she knelt.

“What are you talking about?” The man holding her tightened his grip on her hair and pulled until she arched her back to relieve the pressure on her scalp. “We haven’t betrayed anyone.” She couldn’t see his face, but genuine confusion colored the anger in his voice. Could he not know? If he didn’t, there was a chance she could talk him into letting her go.

“The deal with the military, with Blackstone—”

A howl of pure rage rang out, and her neck jerked forward, then back as it was released. Kirra crawled away on her hands and knees, then turned around.

A second Wolf, larger and darker than the first, had her attacker pinned to the ground, teeth mere inches from his throat. Jackson. He’d come too. Happiness and warmth that were totally inappropriate considering the situation washed through her. They’d come after her.

The man hissed up at Jackson, his body contorting as it fought to take on its panther form. Jackson opened his mouth wide—

“No,” Kirra yelled, surging to her feet. “Don’t kill him.”

His head swung toward her, and she held out a hand, palm out. “You can’t kill him,” she pleaded in a low, ragged voice. “He might know something.”

Behind her, a Cat yowled. Kirra angled her body so she could keep track of Marcus’s fight in her peripheral vision—keeping her back to a potential threat seemed wrong, and she didn’t dare take her eyes off Jackson. He held himself over the man, sharp teeth bared and gleaming in the light, vibrating with anger and anticipation. The unhinged look in his eyes made her take a deep, calming breath. Keeping her hand out, Kirra inched her way toward him, until she was only five feet away.

“I need to ask him a few questions, Jackson. But beyond that, Marcus told me about the treaty—this would break it. You don’t want to start a war with the Cats.”

His left ear twitched repeatedly, and his upper lip curled, exposing his gums.

“Okay, maybe you don’t care about that right now. But you did yesterday. And you will tomorrow. And the alpha—your alpha will care, right?” The way they spoke about their alpha, she knew his word was law. And while part of her wanted nothing more than to let Jackson beat the crap out of her attacker—or better yet, do it herself—she knew it would be wrong. And not just morally. If the Wolves got tangled up in an all-out feud with the Cats, they wouldn’t have the time or manpower to focus on anything else. Her plea for help would be ignored or swept under the rug.

Jackson tilted his head to the side and met her eyes. The panther-man scrambled to his left, trying to take advantage of the moment of inattention. Jackson slammed a paw down on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He didn’t go for the man’s throat, though. That was a good sign. Maybe her words were getting through to him. But just in case they weren’t, she needed to ask her questions quickly.

Going against every self-preservation fiber in her body, Kirra took another step toward the men and faced the Cat. Her throat throbbed where he’d held his claw to her neck, and it was all she could do not to rub it. The last thing she wanted to do was show that kind of vulnerability to such a monster, so she kept her hands loose at her sides. “Why does your alpha want me?” she asked.

“Tell your dog to get off me,” he hissed. Objectively, he was good-looking—slabs of muscle and chiseled features—but his sneering expression and the fact that he’d kidnapped her turned him ugly.

“Interesting insult coming from an overgrown house cat,” she said, cocking a hip and planting her hand on it, hoping she projected more confidence than she felt. “Answer my question.”

He sealed his lips tight and glared.

She heard a loud grunt, and darted a glance at Marcus and the cheetah. They were circling each other, snarling and hissing, moving in to swipe with a paw, then darting back again. They looked as if they’d be busy for a while. She refocused on her target.

“Fine. Then tell me what kind of a deal you made with the military. With Blackstone.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“That’s not what Captain Avery said.”

“Avery? That self-important peacock who trespassed with the soldiers? He didn’t know what the hell he was talking about either. We don’t have a deal with the humans. Especially not the military. It stays out of our way, and we’ll stay out of its.” He gave a harsh, bitter laugh. “Not that that’s going to happen anymore. They killed Huxley in cold blood. The alpha won’t forget that.”

Huxley... he had to mean the dreadlocked Cat. A flash of the gun firing and blood blossoming on his chest filled her vision for a second, and she shook her head to clear it. Lash’s voice rang with truth. Either he believed what he was saying or he was a skilled liar. She thought the former—none of the shifters she’d encountered so far seemed big on subterfuge. Direct and to the point was more their style.

A loud thud and the skitter of loose stones came from her right. Halfway down the hillside, the cheetah lay still in a jumble of rocks and scrub brush. Marcus backed away from the body, shifting into his human form. Naked, he made his way toward them, striding over the ground as if he didn’t even feel the sharp stones he trod upon. Maybe he didn’t. He’d already proved he had tough feet.

“What’d I miss?” Marcus called out. Sweat slicked his shoulders and chest, and when he raised a hand to run it through his hair, his muscles flexed. Kirra swallowed. Hard.

“Ummm...” She cleared her throat. “This guy—”

“Lash,” Marcus supplied helpfully.

“Right. Lash here is about to answer a few questions for me. How did you guys find me, anyway?” In the confusion and rush of activity, it hadn’t even occurred to her to question their presence until that moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling the border?”

