Page 21 of Craved By a Wolf

Roars sounded behind her, pure fury that had a cold shiver bolting down her spine now, and then a series of muffled grunts and wings beating the air. Wolf growled, his displeasure clear in it as his gaze caressed her back and she glanced over her shoulder at him.

He wrestled with the demons, taking blows as he attempted to break past them and continue his pursuit. The demons didn’t let up and she breathed a sigh of relief as the wolf turned his focus to dealing with them, his handsome face a mask of rage as he swung hard punches at his foes.

Hella faced forwards again, aware she didn’t have much time. Eventually, he would either lay the demons out cold or would escape them. She sprinted as fast as her tired legs would carry her, her wet black dress clinging to her thighs. The witches’ district loomed ahead of her, the elegant three-storey buildings a sight for sore eyes as she raced towards them. Colourful canopies stretched out into the street from each of them, the rich jewel tones a contrast to the cream, white and pastel façades. Her boots pounded the flagstones, her pace drawing curious gazes from the witches attending to their wares beneath the canopies, stirring copper pots and topping up crates of herbs and spices, or dealing with customers.

She could only imagine what she looked like. Wet dress. Damp hair. Running for her life. She was never going to live this one down. They would probably all think she had fallen in the lake or something equally as ridiculous. She could only imagine how dire the rumours would become if they saw the wolf chasing her. It wasn’t going to happen.

She banked right, down a narrow alleyway between two buildings, and crossed over the next street. When she reached the end of the next alley, she veered left and ran harder, forcing herself to keep going. Her home, a pastel blue townhouse with a cerulean canopy that was currently rolled up against the building to signal she was closed for business, came into view and she almost stumbled as relief blasted through her.

Hella skidded to a halt at the dark blue door set between the four windows on the ground floor and muttered the incantation to open it. The locks clicked, and she pushed the door open and slammed it behind her. The temptation to sink against it and catch her breath was strong as she stared at her shop, feeling safe now that she was home.

Only she wasn’t safe.

She forced herself to move, hurrying for the stairs at the back right of the room, beyond the long wooden counter. She took them two at a time, not slowing even when she reached her private floors.

She grabbed her favourite carpet bag, one she had enchanted a long time ago after watching a movie calledMary Poppins, and began tossing everything she might need into it. Bottles, jars, spell books, ink and a few clothes. She needed to cover all her bases. The bastard nymph would come for her again. She was sure of it. It wouldn’t take him long to figure out that she hadn’t drowned in the river.

She had to move house at the very least, and country at most. Maybe even spend some time in Hell until everything died down. She rushed back down the stairs to her shop and began grabbing more ingredients. You could never have too many, and who knew when she would be able to come back here. It might take months or years for her to rid herself of her pest problem.

The thought of leaving her home for that long—her business—had her stalling in the middle of the room and looking at her shop. An ache bloomed inside her, sorrow swift to sweep through her, and she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to scream or cry.

Hella opted for screaming when the door behind her burst open.

She pivoted on her heel and locked up tight.

The wolf filled her doorway, his broad chest straining against his damp, dark grey Henley with each hard breath he sucked down. Mother earth, he was a big bastard. Far bigger than she had thought. He had to stoop to fit through the door, had to be over a foot taller than her five-seven. He growled as he panted, looking like a feral beast with all the scratches on his chest and in the dark stubble that coated his square jaw and the blood that stained him in places.

His eyes glowed gold in the low light, a fire in them that beckoned her together with his raw strength as he stepped into the room and straightened, sucking the air from her lungs.

Hella knew how the three little pigs felt now.

Because this wolf had just blown her house down.

Chapter 7

Furious. It was the only word that could sum up the raw, burning anger that blazed in MacKinnon’s blood as he ducked beneath the blow a black-haired demon aimed at him. He swung left, dodging another blow the second demon made with his dark leathery wings. The air whistled as the wing cut through it and Kin didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a blow from it. He was sure it would slice him clean open.

He grunted as the first demon caught him off guard, seizing hold of his arm and digging claws into his flesh as he dragged Kin towards him. Fiery lightning arced across his forehead as the demon’s connected with it, the pain blinding him for a moment. He recovered swiftly, brought his knee up and slammed it between the male’s legs, ripping a bellow from him.

More demons joined the fray, three in total, and he cursed the name of the witch who had gotten him into this fight. When he found her, he was going to spank her until she had apologised enough times to make up for the cuts and scratches that already littered his aching body.

Or maybe he would kiss her.

One of the demons landed a vicious blow on Kin’s jaw, pain he deserved for being so distracted by Hella in the middle of a fight—when his life was on the line. He was strong, but no match for five demons. He leaped backwards, placing some distance between him and the towering males, not ashamed to admit that. He knew when he was outmatched.

The smallest of the demons rushed him, a fire in his dark eyes as he roared a battle cry.

Kin dipped low as the male reached him, evading his right hook, and slammed his shoulder into the demon’s bare stomach. He gripped the male’s black leathers and shoved upwards, lifting the male’s boots off the ground.

Growled as he ran with him, charging towards the other demons. He hurled the male when he was close to them, sending him slamming into his friends, and grinned as the demon took most of them down and they landed in a tangled heap on the flagstones.

Kin kicked off, sprinting hard, his bare feet aching with each harsh landing they made. What he wouldn’t give for his boots right now. The pair he had discarded in his haste to save Hella had been his favourite. Still, at least this fae town had nice smooth paving rather than cobbled streets.

When he was satisfied he had lost the demons, he slowed to a jog. His pulse steadied, his breaths coming more easily, and he focused his mind.

He sniffed the air, picking through the scents of the town, seeking rain-soaked heather. Grinned when he found a trace of it on a broad street where the elegant three-storey buildings had colourful canopies stretching out from above their ground floors. Witches.

Kin tracked the faint scent, locked on to it now. He glanced at every store he passed, seeking a sign of Hella, more determined than ever to get his kiss. She owed him, and he would be taking payment for services rendered.

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