Page 24 of Werewolves Don't Howl
I lay there on the stones, while that wolf choked the life out of me. No matter how I kicked or whined or struggled, there was no way out.
Until my beast took over.
She rippled under my skin with a shudder and then rolled through me, tossing the golden wolf off as I shifted into the monster that drew several gasps of surprise.
“She killed my nephew! There’s your proof!” the golden alpha cackled.
Silas crouched away from me, his eyes gleaming and then his skin rippled, and I was facing a beast that was much more intimidating than Ridley’s had been.
“This is much better,” he growled, looking me up and down.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You must not like to breathe.” I leapt on him, but he rolled with me. For a moment I struggled against him, but at the last second, I twisted so I was on top. My jaws were around his throat, and it was my turn to squeeze. I tasted his blood and wanted more. My jaws ached to close down and rip out, but I wasn’t here to prove that I was a murderer. I hadn’t killed Ridley. I didn’t lose control of my beast. Not then, and not now.
I squeezed, ignoring his clawing until finally, he was still. I released him and backed away, wiping my mouth from the blood and excessive drool with the back of my monster paw.
The old Alta nodded at me. “Do you challenge the Golden pack?”
I growled and shook my head. “No. I defend myself. I protect myself. I need no wolf mate.” The thought of Senator Silverton passed through my beast brain for some reason that was going to make me nauseous later.
“Did you kill Ridley? I assume it was a fair fight.” He spoke to me as more of an equal. Finally.
“I didn’t kill him. I left him alive. He should have healed. Something else killed him.”
The Alta rubbed his beard as he considered. “You defeated Silas. But surely there is a wolf here who can defeat you. Who would like to win her beast?” he asked the surrounding wolves.
There were several howls, and then another guy leapt down, shifted into this very pretty beast with gray hair and a snowy face that reminded me of Lynx’s markings, and then I had to worry about fighting this beast and not killing him. He was harder to beat than Silas and knocked me rolling, but I managed to use his momentum to throw him and knock him out against the wall, but then there was another, and another. Six beasts challenged me, and I defeated them all, but each one left their mark, more with every battle until I could barely stand after the sixth.
“Well done,” the Alta said in a kindly voice as he came towards me where I crouched in the classic werewolf pose. “You say that you didn’t kill Ridley?”
I was breathing hard, and it took time to get out the words. “I wanted him scarred, not dead. He marked my cashmere.”
His brows raised. “He marked your cashmere? You’re a knitter? How delightfully domestic. If there’s a beast out there with claws that large, then you and your yarn need protection.”
“I’ll protect myself,” I growled.
He tugged on his beard. “We shall see.” He shifted into this massive black beast that easily dwarfed mine. This wasn’t an ordinary beast. A war-beast. That’s what they were called. I instinctively backed away from him while he stayed for a moment, watching me out of gleaming eyes. Why did he want me to have a mate so badly? If I was strong, they said I needed a mate. If I was weak, I needed a mate. I didn’t need anyone, but it didn’t matter because they had an agenda that had nothing to do with what I wanted.
I snarled and lunged at him. He was faster than I imagined, and threw me over his shoulder without the slightest effort. I hit the rock wall and slid to the ground, stunned for a moment before I came up and ran back at him. He twisted away, and grabbed my wrist, broke it, and my leg before I realized what he was doing.
I collapsed in howls as he backed away from me.
“Need protection,” he rumbled in a low, deep, grave voice that I hated.
I snarled and lunged at him and managed to rake him across the chest with my claws before he had that arm as well. He snapped the elbow that time, and then returned the blow across my face, then body, sending me sprawling back, soaked in my own streaming blood.
He studied me solemnly. “Your beast is done.” And then turned and walked away, shifting as he went, back into a man.
I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him naked. My beast struggled, but the weight of the Alta’s command was as heavy as my own exhaustion from lack of blood, from humiliation, from frustration. No, I couldn’t beat the Alta, but who could? Did everyone who couldn’t beat the Alta need a protector? That made no sense.
I coughed and gurgled, and then my beast melted away, leaving me in my human form, broken, bleeding, thoroughly defeated. The humiliation was worse than the pain, but they were both up there. What was the Alta’s game? Would he claim me as his mate? That would be ludicrous. But there was nothing I could do about it. There was nothing I could do about any of it.
“Who will be her protector?” the Alta asked, wearing a pair of pants although his chest was bare beneath his beard as he stood over me while I bled at his feet. This would make such a fine painting. The senator could hang it in his elegant hall. We’d call it, ‘the great protector,’ and laugh at the irony.
“I think you have to take that responsibility,” Max said, standing up from his crouched position. He hadn’t moved during all of those fights. “You’re the only one who can defeat her beast. Who wants a mate like that? Particularly when she’s unwilling?”
The old man gave Max a look. “You think I would be a better mate than you?”
Max’s eyes grew cold. “I never offered for her.”
