Page 131 of Untamed

As we run, his wolves cannot keep pace. They are pathetic, too. Behind us, the wolves of the pack kill or capture them. We care nothing for those wolves. No sympathy for fools following a fool. If this pissant were a true alpha, he would know his wolves were being killed and captured behind him.

Unless he is so intent on getting to us he cannot sense any other reality.

Idiot.

We reach the location the scarred one selected out and turn with pure glee. We will be hunted no longer.

The pissant alpha does not slow, barreling into us with his full two-hundred and fifty pounds. A flash of light brown is all we see, then teeth and crazed, gleaming eyes.

We laugh. The wolf cannot find a good hold on us, teeth biting uselessly into the fur on our back, our shoulder. We slam our own body into his, momentum making both of us rear up on our hind legs for a moment. He falls back to the earth, but we keep going. Our body twists and grows, reshaping into our truth. The beast our treasure calls her Mactiir. The truth that she adored with her perfect body.

We attack the pissant, pleasure and joy singing in our blood with a roar. As we promised, we will leave him alive, but he will not leave this forest without some blood being shed. His blood.

He stumbles back in shock from the beast. Too late. We tower over him, our claws catching on his back as he tries to evade our cruel grasp. Flesh gives way, the tips of black-tinged nails hitting bone before his twisting body rips away, chunks of skin and fur tearing under our grip.

There is nowhere for this male to go. Wolves and the scarred-one's team ring the clearing. The pissant alpha backs away, teeth bared, growling and snarling, searching us for any weaknesses. He will not find any. We are power.

We surge forward again. Little fool, he lunges with us, trying to save his pathetic life by attacking.

Our right claws close on his throat. Squeezing, but not too hard. No killing. He gasps and shifts back to his feet. A silly creature, this male. We rear back, our other hand ready to deliver a blow to render him into unconsciousness.

Golden eyes meet mine, filled with pain and desperation.

We release him, stumbling backward as if he shot us in the chest. A blow deeper than any we can deliver.

"You have the eyes of mmmy mmmate."

We allow Mactiir to fade, allowing the gentler alpha I share our soul with to return. He will know how to protect our precious mate from this male who has stolen her eyes.

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Inuit

I grasp Orion Ferax's shoulder in my hand and start dragging him towards Devel.

"Interesting," the male mutters, looking in between us. "Maybe they're related."

"Fuck you," Orion spits out blood with his curse.

"Very interesting," Devel says calmly. "Orion. We have a lot to talk about."

He laughs sarcastically. "I'm not talking to you, little cunts."

I haul him upright, my fingers clenching his jaw hard enough to unhinge it.

Orion's struggles cease abruptly. "No. You smell of a female. It can't be true. My cousin can't be mated to a fucking monster. Where is she, you fucking bitch?"

I don't bother to answer, but his words strike a chord. His eyes. His cousin. Is my materelatedto this asshole? How did that shit not occur to me? If Willa is the granddaughter of the former alpha and luna and Orion was Harrigan's nephew, then... they would have the same grandparents, wouldn't they?

The hand on his jaw is the one I touched myQitsukwith. Fuck. Me. He can scent her, and his wolf recognizes the smell of family. Blood cousins. Nearly a sibling.

"She's mine. My mate," I grind out between clenched teeth. I feel the ripple of my beast nudging my spine.

"That's really fucking interesting coming from Kingson’s son," Orion spits. "The fuckingkingof murdering his own truemate."

Something in me dies. I think it's the last bit of respect I had for my Pa. Orion knows. He knows what happened to Anya. And it's my Pa's fault, isn't it? My Pa did something terrible to Willa's Mama. His truemate.

"You don't deserve her. You don't deserve any female."

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