Alpha Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #2 (Werewolf Shifter Paranormal Romance) (15 page)

“No!” she shrieked. “Bastards!”

She lunged toward Rafe, needing to make certain he still
actually breathed. But the larger wolf, who had an iron gray coat peppered with
white flecks and eerily bright amber eyes, stepped over Rafe's supine form and
into her way. Jaw relaxed into a cruel smirk, he bared his sharp teeth at her
in a clear threat.

Sara skidded to a halt, fur standing on end, looking as huge
and threatening as she possibly could to the three wolves who looked back at
her with distinctly unfriendly gleams in their eyes. She barely felt the sandy
soil beneath her paws or smelled the clean, sharp scents of the desert in
springtime. Her every sense was riveted on the wolves before her—and Rafe's still
body.

“Aren't you a pretty wolf.” The one with the flecked coat
flared his nostrils at her. Sara stood her ground, baring her teeth back at
him. Inwardly, she shrank back. He was enormous, and foul. “And you smell
good.”

Think!
she urged herself. Her human leaped around in
her mind, staying close but jittering in fear and shock at the sight of her
mate lying there, unmoving.

Her mate.
She had to save her mate, at all costs.
Desperation and clarity kept her back ruffed up, her teeth bared and snapping,
and her mind racing.

Sara could never take on three male wolves with vicious
intentions. She wasn't exactly sure what their intentions were, but clearly
they harbored no respect for her in their regard. All she was certain of was
that they were rogues, and they might have killed Rafe.

Think,
she desperately urged. All her solid Guardian
training had scattered into the sheer panic she felt at seeing Rafe injured,
and being alone with three very aggressive rogue wolves. The fact she and Rafe
hadn't scented them—although she had caught the slightest whiff of something
earlier—meant this was a deliberate stalking.

They're rogues. It means they only truly need one thing,
she finally thought with a stab of perception. Rogues, outcasts who were on
their own and desperate, needed a mate. She was a prime candidate. They wanted
her.

Rafe wasn't their prize.

She was.

Everything fell into place with a sickening thud. The one
thing Sara had going for her was speed. Her swift feet were legendary in the
Pack. No one could catch her, if she surprised them. It had to work.

With a last yearning glance at Rafe, Sara turned tail and
bolted. She sprang from one side of a boulder to the other, zigging and zagging
for all she was worth. Furious howls behind her and the spray of sand being
launched beneath three sets of paws told her they were immediately behind her.
She leaped forward as if shot from a cannon, racing for the car.

Her cell phone was in there. Shifters had no telepathic
abilities, but modern technology sure was a damn nice thing at a time like
this.

Lungs burning as she ran flat out, Sara led the enraged
wolves in a crooked line. If she ran straight, they would catch her. She had to
keep them off center and guessing as she twisted one way and then abruptly
turned the other. Hoping they didn't realize where she was taking them, she
lured them closer and closer.

When Sara was about a hundred yards from where they'd
parked, she had maybe fifty feet on her closest pursuer. Not daring to look
back in case she stumbled or lost her momentum, she put on a last enormous
burst of speed. She had to get there before they did.

Racing around a small, spiky bush, Sara shifted her form in
mid stride. Exceedingly thankful real shifter genes operated much more easily
than humans believed, she landed on two feet still in a dead run. Countless
shifts over her lifetime had honed a sense of the exact balance she needed to
keep forward motion going as a human on two legs straight from the wolf on
four.

She didn't miss a step as she pitched herself at the car and
dove for the top of the back driver's side wheel. Grabbing the keys from their
resting place atop the tire, she beeped the door open and threw herself inside.
Slamming it shut behind her, she frantically grabbed for her phone somewhere in
the back seat.

Something crashed into the car and it rocked violently. Sara
shrieked as she looked up. Furious yellow eyes framed in a snarling face glared
back at her. The big wolf had landed on the hood of the car. He stood there,
hackles up, the picture of chilling menace.

Sara felt suitably menaced. She tore through the clothes
piled haphazardly in the back seat, chanting to herself, “Come on, come on,
dammit,” as she checked pockets and shook out Rafe's shirt.

