Page 154 of Untamed

I jog the rest of the way to the bedroom with Snow laughing in my arms.

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Mactiir

We roar with delight at pleasing our little Treasure. Pretty, pretty little red Treasure. She is not golden any longer. We will bath ourselves in blood, then bathe her until she is our sweet-smelling golden little Treasure again.

Males step in front of us, terror glazing their eyes. More run. They are the smart ones. The ones who stay are fools. We are angry. Our Treasure asked us to kill the old wolf. He smells of her, just a bit, a faint whiff of paternity. We do not like that. It hurts our sweet golden Treasure, and that stings our nostrils as something offensive.

The male with golden eyes like our Treasure steps in front of her. He looks green as he looks us over. Pale, sweating. We frown. If he is ill, he should not be close to our Treasure.

We rumble deep in our chests, but the male is stalwart and does not flinch at the warning.

"I'll watch her, Alpha," he says, golden eyes cast down respectfully.

We grunt in acknowledgment. Beta. He will protect my Treasure.

More wolves fall under my claws. They are all running now. The one we seek is hiding in their masses. We chase. We like chasing. My Treasure likes to chase, too. We will play with her later to make her smile and laugh.

After we slaughter this male for her.

We do not likehurtto our Treasure. It is not to be allowed.

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Willa

I watch my Ogre with a smile curling my lips. He is a magnificent male. My she-wolf licks her maw, pink tongue flickering as if we can taste Mactiir in our mouths.

"Thisss is good, Treasure?" he croons to me, holding the severed heads of our enemies in his hands. Three males and one female, all dead before their bodies hit the ground.

The male who claims to be my Father is still alive. Mactiir hobbled him and cut the hard part of the male's ankles so his legs could not work anymore. Every so often, the male tries to move, to escape, or fight, I'm not sure. Mactiir, seemingly not paying attention, always knows when the male attempts to move. My Ogre doesn't let him, striking him down again and again before moving back into the battle.

I hum in agreement with Mactiir's question. The sky is lightening, a dark, deep purple over the eastern horizon. It is nearly over, this night of terrible slaughter. The moon is diminishing in the sky. She has lost. She is driven back from her twisted exultation of wolf pain that has lasted for far too long.

"Cousin, Alpha," the Hunter lopes up next to the tree I am curled up in. "Isn't this enough?" His eyes, so like mine, watch us solemnly.

"Are all of the enemies dead?" I ask him.

He looks at me carefully. "You can't kill all of your enemies, sweetheart."

I meet his gaze. "Yes, my Mactiir can. If I want him to, if I think that the bitter, terrible wolves are still leaking the moon's poison into this world, I can ask him to keep destroying them. He will do it."

He inhales sharply. "You have made him your weapon, cousin. Careful you aren't the beast, yeah?" he scowls at the bark of the tree.

"Do not scold our Treasure," Mactiir says just as I speak, too.

"He is not a weapon," I glare at my cousin, at the hunter. "He is an ancient creature born to bring balance to the world," I spit out the aspen's truth before thinking better of it. Oh, Willa. You sound odd, even for you.

"I'm not going to ask you how you know that," Orion says under his breath, shaking his head. "I've seen him like this before, you know. It's fuc-insane, yeah? I thought it was the end of me, for sure. But I could scent you all over him. You share blood with my dad, yeah? Your scent is a little like his, like your Mama's. He's - hewas- your uncle. I knew, then, that you were his mate. Shit. Shit! Look at him!"

I look beyond him, past the giant male who is deliberately shifting on his clawed feet to try to block my view of the battle. My Ogre's efforts arefutile; fruitless, vain, ineffective.

It only lasted half the night, yet there are so many dead. Even Mactiir's wide girth can't hide the corpses from my eyes. War has a terrible price.

"Mactiir-" I am about to ask him if they are defeated. If it is safe to go home. Something catches and tickles my nose, assaulting my senses.

The wind has stirred the flames.

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