Page 27 of Defiant
Shit. I don’t remember Alpha Maddox’s real name. Is that going to matter? His pack name is Black—the irony of his name is that his wolf is pure white—but I don’t recall his first name. Whatever. Stick to formal.
I stride closer and hear Black say the word “reinforcements.”
“There aren’t enough alphas for the numbers you want,” Knife grumbles, scratching at a pockmark on his cheek. He’s a balding guy, not attractive, but sharp-witted as fuck. Huh. I wonder if that’s how he got his name.
“Use betas then. Just tell them they aren’t allowed to shift.”
Knife gives a brief nod and turns away, opening the door to one of the back offices that adjoins the main room.
I step forward to ask Alpha Maddox for his help but he turns and the airflow from that back-office passes over him. Alpha Maddox’s scent drags across my nose. And there, underneath his caramel and smoke smell … I can smell her.
Elena.
Alpha Maddox raises a brow at me in question.
I avert my eyes and mutter, “I was just … looking for someone. Sorry.”
I move away, my stomach now tumbling end over end. My palms grow slick with sweat.
Elena’s missing. But Alpha Maddox has her scent on him.
And not just any scent. I smelled her arousal, that sugar-sweet, mouthwatering scent I’ve become addicted to over the last several months.
The room grows a bit hazy and I have to blink hard to clear my vision.
It feels like someone’s taken an ax to my ribs. I’m pretty certain they’ve shattered inside my chest and little shards of them are stabbing every part of me.
My worst fear’s confirmed.
Elena’s shifted.
She’s left me.
10
Elena
If a genie appeared right now… I’d wish for him to cut off Black’s balls and boil them while the man watched. No. I’d wish that my wolf was more alpha than Black’s wolf and that he’d cower in front of me. But then I’d have to run the pack, which I’m pretty sure consists of a lot of day-to-day bullshit.
I scrunch my upper lip toward my nose in an expression that my mother abhors as I try to think of a wish that’s bad enough for Black while I simultaneously search the basement for a way out. The only window near the ping pong table has bars over it so I don’t even bother heading in that direction. Instead, I make my way to the bar, studying the wood wainscoting behind it.
I tap the wood with my knuckles and bend to listen to the sound of my own knocking.Is that hollow? Would I even know what hollow sounds like? No. But, don’t old houses always have secret passageways?I slide my finger along the grooves but don’t find any secret latches.Damn you, Nancy Drew for giving me false hope!
I sigh as I round the bar after unsuccessfully tapping the wall behind it. I sullenly grab one of the wine glasses Black poured for me and take a big, unladylike gulp. Immediately, the red wine explodes across the roof of my mouth with the warmth that always comes with good wine—that signal you’re going to get a buzz really soon.
Getting tipsy sounds good right now, after the bullshit of this day and everything in it. It went from normal, then zoomed up to awesome before plunging into nearly the worst damn moment of my existence before doing a loop-de-loop causing a headrush of confusion. This day has been a roller coaster and frankly, I want off the ride.
I want out of here before Alpha Maddox comes back.
I call for my wolf inside my head, begging with her, pleading with her to show up. Maybe her teeth could mangle the door lock and get us out of here. But I hear nothing, not even the echo of a howl inside my head. I have no idea where she’s hiding and no idea why. I wish I could hide too, rather than face Black again.
I don’t want to show him how much I can kick his ass at raisin flicking. I don’t want to see his dark brown eyes light up in annoyed amusement like before. In fact, I don’t give a damn what that alpha thinks of me. He can rot in hell for the way he’s treated me. My eyes drift to the ping pong table and land on the red paddle lying innocently on top. My throat tightens and so does my lower belly, but not in fear like they should.
I curse my body. The memory of his punishment shouldn’t make me hot, it should make me furious. Normally it would, so what the hell’s wrong with me? Why am I breathing hard just staring at a stupid paddle?
I briefly wonder if my wolf coming in has anything to do with my messed up reactions … pheromones are a big thing among wolves … but alpha wolves are supposed to hate submission. I close my eyes and search for my new gray-haired friend, wanting to puzzle it out with her, wanting her to explain it with mental pictures … mostly, I just want her to come back. I see a tiny flicker of something, but it’s gone in less than a second. She’s hiding or something … probably because Black scared the shit out of her, the bastard.
That’s another reason I should hate him—my belly twists at the use of that word though. Hate is something I generally only reserve for one person. Should I really add him to that list?
