Page 5 of Cursed Wolf

I haven’t come this far to allow a lunatic high priestess and an obsessed ex-fated mate to destroy my life. I have my magic back and four alphas on my side. Sure, I’m still unsure how to control my power, but I’m not exactly going empty-handed into battle.

Ragnar and Stone are at my side, kissing me before leaving.

It’s all happening too fast.

“Please tell Jae I love her and why I had to leave.” My voice chokes as I fail miserably to stop the tears. My chest hurts so bad. I’m not ready to run again. I just got my sisters back, and now everything is destroyed.

Nikos is suddenly at my back, scooping his arms around my waist.

“It’s time.”

2

RAGNAR

“This is new for me,” Stone barks with humor as we stride across the woods, leaving them behind. “I’m usually dragging bodies into the woods to burn them, not taking them into homes.” He chuckles.

“I’m surprised you can find anything funny right now.” I glance over at him. He has Lyssa’s body slumped over his shoulder. It had been a bitch to get her down from where the witch pinned her to the tree, let alone considering she was split neck to gut. The High Priestess is a fucking psychopath to butcher this girl so severely. We’d done our best to wrap her up in Stone’s shirt to avoid her insides from falling out any more than they already did. Stone had also jammed his blade into the back of her head, right into her brain, and cut the nerves back there. We didn’t need her coming back as a zombie while carrying her.

We live in a world where wolves fight wolves for land and women and where we all fear the walking dead, who plague every country with the virus that destroyed civilization a long time ago. Now those of us who aren’t immune to the undead are carriers, meaning we die and come back as one of the fuckers. So burning, removing the head, or severing the nerves connecting the brain to the spinal column ensures they don’t reanimate.

I shake my head clear of the creatures I hate and look at Stone, who holds onto Lyssa without squirming. Lines of blood drip down his bare chest from the corpse, but it doesn’t bother him.

I should feel some remorse for the girl, but in truth, I don’t. I never liked her when she was alive, so why would I like her after death?

Everything I feel has been taken up by Narah. My little fox has entranced me, her scent still in my nostrils, and my cock strains from not releasing inside her. Her body… a fucking goddess. Hair, a chestnut reddish color and silky to the touch, calling me to twist it around my fist as I ram into her from behind.

I remember the fear and innocence in her eyes as she lost herself to heat. Her hunger drove me to the point of losing my mind. Her scent, the softness of her skin, and her cries to be fucked went straight to my dick.

Everything about her is sexy, delicious, and vulnerable. She completely undoes me, and half the time, she has no idea she’s doing it. No woman should have such power, but for Narah, I’d fall to my knees and worship her. A jolt of awareness runs down my spine at how entangled our lives have become.

I have no idea why the universe had given her and me different fated mates when it’s clear we’re meant for each other. I crave to get back to her, sink my cock into her cunt, knot inside her, and flood her with my seed. To remind her she belongs to me. In one of our last conversations, I’d agreed to share her with my men, but that didn’t stop me from reminding her I crave to have her submit to me.

Stone laughs, mostly to himself, dragging me out of my thoughts.

“It’s either laugh or go on a rampage after that lunatic, Lyra. What witch is capable of killing this way?” His chin points at the body over his shoulder. “We’re dealing with something psychotic. Even with all our magic combined, I worry it’s not enough against her.”

I see the desperation and dread in his eyes, and my pulse beats frantically because he’s right. I wonder if Narah’s power is strong enough to combat Lyra’s. My little fox still hasn’t fully harnessed her abilities, and I had hoped we would have time in this village for her to do so, but we’d been tossed into the fire and were out of time.

“I don’t know, but whatever Lyra wants from Narah’s dead mother has to be worse for us. So, we finish this quickly and race after our team into the mountains.”

“Agreed.” Stone nods. “Whatever we need to do, you know I’m up for it.”

He’s the brother I never had. Like me, his relationship with his father was savage. Beaten, dishonored, never good enough for having the ability of magic, something men shouldn’t harness, according to his old asshole father. Maybe that’s why Stone and I connected so well. We think alike, hunt the same way, and when it comes to loyalty, I trust him with my life.

We approach the great hall, where I’d last seen Mihai, Alpha of this pack and Lyssa’s father, enter this morning. A boulder sits on my chest from the news I’m about to deliver and what his reaction will be.

The last few days, we’d visited neighboring packs to gain their loyalty and agreement to aid us in winning over the Savage Sector. Of course, each prick demanded something, and by the time we finished, I was tempted to eliminate the lot of them. None of them are trustworthy, but I understand warfare and that the larger the numbers on your side, the more likely it’ll ensure triumph. So, I shut my mouth most of the trip and resisted the urge to tear their throats out.

Shoving open the door to the hall, my gaze lands on Mihai. He’s at a table beneath an arched window, with a spread of food in front of him, chatting loudly with several of his men who are sitting at the table, enjoying their meals. A young man is playing music in the corner too, but the conversation and tune stop at our entrance.

“I apologize for the interruption, but I have tragic news,” I state, watching everyone in the room for their reaction.

Mihai lowers his fork to the table, his gaze studying me, but his eyes follow Stone, who marches into the room to the closest table near the wall. He gently lays Lyssa on the table on her back, her arms and torso tightly wrapped in his shirt, tied with his sleeves. Blood seeps through the material, and more of it stains Stone’s shoulder, dripping down his chest. He’s not perturbed. We’d been in many battles that left us bathing in our enemies’ blood.

Mihai makes a strangled cry, and he’s on his feet, the table in front of him flying forward, plates and food flung into the air. His men scramble out of the way in the chaotic mess.

“Lyssa,” Mihai groans, his voice cracking. Since meeting the man, I had never seen him show much emotion beyond anger. Now, he’s at his daughter’s side, leaning over her, the painful sound of sorrow filling the suddenly silent room.

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