Page 44 of Wolf Trapped
“Why don’t you shift and have a discussion with me about why you hate me so much?” I scream at him. It’s a complete waste of time, but I figure it can’t hurt, and it makes me feel like I have some control.
The wolf barks, crouching lower. I have seconds to decide what the hell I am going to do. It’s too late to go back into the house. Wolves love a chase, and I cannot compete on two legs. I don’t want to shift because my wolf is still feral, and I’m unsure how she will react.
My wolf is smaller than his, and if I shift, my claws and teeth are my only weapons. His claws are bigger, and he’s killed before. I don’t know how much of a chance I would have against them.
Rolling my shoulders back, I wait for the wolf to strike, knowing I have a matter of seconds. The wolf tilts his head to the side and whines before jumping up and running back into the trees. “How fucking odd.”
I nearly drop the ax in relief, but I’m not moving from this spot until I know he’s gone for good. Should I chase after him, though? What if he heard someone from the pack and they are in danger?
I take one step toward the trees but then think better of it when my wolf snarls in my head, wanting to wrestle for control and go after the threat to our pack. No. That is a terrible idea. We already had problems last night. I don’t particularly want a repeat of that, especially with Archer not here to command her to come back. I have no idea where we might end up.
I take a step back and then another, never taking my eyes off the spot the wolf just fled from. The way the wolf tilted his head reminds me of what Archer does when someone is talking to him through the pack link or if his enhanced hearing picks up something in his wolf form.
My enhanced hearing didn’t pick up any other sounds, though, in wolf form, our hearing is more acute. Could someone else be nearby that scared him off? I would smell them, or they would be here already. I don’t think that’s what happened.
Could he belong to a pack? I know it’s not Greyson’s pack. I would recognize the wolf if he were one of Greyson’s. I wait for long minutes, hoping the wolf isn’t toying with me and waiting for me to turn my back for it to pounce.
That was precisely how he killed Jacob. He attacked him from behind, so I refuse to turn my back until the backs of my legs hit the porch of the cabin. Turning, I race into the house and slam the door behind me. I think we have been wrong about the wolf all along,
I think back on everything I know about the shifter. We scented him last night by Kyle’s territory. Could he be one of Kyle’s wolves? It is entirely possible, but why? We have a peace treaty, so even if Kyle didn’t order the wolf to terrorize us, he still has an obligation to punish his shifter for crossing pack lines and coming after my pack.
On autopilot, I walk into the kitchen and rummage through the cabinets. Something about my theory doesn’t feel right. The wolf’s green eyes remind me of someone, but I just can’t think who. I have never met anyone in Kyle’s pack, so how would I recognize those eyes?
I pull a white can out of the cabinet, studying it with a frown. “What is a spaghetti-o?” I wonder out loud, looking at the picture. It seems like some kind of pasta in tomato sauce, but it’s weird little rings.
Shrugging, I grab the can opener and go through the motions of opening it and throwing the contents into a pan to cook on the camp stove. The mystery of who the wolf is and why he wants to be here terrorizing and killing our pack members plagues my mind.
Why does the wolf seem to hate me in particular? I never met him until the clearing that first day weeks ago. Could he have been at one of the gatherings of the packs we used to have once a year in Grayson’s pack?
An engine roars in the distance, and my body tenses. Who is on the way to the cabin? Is it Archer coming back, or did someone else find us? I turn the stove off and walk to the front door picking up the ax I propped up just inside the door and step outside with it over my shoulder as the roar grows louder.
The large black truck kicks up dust as it barrels down the dirt road. Archer is in the driver’s seat, and I slump in relief. The truck comes to a stop, and Archer is out the door before he even turns the engine off. He storms over to me. His hands grasping my biceps and glaring into my eyes.
“What are you doing outside?” he growls. His grip is bruising and makes me wince. Archer catches the expression and loosens his hold.
“I heard the truck and thought someone had found the cabin. Or that it was the shifter.” I chew my lip, looking away from him.
“Did something happen?” He tilts my chin, so I meet his eyes.
“The rogue, well, I’m not exactly sure it’s a rogue, to be honest.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“You need to tell me everything.” He squeezes my arm a little harder his eyes are hard as he takes the ax from me and nudges me into the cabin before him.
“I have the windows open, so it doesn’t get stuffy in here, and I smelled something strange in the breeze. It was the wolf.”
“You did not go outside to investigate the rogue wolf, Jara. Tell me you aren’t that stupid.” Archer barks, and I flinch, taking a step back from him. I fling his hand from my arm and cross them over my chest.
“I am not fucking stupid, Archer, and I am not weak. I can take care of myself.” I throw my hands up in the air and flop down on the couch, ready to start ignoring him again. Fucking asshole.
“You went to confront a wolf that we already know has attacked two of our own. What else would you call it?” He roars, clearly having lost his temper.
“I thought you wanted to hear the whole story, not lose your temper after one fucking sentence,” I scream back at him.
Archer crouches in front of me, rage and something else shining in his eyes. “Don’t ever fucking do that again. Especially when you are all alone with no one to have your fucking back or get you to a gods' damn healer.” He’s grasping my face with both hands breathing heavily.
“Fine.” I look away from his intense gaze. He’s actually fucking right, and I think that pisses me off the most. If I had been injured, I could have died. “I just want the fucker to stop hurting our pack members.”
“It’s not your job to get rid of him. It’s my job to protect the pack.” He shakes his head, moving to stand. He paces the room running a hand through his hair in frustration.
