Page 115 of Cursed Bonds: An Alpha's Destiny

Cocking an eyebrow, I said, “A feeling? Do you have the same feeling about Waylan?”

Waylan had drooled over Harley’s picture, but he’d been absolutely punch-drunk at meeting her in real life. I hadn’t been blind to him trying to catch glimpses of my friend as we drove home from the airport or how awkward he’d acted around her. For a guy who usually seemed so casual and sure of himself, it was a funny reaction.

After everything I’d learned about shifters, I wondered if, by some magical miracle, Harley might be Waylan’s fated mate. It would explain his reaction to her. If that was true, though, it would be a bridge to cross later.

Harley barked out a laugh. “You mean the sexy chauffeur? The guy who could barely string two words together on a three-hour drive? That Waylan?”

“Yes, that’s the one. I swear, he’s usually much more charming.”

Harley made a face I couldn’t quite judge. Exasperation, maybe? “He’s hot, yeah. Like really hot.”

“But?”

“But I’m a city girl. You know that. I’m not in the market for a mountain man. Not in a small town like this. It would never work out. I like dinners at fancy restaurants and nice bars and concerts. Here? I’d be, like, field-dressing the deer he hunts, or plucking chickens or…oh, hell, I don’t know what people do out here in the country, but it’s not my speed.” She winked at me. “A little vacation fling wouldn’t be out of the range of possibility, though.”

I chuckled, but I knew my friend as well as she knew herself. The one thing Harley craved was stability and a man who would take care of her. She’d dated everyone from lawyers to professional athletes, and all of them had been found wanting in one way or another. She wanted what they couldn’t give. If Waylan had any sense in his head, he should show her what he was really like. If he did that, I had no doubt that the only reason Harley would go back to Houston was to pack her stuff and head to Crestwood for good.

Harley looked over my shoulder and frowned. “What the fuck?”

I spun on my seat to glance out the window. A blur of motion streaked past, followed by another. Wolves. From their coloring, I knew it wasn’t Waylan or Jace. Maybe the betas Jace said would be coming to guard the house? My magic surged in my chest and head. Did that mean danger? I was fairly certain it did.

Before I could voice my worry to Harley, a loud howl erupted from outside, sending goosebumps up my arms. The hard pounding of boots running on the wooden porch sent a shiver of fear through me, but when the door opened, I let out a sigh of relief. It was a member of the Crestwood Pack. I’d seen him in town but didn’t know his name.

He plowed through the door, panting, and closed it behind him.

“Miss Holly,” he said.

“What’s going on?” I demanded as I stood.

Grimacing, he tilted his head. “A little issue, but we’ve got it handled.”

“Stay here,” I said, looking at Harley. Thankfully, she looked too confused and scared to argue.

I stalked to the door, but the man moved to block me. “No, ma’am. Jace said to keep you inside if anything weird happened.”

A gut-wrenching wolf howl sounded through the air again. It was the sound an animal would make as it lay dying.

“Let me see what’s happening,” I demanded.

“It’s being handled, miss. It’ll be okay.”

“What’s being handled, damn it? What’s going on out there?”

The guy’s eyes darted around nervously, and he let out a hiss of breath through gritted teeth. “It’s a little—”

A yelp of pain from outside cut him off, and he jerked his head around, obviously recognizing the wolf who made the sound.

“Ah, shit. Hang on. You two ladies stay here,” he said, rushing rushed back out the door.

He swung it closed behind him, but I grabbed it before it could latch and looked out. My jaw fell open. Two wolves thrashed about on the grass out front. One, a brown wolf, had a huge gash in his right shoulder, the skin hanging off in a three-inch strip like someone had taken a filet knife to it, exposing the muscle beneath.

The other wolf snarled and snapped at the injured wolf, trying desperately to latch its teeth onto his throat. Our guardian sprinted down the porch. Leaping off the top step, he shifted in mid-air and joined the fight. Another wolf lay on the ground, this one motionless, its chest still. Dead?

Yelps and growls pulled my attention back, and the two Crestwood wolves finally did enough damage to send the other wolf racing away. Harley joined me at the door, looking out upon the devastation in the yard.

She gasped. “Oh my god.”

The Crestwood wolves shifted back. The man who had told us to stay inside towered over the smaller, injured man who lay on the ground. The wound had looked bad on his wolf form, but it looked absolutely horrendous on his human body. The skin from his collarbone to his shoulder hung in a ragged strip. Even his enhanced pain threshold and healing didn’t do enough to keep the tears of pain out of his eyes. He thrashed around, moaning incoherently.

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