Page 13 of His Claim
A low growl ripped up my throat, deep enough to vibrate the walls. My wolf surged, claws snapping free. Every instinct howled, every muscle trembling as the truth tore itself out of me.
“She’smine.” My threatening snarl echoed like thunder in the steel and concrete corridor.
The men stiffened, their scents spiking, their expressions ripe with fear, shock, and disbelief. One tried again, voice wavering. “Commander, you can’t—she’s dangerous?—”
I surged forward in a blur, dragging Mariah against my chest, my arm banded around her waist. My claws glinted, my teeth bared, my entire body shaking with the force of the bond.
“You touch her,” I snarled, voice low and guttural, “and I’ll tear your heads off your shoulders. Every last one of you.”
The hallway went silent but for Mariah’s quiet breathing and my heartbeat hammering like war drums. The soldiers shifteduneasily, their eyes flicking to my claws, my teeth, the veins bulging under my skin as my wolf pressed so close I was nearly half-shifted.
They’d seen me fight. They’d seen me kill. They knew I wasn’t bluffing.
The officer swallowed hard. His jaw flexed, but he dipped his head the barest fraction. “Understood, Commander. She’s… yours.”
His tone twisted the word like it was poison, but I didn’t care.
They backed away slowly, boots squeaking against the tile, their weapons lowering. One muttered under his breath, “The Council will want her eventually.”
I roared, the sound ripping out of me so terrible and violent that the lights above flickered, dust falling from the ceiling. The men flinched, retreating faster now, eyes wide, feet stumbling in their haste to get far away from me.
When the hall was empty again, the air still stinking of fear, I stood there, chest heaving, Mariah clutched tight against me. My wolf rumbled low, triumphant.
This was my mate.
And if they wanted her, they’d have to come through me.
CHAPTER 2
Mariah
He dragged me down the hall like I weighed nothing, his grip an iron band around my arm. My bare feet skidded on the cold tile, the thin hospital gown hanging off my shoulders in tatters. I should have fought, should have clawed at him until one of us bled out, but after what just happened in that corridor, I knew better.
This wasn’t a wolf I could beat in a fight.
He shoved open a reinforced door at the end of the hall, pulling me inside. The room was stark and utilitarian with steel walls, a cot, a desk stacked with maps and weapons, and a makeshift kitchen along one wall. The faint tang of whiskey lingered in the air. In an instant, I realized it was his quarters.
He finally let me go, and I spun around, pressing my back against the door, ready to lash out if he came close again. My chest heaved, my pulse wild.
Then I saw him. Really saw him.
He was tall, towering, his broad shoulders filling the small space. His chest was streaked with blood that wasn’t all mine. He shifted and his muscles tensed, taut and corded with strength earned from years of command, but it was his face that held me captive. Harsh angles cut from stone, a strong jaw shadowed with scruff, a faint scar splitting his left brow. His hair was dark, tousled, and damp with sweat. His eyes were a brilliant silver, so intelligent and merciless it felt like they could strip me down to the bone with a glance.
They should have been cold. They should have belonged to the monster everyone whispered about, but then I saw a flash of something flicker there—pain or maybe hunger—too fast for me to pin down.
I hated that I noticed any of it.
I hated that after everything, my pulse didn’t just race with fear.
It raced with desire.
For him.
The silence stretched too long, broken only by the sound of both our breathing. My chest heaved, my nails scraping against the steel wall behind me, and the taste of blood still coated my tongue. Was it his blood? My blood? I didn’t even know anymore.
“You’re a bastard,” I finally spat out.
His silver eyes narrowed, flashing in the dim light, but that didn’t stop me from releasing my verbal wrath on him.
