Page 119 of The Wolf in My Tavern

“Gods, that made a fucking racket,” Drake says as the blocked door and a large chunk of the surrounding rock face comes tumbling down.

There is no further point in subtlety. We charge into the den.

Ada

We go over the plan. It is not a complex plan. We are tired, cold, and hurting, and complex plans are beyond us, so this will have to do.

The beta mates are worried. But they are natural followers and are swayed by Gwen’s magnetic presence and natural air of authority.

“Make it convincing,” Gwen coaches. “I’m betting they won’t want us dead until we have served our purpose. That they have not come down here to collect us and lord over their domination tells me our mates are still out there and dangerous.”

I nod. Her words lift me and remind me of what is at stake. We will not cower in our prison. No, we shall escape for ourselves.

“I will. We have to do this. We must try. Also, their leader, Rufus, was a smug bastard, and I would very much like to kick him in the balls for daring to touch my hair. He wants to claim me. I will rip his cock off and feed it to him for even suggesting as much.”

This is a bold claim on my part and one I cannot readily back up with genuine skills. I mean, I wouldn’t even know how to go about it… Also, feeding it to him is a little macabre. But I feel better for making the threat and have no doubt I will find a way to make this happen if I am in the vicinity of the loathsome male again.

Gwen’s smile is indulgent as she puts her hand on my shoulder. “Good lass. You are small but feisty. I like you well. Perhaps when this is over, I can coach you in some fighting techniques that are effective for smaller lasses against bigger men. I coach many women in my clan. You can be sure if I ever see a clansman walking with an awkward gait as might indicate he copped a fist or knee to his nuts, I order my mates to put a thumping on him to find out why.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, thank you!” I am convinced the women of Gwen’s clan must adore their fierce, protective queen.

She nods. “Alright, everyone ready?”

We take up our positions, with children and pregnant women, well out of the way lest they court harm in the fray.

Seeing everyone is in place, Gwen turns back to me.

“I’m re—” I gasp as she fists my collar and takes me down to the dusty stone floor, her other fist raised menacingly.

I scream.

The other women scream, cry, shout, and rush around in fake confusion. “Help! She is killing the omega!” This chaotic, discordant medley brings the rapid beat of footsteps rushing toward the door.

As the bar lifts and a key rattles in the lock, we keep up our cries, women rushing every which way until the guards burst in.

Gwen turns, ducks under the swinging blade, and slams her fist into the guard’s gut, head-butting him as he stumbles back.

He goes down hard.

As he hits the floor, the heel of her boot stamps down over his jaw.

The crack is audible.

She snatches up his sword and spins to meet the second guard. He abandons his weapon and springs, shifting to a wolf. Without missing a beat, she skewers him mid-jump, braces, and uses his momentum to send his body crashing into the wall.

He crumples to the floor, dead, once more a human.

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Gwen winks at me. “Bastards who underestimate barbarian lasses don’t live to tell about it.”

I hate to use the swoon word to refer to someone who is not my mate, but I assuredly swoon.

“I think I love you,” Lizbeth blurts, being far less subtle about her admiration. “Gods, cut my rope so I can shift. My wolf is hungry for blood.”

Callum

The battling soon begins.

My larger form does not help me where I must fit through low, narrow passages. My wolf form offers the greatest benefit as I slash, claw, and tear into anyone who stands in my way.

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