Craved by an Alpha (17 page)

Stellan was on his feet by the time Cavanaugh recovered, skidding around as he tried to stand, and had the blade in his hand before Cavanaugh could reach him. The black-haired male turned on him with a vicious smile and Cavanaugh backed off, scanning the fight for something he could use as a weapon.

He needed something, or he needed a way of distracting Stellan long enough that he could reach him and get the weapon off him.

August roared.

Cavanaugh’s gaze swung towards where he had last seen him, spotting him just as he shifted, becoming a huge snow leopard. August growled and sprang, leaping high in the air and sailing towards Stellan.

Stellan turned towards him.

Cavanaugh cursed August for making such a reckless move and raced towards Stellan, his heart thundering as he tried to close the distance between them before Stellan could cut his cousin down.

Stellan swung the blade, cutting through the air with it, directly where August’s chest would be any second now. Cavanaugh roared as he hurled himself at Stellan. Not quick enough. He slammed into Stellan, knocking him down, but not before the tip of the blade sliced across August’s right shoulder.

Cavanaugh landed hard on top of Stellan. The blade skidded away from both of them, towards the pole where Eloise had been tied up. August crashed to the ground, whimpering as he transformed back, the pain of his injury forcing him to shift.

The male August had been with was beside him in an instant, covering him as he fought both the blond and another male from Stellan’s side.

Cavanaugh needed to help him.

He grabbed Stellan’s head and slammed it hard against the frozen ground, hoping it was enough to keep him down for a few seconds while he checked on his cousin.

He shoved off Stellan and raced through the fray to August, ducking beneath blows as Stellan’s men tried to stop him. When he reached August, he kneeled and checked him over. The cut across his shoulder was deep, but not life threatening. He breathed a sigh of relief when August opened his silver eyes, staring up at him.

“Idiot,” Cavanaugh muttered and helped him onto his feet. He turned to his comrade, who was still fending off the two men, his broad back to Cavanaugh. “Get him to safety.”

“No. I can still fight.”

Cavanaugh hadn’t wanted to hear those words leaving August’s lips. He turned a frown on his cousin and the red-haired male didn’t back down. He had grown stronger in the time they had been apart, and Cavanaugh was glad to see it. August had grown into a powerful male, and the pride would need him now more than ever.

“Fine. But if you get yourself killed, it’s your own damned fault.” Cavanaugh slapped a hand down on August’s good shoulder and then turned and formed an allied front with him, facing off against three of the males from Stellan’s group. The other two lay out cold on the snow.

Three on three sounded good to him, but he had a date with another male.

“Can you handle this?” he said to August and saw him nod out of the corner of his eye. “Be careful.”

Cavanaugh didn’t wait for him to respond before throwing himself at the blond male directly in front of him. He ducked beneath the male’s first blow, leaped back to avoid the second, and sprang forwards to deliver one of his own, landing it hard on the male’s jaw and snapping his head to his right. The male lost his footing and almost fell. Cavanaugh dodged past him, leaving his cousin to deal with him, and went after Stellan.

He spotted the black-haired bastard gunning for the sword again.

Cavanaugh growled and brought his right fist down hard on the shackle that remained around his left wrist, striking it. It wouldn’t budge. He needed to get it off. He looked at the stone platform off to his right and grinned as he changed direction, heading towards it.

The second he was within reach, he gritted his teeth against the pain that was coming and swung his wrist down onto the dark grey stone. The shackle shattered and he flinched away, closing his eyes as pieces of metal sprayed everywhere.

Cavanaugh roared.

Stellan stopped looking for the sword and swung to face him.

The people between them got Cavanaugh’s message loud and clear too and moved out of the line of fire. Space formed between him and Stellan.

Stellan’s green eyes flashed and he reached over his head, grasping the back of his black jumper.

He wouldn’t be quick enough.

Cavanaugh roared again as the transformation came over him, his limbs quick to shift beneath his skin as he kicked off, launching himself towards Stellan as the male tossed his jumper and fumbled with his shirt.

