Page 234 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

We came through the arch just as Ronan’s voice cut across the courtyard.

“Ian. Do not make me do this.”

The courtyard had become a slaughterhouse with floral arrangements. Bodies lay across the white stone. Some wolves. Some men. Some half one thing and half the other. Blood ran in pink ribbons through the rain. The fountain was broken open, water spilling over the shattered edge. Something that had to be Silas lay in and around it in pieces I refused to understand.

Ronan stood near the center, blood on his face, his body half shifted, power rolling off him in waves. Several of his wolves stood between him and the service arch.

Ian was in front of them.

Full wolf.

Huge. Dark. Blood-soaked. His fur lay slick against a body too large for the word wolf to cover. His head was low. His teeth were bare. His eyes were gold and empty of everything except threat.

He stood between Ronan’s pack and the route I had taken.

Guarding it.

Guarding us.

Dying on it.

A wolf near the arch shifted his weight forward and Ian lunged.

I threw myself into him. I didn’t think. Thinking would have called for a saner option, and I was fresh out of those. I hit his side with every ounce of force I had left. It was like throwing myself into a moving wall. He barely moved. I bounced off and hit the bloody stone hard enough to knock what little air I had out of my lungs.

Ian spun on me.

The growl that came out of him shook through the courtyard. His jaws opened. His teeth were inches from my face. His eyes were gold and wild and terrifying.

He didn’t know me. Or he was too far gone to let himself know me.

So I slapped him across the muzzle. My palm cracked against wet fur and bone and the courtyard went silent.

Ian froze.

My hand stung so badly I almost laughed, which probably said something worrying about my current mental health.

“You absolute idiot!” I snapped.

His lips twitched back.

“Do not growl at me! I am injured, furious, and running on painkillers, spite, and a deeply questionable amount of adrenaline.”

A low rumble moved through him.

“Yes, you. Do not take that tone with me while covered in someone else’s bloodstream.”

Sava reached my side, silver blade lifted toward the wolves behind me. “Cassie.”

“I’ve got him.”

“You slapped a feral wolf.”

“I am aware, Sava.”

Ronan’s voice came rough through the rain. “Cassie, move away from him.”

I didn’t look at him. “You have had all week to give advice, and look where that got us.”