Page 101 of Ruled By The Alpha

“Come out,” the deep voice says. Against the bright light of the flames, we cannot see to whom it belongs. Some instinct deep within my gut tells me this man is an alpha, though. “And bring your woman too.” Hensta does not move, his bright eyes finding mine. “Come out now, or we will send two arrows right through both your skulls.”

The muscles in Hensta’s jaws flex, but I nod at him. What choice do we have? We must obey. As Hensta crawls up onto his hands and knees, his eyes flick toward my spear at my back and I understand his meaning.

He scrambles out of the cave, stepping around the fire.

“You too, woman. Out you come,” says the voice.

I roll up onto my knees and shuffle toward the entrance of the cave, rolling the spear behind me. When I reach the mouth and the fire, I stand on my feet and kick the spear unseen. I dare not bring it right out into the open, but it is there. I know where it is. If the moment arises, I can make a grab for it.

As I step around the fire, I see the two men for the first time. They’re older than Hensta and me, and though they both have the broad figures of alphas, it is clear they have not enjoyed a good meal for some time, their cheeks hollow and their ribs protruding through their skin.

One holds a bow taut with an arrow, but his grip is all wrong, and I understand why they have not made a kill in some time. It gives me a little hope.

The other man prowls closer, sniffing the air, his eyes roaming hungrily over my naked body.

I glare at him.

“An omega!” that deep voice again, only this time ringing with excitement. “Makob, she is an omega.” He bends down to meet my eyes, and I smell his rancid breath in my face, his teeth blackened with decay and rot. “We will take you back to our pack, little omega. You will be a fine prize indeed!”

“I am not going anywhere with you!” I hiss through my teeth. I am not afraid, not like the other night when the large cat paralyzed me.

“Nafia,” Hensta warns me in a terse whisper.

“Nafia, is it?” the man with the deep voice and the rotten teeth says. “I do not like this name, but no problem. Omegas have no need of names.”

He steps behind me, sniffing the air, his nose crinkling in a battle of pleasure and disgust.

“She is ripe, Makob, very ripe, but some alpha has had her already. His seed is all over her skin. Is his child in your belly?”

I grind my teeth. My sharp reply is on the tip of my tongue. I hold it back, knowing Hensta is right; there is no need to provoke them. And yethelets out a low growl so threatening it seems to shake the leaves around us.

The man turns to Hensta, stepping close. “You have lain with her, yet you haven’t claimed her.” He examines Hensta’s proud face. “I can smell that she is not claimed. Is she faulty? Is there something wrong with this one?” He laughs. “Do not worry. This is not a problem either. We have no need of children. We don’t need the extra mouths to feed. This is not the purpose for which we require an omega.”

I watch the battle that plays across Hensta’s face, watch the tension spiraling through his body, the battle to hold himself back, his fierce growl breaking free anyway.

The man laughs again. “I am not angry with you, boy. You have done us a service—broken her in for us. Tell me, did she scream when she took the knot?”

Something snaps inside Hensta. His calm, collected exterior shatters into a million pieces, and a raging beast emerges to take its place. He launches at the man, growling and snarling, his fists swinging, connecting with a jaw and a temple.

Then I hear the twang of the bow’s string and scream as an arrow soars through the night, turning red as it passes the light of the fire. But the other man’s aim is poor. The arrow grazes Hensta’s elbow.

Something snaps in me then too.

I will not let them hurt the man I love. I will not let them part us.

Now is my chance.

Before the archer can reach for another arrow, I lunge for my spear, picking it up quickly from the ground and throwing it in the direction from which the arrow had come. I hit the bowman square in the stomach. For a moment he stands, gazing down at the blade lodged deep in his gut. Blood seeps from the wound, between his fingers, and pools upon the ground. He sways on his feet, then with a cry, he topples to the ground just as the calf had done all those days ago.

Quickly, I spin to where Hensta is fighting the first man. My gaze swings between the two of them as they grapple with each other, the other man trying to grab at Hensta’s arms as he continues to hit him. There is blood streaming from his nose, and Hensta’s knuckles are stained with it.

I run to the fallen man, and trying my hardest not to look at him, I yank the spear from his body and sling the quiver of arrows over my shoulder.

“Stop!” I yell at the fighting alphas, holding my spear aloft. “Stop! Hensta, let him go.”

Hensta has him by the neck, squeezing so hard the man struggles to breathe, his hands scrabbling at Hensta’s grip.

“Hensta!” I shout again, and jerking as if he has heard me for the first time, his eyes search for, and find, mine. “Let him go! He cannot hurt us now.”