Page 54 of The Wolf in My Tavern

Drake shakes the younger man, who is large by human standards. Something tells me he is a shifter, almost as tall as Drake, although his build is leaner.

A distinct tearing sound snags my attention as Gray rips a strip from the lass’s skirt and binds it around her mouth.

Drake cuffs the lad when he tries to interfere and gripping the back of the neck to direct him roughly onward.

“Oh, they are snatching her!” I whisper. “Look at them. Look at what they do.”

“They can’t be. We must be mistaken,” Betsy says, although her tone lacks conviction.

“What does it look like?” I demand. “What does it look like to you? He lied about being mated, and now he is stealing someone else’s! He is a thief and a villain. I always knew as much.”

“Oh, I don’t know what we should do,” Betsy says. “Maybe we should call the city guardsmen?”

“There is not enough time,” I say.

“Ada!”

She reaches for me, but it’s too late. I dart around the corner and charge them with all my righteous anger. At my screech of fury, four heads swing my way.

Drake and the lad stand a little apart. Gray has tossed the young girl over his shoulder.

Bastard.

Shock and confusion register on the faces of the young lass and lad. Drake’s jaw hangs slack.

And Gray, the man who pleasured me so well last night, the man who has betrayed my heart and who I now hate, dares to smirk as I reach his side and commence pounding on his shoulder.

“Let her down, villain,” I say, kicking his shin for good measure.

He grunts and reaches to peel me away by the scruff of my neck. He gives me a little shake. “What the fuck are you doing, Ada?”

I hiss at him and rake his wrists, getting another good kick in.

“Oof! Fuck’s sake, lass!”

“Let them go,” Betsy says, her voice close.

I twist and glance over my shoulder, finding her brandishing a large plank of wood in her shaking hand.

“Careful with that, lass,” Drake says. “Lest you hurt poor Ada.”

Betsy sneers. “Let my friend go, lest I beat you all to a bloody pulp... And the other two, while you’re about it.”

“No. I don’t think I shall,” Gray says ominously, dragging me close and plastering me against his side. His scent fills my lungs, and I hate how my stupid body wants to swoon.

I growl in a fury, sure the weak-minded shifter scum is only holding me close for protection to stop Betsy from beating him.

The lass over his shoulder grunts behind her gag and struggles on his shoulder.

“Here, give the lass to me,” Drake says.

Gray growls.

I manage to wrench an arm free and beat his chest with renewed vigor.

“I did not mean Ada,” Drake says dryly. “Give me Lizbeth, for fuck’s sake. Arlo won’t give us any fucking trouble. He will follow where she goes.”

Gray’s growl takes on a menacing tone that raises the hairs on the back of my neck and stops my fight.

---