Page 60 of Enspelled

“Who the fuck knows? Hey! You aren’t getting out, so you might as well just—What? I’m not opening the door; you can hear him. Look, I just…”

The voices fade as they move away.

I’m not winning this fight with the bars, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.

When the wooden door on the other side of the metal bars suddenly swings open and I come face to face with Liam Wolfe himself, I blink in surprise.

He cocks his dark head as he studies me curiously. “You’re getting the pack excited.”

Just like the last time we met, his expression is calm, and he’s dressed in a similar smart white, tailored shirt and black pants. With the bright light filling the hallway behind and around him, it looks like I’ve been in the basement for hours, if not a full day.

But when he plucks a small key from his pocket and unlocks the bars without a hint of fear of what I might do to him, my gaze moves over his shoulder, because he can only be that comfortable if—

My gaze clashes with the five wolves who must have been guarding the door.

Black sweats lie discarded on the ground.

With five wolves staring me down, lips pulled back from their teeth, ready to attack if I make a single move against their alpha, it’s clear how Liam can afford to be so relaxed.

“Now,” Liam says, shoving the door open and forcing me to grip it before it can smack me in the face. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Turning his back, he stalks down the hallway as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

My wolf snarls at me to do something about the shifter who wants to take Briar away from us.

From us?I demand.

A chuff of agreement.

This is fucking bad if my wolf has claimed Briar as his. When that happened, I don’t know, but this possessiveness will only get worse the longer I’m with her. I think. The only thing my wolf has been this possessive about is steak—never a person, and never, ever a woman.

I’m guessing the reason I’m not fighting a battle to contain my wolf is the fact that Liam doesn’t smell like he’s been rubbing up against Briar, because if he had smelled like her…

A wet growl echoes in my head.

Yeah, I doubt it would have mattered if there’d been five wolves or twenty guarding Liam. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.

I follow Liam down the polished hallway of what has to be the pack house, with five pairs of wolf eyes tracking me as I approach.

Before I can pass, two of the wolves step out in front of me—probably to stop me from launching a surprise attack on Liam—while the three who fall in behind me pace close enough that if I tried anything, I’d be lucky to survive the next five minutes.

I trail Liam and the two wolves down a long hallway, passing a double staircase on my right, and a series of closed doors before Liam stops and pushes one open.

The room—some kind of indoor garden or sunroom—is awash in light from a high glass roof.

And sitting with her head lowered, dressed in a strappy green dress with her long red hair falling around her shoulders, is Briar.

A frown creases my brow. Why isn’t she looking up at me?

Before I can wonder for too long what’s wrong with her, I finally notice Liam sitting beside her… close beside, reclining on the white couch, a glass of orange juice in one hand and an easy smile curving his lips.

Inches separate them.

“Sit.” Liam points at the twisted metal chair opposite the couch.

I don’t move.

His gaze moves over my shoulder. “You can leave. Close the door.”

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