Chapter 6 BLEED FOR ME
Alex didn’t shift.
Not yet.
He stood naked on the porch, between her and three wolves the size of motorcycles, and rolled his neck like he was about to step into a board meeting. Bones cracked. Loud.
The grey in the middle lowered its head. Snarled. Spit hit the gravel. The other two fanned out. Flanking. Smart. Trained.
Ivan’s wolves.
Mia couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Her back was to the door. Lock it, he’d said. Don’t open it.
Too late.
“Inside,” Alex said. No looking at her. Eyes locked on the middle wolf. “Now.”
“I’m not leaving you—”
“Mia.” One word. Alpha word. It hit her ribs, her knees, her soul. Not a command. A law. “Inside.
Lock it. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, take the truck. Keys are under the mat. Drive east. Don’t stop.”
Her legs moved before her brain did. Traitor legs.
She stumbled back, slammed the door, threw the bolts. One. Two. Three.
Then pressed her face to the glass.
The middle wolf charged.
Alex met it mid-air.
No claws. No teeth. Just hands.
He caught the wolf by the throat, 180 pounds of muscle and fury, and slammed it into the porch. Wood splintered. The crack echoed off the mountain.
The wolf yelped. Then choked. Because Alex’s thumb was in its windpipe. Pressing.
“Who sent you?” Alex asked. Conversational. Like they were sharing coffee.
The wolf thrashed. Claws scored Alex’s ribs. Blood,red, human red — ran down his side. He didn’t blink.
The other two hit him at once.
One latched onto his shoulder. Teeth in deep. The other went for his hamstring. Classic pack takedown.
Alex grunted. That was it.
Then he moved.
Fast. Not human-fast. Wrong-fast.
He ripped the wolf off his shoulder one-handed, blood spraying, and used it as a club to beat the third wolf into the dirt. Bone broke. Wolf skull met stone porch with a sound Mia would hear in her nightmares.
The first wolf was still in his other hand. Gasping.
“Last chance,” Alex said. Gold eyes, full gold, no man left. “Who. Sent. You.”
The wolf gurgled. Then went human mid-throttle.
A man. Maybe 25. Tattoo on his neck. Black fang. Ivan’s mark.
“Mercy,” the man wheezed. Blood on his teeth. “Don’t—”
Alex’s hand closed.
Neck snapped.
Just like that.
Mia bit her fist to keep from screaming.
Alex dropped the body. Turned. Looked at the other two. One was twitching. One wasn’t moving.
He was covered in blood. None of it his. His shoulder was shredded. Meat and muscle. You could see white. Bone.
He should be dead. He should be on the ground.
He walked to the door. Calm. Like he was done at the gym.
“Open,” he said.
She couldn’t. Her hands wouldn’t work.
He sighed. Pressed his bloody palm to the glass. Right over where her hand had been last night.
“It’s me, Mia. It’s just me.”
Just him. Just the Don. Just the wolf who’d killed three men in 90 seconds with his bare hands.
She opened the door.
He stepped in. The smell hit her copper, pine, smoke, male. It wasn’t bad. It was worse. It was right.
He looked down at himself. At the mess. “Shit. Sorry. I’ll—”
His knees hit the floor.
Hard.
“Alex!” She caught him. Or tried. He was too heavy. Too solid. They went down together, her under him, his weight pinning her to the wood.
Not attacking. Collapsing.
“’M fine,” he mumbled. Into her neck. Breath hot. “Just… tired. Shifting takes it out of you. Fighting while human takes more.”
His blood was on her. Soaking through her dress. Hot. Wet. Real.
“You’re not fine,” she hissed. “You’re— your shoulder—”
“Will heal.” He lifted his head. Eyes black again. Exhausted. Human. “Wolves heal fast. Dons heal faster. Perks of being King.”
King.
Curse of Kings. Ep 25–30. She remembered.
“Bedroom,” he said. “Need to… clean up. Before I bleed out on your shoes.”
“You don’t have shoes.”
He huffed. A laugh. Broken. “Neither do you.”
True. Her feet were cut. His were worse. Gravel, glass, fight.
She got an arm under him. Heaved. He was dead weight. Deadly weight.
“Leave me,” he said. “Get the truck.”
“Shut up.”
She dragged him. Inch by inch. To the bathroom. Old clawfoot tub. Cast iron. Cold.
She turned the water on. Hot. As hot as it went. Steam rose.
“Get in,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “You going to bathe me, wife?”
“Don’t call me that.” But her voice shook.
“Not yet,” he agreed. Then grinned. Bloody. Feral. “But you will be.”
He stood. Swayed. Gripped the sink. And got in the tub. Water turned pink. Then red.
Mia grabbed a washcloth. Old. Rough. She didn’t care.
She knelt by the tub. Started at his shoulder.
He hissed. Not from pain. From her touch.
“Wolf’s quiet,” he murmured. Eyes closed. Head back. “Told you.”
She cleaned blood. And blood. And blood. The water wasn’t clearing.
“Talk to me,” she said. “Stay awake. How bad is it?”
“Bad. Four hours, I’ll be fine. Four days for a human. Four minutes if you bite me back.”
Her hand stopped. “What?”
His eyes opened. Gold ring again. “Werewolf biology. Mate’s bite speeds healing. Exchange of blood. Power. Claim.”
“You want me to bite you?”
“I want you to want to bite me.” He caught her wrist. Gently. Water dripped from his hair, down his face. “There’s a difference.”
The air went thick. Steam and blood and him.
She looked at his shoulder. The meat was already knitting. Not normal. Not possible. But it was.
She looked at his mouth. His throat. His pulse jumping.
She leaned in.
He went still. All of him. Like predator. Like prayer.
She pressed her lips to his shoulder. To the wound. Tasted copper. Tasted him.
Alex made a sound. Guttural. Broken. His hand fisted in her hair. Not pulling away. Holding her there.
“Mia.” Her name was a curse. A vow.
The wound under her mouth burned. Then cooled.
She pulled back.
The gash was closed. Pink. New skin. Scar.
“Holy—”
“Told you,” he whispered. He was shaking. Not from blood loss now. “Mate.”
She wiped her mouth. Stared at her hand. No blood. Like she’d absorbed it.
“What did I just do?”
“You started it.” He stood. Water sheeted off him. All of him. She should look away. Didn’t. Couldn’t. “Bond goes two ways. You take my blood, I take yours, we’re tied. Forever. No divorce. No annulment. No Ivan.”
Twenty-nine days.
Or one bite.
“Get dressed,” he said. Voice rough. “We leave in five. They’ll send more. That was a test. Next is a war party.”
He stepped out of the tub. Reached for a towel. Paused.
Looked at her. Really looked.
“You saved my life,” he said. Simple. Honest. “With your mouth. With your choice.”
He stepped closer. Dripping. Naked. Alive because of her.
“Thank you, little wife.”
Then he kissed her forehead. Chaste. Reverent. Terrifying.
And walked out.
Mia sat on the bathroom floor.
Between her legs, heat. In her chest, fear. In her mouth, his blood.
And on her phone, buzzing again.
Unknown number.
Four wolves down. You’re next, Don. Her too. Unless you give her up. 29 days. -I
She deleted it.
Then threw up again.
But this time, Alex wasn’t there to hold her hair.
This time, she was alone.
And the bond was waking up.