In the glade, a short
line formed at the cauldron and shifters began dishing themselves the usual
mush of vegetables, grains, and meat. As more pack members arrived, they headed
for the line and milled around in small groups chatting amongst themselves.
Wolfrik didn’t care
much for conversation, but he did like listening in and making
comments—especially the kind that got under other shifters’ skin. There weren’t
a whole lot of other ways to entertain himself.
But tonight he wasn’t
listening in so much as looking for a certain she-wolf who owed him a shirt.
If she knew what was
good for her, she’d stick to the safety of the den and never go wandering off
alone in the middle of the night again.
What had she really
been doing? Wolfrik didn’t buy her story about stretching her legs and taking
in the fresh air. She looked like she was running away.
What in the world did
she have to run from?
It wasn’t his problem,
but he couldn’t help feeling intrigued. Perhaps the hollow wasn’t one big happy
family that had moved on without him. Why not dig a little deeper? Misery loved
company, after all— a saying he’d picked up at the compound. Perhaps it
explained why hundreds of humans swarmed to the crumbling city as though it
were the mother hive.
Wolfrik chose a spot on
a mound of earth beneath some trees, watching each shifter as they arrived. He
tapped his foot the longer he waited. Soon a full line had formed at the
cauldron and the clearing filled with the clamor of a couple dozen voices
speaking at once.
So, Kallie had stayed
away.
Heavy disappointment
sank like a rock down Wolfrik’s throat then settled inside his gut.
It’s not as though
females had ever flocked to him even before he’d become a savage beast. His
impending claim on Sasha had been as clear as the waters that ran throughout
the hollow, not to mention he’d always held himself above the rest of the pack.
In short, he’d been a pompous prick. Now he didn’t know how to be anything
else.
“Careful, Cujo,” Hawk
had once told him. “Pride will be your downfall.”
“And I will be yours,”
Wolfrik had promised, teeth gleaming.
A man with a whip had
come by his cell that night and given him ten lashings, but it had been worth
it to see the twitch in Hawk’s eye.
Standing shirtless,
those lashings were displayed for the whole pack to see. It didn’t matter that
no one was looking at him. They were thinking about it and avoiding him even
more than they had before. Wolfrik folded his arms across his chest. Did Kallie
think she could hide from him forever? Hold onto his shirt like some kind of
keepsake?
He ground his teeth
together and descended the mound with half a mind to storm into the den and
demand his shirt back—rip it from Kallie’s body if she was foolish enough to
still be wearing it.
Beast. Savage. Wild
wolf.
He couldn’t change what
he was any more than a rabbit could grow claws.
A flash of yellow
caught his eyes from across the clearing, like the sun had sprouted legs and
taken a walk through the woods, coming closer as though drawn in by the heady
scent of wild game and fresh harvest.
She had full breasts
and hips that clung to the smooth fabric. Thick waves of brown hair tumbled
past her shoulders, following the dips and curves of her body. Wolfrik
remembered everything he’d seen beneath the dress in vivid detail. Her shapely
legs moved with slow grace. He barely noticed her limp.
Strands of copper and
gold caught in the firelight as she passed the bonfire. In her hands, she held
Wolfrik’s shirt folded into a tidy square, and her eyes were in constant
motion—as though searching for something…him?
Wolfrik’s groin
tightened. She was only returning his shirt. Why then did he feel like she was
about to offer him a gift?
He stood his ground.
Let her look a bit longer. Try to find him hidden among the trees. He liked
watching her search him out.
Clutching his shirt,
her lower lip gave a slight tremble.
Wolfrik’s heart rate
kicked up the way it did before he pounced on a rabbit. He began to smirk, sure
her gaze would land on him at any second when from out of nowhere, Tabor
stepped in front of Kallie, blocking Wolfrik’s view. He growled, but there was
no one close enough to hear.