Silver fur swept over Cavanaugh’s body. His tail sprouted from the base of his spine as he came free of his trousers and his face morphed, his ears shifting upwards and rounding, and his eyes growing larger. The world brightened. The smells grew clearer. The air tasted crisper.

He opened his jaws as he completed his transformation and unleashed a longer roar as his paws pounded against the snow, their width and his claws giving him purchase on the slippery surface. He sprang at Stellan just as the male managed to get his top off. His green eyes shot wide and Cavanaugh snarled as his front paws struck the male’s chest, the force of his blow knocking him backwards. Stellan skidded on the ground and fell.

Cavanaugh’s back paws struck Stellan’s legs and he landed on top of him on the snow. Before Stellan could even grunt from the impact, Cavanaugh struck. He angled his head, clamped his jaws down on the male’s throat, and growled as blood flooded his mouth.

Stellan bellowed in agony and lifted his hand, silver glinting in it and catching Cavanaugh’s attention.

The sword.

It zoomed towards him, aimed directly for his neck.

Cavanaugh hadn’t wanted to resort to such vile methods of dispatching his foe, but Stellan gave him no choice.

He clamped down harder with his jaws and pulled his head back, ripping Stellan’s throat out.

The blade slowed as Stellan gurgled, blood pumping from the vicious wound and spilling across the white snow, spreading outwards from beneath him.

Cavanaugh snarled as Stellan’s arm dropped and the silver sword grazed him, slicing down his left shoulder. He spat out the contents of his mouth onto Stellan’s still chest and backed off, huffing as he breathed hard. The smell of his own blood joined that of his enemy.

The world around him stilled, falling silent as all eyes swung his way.

He closed his eyes and focused, shifting back into his human form. Blood spilled from the wound on his shoulder as his bones snapped back into place and his fur swept down his body, revealing pink skin. He grunted and pressed a hand over the long gash, stemming the flow of blood down his chest, and kneeled in the snow, breathing hard.

Someone placed a blanket around his shoulders.

Others drew closer, staring at Stellan where he lay with his green gaze fixed sightlessly on the sky, surrounded by a stark red pool of blood.

Cavanaugh looked away from him, seeking the only person he needed to see right now, the one who had given him the strength to fight.

His eyes drifted over all the people and then beyond them, down the alleys between the buildings. He spotted what he needed to see there, two females carrying her up the set of wooden steps of her small two-storey home near the back of the village.

“Cavanaugh?” August crouched beside him and he spared his cousin a glance before rising onto his feet, wrapping the blanket around him and holding it with one hand, still clutching his shoulder with the other.

He drifted through the village, unaware of everyone as they tried to speak with him and his cousin as he tried to get his attention. The chatter of his kin fell away as his focus narrowed to one person.

When he reached her small home, the two females were leaving. They bowed their heads but he paid them no heed. He mounted the wooden steps and entered her home, following his senses through the cramped open living area to the stairs to the upper floor against the back wall. He slowly ascended them and looked across to his right as the next floor and the only other room in the house came into view. She lay swathed in colourful quilts on her small bed that stood directly in front of the bend at the top of the stairs, against the left wall of the room.

He reached the top of the stairs and glanced at the window to the right of the bed, looking out of it at the other buildings and the view back to the square. His kin and his village, all of it meant nothing to him right now. They could take care of themselves, because he needed to be here, taking care of Eloise.

He would take care of the female he loved.

He kneeled beside the head of the bed near the window, his back to the fireplace as he faced her, and released his blanket, letting it fall away from his body as he devoted all of his focus to her. He stroked her tangled wet hair from her cold brow.

His beautiful female.

She was the only one in the world for him, and she would become his mate.

He swallowed in an attempt to settle his nerves as they rose again, a reminder that so much had happened in the ten years they had been forced apart from each other, and much of what had happened had been his fault.