He raised a brow at her. “How did we find you? That was pretty easy. Even if we hadn’t known you were headed for Blue’s Hollow, you left tracks a pup could have followed. A blind pup with no sense of smell.” His voice took on a lecturing tone, and he frowned at her. “Really, you need to learn how to cover your trail. We’ll work on that.”

“I’m not going to be here long enough to—never mind. We’re getting off topic.”

“Yeah, we are.” Marcus caught Jackson’s gaze and jerked his head to the side. “I got this. You shift.”

Using a large paw, Jackson thumped on Lash’s chest one last time in warning, then turned and moved off about fifteen feet to shift.

Lash eased to a sitting position, angling himself to keep an eye on Marcus and Jackson. Even sitting, his head was nearly at her shoulder. The guy rivaled Jackson in height and size. It was a good thing she’d been running on confusion and adrenaline when she’d come back to consciousness. Otherwise, she never would have had the nerve to smash her head into his nose. Which, to her eye, now looked just a touch crooked. She suppressed a smile and hoped it throbbed the way her head and throat did.

His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened slightly. “Monroe’s alive,” he said, tilting his head in the cheetah’s direction and studying Marcus, who gave a casual shrug.

“Unconscious, but yeah, he’s alive. I got the impression he was only following orders,” Marcus said.

“Speaking of orders,” Kirra said, “I still want to know why you tracked me down. It wasn’t just because I crossed your land.”

“The alpha wants to question you,” Lash said.

“And you didn’t ask why?”

Jackson’s gravelly voice broke in before Lash could respond. “He wouldn’t dare. None of the Cats would. Vincent’s a psychopath who rules with fear, and the Cats take it lying down.” Disdain dripped from his words. He moved to stand over Lash, shoulders squared, abs taut, ready to drive Lash into the ground if necessary. A purplish bruise marred his jaw, and a streak of dirt ran down his naked body, from his chest down to his hip. It didn’t matter. He was still pure lust walking.

“Vincent’s their alpha,” Marcus interjected in a loud whisper, interrupting her ogling. “He also happens to be Lash’s father.”

Lash had tensed like a spring at Jackson’s insult, and for one long moment, Kirra thought he would leap at Jackson. Then he visibly relaxed his shoulders and gave an unconvincing laugh. “We know how to honor our alpha and follow orders. We’re not a bunch of untrained dogs.” 

It was Jackson’s turn to tense. Kirra had never gone to high school, but she imagined they were acting like jocks from competing schools, arguing over whose team was better. They were getting nowhere fast.

“So if you never question him, your alpha could have made a deal and not told you about it,” she mused.

Lash frowned, but didn’t argue the point. In fact, although he tried to keep his expression neutral, she was sure she saw a ripple of uncertainty and discomfort cross his face. He didn’t like the idea that his alpha—his father—might be keeping things from him.

“Any more questions for him?” Marcus asked her.

Lash wasn’t the font of information she’d been hoping he’d be. Still...

“Have any of your people disappeared in the last decade or so?” she asked. At her question, Marcus straightened, and she felt the weight of his sharpened curiosity.

“My people?” Lash mocked.

“You know what she means. Don’t pretend to be offended,” Marcus said.

A faint moan came from Monroe, and Marcus jogged off to check on him. He was still a few feet away when Monroe began to shift into his human form. The transformation occurred in slow motion compared to Marcus’s and Jackson’s shifts. Muscles bulged at weird angles, and pale skin appeared where his black spots had been. He writhed and moaned in pain, and Kirra had to look away from the disturbing sight.

Lash shook his head. “No, none of my ‘people’ have...” His voice faded, and he tilted his head. “Yes. Some have. Without a trace. Mainly teens—probably ran away thinking it would be a great adventure to live with humans, or more likely, were killed by hunters while shifted.” His upper lip curled. “Humans think it’s great sport to knock us off by ‘accident,’ and your government barely gives them a slap on the wrist for it. ” Lash surged to his feet, grabbed her by the shoulders, and towered over her, ignoring Jackson’s warning growl. “You call us animals, but you’re the—”

Pushing her behind him with one arm, Jackson stepped between her and Lash, shoving at Lash’s chest with his other hand. “Back off. You don’t touch her. Ever.”

“So she really is under your protection,” Lash said. “That won’t save her if she’s involved with the hunters.” He glared at her, and although she didn’t like feeling like a damsel in distress cowering behind her knight, Kirra was glad Jackson’s bulk was between them. “What do you know?” he demanded.

“I don’t know anything about the hunters,” she said. “I think they’re horrible and disgusting and should be thrown in a dark pit with only rats for company. I—” She cut herself off. Lash acted as if he didn’t know anything, but it could just be that—an act. If he was involved in any way, she couldn’t afford to tip her hand more than she already had. “I was just curious,” she finished lamely.

Marcus saved her from a barrage of follow-up questions. Hand clamped on the back of Monroe’s neck, he prodded the Cat over to the group. In his human form, Monroe was tall and lean, except where his belly pooched out. Every inch of his body was covered in dirt and grass stains. Streaks of dirt decorated Marcus as well, but on him, they accentuated his glistening muscles and gave him a rugged, hard-working-man appeal. Monroe just came across as... dirty.