Collared by Wolves [The Haunt of the Wolves 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) (13 page)

No!

Max jumped forward, nipping the backside of one of those two, needing to do anything to stop them. It was enough that the wolf turned, snapping back at him angrily. But the second one was still trotting away, so he charged at him, shouldering the other one as he went, risking all by turning his back on the first.

As he jumped on the one about to leave, Max felt the first wolf nip his neck, his teeth breaking skin.
Oh, that’s not good.
He dropped his shoulder to try to dislodge him. In doing so, he fell off, but it worked. Neither was on top of another, but everyone was still inside the building. Callum had time to get away with the girl. Relief washed over him.

But his calm was soon shattered as a big wolf suddenly attacked him from behind, and he had to call on every aspect of his wolf to fight him off. His initial thought was that Lance had decided to take him out, but Lance was a light-brown wolf and this one was black.

He suddenly realized it was the wolf—the man—he had caused to fall off the balcony earlier who was now back to full consciousness and was clearly looking for revenge.

Max swallowed nervously. He hadn’t been aware how big a man his opponent was, and this was echoed in his wolf self.

You can do it. You bested him once. He’s hurt. Can’t you see him favoring his left leg?

Griff’s comment startled him at the same time as it reassured him. The black wolf did indeed have a slight limp, and it was enough to give him an advantage, and as they fought, he had the upper hand as the other wolf continually lost his footing and had to back away.

The only downside was the other two wolves were still trying to bring him down, too, and it was hard to keep three of them at bay. He ventured quick glances around the room from time to time, but both Ford and Griff had their own battles. Between them all, they may have caused many injuries, but the bulk of Lance’s eleven-strong pack was still standing.

And there were only three of them. Three who might be strong and fast and wily, but they were all quickly tiring. He instinctively knew that there was no way out of this. No easy solution. He had sort of hoped that Lance’s group would give up once Natasha was gone, but no luck. The others were clearly incensed by what his small pack had done.

As he fought to get some much-needed breath into his heaving chest, Max sighed. He hoped that Natasha was safe with Callum and that they would have a good life together.

Suddenly he could hear Griff in his head.

Get out of here. I will lead them away. Be safe. Look after the girl.

Before he had a chance to protest, Griff let out a very loud howl. It was one of challenge, of dominance, of leadership. Max watched in astonishment as the alpha stood in the middle of the room, his chin raised and head back as the sound reverberated around the room. It was so loud Max swore they must have heard it down at the new Haunt.

A frisson of fear went through him, and his hackles rose even further. By stopping to yowl as he did, it had given Lance’s pack time to move in on him, and Griff was surrounded, darting back and forth snarling, nipping, biting. Ford was still engaged with two nearby including Darren, and a couple of those who fought Max were pushing him back into the corner. But that left the bulk of the pack to deal with Griff, albeit most of them sporting bloody scars and wounds.

Max snarled at those confronting him, dashing forward, trying to find a way through. He was getting anxious, and he saw out of the corner of his eye Ford similarly concerned about their alpha. The swift moves he was trying to make to get away showed his consternation.

Then Griff made a noise that in human form would be described as a note of derision, of contempt. Werewolves had noises unique to themselves, a blend of human and wolf, and this was one of those times. And it meant, “You think you pack of mongrels can take me down. Well, just try it.”

Max whined in fear for the wolf who was fast becoming a member of his own pack, his leader, and he made renewed efforts to break free.

Suddenly, with a whirl that Max could barely see, Griff burst through the pack surrounding him, and before they could regroup he was out of the door.

His jaw dropped in astonishment at the abruptness of the move. But Max was pleased to note that Griff had gone in the opposite direction that Callum had taken.

Immediately, Lance followed. He clearly wasn’t about to let that contest go unfought. After him several others trailed, some more reluctant to leave the fight than others.

Looking around, Max saw Ford had incapacitated the ones he was fighting, having been startled by Griff’s sudden action. Even the two who fought Max had decided to follow Lance.

With a jerk of his muzzle, Ford indicated that they were to get out of there, and they flew out of the building, Ford taking the exit through which he had entered earlier, Max immediately behind, with the remaining two members of Lance’s pack following. But not for long. Ford and Max knew these woods well, for they had been raised not far away, and it wasn’t long before their switchbacks and double-crossing of paths meant they lost their stalkers.

The relief Max felt was tinged with remorse that they had left Griff to fight the bulk of the pack on his own. And yet, it had been the alpha’s decision, and Max was reminded just what a solitary wolf Griff was as he and Ford made their way to the grotto.

Having escaped the pack, Ford was in two minds.

Should he try to find out where Griff had gone and help him, as was his natural instinct to help his alpha. Or should he go to where he knew Callum would have taken the girl?

He gradually slowed to a halt, his run becoming a trot and then a walk. He was breathing heavily. Betas generally avoided initiating fights, but they were always there if their alpha needed them. The problem was he, Max, and Callum had moved away from their natural pack and the alpha who ran it, so they didn’t have a superior wolf to protect them. Subsequently, they stayed clear of fights if they could at all help it.

Max came up, panting equally hard. They looked intently at each other, and both knew what had to be done. The command Griff had instilled in them was impossible to fight.

Get to the girl. To Natasha. Go to the old grotto.

This was where mating ceremonies had traditionally taken place in the olden days, but few ventured there now the old ways were being forgotten. The kids didn’t seem to have knowledge of it today. He also knew that if the pack caught up with Griff, he was dead. There was no way he could fight them all off. But it had been the alpha’s decision.

