Chapter 22
She lies flat on her back, her arms splayed against the dirt, barely breathing. Her wide eyes stare past the white wolf and straight at the sky. The wolf jabs his muzzle in the crook of her neck and inhales slowly, then huffs at her scent.
Cyn meets my gaze. “I’m okay, Br—”
The wolf cuts her off with a growl.
I step toward them, my muscles taut and trembling, but Randall grabs my arm. “Don’t.”
“Get him off her,” I say through clenched teeth, “before I rip his fucking head off.”
The white wolf’s fur melts away to bare skin, and he shudders into the naked body of a man with tattoos running down his back. He has the same white-blond hair as Lupine, and a scraggly beard that tickles Cyn’s collarbone. He pins her wrists with his hands. Sourness rises in my throat at the sight of his body against hers.
“Human,” the man growls, his pale eyes fixed on Cyn’s face.
“Leave her alone,” Randall says. “She’s with us.”
The man glances sidelong at the rest of us. “Who?”
“Randall of the Bitterroot Pack. And you need to back down. Now.”
“I am Frost,” the man says, “and you are on Paradise Pack territory.”
Isabella slides one high heel forward. “Sir, excuse our mistake,” she says in her sweetest, candy-coated voice. “We didn’t mean to intrude on your territory. We were just headed down to Wyoming, but there’s road construct—”
Frost leaps from Cyn and lunges at Isabella but stops just inches from touching her. Face-to-face, he whispers, “Do you know Luna?”
His breath stinks with this weird, sweet sagebrush smell. I can’t figure out what it is.
I help Cyn to her feet before he can touch her again. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
She nods, but her hands shake as she tugs her clothes straight.
“Luna?” Isabella manages to look amazingly calm, despite her sharp teeth. “Who is she?”
“The Goddess of the Moon,” Frost hisses, his eyes wide.
Great. This guy’s bat-shit crazy, isn’t he?
Isabella clears her throat and doesn’t back down. “I’m afraid not.”
Jessie slides her phone from her purse and hits a button. At the first beep, Frost spins toward the noise and snarls.
Jessie freezes, her green eyes staring straight into his. “I’m calling our Alpha,” she says.
“Your machines disgust us,” he says. “Luna forbids them.”
“Oh?” Jessie hits another button. “Well, we don’t believe in Luna, honey.”
“Jessie,” Randall says in a low, warning voice.
“I’ve got this,” Jessie says. “He’s got another thing coming if he thinks his little Paradise Pack should pick a fight with us Bitterroots.”
Cyn squeezes my hand and gives me a smile that’s supposed to be brave.
Oh, God. Frost has left Jessie in that twitchy, random way of his, and now his hungry gaze slides up and down Cyn’s curves. He nuzzles the nape of her neck and she stiffens, her nails biting my skin, as he slides a hand into her hair and brings it to his nose. He breathes in deeply, his eyes glazing over.
“Don’t touch her.” I try to stare him down. My heart’s thudding about a billion miles an hour and I’m praying Cyn won’t get hurt.
He’s not even looking at me, his fingers tangled in her hair. “She smells delicious.”
Isabella and Jessie share a disgusted glance.
Lupine, who was watching us with this smug little smile, pouts and says, “Daddy. Let’s go now. I don’t like them.”
“Listen to Lupine,” Cyn says, her voice tight.
“You don’t belong here, human.” Frost leans in close. “But I like dark meat.”
Cyn glowers at him. “And I hate white trash.”
He laughs as he slides his claws down her neck, then squeezes one of her breasts.
A snarl rips from my throat and I pound my fist into the side of Frost’s head. The bastard goes down hard, dragging Cyn with him, and she cries out. Knocked on his back, he tugs Cyn by her hair, trying to reel her in, but she grabs a fistful of dirt and hurls it into his eyes, jumps to her feet, then kicks him right in the balls.
Yes! I want to howl with savage triumph.
Frost whine-growls, scrabbling at his eyes and squirming on the ground. A clump of Cyn’s hair drifts to the grass. Before Frost can react, Randall grabs him under one shoulder and hauls him to his feet. The rest of the Paradise Pack darts at Randall, their muzzles twisted in snarls, and snaps at the air inches from his flesh.
Randall freezes. “I’m betting you’re their Alpha.” He lets Frost drop onto the dirt again.
Blinking, the Paradise Alpha climbs to his feet. His eyes look red with rage—but that might just be the grit. He still isn’t standing up straight.
“Fuck off,” I spit at him, choked by my own anger.
Cyn’s hand closes around mine. “Brock, no.” But it sounds halfhearted.
“Luna demands punishment,” Frost says.
Jessie sneers at him. “I texted Winema,” she says to Randall.
Sure enough, a car honks on the highway. The wolves’ ears swivel toward the sound. Winema climbs out and marches through the grass with Charles at her heels. She scans the scene, then zeroes in on Frost and stops a foot away from him.
“You’re the Alpha of this pack?” Winema says.
“Yes,” he says, squaring his shoulders, “I am Frost of the Paradise Pack, and—”
“Where are the Zlatroviks?”
“Zlatroviks?” Frost ducks a little, as if they’re spying on him. “I don’t know.”
Winema arches an eyebrow. “You reek of faerie wine. Every werewolf within a ten-mile radius can smell you, so unless you’re stupid enough to steal from Cliff Sterling, you have a supplier. Tell us where they are.”
I wrinkle my nose at his smell. Of course. He’s a drunk, an addict.
Frost bares his teeth. “I have no reason to, trespassers.”
“We outnumber you at least two to one. If you won’t give us the information we want, we will take it from you.”
Frost stops snarling. “Zlatroviks don’t run in the wilderness. Look to a city. Denver.”
“Fair enough.” Winema waves him away. “I would suggest hightailing it out of here before the rest of my wolves arrive.”
Frost licks his lips, his eyes glancing back and forth, then nods at his pack.
The Paradise werewolves slink away and disappear into the grass. All except Lupine, who stares first at Cyn, then Winema, then back again.
“Daddy?” Lupine says.
Winema looks at Lupine with pity in her eyes. “You need to go.”
Frost grabs his daughter by the wrist and yanks her onward. She yelps and twists free, then runs ahead of him, crying, “I hate you!”
With a backwards glance at Winema, Frost stoops down into wolf form and trots after Lupine, his head and tail drooping.
When he’s out of sight, Cyn doubles over and retches.
“Are you all right?” Still shaking from the adrenaline rush, I crouch beside her.
Cyn straightens and rakes her hair out of her face. Her fingers graze over her chest, and she winces. “He bruised me. But I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?” I rest my hand on her shoulder.
“Yes.” Cyn backs away from me and rubs the insides of her arms. “I will be.”
“Come on, honey.” Isabella swoops down and bundles Cyn under her arm. “We’ll find you some water and get you washed up.”
Jessie follows them as they walk toward the convertible. “He’s never coming back.”
I realize my hand is still outstretched. I let it drop, and stand there.
“Move out,” Winema says. “The police aren’t far behind.”
As the tall grass closes behind Cyn, she glances back at me. The look on her face feels like a kick in the ribs. God, I feel so useless. I should be able to protect her.