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“So no one’s going to answer the question I so patiently keep asking?” I say. “What. Are. You? And don’t tell me ‘wolves,’ or so help me—”
Frost speaks up, interrupting me before I can ramp up into a full tirade. “Have you heard of the shadow realm?”
“No.”
He nods, as if he expected that response. “Our alpha has tasked us with bringing the shadow realm to earth.”
The shadow realm.
Something about the name makes fear spike in my heart. The only types of shadows I know, beyond literal shadows and the living creature Frost killed last night, are magical. The witches back in Montana… their magic was black and smoky, like shadows leaking from their fingertips. The idea of a shadow realm, where magic like that might exist unfettered, or where more living shadows exist that would try to kill me…
I shudder.
I’m ready to fire off more questions, to ask what the shadow realm has to do with the three of them, but I don’t get a chance.
“Enough chatting,” Kian snarls, then grabs my elbow and shoves me ahead of him.
Fury bursts to life like a flame inside me. I flip my arm around to break his hold, then slam my forearm against his to knock his hand away. Then I follow up with a punch to his face.
My knuckles crack, and pain lances up my arm like I’ve slammed my fist into a brick wall. But it’s worth it when he grunts and leans forward, blood spurting from his nose.
“Do not ever touch me again,” I bite out, giving my aching knuckles a shake.
Malix makes a noise in his throat. “I told you kitty’s got claws, brother. You didn’t listen.”
I hold up my fist in his direction. “Call me kitty again and you’re next.”
Kian straightens, glaring daggers at me over a thin trickle of blood that seeps from his nose. A small, insane part of me wishes I could step forward, tiptoe against his hard chest, and lick that blood off him. The idea makes me hot from head to toe, and I struggle to keep my thoughts and pheromones to myself.
A moment of tension hangs in the air, so thick it’s hard to breathe. Then Kian breaks it, turning to stalk away into the trees.
Toward a grouping of motorcycles.
Three of them.
“You got a new bike?” I say with a mock pout, thankful for something to distract me from my tumultuous thoughts. “But that takes all the fun out of my present. I fucked up your Harley just for you.”
Malix laughs, and Frost punches him in the arm.
Kian kicks up the stand on a newer-looking Honda and hitches his leg over the black bench seat. His gold-ringed gaze latches on to me as he slides forward, opening up a space behind him. “Get on.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You have to be kidding. I’m not riding with you halfway across the fucking state.”
“No, you’re not,” he grinds out. “We’re going to go get your bike, as long as you don’t force me to kill you first.”
God help me. Between the sight of the blood on his upper lip, the venom in his tone, and the threat of bodily harm, I’m more turned on than I have any damn right to be. If I get on that bike with him, he’s going to know it. If I don’t get on that bike with him, he’ll have won.
Son of a bitch.
Kian stares at me in silence as I march to his bike. I throw my leg over the seat and sit, careful to keep several inches of space between us.
But Kian grabs both my knees and hauls me forward.
I slam against his back, my legs widening even more around his hips. I can’t help the little gasp that comes from me, though I don’t know if it’s from the contact or from my lungs slamming against his hard muscles.
“That was unnecessary,” I snap.
“Sitting like that will throw off my balance,” he returns, then revs the engine, cutting off any further conversation.
