Page 30 of Ember's Claim

My wolf doesn’t like that at all.

Alphas almost never fight, outside of a challenge. Maybe if they’re purposely trying to teach someone a lesson, but even then, they typically use their enforcers.

Why didn’t I ask the kid exactly what this is? It’s a fleeting thought as the alpha takes a chunk out of the smaller wolf’s shoulder.

My wolf fights me for control.

She wants to get closer.

I concede, and we make it to the edge of the circle, sliding between onlookers.

A low, vibrating growl escapes our chest, and it’s her doing.

The crowd makes various sounds of confusion and shock as they twist to see what’s happening.

There are a surprising number of females around, but statistically speaking, some of them must be human or other supernatural species. With the shortage of female shifters, it’s common enough for male wolves to take human females as mates.

The injured wolf retreats to the edge of the circle. He must be giving himself the chance to heal.

The alpha’s eyes meet mine as he prowls closer.

A shiver of unease slips through my consciousness as he walks past several of the wolves in human form. He’s massive. His back is taller than some of the men’s shoulders.

My wolf doesn’t share my concern.

She doesn’t like that he won’t blink.

It doesn’t matter how big or how dominant he thinks he is.

The North American Pack is ourbirthright.

Not that I’ve ever been particularly concerned with claiming it before, but that’s irrelevant.

This jerk thinks he’s going to intimidate my wolf simply because he’s male and larger, but that’s never frightened her before.

She paces, growling as she begins to take over fully. Soon, I’ll be a passenger as she controls our thoughts and actions.

The alpha doesn’t heed her warning.

He zigs and zags as he moves.

That might set a beta challenger on edge, but I’ve had all-out brawls with my brother Dash and his biological father, Dread.

Hellhounds are scarier than this dick could ever dream of being. Their hellfire burns through anything it touches when they want it to. It zips over their skin in beast form, crackling like lightning. They’re always careful not to push things too far, but they’ve used it on occasion when my wolf wouldn’t back down.

This wolf might be physically larger than me by at least sixty or seventy pounds, but that means nothing.

The wolfish part of my consciousness makes the choice for us, stepping inside the circle that indicates we’re joining this little challenge.

The alpha looks at me and back at his original opponent. He gives a dismissive huff before spinning around and loping toward the injured wolf.

The alpha’s gray fur bristles as he snarls and attacks.

It’s a weak move.

My wolf growls, showing our disdain. She doesn’t hesitate to lope across the grass and attack.

The injured wolf takes the distraction, limping away as the alpha focuses on my wolf instead. She meets him in the air and our paws clash. His upper body strength is more considerable than hers.

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