All he could do now was nurse her back to health and then speak from his heart, confessing everything, and hope that she would listen.

All he could do was hope that when all was said and done, she would put him out of his misery.

She would consent to being his mate.

He had defeated Stellan and set his pride free, but deep in his heart he knew his biggest fight was yet to come.

If he could win this one, he could win the forever he wanted with her.

Eloise woke to the distant sound of merriment. It drifted through the walls of her home. A celebration. Her heart didn’t lift at that thought. It dropped into her stomach and she had to fight to pull it back up from the pit of despair.

She slowly opened her eyes and frowned at her room. A fire burned in the grate off to her left, spreading warmth over her, and she stared at it as she gathered her strength. She touched the bandages around her wrists beneath the thick layers of covers. Someone had taken care of her. Her memory was patchy. She recalled being stripped and bound. She remembered seeing Cavanaugh in a cage and him calling her name. She knew he had fought.

She wasn’t sure what the outcome of that fight had been.

Her memories grew blurry, a mishmash of being cut free, seeing her home, and then the faintest sense that someone had placed her into a hot bath and had taken care of her.

The last part must have been one of the females who had cut her free from the post and had pulled her away from the battle.

Eloise pushed the covers back, her muscles aching with the strain. She cursed how weak she felt and fought it, unwilling to let it get the better of her. She was stronger than this. She had to see what had happened.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pressed her hands into the mattress, and slowly pushed onto her feet. Her knees threatened to buckle but held firm when she locked them. She used the furniture in her room to move around it to the wardrobe and opened the wooden cupboard. She took out her tan thick thermal trousers and a white thermal top, and slowly put them on, gaining balance and strength with each second she managed to remain on her feet. She followed them with a pair of wool socks and her boots, and then put on her white woollen jumper.

The stairs down to the ground level proved more of a problem than moving around her small bedroom and she almost fell at one point, saving herself by clutching the wooden bannister. She huffed, gave herself a moment to recover, and then continued, pushing past her fatigue. She needed to reach the centre of the village.

She had to see what was happening.

She carefully walked across the ground floor, slowly manoeuvring around her couch and armchair, and opened the wooden door. The cold hit her hard despite all her layers and she shivered, wishing she still had the gloves and hat that Cavanaugh had given her.

Her heart fell again at just the sound of his name.

Her eyes sought the source of the noise in the village.

A huge bonfire blazed in the centre of the square ahead of her, partially hidden by the other buildings between her and it.

She closed her eyes and clung to the wooden doorframe for support as her knees weakened again. It was a celebration.

Cavanaugh had won.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes.

He was their alpha again.

Eloise pulled down a deep breath, hoping it would steady her. Her heart told her to go back inside, lock the door, and return to her bed. She didn’t need to see this. She didn’t need to hear the joy of the village.

She shook her head and growled through her clenched teeth. She was stronger than this. She had to see him, even though she knew that it would only hurt her. She needed to see that he was alright, and then she would come back and do as her heart wanted, sealing herself away from the world for a while.

Eloise trudged down the wooden steps to the snow and slowly wandered towards the celebration. All of the pride were there, talking and laughing as they surrounded the fire. It burned brightly, chasing back the dark of night. She looked up at the thick clouds that obscured the stars.

More snow was coming.

She could smell it in the crisp air.

She tried to busy her mind with everything she would need to do to prepare for the storm, but it kept slipping back to thoughts of Cavanaugh as she drew closer to the rowdy celebration. She approached from the main avenue between the houses, directly opposite the large stone platform on the other side of the square.

Cavanaugh stood there, dressed in dark winter clothing that hugged his tall, broad figure, his silver-white hair stark against the blackness beyond him, and the firelight twinkling in his eyes as he laughed with someone.

His cousin stood beside him, looking like a fire god with his vivid red hair and his pure silver eyes. The male raised a steaming mug and Cavanaugh did the same, knocking them together. The local brew. It had always been too strong for her.