Oh, God, what if they'd killed him?

Scrabbling on the floor behind the seat, she twisted herself
awkwardly from the front seat and groped around with a blind hand. Relief
surged through as her hand touched a solid, rectangular little shape.

“Nice view,” came a loud, leering voice from outside the
window.

Sara's heart almost stuttered from its chest. Her fingers
closing on the phone, she threw herself back into the front seat and whirled to
look out. The other two wolves had shifted to human and stood just outside her
door. One reached for the handle, grinning in lewd appreciation as he took in
her nakedness.

In front of these unhinged rogue wolves, she felt
sickeningly self-conscious. Her wolf half-snarled, half-whimpered. She pushed
at Sara's mind to shift.

Not yet.
Hastily, fingers slipping, she slammed down
the power locks on the doors.

The one outside the door shook his finger at her in mock
chastisement. His eyes roamed over her form through the barely tinted window.
Sara shrank back and punched at the contacts list in her phone.

It rang at the den.
Pick up pick up pick up,
she
silently begged.

The oddly speckled wolf on the hood growled loudly when he
saw her raise the phone to her ear. She stared out at him. Despite her almost
paralyzing fear for Rafe, the utter shock of the situation had settled into a
more precise focus. Her Guardian training finally kicked in. She noted the
rogue's markings, his size, and the timbre of his voice. Forcing herself to
make the same cool assessment of the two standing beside her door, rapping
their knuckles on the window and sharing laughing, nasty exchanges between
themselves as they tried to scare her more, she took in every little detail
about them.

“Hello, Bardou home,” Caleb's voice said on the other end of
the line, answering with the cover response they used for the publicly
accessible number.

Relief almost gave her a head rush. “Caleb! I'm at the car,
I'm surrounded by three rogues. Rafe was knocked out, I think”—she took in a
shaky breath, then forced herself to stay in the levelheaded Guardian mode—“I
think that's all, but he might be really hurt—”

“Hold on.” She heard him shout for the Alpha. “Okay, tell me
exactly where you are.” Fury tinged his words. In the background, she could
hear running steps at the den.

Keeping her eyes locked with the almost jaundiced yellow
ones staring at her about three inches away from the windshield, Sara rattled
off her location and Rafe's. Her voice became calmer as she spoke. She knew the
rogues could hear her every word, as well as Caleb's, but it didn't matter.
They would know the entire Black Mesa Pack would be coming for them, and things
were about to get really ugly.

“Okay, okay, got it,” Caleb said. His voice had dropped an
octave. His wolf must be so directly beneath the surface his eyes were probably
glowing. “We're on our way. And I'm going to kill that rogue bastard when I see
him next.” Caleb's voice was a flat promise. Sara knew instinctively he meant
Luke Rawlins.

“I don't recognize any of them. I don't think these are
his—” she began.

“I don't care,” he shot back. “He brought them here, and my
brother is hurt.” Sara couldn't argue with that. “Stay put, you can't fight off
three of them—”

“I know,” she cut in, eyeing the big one still glaring
daggers at her from the hood. “Please hurry, I'm really worried about Rafe.”
She heard her voice quaver again, but she didn't care. She'd left her heart
with the strong, amazing wolf left lying on the desert floor miles away.

“Okay, hang tight—”

“Wait. Something's happening,” she said. She gripped the
phone so tightly she thought it might crack.

The wolf on the hood had swung his head toward the other
two. They frowned back at him but instantly shifted. With a sneer back at her
revealing the razor-sharp canines in his mouth, he leaped off the hood.

“Catch us if you can, little she-wolf,” he called out in an
ugly singsong. “I think we have something you want.”

All three of them loped off. Back to where Rafe lay,
unconscious and helpless.

“No!” She screamed so loudly she thought she burst a blood
vessel in her eye. Dropping the phone, ignoring the tinny voice shouting
through it, she punched open the door and fell out. In a heartbeat, she shifted
and took off after the rogue wolves racing at full speed back to her mate.

