Page 67 of Untamed

The first time was Challenging my Father for alpha. There were moments during the fight when I was sure that I would lose. Then, another beat, another breath, and I was still standing. Time slows as you wait, breathless, just the sound of your blood rushing in your ears until it finally passes. I won the fight, and my beats sped up until it was just a buzz of victory. No more waiting.

The next time was when I watched my son be executed for lying to the pack he was sworn to protect, for causing the near-death of its next luna because of his youthful stupidity. One beat, and my son, my only child, was alive. The next and death claimed him.

The third time is happening right now, with a dark-haired fairy tale princess come to life held in my arms. One beat for the confusion to clear from her crystal-blue gaze. Another beat and fear takes its place. On the third beat, tears shimmer as Snow realizes just how helpless she is in the arms of a strange male.

"Snow, don't cry," I say as softly as I can manage. I don't even know if she can hear me over the rumble of the truck's engine and the pounding of my heart. But I know she can feel the rumble of my alpha-wolf in my chest. When the confusion returns to those blue eyes, I know she heard it, too. And she doesn't understand.

Which pisses me off to no end. She should know the sound of her alpha comforting her. She should be living in luxury with her mate and her children, not abused and abandoned with a missing female pup out there. I would pray that Elias and Devel are correct and that Inuit's mate is Snow's missing female, but I stopped believing in the mercy of the goddess a long time ago. Still, I will hope that there is some miracle at play for this female.

Snow licks her lips, and I hurry to bring a bottle of water to her mouth. She swallows nervously, not drinking. Her eyes are so wide that her pupils are just tiny pinpricks, even in the low light of the truck's interior.

"Drink, Snow," I order.

She obeys because she has to, but I don't feel guilty. I'll never feel guilty for ordering this female to care for herself. And, I can tell, just in these small heartbeats, that she would rather be thirsty than trust a male.

When she's had a few good swallows, I pull the bottle away. "Little more later, dove," I tell her.

She licks her lips again, and I brace myself when it becomes clear that she wants to speak. "Willa?" she croaks.

My mind flashes back to her only spoken word before this. I thought she had said 'Will.' It's embarrassing how relieved I am that she wasn't talking about the dead male in the cabin. Although she could have been, if he was Will and her daughter, Willa, but somehow I doubt that Snow cares enough about that male to ask for him, first.

"I'm not sure, dove," I say softly. "She's a clever thing and eluded us," I hedge, not mentioning that the little pup escaped by flinging herself forty feet down from the treetops into a river.

Pride glints in Snow's eyes, and I smile to see it. "We'll know in just a day or two, Snow."

She mouths something, maybe her name? Questions bubble up on my tongue, but I don't ask. Snow isn't ready for an interrogation. As long as she's safe, we have time for that later.

—-

Willa

"Whaddaya doing here?" comes the slurred voice, filled with fear and anger.

I blink my eyes open. My body feels too heavy, and my eyelids are pasted shut. I bite back the whimper of distress. Survival means not showing fear.

Don't you show fear, female.

Father was right. My eyes are too blurry to make out much. I can see white colors, black, and grey thrown in. It doesn't make any sense, so I let my lids shut again, throwing myself back into darkness.

"He's Marked you," comes the voice again. "I can smell it."

Smell. If one of my senses fails, then I can use another. I inhale, only to choke slightly on the terrible scent. Rotten herbs, a burning in my nostrils,astringent; bitter, sharp, acrid. I gag at the taste of putrid earth in the back of my throat.

Then I smell Mactiir. Searching blindly, I reach out, feeling cool, crisp cloth, and nothing else. Frustrated, I blink again, forcing my eyelids to open just slightly. Maybe, if I keep my eyes in slits, the haziness will disappear.

"I wanted to be better than this," the voice murmurs. I bare my teeth in the direction of the voice. It's female. I can tell that, but nothing else. "Now, what do I do? The Luna, she doesn't know about this yet," the voice laughs, but there's no humor in it.

I blink again. I try to blink rapidly and clear my vision, but my eyelids won't obey. My she-wolf is no help, lying prone, her chest barely moving. I feel like I want to do the same, but the urgent need to find Mactiir overrides the need to sleep.

I do another sweep with my hand and am rewarded with the jingling of bells. As soon as my fingertips touch the smooth metal, I close my fist, like a fish trap, over the delicate chain.

I tug, and there is resistance. My fish is hooked. Now I just need to reel him in.

"What do I do, now? Why did you have to come herenow?"

I ignore the voice. It isn't moving closer to me, so it's not an immediate threat. More critical is the burning in my gut to be close to my Mactiir. Something is wrong with him. If he were able to, he would already be touching me.

I grasp the chain and pull. Of course, I can't budge fatty Ogre, so I only end up scooting toward him. I nearly fall off of the surface, probably a bed that I'm on, but I manage to catch myself and stand on shaking legs. At least the chain gives me a direction to move in.

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