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A more noble male might see other avenues of redress.
I am not noble. There is nothing I would not do to keep those I love safe. I am an alpha and a wolf. If any man dares to come for what is mine, he and his associates will be punished with their lives.
Lifting my head, I howl.
* * *
Freya
A distant wolf howls. It raises the hairs at the back of my neck.
“They are coming,” Aston says. “I don’t know how they know where we are, but they are coming.”
They?
He means Marshal.
The man they stole me from.
The man who wants me for his wife.
* * *
Lor
Warning issued, I lower my head to see the horses wheeling to a stop as all eyes swing my way.
The wolves are not fucking stupid. They know I’m after them and slink back to hide behind the mounted soldiers—fucking cowards.
I want to charge down the slope and rip them limb from limb but, recognizing the folly of such a move, I slip back into the forest and lope around the side. I hear the cries of confusion.
“Where the fuck is he?”
“Watch your backs!”
“Maybe he has gone?”
Their horses jostle as men armed with crossbows nervously eye the trees.
Finding a perfect opening, I charge.
“Attack!”
A crossbow bolt whistles past my shoulder and slams into the nearby tree trunk with athunk.
I growl. Kicking my hind legs against the ground, I fly through the air, crashing into one mounted soldier and sending him barreling into another. We all smash together to the forest floor. I taste blood. A horse screams and charges riderless through the trees.
“Get the bastard!”
I leap, flash from wolf to bipedal beast mid-flight, my claws raking the next soldier’s throat. As I land on the ground in wolf form, the two shifters and hounds join the attack, snapping and snarling.
Another bolt whistles past. A sword slices through the air, tearing the flesh off my flank and searing me with pain.
As I leap, I change form and back again, healing the wound before raking another soldier and knocking him from the saddle. With his foot caught in the stirrup, the wounded rider screams as he’s dragged into the forest by his stampeding horse.
I flash in and out of forms, charging between them so fast I am nothing but a blur.
Then I spy on him,Marshal, the pompous prick who wants Freya, boxed between two of his soldiers.
