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The silence now covering the grove is unnerving after the ear-splitting cacophony. The fight has died down—all that’s left is a fire burning here and there. The witches are either dead, or they fled. We did it. We won the battle.
But there’s another battle, one I can’t forget when I lock eyes with Wilde. Now that he knows his father is okay, all he wants is me. His wolf calls to mine—is the tugging sensation in my chest real, or is it only in my head?
Maybe it’s the high of knowing we won or the primal rage still burning inside me, but it takes all my strength to keep from going to him. To be claimed and celebrate this victory with Wilde. I need this. I need him like I need air.
Which means I need to get the hell out of here, now.
“Lili!” His cry fills my head as I shift back, but I ignore him, cutting through the grove and running at full speed from the aftermath of the battle. I’m safer away from him. I was safer when I was fighting.
Though right now, I’m not sure who I need to be safe from: his wolf or the craving he awakens in mine because while I wasn’t afraid to fight the witches, I am most definitely afraid of how close I came to begging him to claim me, right then and there.
22
WILDE
My wolf is torn. Instinct tells me to go after her, throw her to the ground and take her under the open sky in celebration of our victory. To split her in half with my cock, to drive away any doubt of whether or not she belongs to me. There will never be a better time. It’s as if fate itself conspired to make this happen.
I’ll never forget the sight of her, that silvery fur lit shimmering in the light from the fire burning nearby. The blood dripping from her jaws and splattered all over her. My fierce, vicious, brave little wolf. My Lili.
Yet there’s part of me—a very large part—who understands my duty to my alpha. My father, still lying on the ground. The least of his wounds are already healing or healed, but his right arm and leg are hideously broken. “Threw me up against the tree,” he grunts, grimacing when he tries to lift the shattered appendage hanging at his side. “I heard them both snap. Can’t heal quick enough for me.”
“You’re getting there,” Forrest reminds him, dropping to one knee at Dad’s side. Though we both know he’ll be fine, I hear my concern coming from my brother’s mouth. The old man had a close call, and if it hadn’t been for Lili… I don’t want to think about it.
Dad grimaces up at me. I guess he thinks he’s smiling. The pain must be excruciating if he can’t hide it. “That was closer than I feel comfortable with.”
I feel the same, but I’m still too wrapped up in my torn allegiance to say a word. It’s taking all of my concentration not to chase Lili down and do what my wolf demands.
Why did I ever have to mark her? All it’s brought me so far is a lot of hassle.
“That female you marked,” he grunts, looking at me. “She’s a tough one. I can see why you were drawn to her.” I exchange a look with my brother, who averts his gaze.
“Yeah, I guess my wolf knew what he was doing.” I stand up, looking around at the bodies, the destruction. “We’re going to need to assess the damage to the pack.”
“You do that for me,” Dad mutters. He grinds his teeth, snarling. “Sometimes, when the bones knit back together, it hurts worse than the break.”
“I’ll help you back to the house,” Forrest offers, assisting Dad until he’s standing on his good leg.
At least I have something to distract me, though my wolf is none too happy. I sense his consciousness straining against my human mind, pushing and urging me. In my mind’s eye, I imagine myself overtaking her, forcing her to submit.
That’s not the way. But he doesn’t want to hear that. It was difficult enough before to keep from fucking her until we were both senseless, but now? Fresh off a battle, with the blood of at least one witch still on my lips and tongue. I’m triumphant, and I want to fuck. Plain and simple.
But not just any female. That’s the problem. No one else will do.
First, I make my way through the grove, checking on all wolves I come across. As far as I can tell, there are no fatalities, nothing worse than a few severe injuries that will heal soon enough. By morning, everyone will be back in top form.
The witches, on the other hand? They weren’t so lucky, but then that’s their fault for breaching the borders in the first place. What were they thinking? What did they hope to gain from this? I run into Benedict, who, for the first time in days, doesn’t snarl at me on sight. “We’ve been gathering the corpses,” he explains, gesturing to the pile of bodies waiting to be incinerated. “It looks like there were only two or three dozen of them, tops.”
