Page 65 of Cuffed By the Wolf

I pull the blanket over her body. She gives in to sleep.

I stand back, watching her. I’m happy my omega is here in our home.

Heavy knuckles rattle the door. I stalk into the living room in just a pair of red basketball shorts and pull the door open.

Tyson, Tara, Genevieve, and Jax walk inside.

“Hello, Gavin,” Tara says.

“We’re here to keep Sasha company,” Genevieve adds.

“There’s a police detail outside,” I say.

My eyes fall on Sasha. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Be careful,” she pleads.

I nod.

Tyson and Jax follow me outside. They strip off their clothes.

“You two remember where we’re going?” I ask as I remove my shorts.

“Yup, to the barn off Clifton Road,” Tyson says.

“Good. Fitch and Blake will meet us there,” I confirm.

“Let’s kick their asses,” Jax says.

I wave to the deputies sitting in the cruiser a few feet away.

They nod back in understanding.

I feel eyes on me. Peeking over my shoulder, I notice Sasha standing in the doorway. Tara and Genevieve are behind her.

We don’t waste time shifting.

This is a part of who I am. Sasha should become familiar with my wolf.

I hear her gasp as my body transforms into my wolf.

Gripping the banister, she slowly makes her way to me. Her fingers glide through my gray and white fur coat. “You’re a hot wolf.”

I nuzzle into her before moving toward the woods. The evening air is thick with the smell of cut grass and coming rain, the kind of ordinary summer night that makes everything a second later feel wrong before I understand why. Snarls sound in front of me, low and close, closer than they have any right to be.

What the fuck? They came for my omega.

One of them breaks from the treeline in a dead sprint, low to the ground, jaws already open, and leaps over my body — not at me, past me, straight for Sasha’s throat.

A blood-curdling scream rips out of her. Behind me, I hear Tyson and Jax already engaged, snarling and snapping, two more shapes tangled together in the dark, but I don’t look. I can’t. There’s only one thing in the world right now, and it’s the arc of that wolf’s body sailing toward the porch.

I’m faster.

I twist mid-stride and catch him out of the air, my jaw closing on the side of his neck before his paws ever touch the steps. We hit the ground together, hard enough to knock the wind out of both of us, and I feel him thrashing under me — desperate, wild, realizing too late he picked the wrong target to go through. My teeth sink deeper. He stops thrashing. Then he stops moving at all.

No one touches my omega.

I didn’t want us to have to kill the rogue wolf shifters, but they came onto my property, so they got put down.