Page 26 of Rabid
Warrik.
My wolf growls at the big wolf, ready to fight, when suddenly, what’s happening hits me across the face like it’s a two by four.
A warning voice fills my mind, but this time it isn’t my liberator Warrik telling me to run. It’s Terris’s gruff words I hear, something he said when he first found me that I didn’t think was important...until now.
Oh, and if yer thinking of running, don’t. You’ll be fair game for claiming if you do.
A claiming. This is a damnclaiming hunt.
That’swhat’s thrown my wolf for a loop and has her acting as though this is all some big game. She’s daring a wolf to claim her. She’s marked a certain essence from the woods, hoping whoever that scent belongs to is wolf enough to show up and let us see what he’s working with.
Fuck!
Warrik, the white wolf, attacks us again, clearly hellbent on putting his paw in the claiming ring. I want to scream, to shout at my wolf that this is a horrible idea. Claiming anyone in this pack is a recipe for misery worse than the likes of Burke, and I suddenly find myself beyond pissed that she’s not listening.
Teeth snap at us, and our shared irritation meets Warrik’s wolf head-on and with zero fear. Golden eyes glow with the challenge we’re presenting, and I want to kick my own ass for being so stupid. Warrik wasn’t helping us escape or making us more comfortable. He was sizing us up as a mate and making sure I’d let my wolf out, knowing I wouldn’t be able to override her instincts once they were at play.
This motherfucker set us up.
Rip his throat out!I shout at my wolf as we slam into Warrik again, neither one of us showing any mercy as our wolves tear into each other. He works hard, pushing to dominate us and get us to submit. In answer, my wolf demands that he be powerful enough to make us.Only the strongest will do, my wolf’s instincts drive through us. And even though Warrik is strong and formidable, we’re stronger.
My wolf surges against the white wolf, knocking him off-balance enough that we can sink our teeth into the base of his neck. It’s not an angle that will deliver a killing blow, but it will allow us to get the golden-eyed male on his back and make it clear to him that he’s not worthy, not dominant enough to control our wild spirit.
We move to flip him, but out of nowhere, a gargantuan deep brown wolf comes charging toward us. I manage to leap out of the way the second before he slams into Warrik. The brown wolf attacks him mercilessly, and in less than a minute, the golden-eyed male is slinking off with his tail between his legs. A feverish thrill rockets through my wolf, excitement spiking when she pulls in the deep musky aroma of the male she scent marked before.
Finally, he’s here.
A vicious growl resonates in the brown wolf’s chest, but instead of evoking trepidation or making my wolf think twice about taking him on, it drives her wild. She releases a challenging snarl of her own, and the need now permeating the air isn’t Warrik’s. It’s coming fromus.
The brown wolf lifts his nose and stares us down.
He’s big. So much bigger than the others that tried to catch us. So much bigger than us. With his deep brown fur and coppery-brown eyes, he’d be able to blend into the bark of the trees and mulch of the ground if it weren’t for the glowing orbs locked on us with unblinking intensity.
He growls again, low, and the noise vibrates through the air. Our lips peel back, feet braced, anticipation pulled as tight as a leash.
And then my wolf bolts, as fast as a flash of lightning.
A furious howl rends the space behind us, but that only adds to the exhilaration, the sound feeding into us through our ears.
I thought she was flying before, but this time, my wolf’s feet move so fast she’s a blur. Paws race across the forest floor, body weaving between trees. One, two, three, four… Five seconds, that’s the only head start we get before the male is racing after us.
My wolf yips, leaping over a bush before taking a sharp ninety-degree turn. She makes him work for it. She makes his huge body put every single one of those muscles to good use, because she won’t be caught by anyone unworthy.
I shriek for her to stop, raging at her for falling into this game of claiming instead of escaping, but she bats away my human proclivities like a pesky fly. The chase is all she knows, all she wants, all she feels.
I’m not sure how long we run.
He nips at our hind legs, she leaps. He cuts her off, she turns. He races alongside her, she shoulders him into a tree before sprinting in the other direction. It’s a game, a dance, but it’s also ahunt, and in a hunt, you either get away...or you get caught. For whatever reason, my wolf has decided she wants to get caught by him—but only if he earns it.
She manages to lose him near the stream. Paws splash through the frozen water running off from the mountains, and she muddies up her trail by making a giant figure eight loop to keep him going in circles. After that, she doubles back to the water and races down a small mountain. It’s pure luck that we happen to spot a cave halfway down.
Panting, she zips just inside its shadowed mouth, spins to face the outside, and drops down on her belly. Then we wait.
Because the male can chase, but can he seek?
My wolf rests her overworked muscles, hiding in the crescent of darkness that the shallow cave provides, while the waxing quarter moon glows in the sky above us, its face cut in half by darkness. Tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth, she catches her breath, though her attention never strays from the small clearing in front of us, from the shadows that move with every swaying branch or flutter of grass.
The forest is suddenly too quiet, too still, and her hackles rise, eyes locked onto the space between the trees directly in front of us.
