Page 26 of Claimed By the Damned

Drake

The next morning, Drake was behind the bar working on inventory, and he was pissed that he had to do it alone. Zeke was making the bank deposit from the night before, so at least, he was doing something productive. Knox, however, was nowhere to be found and had been gone all night. Knowing him, he was probably off getting high while doing god only knew what. He just hoped Knox wasn’t causing any more issues than he already had.

The fact that Knox had marked Amara the night before still had him reeling. He couldn’t understand how he couldn’t see the problems that was going to cause. And because he had marked her, the pull of the bond between the four of them was even stronger now, which irritated him even more than he already had been.

Then, there was what Zeke had told them about her life within the pack. While there was no solid proof that her father was actually abusing her, he couldn’t think of a reason for her to make something like that up. She didn’t seem the type. Still, he spent all night trying to convince himself that Zeke had misunderstood her, but even he couldn’t deny that that was highly unlikely.

Because his mind and his emotions were all over the place, inventory was proving to be difficult. He couldn’t focus. Nor could he get the image of filling Amara with his cum out of his mind. His wolf wanted more, wanted to mark her, but the rational part of himself still wouldn’t let him.

Drake, who was still thoroughly stewing in anger, looked up with a glare when the back door of the bar opened and Knox finally walked in. Judging by his body language, he was full of rage about something too. It was clear that something had happened the night before, and Drake slammed the clipboard he was holding down on the bar, wondering what other problem he needed to add to the fucking list of things for him to deal with.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he demanded from Knox.

Knox, however, appeared to ignore his question completely. “I’m going to kill him,” he said instead.

He watched as Knox picked up a bottle of vodka and smashed it to the ground before he then began pacing.

Drake rolled his eyes in irritation. It seemed as though he was having to have this conversation with Knox at least twice a week. “First of all, you are going to have to fucking pay for that. That was a hundred-and-eighty-dollar bottle. Secondly, you know the rules, no killing unless it’s for a good reason. We just got set up here, Knox, business is thriving. You can’t ruin that shit just because someone pissed you off.”

“Oh, I have a good reason,” Knox growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Next to his clipboard, Drake drummed his fingers on the bar impatiently, waiting to see if Knox was going to break anything else or just tell him what was going on. When Knox didn’t do either, Drake clenched his jaw. “Are you going to fucking tell me what happened, or are you just going to make me fucking guess?”

It was then that he smelled it. Or rather, smelled her. His nostrils flared, and his anger spiked into pure rage as his wolf howled inside of him, either in jealousy or rage, he wasn’t sure which.

He gripped the edge of the bar tightly. “Tell me you didn’t,” he sneered. “Tell me you aren’t that fucking stupid to go onto pack territory.”

Knox quit his pacing and finally turned to Drake, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “I don’t need your shit right now. I’m in no mood to deal with it.”

“God damn it, Knox!” he roared. “Can you for once in your fucking life think about someone other than yourself?”

Knox’s eyes narrowed. “She’s my mate, asshole. I’ll do what the fuck I want.”

“And to hell with me and Zeke, right?” he spat back as he rounded the bar. He understood where Knox was coming from; Drake could feel the pull of the bond between them just as much as he could, but he had hoped that Knox was stronger than that. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. “You are going to ruin everything we’ve built here. You and her both!”

He had said ‘her’ with such venom it surprised even himself. He had nothing against Amara personally. It was only what she represented that was the problem. And it was a catastrophic problem too. He just seemed to be the only one who saw that, and that pissed him off even more.

Knox rolled his eyes, which was the wrong thing to do at that moment because it only fueled his current rage. “Just because you don’t have the balls to claim what’s yours doesn’t mean I have to follow your stupid fucking rules. We aren’t a pack, Drake, and you are not my fucking alpha.”

“I may not be your alpha, but I am your fucking boss. I let you work here and stay with us as long as you followed the rules that Zeke and I set up to protect us. You are dangerously close to crossing the fucking line.”

Through clenched teeth, Knox sneered, “I won’t choose between my mate and you guys. You can’t ask me to.”

“If you want to keep staying with us, I fucking can!”

It wasn’t what Drake wanted. Knox had become like a brother to him, but he felt responsible for Zeke. He was the reason Zeke left their pack in the first place. He wasn’t going to let Knox mess things up for the two of them. If kicking him out and making him leave was the only way to protect what they had built, he’d do it, no matter how much it hurt him to do so. He may be rogue, but he still cared.

All of a sudden, Knox lashed forward and punched him in the jaw. It had happened so unexpectedly that Drake didn’t have time to dodge it. Pain shot through the side of his face, his teeth rattling within his mouth, and the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue.

“You are such a piece of shit,” Knox told him bitterly.

Drake spat the blood from his mouth onto the floor before he punched Knox right back. “And you are a selfish prick!”

At that, Knox tackled him against the kegs, and they both went crashing to the floor. Fists flew in every direction, and the bar was suddenly filled with the sound of skin striking skin. Several more bottles smashed against the ground, dowsing them both in alcohol, and the tiny shards of glass pierced his skin. Knox’s fist collided with his kidney while his own went into Knox’s gut.

Drake grabbed the front of Knox’s shirt, and he reared back, punching Knox in the face with every ounce of strength he had. He had thought that would be it, but Knox suddenly bucked him off and then pinned him to the ground, gaining the upper hand. Knox’s fist then collided with his face several times in quick succession, causing his vision to tunnel.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Zeke suddenly exclaimed, apparently having just entered the bar. He rushed forward and dragged Knox off of him, saving him from losing consciousness, but Knox didn’t make it easy for him.

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