Anders executed a roundhouse kick, probably hoping to capitalize on his last hit, but Mason was back in the game. He grabbed the man’s ankle and gave him a hard shove so that Anders landed on his ass, almost in the same spot as before.
“Who you want to ask?” Mason tried to smile but couldn’t hide the falseness. He was far too angry for good-natured ribbing. His wolf strained against his mental leash, scraping and clawing at his human skin. It wanted to turn this spar into a true fight.
In an instant, Anders was up, bouncing around Mason once more. What would it take to make this guy stay down? Didn’t he know he was fighting his alpha? He had no hope of winning, yet he kept returning for more. Part of Mason admired the sentry’s tenacity, but a bigger part of him wanted to rip out Anders’ throat and howl his dominance to the sky.
Shaking the thought away, Mason pushed his beast back. Unfortunately, it didn’t want to remain behind the scenes while Mason had all the fun. It wanted to play, too. It wanted to taste blood.
Anders’ blood.
Mason lashed out, but Anders bobbed away. The other wolf ducked and weaved, always staying just out of reach. Until he managed to get behind Mason and landed a solid punch to the back of Mason’s head.
That one strike had been too much for his wolf. A fine coating of dark fur pushed through Mason’s pores to dust his skin. He spun and threw his weight behind a hard uppercut, but only managed to graze the sentry’s ear. Fucker.
“Dammit!” Mason hissed.
With the clarity only his wolf had, Mason realized Anders was trying to wear him out. The kid knew he would never be able to match Mason’s brute strength, and the only way for him to stand a chance was to wear out his opponent. Smart wolf. Solid tactic. It still pissed Mason off something fierce.
His canines dropped through his gums, and it took half his remaining strength to keep his wolf under control. The beast wanted to leap forward, take Anders by the neck, and shake him until he lay limp and bleeding.
This was supposed to be a bit of fun, he reminded himself as much as his wolf.
Only the fight felt all too real. As if the wolf shifter challenged him for control of the pack. The moment the thought formed, it refused to be banished, making his blood boil over.
Mason tackled Anders, fury shoving him into action as he threw aside any pretense of play. They fell to the ground together in a tangle of muscled limps, and Mason reveled in the flash of fear in the sentry’s eyes. Mason’s wolf howled in triumph. It seemed Anders finally understood who was alpha, and who would remain alpha.
With the wind knocked out of him, Anders didn’t put up much of a fight any longer. He didn’t struggle as Mason straddled him and rained down a storm of punches on the other wolf. Blow after blow, he released his pent-up fury on the bleeding man. Yet it wasn’t enough to slake his thirst for blood. His wolf howled to be released, to be freed to cause more damage—an idea that intrigued and excited Mason’s human half.
Mason let the wolf come forward and just as he started his transformation, strong hands—many of them—hauled him off Anders and threw him to the ground. Before he clambered to his feet, the men in the clearing surrounded Anders—the sentry lying in a bloody heap. The sight of them standing there, protecting their pack mate, drew Mason back to his senses. A switch had flipped, bringing him out of the fetid darkness of bloodlust.
“Shit,” he rasped, scrubbing a hand across his scruffy jaw.
Kade and Gavin strode forward and forced Mason to turn in the opposite direction. They hauled him out of the clearing and away from the mess he’d created. No one spoke until they were out of earshot of the others. He glanced back for one last look at Anders, and regret wrapped around him with a strangle hold. At least the wolf was upright now, leaning against his pack mates.
“He’ll be fine,” Kade gave Mason a shove. His words were probably meant to be soothing, but his younger brother’s tone held a surge of anger. “I need you to focus on something else. We just got a call. There’s a fire on the north ridge of our territory and it doesn’t look like it’s going to slow down. Time for you to put on your park ranger uniform and get your ass down there.”
“We’ll go with you,” Gavin added quickly. “I’ll send Drew to tend to Anders. Maybe we can keep this quiet.”
“Fat chance,” Kade said with a humorless laugh.
Mason gripped a handful of his own hair and pulled hard—using that small sting to make him focus. “Don’t bother. Everyone knows what’s happening. No point in pretending otherwise.”
They walked in silence for a moment before Kade spoke, his voice gritty with emotion. His brother’s emotional pain teased his nose. “You’re losing control.”
Mason nodded. His stomach threatened to spill his breakfast on the forest floor, but he pushed it back. He shoved his regret back, too.
“It’s coming on fast.” Mason’s wolf added a growl to his words. “Without a mate…”
Kade picked up the thought. “Without a mate, you’ll turn feral. We’ll have to kill you so you don’t attack the pack. Then the National Ruling Circle will select a new alpha, beta and enforcer to take over Blackwood.”
“In other words,” Gavin grumbled, “we’re fucked.”
The agony of guilt at failing his brothers and pack drew a whimper from his wolf. It was the beast’s fault as much as his own. Of course, it wasn’t as if anyone could force a mating bond. He and his wolf had spent decades trying to find their fated mate, but they’d failed. And that failure would not only bring down him, but his family and pack as well.
Gavin was right. Unless Mason found his mate—and fast—they were all fucked.
Chapter Two
Lucy wove her way down a busy sidewalk in downtown Ashtown, Georgia, darting out of the way of one particularly boisterous child.
“This was a mistake,” she mumbled to herself.
No one heard her. No one even noticed her. Still, she would have felt so much better if she’d donned a disguise. Maybe a set of those joke glasses with the giant schnoz and bushy mustache. Ooh, if she’d owned a red trench coat, she could have gone full-on Carmen Sandiego. Hell, she would have settled for a baseball cap and a pair of oversized sunglasses. Something, anything to feel less conspicuous.
Not that a disguise would have made a bit of difference. After a decade away, she doubted if anyone in Ashtown remembered her. If they did, none of them would ask the questions that really filled their minds. Though Lucy had the answers already prepared.
No, you haven’t seen me in a while. Watching your parents brutally killed has a way of making a person want to hit the road.
Then, once the pleasantries of her parents’ gruesome deaths had been covered, they could move on to lighter fare. Such as, say, how Lucy’s life was crumbling around her.
No, I didn’t know you owned a law firm and had three perfect brats. Me? Nope, no kids. No husband or boyfriend either. No job, no friends, no future. Yup, I’ve got it all figured out.
In reality, Lucy had nothing. Other than the hard lesson she’d learned—once accused of business misdealing, a person was forever damned. Guilty or not. At least, in the corporate world. Any hopes of climbing the corporate ladder were futile and it was hard to wash a resume of that kind of stain.
For some idiotic reason, she’d thought coming home to Ashtown might bring her some comfort. Maybe even a little closure. Except her only memories of the small town centered around family camping trips to the nearby mountains. One trip in particular and one night she’d spent the last ten years trying to forget. For better or worse, she was back. Might as well check out how the town had changed.