Wolves were generally skittish of flame and would keep their distance, but then again, how powerful was a bloom’s call?
“Bloody hell,” he groused, marching back to the shack and breathing a sigh of relief when he could once again see the bulging of the wood from her ramming herself against its door.
Tossing his sticks down, he kneeled and then snapped his fingers. Giles had been born of flame, fire raced through his blood, he could manifest its glow with nothing more than his will to do so.
Touching the tip of his flaming finger to the twigs he caught them on fire. Vanquishing the flame, he tossed a few more sticks into it until it burned nice and bright.
It was a trick he’d not shown her, preferring to build the fire the old-fashioned way while in her presence. Not that he’d made a conscience decision to keep his skill from her, more that he was a naturally private man and rarely took the time to divulge any information about himself willingly.
Hopping to his feet, he walked back to the door and slid down it until his back was pressed firmly against it, determined to guard her.
So far he’d spotted nothing moving through the woods. Maybe there was nothing close enough to be affected by her bloom, but then again the night had only just begun.
Giles wasn’t sure how much later it was. Lilith’s crying had gone on unabated since the moment she’d locked herself in there, and after a while the sound of it had almost lulled him to sleep.
But he’d been born a warrior, taught to listen to his natural instincts, and something was definitely wrong.
His fire had nearly extinguished itself. The sky was a royal blue interspersed with ghostly white clouds. Waiting on bated breath, he stared through the thick black night, looking for anything that would dart or move between the trees.
Suddenly Lilith’s cries grew stronger and louder and then she was again ramming her body into the door, clawing and whining. Giles jumped to his feet, ready to ask her to stop, when not one, not two, but three wolves suddenly materialized as though from thin air.
They were monstrously big and most definitely alphas with the way they held their long, bushy tails straight out like banners. Their muzzles were back to expose thick, long canines and they moved in unison steadily forward.
But there was one that was in the lead—a large red wolf with a streak of black that ran straight as an arrow down his back. The other two wolves walked slightly behind their leader, but the glares of all three were easy enough to decipher.
They were here for Lilith and they aimed to kill anything that stood in their way.
Heart beating wildly in his throat, Giles held his hand out. He had no idea if these were true wolves or shifters. He’d always assumed that there was only one alpha per pack with the true animals, and if that was the case, than these were shifters, which could make them twice as dangerous.
The doorframe shuddered violently as splinters of wood showered down on his shoulder from Lilith’s constant beating. It was holding, but for how long?
“You don’t want to do this.” Giles said it softly, attempting to soothe their beasts first.
The red wolf gave him what appeared to be a leer as it continued its predatory advance.
Lilith howled, causing the three to come up short and join in her chorus.
The red’s howl was longer and higher in frequency than the other two. Almost as though he were telling her he was a true male.
Giles clenched his fists. “You won’t get to her.”
Yellow eyes turned on him and a rumble that hinted at violence tore from the lead’s throat.
When Lilith cried again, it sounded nothing like it had a moment ago. Crazy as it might sound, it almost seemed to him as though it were full of fear.
He wasn’t sure how he understood that sound, but he was certain of it and he knew why. She’d nearly been raped by a pack just days ago; she was probably terrified of the same, of being bound to a male she’d not chosen for herself.
Giles knew nothing of shifter hierarchy and rules, but he would do whatever he must, even if it meant dying, to help her honor her choice.
They were nearly upon him now. Their hackles were raised and the air reeked of the stench of musk. They were lacing the breeze with their scent.
Her scratching picked up in intensity, the door would be shredded to ribbons soon. Needing to get her away from it, he slowly moved to the other side of the wall, knowing she would follow him around because the other wolves were following him around.
“Get away from her,” he warned one final time.
The lead wolf gave a barely perceptible flick of its head, and then it was utter chaos as all three wolves pounced on him, knocking the air from his lungs as they shoved him violently against the wall.
Lilith cried out.