Betrayal: Reckless Desires (Dark Wolves Book 2) (9 page)

“S-she was a friend of mine. I’m a couple of years younger, but she took me under her wing when things got bad. She protected m-me. Can I see her? Is she okay? James told me she survived, but I never heard from her.”

Wesken grunted and stood. He needed to move. What she said sounded like the woman he had thought Amalija to be, but then, that was before he’d known she’d been lying to him the whole time. He thought back as he paced the length of the pack house. No, she hadn’t lied. She’d never come out and said she was Komoro, but keeping the information to herself was as bad. It’s not like he would have attacked or run her out of the village. But had she known that? “And James is her brother?”

The woman nodded. “Yes. I hope he’ll be okay.”

Orrin growled next to her, and she looked down as she wrung her hands over and over, her whole body tense. But then she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and looked at Orrin again. “I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for him.”

The man looked at her and released his fists before nodding. “We can check on him once we’re done here if you want.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” she said before turning her attention back to Wesken. Oh, she didn’t look at him, but she turned her head in his general direction. “James took Amalija from the camp six or seven years ago. They’d hurt her so badly—abused her. He wasn’t sure she’d survive if they got a hold of her again. So he took her, and he ran. He left her on Komoro land so that someone would find her. And that’s what he was doing for me when Orrin came along. We were looking for a package that she’d left in the tree for—”

Wesken’s heart hammered against his ribs. He slammed his fists on the tabletop, sending the cup of water Orrin had gotten for Roxie flying. The little Omega scurried from her chair to hide behind the other man, but Wesken didn’t care. The bundle Amalija had been out with that day in the forest—the clothes, the hairbrush, the soap… They hadn’t been for a swim in the lake. She’d left them for Roxie. Fucking dried meat to fill the Omega’s belly. It made sense, but why not ask for help?
Because you’re an asshole and made it clear you hated all fucking Mahehkans. That’s why.

Just then, the door to the pack house clattered against the wall, and Delana ran in. “They have her,” she yelled.

Wesken didn’t move a muscle, fear already making his wolf surge forward. “Who are they, and who do they have?”

Delana rushed over, gripping his shirt in both her fists. “Amalija. The Mahehkans have Amalija. Damn it, Wesken. You have to go after her. They’ll kill her.”

He hadn’t noticed the crumpled paper in her fist until she waved it in front of his face.

“You have to help her,” Delana pleaded.

He tore the paper from her tight grip. “What is this?”

“I was supposed to go to her house so we could talk, but when Orrin found Malec, I… I didn’t go right away. When I finally made it over there, she was gone, and I found this on her kitchen floor.”

Wesken smoothed the paper against the table. His vision narrowed to those few words, and his pulse pounded in his ears.

He wants you. I have the boy. Let’s trade.

You have an hour before I start playing with him.

Find me if you can.

Vincent

He crumpled the note again. She’d figured out where the bastard was hiding and had given herself up in exchange for Malec’s safety. While he’d been in the garden, relieved to see his nephew unharmed, Amalija had been taken deeper and deeper into the woods—away from him.

Fury burning hotter than it ever had flooded him. Pain shot through his entire body as he fought the shift, but it was no use. Clothing tore and muscles snapped. His bones reshaped as he took his lupine form.

“Hurry!”

Vincent yanked on Amalija arm again, tugging her forward when her legs wouldn’t cooperate anymore. “We’ll rest soon. Well, you won’t get to, but maybe you won’t put up as much of a fight this time,” he said as he rubbed his palm over the bulge in his crotch.

Rather than scaring her, the move only made her angry. What the hell was she doing? She hadn’t survived all that cruelty and made new a life for herself with the Komoro pack to give up now. She deserved to be happy. Even if she couldn’t be entirely happy since she couldn’t’ have the man she loved, then at least safe from abuse at the hands of her supposed pack. Best case scenario, Argram would understand and let her stay in the village. Worst, she would have to find another home elsewhere. Either option was better than returning to Mahehkan land.

They weren’t far. A couple more miles and she’d be beyond the Komoro territory. She couldn’t let that happen. Oh, she had no doubt that if someone was out looking for her, they would ignore that boundary and march right in. But no one was. And escaping would be all that much tougher. No, she had to get away before they got to the other side of the ridge.

When he looked back at her and pulled on her arm, she tumbled to the ground. The pain in her shoulder had her seeing stars, but his grip on her slipped, and his hand finally fell away.

Vincent growled and reached for her again, but she’d already twisted. She kicked fast and hard, her foot landing right in his groin. He fell to the ground with a howl, but even then, he shot his arm out, trying to get a hold of her.

Scrambling back, she got out of reach, then to her feet. Part of her wanted to get closer and kick the asshole again, but as satisfying as that would be, she couldn’t. Her energy was all but gone. It wouldn’t take him long to recover, and she needed to get as much distance between them as she could.

With her dislocated shoulder, shifting wouldn’t help her. Running with only one good front paw would be impossible. Without looking back, she held her arm close to her belly and ran. If he caught up, she’d pay for trying to get away, but it was better than lying down and letting him do all the things he wanted to do to her.

It wasn’t long before she heard the snap of twigs and a threatening growl behind her.

Movement to her right caught her eye, but when she glanced over, she saw nothing. With a little cry, she veered left. She wasn’t giving up. He’d have to fucking kill her before she did that.

With her heart pounding hard and her breaths coming in harsh, haggard pants, she couldn’t hear much of anything other than the growls that seemed to surround her. Her legs shook as she tried to push herself faster, harder—but as hard as she tried, she was slowing down. A small sob tore from her throat. She wasn’t going to make it.

