The other Alpha’s wolf folds inward first. Cathal’s human shape knits back together in a miserable shiver. He’s all battered pale skin and streaks of dripping blood. His knees sink into the gravel as he drags himself upright.He keeps his chin dipped to his exposed chest. It’s the wisest choice he’s made today.
It’s only now that Rennick’s wolf risks turning his head in my direction. Those pale eyes cut across the distance, sharp and searching. Cataloging for signs of injury. I give the smallest shake of my head.I’m all right. Not broken. Still here.
Momentarily satisfied enough with my status, he turns his attention back to his challenger and begins to prowl a slow, stalking circle around the subdued man. No one in the crowd speaks. No one even dares to breathe too loudly. Being noticed by the riled pack Alpha right now is a risk no one is willing to take.
After several tense laps, Rennick’s wolf stops a few feet behind Cathal’s kneeling form. His shift is seamless, a fluid withdrawal of his beast.Dark fur melts into sun-kissed skin, the long, sculpted lines of his human form settling into a crouch. He then rises to his feet with lethal ease.
He stands there, naked, completely unapologetic, every carved inch of him visible to the dozens who were here to act as witnessesfor this brawl.
I try not to let my eyes roam too much, telling myself that now isn’t the time for an indecent visual detour. It’s a pathetic effort, really, since I lose that battle almost instantly.
And much to my chagrin, I’m not the only one staring.
Of course they’re staring. He’s the ringmaster of this whole circus, idiot.
Reminding myself that nudity is normal in pack culture—and that I’ve just been away from it too long—does nothing to extinguish the unexpected burn climbing behind my ribs. Reason means nothing when I’m doing everything I can not to snap at the wolves daring to stare at what belongs to me.
My mate.
Mine.
Apparently,hearing him proudly declare himself as such has cracked something wide open within me. His public claim has awakened a side of myself I’ve never had to contend with before. And I have no fucking idea how to navigate it. Pretty sure my omega instincts have hijacked the wheel, and I’m just white-knuckling it in the passenger seat while it makes up for lost time.
My wolf rises hard, every hair along her spine raised, a low warning building inside her chest. By nature, omegas are meant to be the docile nurturers, the soft designation that wilts beneath aggression. But threaten the sanctity of their nest or mate, and gentleness will burn off fast, leaving behind nothing but bared teeth and claws.
The bloodthirsty surge hits so suddenly it nearly knocks me sideways.
What finally yanks me out of my spiraling is the sight of the claw marks raked across Rennick’s ribs.
And just like that, my wolf is pissed for an entirely different reason.
His saving grace is that he’ll heal. Unlike the slashes Merritt left on his temple, the wounds on Rennick’s side will knit back together and smooth out, erasing any trace they were ever there. Only wounds inflicted by wolves ranked higher on the dominance food chain leave scars. Cathal showed exactly where he stands in that hierarchy when he bent his neck to Rennick. Meanwhile the wounds Rennick left on his thick neck? Yeah,those are here to stay. The defeated pack Alpha has to carry those around the rest of his life along with his shame.
Rennick resumes his circling, quiet and awful in that deliberately false calm of his.
When he speaks, ice clings to every word. “According to the old laws, everything you have could be mine now, McNamara.You challenged another Pack Alpha and you lost. Your land, your people, your possessions—I have the right to strip you of all of it, claim every piece of it for myself. And you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop me.”
My pulse jumps. He’s right. It’s a relic of a law, from a time when our people were more beast than human.And though it’s outdated, it was never abolished. Any wolf can invoke it if they choose.
My wolf lifts her snout in smug satisfaction, pleased by the fear her mate stirred…right until the possibility of them actually joining our ranks crosses her mind. Then she immediately wrinkles her nose.
Absolutely not.
I couldn’t agree more.
“I’m aware, Fallamhain,” Cathal grinds out.
“AlphaFallamhain,” Rennick corrects, his tone as casual as a knife point to the jugular.
A tremor runs through Cathal’s shoulders as dominance presses down on him. More sweat beads at his temples. He swallows thickly. “My apologies,AlphaFallamhain.”
Rennick accepts with the smallest tilt of his chin, his gaze drifting over the pathetic weeping shape of Talis near the SUV, over the quivering wolves clumped at the edges, then back to the man at his feet.
“It’s tempting,” he admits, and there’s underlying disgust curling through his words. “To take your territory and everything in it. To leave you standing in the ruins of yourown making. But the notion of absorbing your pack into mine makes my skin crawl.I don’t want your members anywhere near my people. I don’t trust a single one of you.” He looks down the strong line of his nose at Cathal. “So, I won’t call the old law.” Cathal’s relief is short-lived. It evaporates out of thin air as Rennick adds, “Thistime. Challenge me again, and I claim everything and set it all on fire simply for the joy of watching it burn. Do I make myself clear, Cathal?”
Fists clenched at his sides and jaw flexing, the other Alpha nods once. “I understand, Alpha Fallamhain.”
Rennick turns away long enough to stride to what’s left of his clothes. Fabric lies shredded and ruined. Amongst the scraps, he finds his watch. The metal links of the wristband are broken, but it appears the face is still intact and he checks the time. “You have five minutes to get out of my territory,” he tells the McNamara wolves without raising his voice. “You better start hauling ass.”
