Page 30 of Claimed By My Fiancé's Brother

But if it was Dylan, if he’d taken her…if he’d touched her…

I’d fucking kill him.

The monster’s desire entwined with mine. We stayed on two feet, but his superior senses took over as we hunted down the person who’d dared to take our mate.

I found Eleanor’s scent at an entry point for the hunting grounds different from the one the rest of the wolves used, and I almost lost it.

Her soft, sweet lilac scent was tinged with something harsh and a touch acrid—her blood.

She was injured. Someone had taken my mate and hurt her.

Another barrier between the monster and I fell. Our desires merged and warped. I would kill the kidnapper. I would rip them into unrecognizable pieces with my bare hands.

Following the scent of Eleanor’s blood, I raced through the woods. The world was a green blur around me, the ground steady beneath my feet.

Her scent slowly concentrated and then?—

“Let go!” Eleanor snarled, clawing at the man who held her.

Her assailant wasn’t Dylan. I couldn’t recognize him, and I knew every member of our pack, so he had to be an intruder.

He towered over Eleanor, almost my height, with a massive build that easily kept Eleanor’s struggles in check.

She kicked against him again and without skipping a beat, he backhanded her and wrenched her head back by her hair until she met his gaze.

“Shut up, bitch, or I’ll?—”

I stepped into his path, and the enemy wolf froze, his gaze wide with surprise as recognition bloomed in his eyes.

“You… you—” he stuttered, but I simply watched him.

More precisely, my eyes were on his arms around Eleanor. Despite the fact that I’d surprised him, his hold on her remained solid. One wrong move from me, and he could snap her neck faster than I could reach him.

I couldn’t attack him without risking Eleanor’s life.

“Let her go,” I said evenly. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”

The wolf pulled Eleanor closer to himself, as if she’d be able to protect him from my wrath.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” he muttered under his breath, the sour scent of his fear flooding my senses before he shifted his attention to Eleanor.

“Where’s Dylan Hawthorne?” he demanded urgently. “He’s supposed to be your mate. Why isn’t he here for you?”

“Because he isn’t my mate, you idiot,” Eleanor grated out.

The scent of his fear grew stronger, and his hold on Eleanor tightened.

I met his gaze steadily, keeping my tone soft and natural.

“Let her go, and I’ll forget this ever happened.”

Obviously, that was a lie. He’d touched Eleanor. He’dhither. He was going to die.

There wasn’t any other acceptable conclusion.

The man frowned and his lips parted, but whatever he would’ve said was lost when the air around me shifted. Without looking, I registered the presence of three more foreign wolves around me.

So he had backup.

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