With a jerk of his nose, Ford indicated to Max that they should continue. The way they had run getting out of the building meant they now had a wide detour to get to the grotto through some of the thickest parts of the forest.

They ran less hard now, trotting for the most part, leaping over fallen trees, crashing through undergrowth, and startling ground animals who thought they were about to be pounced on. Ford chuckled in a wolf-like way, sort of a light-hearted growl, at how flustered these animals were.

Normally he would have enjoyed the chance to run on four legs, unclothed, feet padding against the stones, feeling the breeze ruffle his fur, to be free. But now he cursed each and every tree, branch, root, and shrub as obstacles to his need to be with Tasha.

He jumped onto a low, broad branch of a tree, about six feet off the ground. It was high on a hill and a natural vantage point to look back the way they had come. If he had been human, he would have laughed as Max struggled to get through the vegetation which had wrapped around his chest. He, himself, had jumped over that particular thicket.

Ignoring his colleague, Ford narrowed his eyes to peer into the distance and turned his ears to listen for any sounds coming from that direction. There was nothing. No one was following them. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Had any of them followed Callum and Tasha? If not, and none were following them, that meant they were all after Griff, and that made him sick to the stomach.

Max trotted up, having freed himself, and they continued their journey. Still they met no one, werewolf or human.

When they arrived some time later, they stopped outside the grotto to change back into human form. The time for wolves was over—for now.

Ford groaned as he eased into his other self, the agony of the fight followed by the strenuous running telling in his aching muscles.

“Shit. We’re either getting too old for this or we are unfit.”

He turned his head and grinned at Max’s deprecating words. Looking up, he viewed the grotto through human eyes. It was an old cave in the hillside, roughly in the center of the woods where the ground rose, chosen because it was easily defended and also because anyone approaching could be clearly seen if a lookout was in place. He also knew that inside the natural formation rocks glittered with the glow of the minerals embedded in the sides of the cave, which was approximately fifteen feet round, but tapered as it went back.

Climbing the boulders that made a natural stairway to the cave, Ford smiled at the scene that he saw as he entered. Callum was tenderly cleaning Tasha’s wounds, and she in turn was caring for his from the little pool fed by a trail of water dripping down the side into a depression that was an ideal basin.

Tasha started at the movement and jumped to her feet with a cry of fright. Ford stepped into the light of the moon illuminating the entrance, holding out his hands in a gesture of openness, enabling her to see exactly who he was.

“It’s all right. Griff has led them away. You are safe now.” He kept his voice quiet and low.

But he could tell she was still very frightened, and he moved slowly to reassure her, gently enfolding her in his arms, pulling her to sit on his lap as he sat on a rock and leaned back against the wall of the grotto. He kissed the top of her head, relishing the feel of her soft curls against his skin, the scent of her shampoo, hoping she would relax. It wasn’t often he got a chance to hold a girl, and he was so relieved to be holding this particular one.

Looking over the top of her head, he asked, “Cal, tell me, how badly hurt is she?”

Callum crouched down by their side. “She’s okay. There’s a couple of places where he broke the skin. Here on her left side.”

He indicated the position, and Ford tilted his head. He couldn’t see much from this angle, but noted it was on her butt. It was better than being on her back as that could have serious repercussions for internal injuries.

“The rest is amazingly superficial, but will sting for a few days.” Callum ran a gentle hand over the stripes on her body, and Ford felt Tasha shiver.

Max moved to her other side, and all three men reassured her with caresses over her back, her hip, arms, thighs, as if by stroking her they could assuage the pain.

After she stopped shaking, Ford started to feel a very different response from her. She was still trembling, but his nose told him it was from arousal. His hands stroked her, now fondling parts of her body for reasons other than for calm as he brushed his hands over her breast. He hefted the lovely weight in his palm, rubbing his thumb over the hardened peak as she arched into him.

He knew he had a hard task ahead, and he swallowed, knowing it could go either way.

“Tasha. Look at me, sweetheart. I know you don’t know us well and we’ve frightened you on several occasions. And tonight has been fucking awful, but you have two choices.”

Her eyelashes were still wet from her earlier tears, but she looked at him with curiosity. He was amazed she hadn’t asked to be taken home yet.

“And those choices are?” Her voice was husky, but he still detected interest. Or was that just wishful thinking? He so hoped it was the former. He could tell her that he suspected she was their natural mate, except he’d have to explain that meant she had wolf genes in her blood, and she wasn’t ready for that yet. He was also confused as to why the Shroud had taken hold that first time if she had wolf genes. Maybe it was because she was more human than wolf.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he took a deep breath and elucidated. “You can go back to your human life or…or you can stay with us knowing what we are. We can show you how wonderful being our submissive can be.”

She frowned at him, worrying her bottom lip. He cursed. That wasn’t good. He tensed, wondering how to persuade her to remain with them.

Cupping her face, he looked at her. “What that bastard, Lance, did was wrong. We will never hurt you like that. Please believe me, baby.”

A shuddering breath went through a body. “I do.”

Tasha was still looking worried, so he queried, “Do you have any questions?”

“Um…” She hesitated.

Ford was tempted to shake it out of her. He wanted this so much, but he couldn’t answer her fears if she didn’t tell him what they were. “Ask me anything, my love.”

She jerked at that endearment, and her eyes went round. He’d have to remember that. She clearly liked, needed, to hear those words.

It was enough, and she finally came out with it. “Is it normal for people like you…do you call yourselves werewolves…to be into stuff like BDSM?”

They all laughed and Max answered, “Yes, we call ourselves werewolves and, no, it isn’t common. No more so than with humans.”