Page 6 of The Alpha's Arranged Bride

Five men? Five of them had drugged her? How? In what? The beer? She’d thought it tasted bitter on the back of her tongue, but she’d assumed that’s how it was supposed to taste.

She scrambled off the floor, her movements only slightly jerky. What the hell kind of drugs? She threw herself into the stone chair as if it could shelter her. She was beginning to shake. If Agnar’s pack could get to her like this, then what more could they do? The fact that she wasn’t dead or writhing on the ground, having been poisoned, clearly said that the drugs were of a different nature. Probably meant to embarrass her and not kill her.

Hopefully. Unless they were slow acting.

But it would explain why her body was enflamed with lust beyond reason. It wasn’t just the atmosphere or the fact that her mate looked like a god come to drag her to hell, chain her up, strap her ass, lick her pussy, and fuck her every hole until she was a mess for him.

Definitely the drugs. This wasn’t her in any way. And it wasn’t the beer either, however strong the stuff might have been brewed.

“Your peace has gone too far.” One of the voices lifted in challenge.

She tried to see around Agnar, but she couldn’t.

“We’re wasting our youth and our lives here, doing nothing. You’ve set us to seeding and harvesting. We’re not farmers. We’re warriors. We’re not builders, making new housing and repairing the old. We still drill and train and we want to fight. We want to reclaim the lands that were taken from us and avenge those whose blood has been spilled.”

Another quickly joined in, “You have no stomach for war anymore, Agnar. You’re an old man.”

Another, equally as impetuous, “You’ve gone soft, making peace with an enemy instead of demanding a life for a life.”

“You’re no warrior. You shame us. You shame the whole of the Phaethon Pack.”

Had they ever been to war? Killed a man? Prairie Rose knew her mate undoubtedly had. More than one, very likely, and probably in brutal ways. She’d been so annoyed with him over his conversation in the vehicle, the way he talked down to her and addressed her like a child, how he ordered her obedience and respect instead of earning it, but now that she heard the voices raised against him, she wanted to spring out of the stone chair and do a special sort of violence to those questioning him.

If only she could make her legs work. They felt heavy, like the rest of her. Drunken again, not beyond her command, but slow.

“We drugged her because you consulted no one before you took a mate and made this peace pact. You think because you’re alpha that you can do as you wish? You say it’s for the good of us, but what good comes from stagnation and dying out?”

She wished Agnar would say something to defend himself. Throw out stats proving they weren’t dying, that no one was dying. And wasn’t that the point? He said nothing. Made no move to defend himself. He just stood there, and she had no choice but to sit and watch his broad back and huge shoulders, to note the way his legs were spread slightly apart. His stance was of someone ready to do battle.

“We drugged her because we wanted to expose her for who she really is. She’s an outsider, delicate and unfit for this pack, especially to be an alpha’s mate. She’s unworthy of sitting beside you. She’ll humiliate herself and humiliate you and humiliate this pack. She is nothing. A bitch from the northern tribes who are soft. Barely wolves. Barely anything at all.”

Finally, Agnar reacted. He let out a low growl and his hands flexed into fists at his sides.

Her face was flushed with shame and rage. She couldn’t imagine how Agnar felt at having her insulted that way when she’d done nothing to provoke it. She hadn’t embarrassed herself. She hadn’t embarrassed him, even with whatever they’d given her. She might have felt wanton, but her cravings were entirely for him, her mate, and even if he was nothing but a cruel stranger in a new, harsh land, she refused to think that it was wrong for mates to desire each other.

“I challenge you.” Those three heart-stopping words rang out bold and clear, echoing in the enclosed space. The fire flicked on, crackling noisily in the ensuing silence.

“And I,” another seconded.

The others weren’t content to wait. There was a terrible cacophony of howls. People scrambled out of the way, running to the sides of the cave leaving the area between the alpha and his challengers clear, but there were no screams. She caught the eye of a man who raced past the stone chair, his face a glee-filled mask of excitement.

She expected there to be a time and a place for a challenge, but the chaos that broke out proved that this pack was nothing like hers.

Suddenly, Agnar shifted in an explosion of clothing and boots. His body reshaped itself into his wolf, lightning fast. In a blink, he’d gone from a fearsome man to a powerful brown-and-black wolf, but so had the others. There were apparently no rules and no order at all. Five wolves were going to challenge one. They were all huge, varying colors, saliva dripping from bared fangs.

They didn’t wait and attack one at a time. Was this their warrior code, their form of honor, that they sprang all at once?

Five forms streaked through the dark cave, five shadows sailing after them. They cleared the fire, one jumping straight throughthe flames but coming out uninjured. They leapt on top of Agnar all at once. One latched onto his neck while another jumped straight on his back. A third tried to take out his front legs and the other two basically landed on top of the ones on his back and head.

It was a macabre pile of teeth and fur, yelps and cries.

Prairie Rose couldn’t see what was even happening past blurs of fur and the flashes of bared and bloodied fangs. She exploded out of the chair, her body finally responding as adrenaline surged with fear. She wasn’t worried about herself if something should happen to the one man who alone might defend her and keep her safe. She was infuriated by the unfairness of the numbers. Not a soul in the cave was going to do anything to help. They stood off to the side, some of them watching with naked delight, others with worried or pensive expressions.

She didn’t think once about bringing Agnar dishonor. She wouldn’t stand by and watch him be killed like this. No man and no wolf deserved to die such a death, ripped apart by the very men who should have loved them, honored them, trusted them, and given them their obedience because they’d sworn a pack oath to be loyal to their alpha. Castor had said more than once that Agnar was a good man with a gruff exterior who worked tirelessly to bring a lasting peace to his pack. They were ungrateful for all that he’d done and now they were going to spill his blood.

A black wolf went flying. He was flung against the wall of the cave so hard he slumped down on impact. She gasped as another, a white wolf, flew off and limped away, bleeding from a nasty wound on his side. He slumped to the ground, the red puddle beneath him growing. He was bleeding out and still, no one moved to help him.

She was torn between doing something to help Agnar and rushing to the hurt wolf. Even if he had challenged her mate, she couldn’t watch him bleed out.

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