Page 18 of The Weakest Wolf

When Kaylen stands, I know what he’s going to say before he says it. “I call a challenge. You’re not one of us, and this—”

I hold a hand out to stop him. “No need to go into all the reasons why. I don’t need to hear them.”

He darts a glance at Bowen. “Fine, then we’ll fight. There’s a—”

Again I interrupt him. “No need to leave. Here is fine.”

“But I—”

I seize the table and shove it hard to one side of the room. Wood scrapes against wood. Some of the men get out of the way in time, but not all. Chairs smash, and three grunts confirm how many didn’t move fast enough. I don’t look. My eyes are full of Kaylen, who shakes off his surprise at how fast this challenge is suddenly progressing.

He doesn’t waste time pulling his shirt over his head, just seizes the hem and rips it off, revealing a chest as powerful as his shoulders.

“You seem eager.”

He smirks at me. “And you’re in jeans.”

“I am,” I admit. And then I shift. Jeans be damned.

They were expensive, as was the sweater. Both gifts from a well-dressed beta who has a problem with his alpha living in sweats.

Not everyone can manage a shift with clothes as restricting as jeans, but some can. I let Kaylen figure out which type I am.

My shift takes seconds, alpha-fast.

He’s reaching for his sweats when I take him down. By the time he lifts his hands to shove at me, it’s too late. I have my wolf jaws clamped around his throat.

I bite down until hot metallic blood fills my mouth.

The grabbing, desperate hands flop to the ground, and I bite down harder. He’s dead. I know that. But it never hurts to be sure.

I tell myself that’s the reason why, but I know it’s not. He didn’t suffer nearly enough.

He and the others played games with Eden and Melody. With my mate.

I bite down even harder as a snarl erupts from the back of my throat.

The alluring scent of woman, soft and warm, penetrates my killing fury, tempts me to let go.

No, I had a mate. Melody. Sierra is not mine, and she never will be.

They have to die. All of them. I release the body and spin around to face the men who mocked Melody and laughed at her fear.

They don’t even remember her name.

My lips peel back in a low growl.

They drop to their knees, their eyes on the ground. I stalk toward them, but the scent of their fear isn’t what calls to me.

It’s her.

I angle my head to the woman. To Sierra. The scent of warm amber, sweet caramel, and beneath that, another soft note that I want to investigate fills my nose. Peach. Her skin. That’s the scent.

I want more.

She’s the only one still on her feet. Her eyes clash with mine, and the defiance in her gaze doesn’t make me want to rip out her throat.

It makes me want to pin her and strip the clothes from her body.

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