Page 128 of A Wolfe in the Woods

No. Not yet.

I forced it down, gritting my teeth, dragging breath into my lungs.

Erik’s gaze sharpened. “You’re resisting it,” he murmured. “How noble…and pointless. Enough pretending. I want to see you for who you really are.”

The change rolled through him like a controlled detonation. Bones shifted beneath skin with a wet, grinding sound. His posture lengthened, broadened. His eyes burned gold, pupils slicing thin, dark against a mantle of his white fur. Fangs descended with a sound like steel unsheathing.

Behind him, his men stirred. One by one, they followed. Shoulders cracked, jaws lengthened, eyes ignited in the dark. A pack forming on instinct, driven by its leader.

The pull slammed into me then—hard, urgent, and feral.

Shift. Take it. End this.

My claws ached beneath my skin. My teeth pressed painfully against my gums. Every instinct screamed to answer.

I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because if I gave in, if I let myself become nothing but teeth and rage, I wouldn’t be fightingforBlanchette anymore. I’d be fighting for myself.

And that was Erik’s game.

I planted my feet, breath shaking, sweat burning cold across my spine. “No,” I growled. Not to him. To the thing inside me. “Let’s end this. The land’s yours. I only want Blanchette. No more games.”

His voice changed, emerging from the creature he’d become. “The game’s just begun.”

He lifted one clawed hand without looking back. They moved. One from the left, one from behind. I twisted, lashed out, caught one of them by the throat and slammed him into the stone hard enough to crack granite.

I’d barely dropped the first Lycan when the pack swarmed, claws and fangs tearing at me. Pain bloomed everywhere at once. A strike to my temple. A gash to my arm. A bite to my hindleg. I was being torn to pieces from every direction. I rolled, just missing a blow intended to crush my throat.

Erik didn’t join in. He circled while he watched. He was enjoying the spectacle of it…like a grand conductor. Letting his men soften me up like dogs ravaging a stag.

He called arrogantly over the scuffle, “You know the problem with lone wolves? There’s never a pack to save you.”

I spat blood, tried to rise…but several hands slammed me back down. A clawed hand locked my shoulder in place. Another at my throat. My arms were wrenched back, my chest crushed into the stone, weight bearing down from every side. I thrashed, snarled, landed a blind elbow into someone’s ribs. But it didn’t matter.

His pack had me.

Erik prowled close, unhurried, more arrogant than ever now. His white-furred form loomed, eyes burning gold. One of his Lycans tightened their grip, forcing my head back, baring my throat. Erik leaned in until his breath brushed my skin. His jaws parted slowly.

With his fangs close to my neck, threatening, he rumbled, “You don’t lose because you’re weak, Jonathan. You lose because you’re alone.”

His jaws clamped down.

Pain exploded. I crumpled over, breath tearing from me, vision tunneling.Around us, the wind howled louder now, stones hummed beneath me, the ground vibrated like a living thing waking from a deep slumber. And as the darkness closed in, I felt it…

The Circle of Thornblood was coming alive.

CHAPTER 37

BLANCHETTE

The blindfold bit into my temples. Fabric rough against my eyes, the knot biting into the back of my head every time I moved. Rope cut my wrists where they’d been tied too long, cutting off my circulation. Through my jeans, I could feel the cold stone ground. Mountain air slid over my skin, sharp and thin.

Don’t panic,I repeated to myself.

Voices drifted nearby.

“…he said to hold her until it’s done. Boss doesn’t want any mistakes. No touching. No games.”

An annoyed rumble. A nervous laugh followed.