Page 11 of Ruthless Wolf

The moment I step out, a light sprinkle of rain falls over me, but it doesn’t dampen my spirits. I’m pretty sure I’ll be floating for days thanks to the high of my first time. My first time with Luke.

Except I quickly discover I’m not alone. Luke hasn’t left like he said he would.

Because my pack-mates are standing in front of him.

The tallest and widest steps forward and my stomach turns to knots. It’s my oldest brother, Lawrence, and although I’ve always shown him the respect that role entails, I also know he’s a bully. “I heard you were dancing with my sister,” he seethes, glaring at Luke as he stalks closer.

I call out, terrified of what I’m about to watch unfold, but Lawrence ignores me. “We’re a big family and we take care of our own, you hear?” A ripple of growls rise from the shifters behind him, lips curling to reveal flashes of white teeth. “If you hurt her, I’m not the only one who will hurt you.”

A cold smile curls around the edges of Luke’s lips. So incongruent with the man I just made love to. “It’s too late for that.”

Although I have no idea what that means—Luke’s already hurt me, or my pack’s already hurt him?—I break into a run. I know the look on Lawrence’s face. I’ve seen it before when he’s about to unleash his temper on another of our brothers. He doesn’t stop until blood is drawn.

Lawrence grips the cuff of Luke’s shirt, slamming him against his truck. “Leave. Her. Alone.”

Heart thundering, I jam myself between them. “No. You leave him alone.”

Lawrence looks astounded to find me there, pushing against his chest. In fact, I’m pretty sure I hear Luke’s startled intake of breath behind me. Honestly, I can’t quite believe I’m standing here myself.

I just can’t let Luke get hurt because of my choices.

“I don’t want any trouble,” I say to Lawrence, lowering my voice. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

And that part is the truth. My time with Luke could only be described as one thing—right.

Lawrence hesitates, and I drop my voice even more. “Remember who we are.”

We can’t afford to be seen attacking a lone human. It would bring too much attention to the pack.

My brother steps back, baring his teeth. “If we see you around again…” he threatens.

Luke doesn’t respond as I feel him turn around, then hear his truck door opening. Once Lawrence has retreated a few steps, I move away, also turning so I can have one last glance at Luke. I want to apologize that our night ended like this.

Any words freeze in my throat.

Luke’s green eyes are glacial. His face is a mask of anger. And he’s looking right at me.

My hand flutters to my throat as I try to reconcile our heated moments with the cold anger I’m now faced with. Something flashes across his face—regret? Anguish? Hatred?—before he snaps his head back to the windshield.

Without another look, he roars away in a squeal of tires.

* * *

Itiptoe my way across the lawn, mentally preparing for my parents and their shifter-hearing to pick up the pit-pat-pit-pat of each step. I may have talked Lawrence down, and he was drunk enough that I’m hoping he might actually forget he had that run-in with Luke, but my parents won’t be so easily convinced. They’ll be sober. And they’ve tried to ensure something like this would never happen.

They’ll never see the irony that their overprotectiveness is what had me sneaking out in the first place.

Lost in thought between quietly taking my next step and promising myself that the last glance from Luke was my imagination, I don’t notice a figure standing in front of me until I bump into it. I gasp, already filled with panic and stumbling over my explanation as to why I’m coming home so late.

Before I can get a word out the figure hushes me and I finally realize it's not my parents. “Lindsey!” I breathe a sigh of relief and nearly collapse in her arms.

“Hiding from the fam?” She winks mischievously. “Don’t worry. They were calling around to figure out why you didn’t come home. We had an amazing slumber party, by the way, full of cheesy nineties movies and your favorite moose track ice cream.”

“My favorite ice cream is cookie dough.” I shake my head, processing that Lindsey covered for me. Did my parents buy it? Well, they must’ve if she’s here. “Thank you?”

“You can thank me by telling me what juicy things you’ve been up to. Here,” she grabs my hand, lacing her fingers in mine, “let’s go to my place.”

Glad for the reprieve, I allow her to tug me along. Lindsey’s one of the few pack members who has her own place without any family or other pack members. Her parents died when she was young and though the pack tried finding her a mate and she had plenty of suitors, she never quite fit the role of an obedient girl. If it wasn’t for the dead parents card, she’d be sent off the compound, I’m sure. They go easy on Lindsey, despite her rebellious nature. A lot easier than they would ever go on me.

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