Page 53 of Knot Quite Ready

She giggles softly, and I smile at the sound; she will be okay. Several hours of Storm and me and some self-defense classes, and she will be good as new. There is nothing like the confidence that comes with the knowledge that you can protect yourself.

While she zips up the back, I look in the full-length mirror and gag. What I thought was just a pretty white dress is actually a pristine, low-cut, white wedding gown dotted with jewels. Miro was pretty fucking confident that tonight was going to go according to plan. Gross.

I shove my feet into the slippers on the floor, “right. Well. Ignoring the fact that I look like a wolf-shifter Barbie, let’s go knock out a beta. I’ll let Cas throw out the trash,” I point to the bathroom where Miro’s slumped form was visible. He just looks so peaceful. I’ll let him nap.

We move to leave and silently pad down the hallway and stairs. I pause as I pick up the scent from last night and follow it to a room that is, yup, filled with more stuffed dead animals. Seriously, did this guy attack every Disney village he ever encountered? There is a fucking bunny, for moon-sake. We stop short as we notice the pack-beta on the floor, convulsing. A heap of powder spilled across the floor.

“Fuck,” I say, rushing forward. But as I reach him, his body stills, and his heart stops.

“What kind of fucking drugs is your father fucking getting? AJAX?” I ask, staring at the form on the floor.

“He must have found the fake stash,” Aoife mutters. I look back at her blank face—clearly no love loss between these two.

“Just when I think this asshole can’t get any worse,” I shake my head and turn to leave the room.

We get as far as the staircase when we hear a voice, “Going somewhere, Mate?”

I spin around, my eyes flashing as Casemiro makes his way down the stairs, fixing the sleeves of his tuxedo. I would tell him that the effect is completely lost when paired with the powder streaking his face but with his fangs extended, as his wolf fights the effects of the drugs he must have just ingested, I don’t think it would be well received.

“Ah fuck,” I mutter. Okay. Nothing to worry about here, just an unpredictable, violent Alpha Wolf that is more than one hundred percent likely to be stronger.

I push Aoife behind me, “going somewhere? Me? Nope, just off to get some milk, Dear.”

The lines around his eyes and mouth deepen as his brow furrow, his lips peeling back with a snarl-like chuckle, making spit drip down his face.Fucking gross.

I meet his gaze, watching as they flicker from human to wolf, tinged with red and completely blown out like a preternatural optical illusion. Somehow, I don’t think he wants to make amends. In fact, as he leaps the last few steps and crouches, I’m sure all thoughts of wanting me as a mate are long gone. This is a crazed wolf who wants revenge and nothing more. I could have saved him the pomp and circumstance if he would have just skipped to the attempted murder part.

Agatha pushes forward, and I feel my own eyes flash as time slows and the room takes on a golden tinge. I force my breathing to slow as he launches himself toward me with a snarl. He barrels through the air, every muscle in his body taut, like a coiled spring. His claws extend, and I sidestep his attack, the dress tearing as he grazes it.

Super sharp claws got it.

He growls as he spins, gouging deep furrows into the floor.

“I was under the impression you wanted a mate, not an art project, Miro.” I goad him. He would already be unpredictable, but any edge I can get, I’ll take it.

The veins in his neck pulse as he takes in ragged breaths, “I think I will prefer you dead. You. My worthless son and your child.”

I narrow my eyes at his threat, “nice talk.”

Agatha howls with a feral glee as I crouch and propel myself forward, leaping over his head before I turn and kick the middle of his back, making him crash onto the floor.

He snarls as he hits the floor, and I swipe my claws across the back of his knees, cutting the tendons. He lets out an ear-splitting roar as he tries and fails to push himself up, blood pooling around his knees.

“Guess you also didn’t know that I run a fight club? Probably not. The first rule about shifter fight club is don’t talk about shifter fight club,” I say savagely as I leap onto his back and start smashing his head into the ground. “You stupid, worthless motherfucking fuck twat. You don’t get to threaten my family and fucking live to tell the tale. I’m going to kill you and bring you back and kill you again and again. You hear me?”

I punctuate each word with another smash and start to laugh uncontrollably as a red haze takes over my every thought.

“Babe, I don’t think a smashed brain can hear anything,” Storm’s voice pierces the haze, and I look up to see Calian, Casimir, Ralph, and Storm staring at me with varying degrees of shock, pride, and glee. Guess whose face has which expression.

I blink, but the red haze doesn’t abate. I frown as I look down, Miro is definitely just brain matter at this point, and the red haze is actually the blood dripping down my face. I probably look terrifying, damnit, I hope Storm has her phone.

“On it, babe. Say ‘death to the patriarchy’!”

A grin splits my face as I pose on top of Casemiro.

“What the fuck,” I hear Tristan mutter as the rest of the council and the guards gather at the door.

I shrug, “No one lays a finger on my Butterfinger.”

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