Sara thought she had run fast before. Now, breath pumping
out of her lungs in smooth, powerful bursts, she realized she had never truly
let herself go all out. Her legs jetted over the sandy ground, barely touching
the earth and leaping off again so quickly she felt like a cannonball shooting
through the landscape. This time, she raced in a straight line, curving it only
slightly to bring her to the outside of the path of the wolves ahead of her.

When she flew past them several yards to their left, an
infuriated bark followed by frenzied howls greeted her. Spurred on by sheer
terror and rage, she left them in her dust, even if just barely.

In great leaping bounds, she reached Rafe's body moments
before they did. A quick nuzzle assured her he still breathed. The fact he hadn't
yet regained consciousness only served to alarm her more.

A mindless wave of bloodlust dropped over her. In a
snapping, biting whirl, she met her attackers head on.

They dove, went for her legs, grabbed at her tail with their
lunging mouths. Taunting her, calling her vile names, they circled and pounced.
Sara stood over her mate, striking and twisting and snapping at every feint and
blow from them. She parried back with everything she had, funneling all her
fear and blind rage into the fight.

One of the smaller wolves raked his claws over Rafe's back
leg, drawing blood dangerously close to the artery. Sara let loose a banshee
howl. Sheer reflex sent her vaulting straight up into the air. She dropped down
directly onto the other wolf's back and closed her jaws over the back of his
shoulders and neck. He screeched and flung himself from side to side, trying to
shake her off. Her jaws slipped and she tumbled off backward, but not before
she saw dark blood dripping from his ruff.

“Take that.” She laughed with a wild, cracking edge. The
other wolves paused for a split second, the injured one a step or two behind
the others. Good. She'd thrown them off balance by her half-crazed strength and
attitude.

She took the brief window of opportunity to plunge toward the
large wolf, snapping her teeth at him. He reared back before crashing forward
again, jaws open and snarling. She leapt away, nimble on her feet and driven by
pure, frenetic energy.

Leap, snap, thrust, parry, spring back. Over and over, Sara
danced and whirled and slashed and bit at them. They landed a few stinging
swipes on her she knew drew blood, but she was so fast they couldn't pin her
down. She sensed, too, they didn't really want to hurt her. They wanted to keep
her alive and take her.

Rafe, however, they would kill if given half a chance.

Despite the burn in her lungs and the strain just starting
to be felt in her legs, she refused to back down. These nasty, ugly rogues
would not take her mate away from her. Not when she'd just realized she'd already
claimed him and had just been too scared to admit it.

“Never,”
she snarled at the big wolf just before
charging him again. Over and over, she slammed into him and flipped away, her
paws seeming lighter than air. The advantage of her remarkable flexibility and
speed served her well now. These wolves had never met another wolf so swift.
Nor one so desperately motivated to keep the advantage.

Despite the adrenaline pumping through her, she eventually
flagged. Three large male wolves against one small female one was no true match
for long.

I'll die before I let them kill him,
her human
snarled with distinctly inhuman wrath. She struggled on, pushing past the
growing exhaustion and occasional fumbles.

Then, in the distance, a chorus of outraged howls spiraled
up. Sara's hope surged. The Black Mesa Pack members had arrived.

The rogue wolves paused, ears pricked. The smaller ones
looked to the dark, white-flecked one. He shook his massive head and fell into
a crouch, bright sulphur-yellow eyes locked on Sara's. The others mimicked him.
They all sprang toward her at once.

Goaded on by renewed energy and the certainty of having the
pack behind her, she threw herself into lunging, leaping, growling, and landing
as many vicious bites and devastating kicks with her hind legs as she could.
She spun and circled, staying as close to Rafe as she could.

The longest moments of her life passed in a blur of
rage-filled shrieks and growls. When she missed a step and landed awkwardly
after a stumbling twist away from snapping jaws, the large one leaped again and
finally managed to pin her down, heaving his foul breath into her face. She
snarled up at him.

The oncoming Black Mesa wolves howled again, close enough Sara
knew they would be there within seconds. The large wolf flicked his ears back,
glared down at her, and rumbled out a nasty promise.

“This isn't finished yet. Give Licas our regards.”