She would be raped, tainted, all because he could.
It wasn’t that St. John wasn’t good looking; up until last year he’d been a mate. A friend. She’d considered him as an option briefly, but he had a temper, and when shifters mated, it was for life. She was picky. So she’d slowly begun pulling away from him, giving him every hint she could that she was not interested. Making a point to sit as far away from him during gatherings as possible, giving only monosyllabic answers to any questions he’d ask, never making eye contact. All subtle hints that she was not interested.
And even so, three months ago he’d asked for her hand.
He should never have done that. Should never have demanded she tell him the truth. Because the moment she’d denied him, she’d sensed his immediate shift from cordial friendship to dangerous obsession. Wolves hated to be denied, but most especially alphas.
She watched in horror as his fingers slowly undid one button of his shirt at a time. Not only was he going to rape her, but he was going to do it to her while in his half-turned form.
Doing that while she was fully wolf would show not only dominance, but disdain. That he could overpower her even as a man.
She whinnied when the stench of his arousal brushed her sensitive nose. He reeked of male musk, a horrible, fishy stench. Now her wolf finally seemed to understand what was going on, because she snorted the scent. Offended by its repulsive odor.
Finally her wolf did not recognize this alpha as its mate. If she had the scent would have been clean, crisp, intoxicating. But now it was too late; she was locked under the power of the alpha’s call.
He dropped the shirt to the ground. St. John was covered in a furry carpet of red all along his arms and torso. She shook her head even as her paws dragged her into the center of the circle.
“Cover her eyes, boys,” St. John laughed.
Then she was set upon, but still under her thrall she couldn’t move. Could only scream in her head as hands tied a velvet mask around her eyes.
Shivering, trembling, she whimpered and awaited her fate.
Cries and howls suddenly exploded around her and the power locking her limbs in place was gone. But these cries weren’t ones of jubilation and conquest, but raw, visceral fear and pain.
Terrified, she jumped to her feet, shaking her head from side to side to release the mask. Had her brothers found her trail?
But if they had, why wasn’t she scenting them? She smelled smoke and brimstone. Not altogether displeasing, but not the fresh earthiness of her clan. What was going on?
Growling, she rubbed her head against tree bark to peel the damnable mask off. She debated whether to shift back to human form but quickly dismissed the idea. Stronger as the wolf, she knew she had no choice but to remain as she was.
There were grunts and hard exhalations of breath, a body being slammed. Then another. More howls. And then finally silence.
Standing stock still she listened to the rustle of dry leaves dance on the grassy meadow. To the chatter of squeaking mice. The hoot of an owl. The breeze smelled of apples and flowers and something dark…something dangerous.
Only one heartbeat besides her own remained in these woods. The mask was only half off; all she could see were her paws and the ground. Pulse racing she stood on edge waiting for the…whatever…to come at her. She could hear its breathing; it hadn’t gone anywhere.
The longer she waited, the louder her instinct became that this predator meant her no actual harm.
Realizing she needed more information than what her nose could give her, Lilith put her wolf to sleep by calling her shifting fire with no small amount of trepidation and shifted into her human form quicker than she’d ever done before. Yanking the bloody mask off her face the moment she was able.
An ebony-skinned man with hair like shadow and gleaming red eyes stared back at her. Dressed in dark jeans and shirt, he’d have almost blended into the darkness around them if it weren’t for the strange, luminescent sheen that rippled just beneath his skin. Like coals that’d been banked but still burned with a light glow of fire.
In his hand was a sword stained with blood. There were no wolves around, no dead bodies… It was just her and him.
“Lilith Wolf,” he said in a seductively smooth drawl, “come with me.”
“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest—not that she was shy about her nudity, but she didn’t know him and refused to do something even more stupid than she’d already done this night.