Page 11 of Fated Alpha Protector

Liam leans in, folding his arms on the edge of the table. “Are we recruiting new fighters?”

“Yup,” I nod. “We need the pack to work together. We can’t rely on Blackclaw.”

Liam takes his leave when Amelia calls him for a hunt. I remain behind my desk, contemplating things other than the looming threat.

Like the wolf downstairs.

Tapping my fingers on the desk, I purse my lips before finally making a decision.

I can’t let the lone wolf out of my sight. Not in light of the threat. Perhaps it’s linked to the attacks on the packs in Illinois. Like bait.

When I get back to the dungeon, the lowest floor in the den, the wolf is still asleep. The wheezing from its chest escapes through its parted lips.

Somehow drawn toward it, I find myself walking over to the cell and kneeling. Fingers folding around the metal bars, I stare into the wolf’s face.

Something about its soft features tells me that it brings no harm. In fact, it’s a deeply intrinsic gut feeling that this wolf brings no harm to us. At least, not in relation to the war and the unknown threat that lingers over our heads.

I’m glad that I didn’t tell my Beta about the wolf. A strange sense of protection washes over me. Like I need to keep this a secret. The need to guard the wolf, I suspect.

Shrugging it off as nothing more than my wariness – all things considered – I pull up a chair to the cell.

The chestnut brown wolf with a streak of silver along its spine snores lightly. Only its chest rises and falls, the rest of its large frame unmoving. Taking a deep breath myself, I close my eyes for a moment.

A light stir causes me to open my eyes, alerted, When I do, I notice the wolf is gone from the cell.

Quickly scrambling to my feet, I sigh with relief when I find a woman’s body in place of the wolf. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but the wolf finally shifted into human form.

Chuckling to myself, I’m about to look away when the human figure stirs.

Gulping, I remain perfectly quiet as I watch her eyelids flutter open. Like the wings of a butterfly flapping for the first time, she turns and directs her flight to me.

The air leaves my lungs the moment our eyes meet. The lightest shade of brown, like honey pots, demands my attention. Her hazel eyes are soft depths of compassion, willing me to take a breath.

As soon as I take a breath, my eyes flit to the rest of her body. This is when I realize that she’s naked. A quiverish awareness rushes through my core. So foreign, I’ve never felt it before.

But so familiar in its warmth.

When the female gasps, I realize how disrespectful I’m being by ogling. Bashfully walking away with a nervous chuckle, I head to the closet at the back of the dungeon.

Phew!

I breathe a sigh of relief as I pull the closet door open. Glancing back at the female, I’m relieved that she’s just that. A female. A she-wolf.

Lord knows what happened to her. Why she stumbled on Nightwalker territory. Why she had others following her, and why she was weak enough to fall into the river. Why did she pass out?

Questions I plan on getting answers to as I grab a set of cotton sleepers from the closet.

Heading back to the cell, the female sits on the edge of the mattress, coiling into herself to hide her nakedness.

Although my interest is piqued, I don’t wish to make her uncomfortable. The heat is evident on her cheeks, so all I do is say, “Get dressed,” and pass the clothes through the bars.

Turning, the silence allows me to hear the sound of cotton whispering over her flesh.

It’s tempting to look, but I remain respectful. The silence is frustrating, though. And I have to fill it to distract myself. “You shifted in your sleep,” I explain.

Whatever she’s been through, she must be confused now that she’s locked in a metal cage. “I brought you here after you passed out in the woods.”

“Thanks.”

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