She hurdled over a fallen tree, landing on the other side. She tried to move, to run, but her sleeve caught on a branch, making her lurch to the side as Vincent leaped over the same fallen tree. A moment later, he was there, growling and snarling. Saliva dripped from his mouth. Maybe he’d rip her to shreds right there. It would be a blessing compared to what she’d suffer at the camp.

He took a step closer, and then another. Then from the right, a flash of fangs and fur plowed into him, sending both of them tumbling into the thick brush and out of sight.

Amalija’s heart thundered against her ribs. She’d recognize that powerful build anywhere.
Wesken
. He’d found her—come after her.

She tried to make herself move—to go to him—but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She slumped to the ground, her whole body shaking so hard her teeth rattled.

***

Hues of red bathed everything within his sight as his beast hunted the enemy. It didn’t matter if those who had taken Amalija had harmed her this time. They had in the past. That, in and of itself, had signed their death warrants. The harm they caused her now would determine the pain with which they died. It had taken a while for him to find the right track. The bastards had run all over the garden and in the woods, too, but they’d underestimated his tracking ability. He wasn’t a regular wolf shifter. He was Erritrol. Finding the freshest scent had taken a few extra minutes, but he’d found it, and it was just a matter of time before he’d caught up.

Wesken had heard her first, crying out, then spotted them. He was too far, and too much forest stood between them, but that jerk on her arm had solidified one thing—the man would die slowly. But then, to his amazement, Amalija had rallied. Her pace had slowed, whether that was intentional or due to fatigue didn’t matter. When the asshole pulled on her arm again, she’d gone down. An instant later, she’d kicked.

Deep inside, he’d wanted to cheer. She’d landed her blow right where it had needed to be, and the man had dropped. He loped closer, getting around the thick trees separating them as she bolted.
That’s right, run. Get away from the bastard. I’ll take care of him.

The man didn’t stay down long. And now that Amalija had gotten away, the bastard shifted as he gave chase. He wouldn’t get far.

Cocky and sure of himself, the wolf hadn’t even bothered looking at his surroundings. Had the idiot done so, he might have tried to get away. But so intent on attacking Amalija, he had run. Huge as the wolf was, maybe the Mahehkan was used to getting his prey, but not this time. All Wesken needed was a few more seconds.

Amalija had leaped and disappeared behind a huge fallen pine. Wesken had rounded the tree as the wolf advanced on her. The smell of her fear infuriated the beast inside him. She should never be afraid.
He will not hurt our mate. Kill him
, his wolf barked into his mind.

Wesken jumped, grabbing hold of the enemy in his powerful jaws, sending them both flying into the brush. He clamped down hard, crunching bone. The wolf yelped and struggled to get free, but that wouldn’t help him. Nothing would. He released his jaws, and the creature scrambled to its feet. Blood dripped from its hind leg, which it held a little off the ground, but still, the wolf stared him down, snarling. Wesken didn’t have to wait long.

With a growl, and a lot more bravery than brains, the wolf lunged for his neck. Wesken deflected him, then bit as the creature collided with him. The enemy’s blood coated his tongue, and Wesken jerked his head, tearing a chunk of flesh from his body. He relished the thought of ripping him apart, piece by piece, but then Amalija’s little sob drifted through the haze of his fury. She was alone and scared. He needed to get back to her. Had to comfort and protect her. The next time the wolf came at him, Wesken went for the throat. The beast didn’t stand a chance.

Try as she might, Amalija couldn’t move. She couldn’t see the battle raging so close, but the snarls and growls, as well as the scuffle, left nothing to the imagination. The overwhelming smell of blood almost choked her.

She lifted a shaky hand, brushing the hair from her face, shocked to find her fingertips came back red. In her rush to get away, she hadn’t been concerned with avoiding branches or protecting her skin. With a little bit of prodding, she found the source, a little scratch on her temple. She sagged against the tree. It would heal in a few minutes. Nothing to worry about. She kept her gaze glued to the spot where Wesken had disappeared. Vincent wouldn’t stand a chance. Not against someone like Wesken, but the longer it took, the more her heart raced and the need to see that her mate was okay grew.

Ready to lend a hand if need be, she reached out, grasping the closest branch to her, and heaved. Pain tore through her injured shoulder. She tried to stifle her cry, but couldn’t quite keep it from slipping past her lips. She sat down hard, cradling her arm to her chest.

Moments later, the wicked fighting sounds ceased. Leaves rustled as the victor came closer. She had no doubt who would have won, but when Wesken’s big body emerged, Amalija, still sagged against the tree, burst into tears. She was safe. Wesken had come for her.

He cocked his head to the side and whined as he approached. As soon as he was close enough, he nudged her with his nose. When she didn’t move, he tried again, then butted her uninjured arm with his head. The move was gentle but clear. Get going.

“I c-can’t. I’m too tired—too sore to move,” she said through her tears. As much as she wanted to go home, she was too tired. Besides, she wouldn’t put her pack at risk again. “Go without me. I’ll return tomorrow,” she lied.

His eyes hardened before he shifted. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve done enough of that already,” he said, his voice cold and unforgiving.

So he knew. She wiped her tears from her cheeks and forced herself to stand, careful to use her good arm this time. She wouldn’t have this conversation with him while staring at his naked crotch.

“I wanted to tell you,” she started, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t go back. I won’t. You might as well go home.”

“Like hell, you’re not.” Wesken reached out and pushed her hair back, examining her forehead. He looked at her arm and growled when he saw that she was still guarding it. “Shift. You need to heal.”

Unable to face it yet, she turned away and tried taking her shirt off. With the pain in her shoulder, she couldn’t get it over her head. Wesken gave a frustrated growl, then with gentle hands, he turned her to face him again. Concern had replaced the coldness in his eyes. “We’ll talk later when you’re not in so much pain,” Without giving her a chance to object, he slipped her shirt up and off, careful not to jostle her shoulder.