Page 117 of Untamed

He stands, bringing me to my feet with him. "I like you, Little Luna. Very much."

Old Alpha goes flying a moment later.

"Don't touch her again," Mactiir grunts at him.

Old Alpha coughs from the ground. "We were just talking," he jokes.

Mactiir enfolds me in his arms, but I'm looking at Mama. She's watching Old Alpha, her worry plain to see. All right, then.

But...

I look into Mactiir's hard walnut-eyes. "If he hurts my mama, we have to kill him."

"Of course,Qitsuk."

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36 - Red Moon Malice

Alpha Jax

I'd slaughter the BlueSnout myself to spare these two pups more pain if I had only known. Known that my mate was a murderous adulteress. Known that Snow was trapped and abused in the wild. Know that her daughter, a child who should have been born of an alpha, was being raised in that same unforgiving wild.

I look at Willa. Well, maybe her upbringing wasn't the worst to happen. She is as pure a soul as any I have ever met before. And Inuit, shit, TrueBorns are meant to cleanse wolves, at least that is what the oldest of our legends say. The gods' way of balancing the moon.

Big, golden eyes shoot around the truck's interior like ping-pong balls. I sort of feel like I'm caged in with a wild cat, a mountain lion who can tear into your flesh in her terror.

I don't think it's normal for Little Luna to be so unsettled. Snow keeps patting her hand, brushing her hair down, humming softly, soothingly. It doesn't seem to have too much effect on the little she-wolf. Every so often, a quiet whimper shoots from her mouth as she darts her eyes toward the bed of the truck.

I look at Inuit, sitting there in the bed of the pickup, but his gaze is fixed on his mate, dark eyes missing nothing. Not the way her hair stands up on end, not her fine white teeth biting into her soft lower lip, not the way her body tenses with agitation.

"Qitsuk, relax," he orders through the open back window.

Golden eyes flash at him. Disdain, impatience. She wants him, her body leans towards him, but she doesn't close the distance, doesn't reach through the window to touch her male. She's a tough little nugget.

I turn my own eyes to the road to hide the smirk threatening to cross my face. Inuit has his hands full to bursting with this one.

"Kitten, what's wrong?" Mactiir... I mean Inuit... demands.

"Too many wolves are here," she says quietly. "They feel like they are chasing us, Mactiir."

"No, sweetest," Inuit immediately soothes her, "they aren't chasing us, cat."

"I know," she replies, a little impatient. "But, doesn't it feel like they are?"

"You wanna ride back here, kitten?" he murmurs intimately.

At least three of us respond 'no.' Empathetically. Then we all ignore Inuit's answering growl.

"I think we've all seen enough today," Sarj hollers from his spot, hunched on the floor of the truck bed, shaking his head, ears bright red with embarrassment.

"You watched?" Inuit says dangerously.

"Heard," comes the abrupt reply.

I can't hide the smirk now. It just grows legs and crawls over my face. I can hear Rhet choke back his laughter from the driver's seat. Elias Goers, the crazy old male on the passenger side, doesn't bother hiding his snorting wheeze. We heard the 'cat' scream; that's what Sarj means. She held nothing back.

I hear a smack as Inuit hits his brother behind the head.

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