Page 70 of The Wolf

Around him, the crowd grew bloodthirsty and excited. They fully expected the female wolves to tear Scarlet to shreds, and couldn’t wait to witness it. The other bride candidates tittered at the mere notion of “fighting” the lowly human.

But Brine knew better.

Brine knew she could beat them all.

“All combatants are … valid,” Arwen announced, as if the admission pained her. She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, then held her hands up high. “Let the bouts begin!”

There were six bridal candidates in total, for three simultaneous bouts. Brine knew before the pairings were announced that the largest, most vicious-looking wolf was going to be Scarlet’s opponent. He could see it on his grandmother’s face that she intended to make her daughter’s fight as difficult as possible.

Scarlet’s opponent was almost twice the size of her, broad-shouldered and snarling. Scarlet did not cower in the face of her, though despite his confidence in his true mate Brine couldn’t help the sickening thump of his heart. He gritted his teeth, determined to keep his nerves hidden deep inside him. The last thing he wanted was for Arwen—or anyone else in the pack—to notice his weakness.

To Scarlet’s credit, she walked into the ring with all the grace and poise of an ice dancer, a feeling of complete, familiar calm emanating from her. Brine was not surprised by this. He had long since determined that anything that could give away her emotions was somehow absent from her scent. He had no idea if Scarlet was actually terrified but was merely excellent at controlling herself … or if she truly felt nothing and was a shell of her former self.

Brine did not relish the idea of the latter.

Then his mind replayed their altercation in the bath for the hundredth time that day, rekindling his hope that the girl he had known from his past was still there, her emotions not so completely suppressed and mutilated by his grandmother that she could not still be saved.

Brine shook out of his head to focus on the fight that would determine his and Scarlet’s fate.

The snarling, gigantic wolf shifter that was Scarlet’s opponent adhered to tradition and bowed to Scarlet when she did the same. “May the best woman win,” she said, a victorious, gloating glint in her eye giving away the fact the wolf believed that woman was surely herself.

Scarlet maintained her soft smile. Brine wished she would only show it to him. “May the best woman win,” she repeated, before kicking off her boots and tossing them out of the ring.

Then the fight began.

At first, Scarlet and the wolf circled each other, sizing the other up. Since Brine was supposed to be paying attention to all three bouts happening concurrently, he saw out of the corner of his eye that the other two fights were beginning in a similar manner.

Then the wolf launched herself at Scarlet, and the fightreallybegan.

Scarlet deftly rolled out of the way, pulling a dagger out as she did so.

One blade?

His mate went in with only one knife? It was horrifying. Was she insane?

He made sure his bland mask was in place and resisted the urge to surge forward to the perimeter of the fight. To stop himself, Brine began slowly walking around all three fights, though at all times he was concentrating solely on Scarlet’s.

A chorus of gasps rang in his ears when the wolf grabbed at Scarlet’s dress. Her claws slashed though the skirt, seeking purchase, but because the material was free flowing, all Scarlet had to do was cut away the section of her skirt that the wolf had in her grasp to free herself.

If Brine had thought a lot of Scarlet’s legs were on display before, it was nothing compared to now. A low growl hummed in his throat when he spied Tarros all but salivating over the sight of so much exposed flesh.

Ignore him.Get control of your emotions or you’ll doom her.

But that was far easier said than done. Brine had to shutter Tarros out of his line of sight in order to put him out of his mind.

Scarlet’s opponent had flown into a flurry of rage. Her attacks kept missing no matter what she did. Scarlet was small and fast, slipping beneath the woman’s legs, dodging punches and kicks and slashes from claws and knives alike.

“Try and hit her!” someone in the crowd roared.

“Stop dodging!” cried another.

But Brine knew fine well what Scarlet was doing. She was wearing her opponent out—a classic strategy for dealing with a larger foe. Brine noticed, at the front of the crowd, that his uncle and the sandy-haired wolf, Mourne, were nodding almost imperceptibly. They approved of Scarlet’s strategy, that much was clear.

Does Scarlet have more friends here than she thinks she does?

Up until now he’d have believed not a single member of the pack was redeemable. He studied the crowd. There were more wolves cheering for her than he expected. It was then that he realized…

She was loved by the people.

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