Page 42 of Craved By a Wolf

The largest male came at him, making a wild lunge for Kin’s scruff. Kin leaped sideways away from him, tugging a shriek from a female he landed near, and bared his fangs at the nymph. He circled with the male, lowering his head, keeping all of his focus locked on him as he continued to growl and snarl. The male was a threat, one that needed to be eliminated.

The safety of his fated female depended upon it.

The nymph bent and retrieved a dagger from the flagstones, arming himself with a second, and flexed his fingers around them as he drew down a steadying breath. Kin stilled and waited, barely breathing, his sharp vision detecting even the tiniest twitch in the nymph’s muscles.

The barest flex of his left deltoid was enough to give him away.

Kin sprinted around him before he had even begun to move, was behind him as he took his first step in the direction Kin had been, and was leaping on his back just as he caught up. Kin snarled and sank his fangs into the male’s shoulder. The male bellowed and twisted, trying to dislodge him, and Kin scrabbled with his hind legs, seeking purchase to stop himself from falling off. His claws dug into the waistband of the male’s green leathers and he risked adjusting his grip with his fangs.

Buried them deep in the nymph’s spine and bit down hard.

The nymph jerked as bone crunched and then slumped forwards, and Kin landed on top of him.

He released the dead male and lifted his head, and growled when he saw the other two nymphs running into the distance.

Kin licked his lips, clearing the blood from his muzzle, and huffed as he stepped down from the nymph. He surveyed the three fallen nymphs, growing aware of the people who were watching him. He bared his fangs at them, driven to chase them off, feeling they were a threat to him too.

A few of them were giving him strange looks rather than fearful ones.

He looked down at his front legs and then back at one noble male in particular, and focused on shifting back as an urge to wipe the amused look off his face rushed through him. His bones ached as they lengthened and transformed, his face morphing back as his black fur receded to reveal pink skin.

When he was back in his human form, he glared at the male and grunted, “Never seen a wolf in a Henley before?”

He strode to his jeans, swiped them from the ground and tugged them on, shutting out the irritating males who had found the sight of him wearing clothing while in his wolf form amusing. He had to admit, it did somewhat ruin how frightening he looked when he shifted into an animal, and he usually made an effort to remove his clothes before he transformed. Sometimes he didn’t get the luxury of stripping off though.

Like when a nymph was choking him to death.

He shoved his feet into his boots. He couldn’t exactly ask for a timeout in the middle of a fight so he could remove his clothing and then shift.

Kin stomped to one of the dead nymphs, grabbed him by his hair and hauled him towards the others, earning himself disgusted and horrified looks from many of the gathered. He shrugged it off as he gathered his other two prizes and began dragging them through the streets, leaving a bloody smear in his wake.

By the time he reached the road that led from the promenade to Hella’s stable, he was growing tired of how the people in his path would gasp at the sight of him and how some of the females, and males, would fan themselves and look away. A few vomited.

He adjusted his grip on the trio of nymphs, fisting their hair closer to their scalps, and trudged onwards, deeply aware that he was a grim spectacle in this pristine town. In the Scottish fae town, no one would have batted an eye. Here, everyone stared and spoke in whispers, discussing how shocking it was and debating whether he intended to eat the nymphs.

MacKinnon grunted.

He never had liked the upper classes of his world and this place was home to that entitled, elitist breed of immortal.

It was probably good for them to see an angry wolf dragging his victims through their town. They needed a dose of reality. Not everywhere was as sanitised as this place, and not everyone in the world was as civilised.

Kin hauled his prize to Hella’s door and hesitated. He released the dead nymphs and preened his appearance, wiping any remaining blood from his face, neatening his dark hair and inspecting the gashes in his Henley as he tried to figure out what to say to her when he presented his prize to her.

Would she react in the same way as the other townsfolk had and be horrified, her delicate sensibilities shaken by what he had done?

Kin didn’t get a chance to find out.

His senses sharpened and his spine stiffened.

He wasn’t alone.

He turned on his heel, his eyes widening as he spotted seven nymphs charging towards him. He stooped and grabbed a dagger that was still in its sheath on one of his prizes and hurled it at the male in front of the group. It nailed him in his shoulder and he went down.

Leaving Kin without a weapon.

Fuck.

He extended his claws and launched at the next male, slammed into him and drove forwards, propelling the male backwards. He punched the nymph in his side. Once. Twice. A third time. The male grunted with each blow, and coughed up blood on the third, splattering Kin’s cheek with it. Kin growled and slashed at the male’s stomach with his claws, slicing long deep gashes in it and then shoved him in his chest.

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