Page 87 of Stealthy as a Wolf

Boone shook his massive head, mauling the appendage for a few seconds before ripping the arm clear off the body. The spray of blood splattered my face, and I couldn’t help but smile when the wolf looked at me with too wide eyes. The rest of the wolves reared back, stunned by the savage nature of the attack, but I didn’t hesitate to step forward and slash my would be kidnapper’s throat, ripping it clear out.

Oops!

My bad!

The wound was so deep that he could no longer hold up the weight of his head. He blinked at me once, then his head just kind of disappeared as it fell backwards. When he dropped to his knees, then collapsed forward with a moist thump, I saw the head now rested uselessly between his shoulder blades in a macabre display.

It was nothing less than he deserved for threatening me and trying to kill my mates.

Boone took a step toward me, a low grumble of concern rumbling in his chest. He heaved great, shuddering breaths as he sniffed me, not so subtly checking me for injuries.

He was the most glorious sight I’d ever seen, and it was all I could do not to throw my arms around his neck. I was just about to do that when the fucking wolves interrupted once again and reminded me that we still had an audience.

“Take him out!” Timothy snarled, the alpha command clear in his voice. The rest of the wolves had no choice but to do as he ordered and immediately shifted into their beasts. They attacked Boone with a ferocity that bordered on manic, and I could do nothing but gasp in horror as they tore into him. When I went to wade into battle, Timothy sank his fingers into my hair and yanked me backwards.

“If you want anything done, you have to fucking do it yourself,” he muttered under his breath as he dragged me toward the not so innocent collar that lay on the ground, where it had been kicked away during the scuffle with the now kind of decapitated, one-armed man.

I was so done with being pushed around by the likes of him and his kind. I would kill him before I allowed him to put that collar on me again. I could not go back to that life. I would not become a breeding slave.

I reached over my shoulder, grabbed his face with both my hands, then sank my claws into his flesh, wiggling them deep enough to hit bone.

He gave a bellow of pain, hauling back on my hair hard enough that it felt like I was being scalped. A second later, he threw me to the ground with enough force that I bounced. I glared up at the fucker, wincing when I saw strands of my hair still in his grip, and something inside me snapped.

The fucker had taken enough from me.

No more.

He stormed toward me, clearly intent on beating me unconscious and taking what he wanted—he’d done it plenty of times in the past—but this time was different.

This time, I didn’t have the collar to stop me from fighting back.

I didn’t wait for him to crawl on top of me and grind his pathetic erection into me while he beat me bloody. No, I bided my time, playing helpless as I waited for him to get close enough for what I had in mind.

The fucker was so used to women cowering that he was taken by surprise when I fought back, sweeping his feet out from under him. He landed flat on his back with a grunt. I didn’t wait for him to collect himself. I dragged myself to my feet, then stomped on his dangly bits with every ounce of my strength, watching with avid curiosity as his dick deflated like a popped balloon.

He curled up into a ball with an agonized groan and cupped himself, scowling at me through watering eyes. “You fucking cunt. I’m going to kill you.”

I watched him dispassionately, tempted to castrate the fucker, but I didn’t actually want to get close enough to touch his disgusting bits. Instead, I grabbed first one of his feet, then the other, and ruthlessly severed his Achilles tendons.

Work smarter, not harder, right?

He gave a scream as his feet flopped worthlessly to the side.

I tipped my head, pretending to be puzzled. “But I thought you love pain. At least that’s what you said while you tried to beat me into submission almost every night for months on end. Pain is pleasure, you said.” I frowned down at him with a grimace of distaste, noticing the pathetic, curled up, dead worm resting between his legs. “Funny how you can’t even seem to play with yourself when our roles are reversed.”

I was disgusted that I’d allowed him to terrorize me for so long.

He was nothing but a pathetic slug of a man.

I couldn’t believe I’d ever been afraid of him.

It was almost fun to take him apart bit by bit, and I wondered where I should strike next…until the sounds of battle shook me out of my serial killer vibe, a harsh reminder that Boone was still in danger.

I hated that I wouldn’t be able to torture the pathetic asshole and give him a taste of his own medicine, but it was way more important to get back to my men. I refused to let them suffer even a second longer than necessary.

I crouched, dodging his flailing limbs, capturing one arm when it threatened to smack my face. Before he could pull back, I gave the limb a sharp twist, then smirked when I heard the harsh snap of bones.

Genuine fear darkened his whisky eyes for the first time, as if he was just coming to realize the danger he faced.

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