Page 29 of Come for Me
So, Jack doesn’t know that she’s my mate.And with that realization, the dots are connecting. He thinks I was intervening because I thought she was a damsel in distress, not because he was about to mark what’s mine. It’s with that I entertain the idea of letting them live. At least for now.
That may change tomorrow.
I stand and watch as the mutt walks to her and makes the grave mistake of grabbing her hand and smiling at her. His father’s words have emboldened him, made the mutt believe he was well within his rights. His gesture meant to prove to me that this was all innocent and out of love.
Well. Fuck. That.
I’m on him before he can register I’ve reached him, pinning his hand against the wall. My forearm is cutting off his airway. “No one touches my mate.”No one gets to even entertain the idea that her heart could belong to anyone else but me.
Rage consumes me at the sight of the mutt’s hands on my mate, coloring my vision as the wolf inside me erupts with a possessive claim. The frame of a painting cracks as glass shatters with the force and falls to the floor.
The mutt grunts from the breath leaving his body as he’s slammed into the wall. It’d be so easy to kill him. His pack wouldn’t even bother to retaliate. They don’t have the numbers to take on my pack. If it weren’t for her, I would’ve killed him earlier when this mutt tried to claim her for himself. Blind rage hits me again when I recall the memory. I press my forearm harder against his throat, restricting his airway.
My wolf has been ready to mark her, and he won’t rest until we’ve claimed her. Surely, this mutt isn’t the only one after my mate. It’s dangerous for her to walk around unmarked if threats like him walk around. I’ve waited seven years for my mate to come along, eight if you include when I became king beforebecoming eligible to participate in the Hunt—I’ll be damned if anyone thinks they can take her from me now.
Alaina sobs.
Fucking hell.I don’t like when she cries.
That annoying thought dawns on me that killing him could mean losing her respect. After grappling with it, I decide her favor outweighs all my reasons for killing him.
I’ll protect her from anyone. She’ll learn that. But I don’t want her believing she needs protection from me. At least not in this context.
“Stay. Away. From. My. Mate,” I grit before easing my weight off him.
The mutt stares at me with dead eyes, not at all remorseful.
I don’t know whether my power is a blessing or a curse. Because the mutt’s eyes project no intention of following my orders. Far from it. He wants what’s mine and thinks no threat will deter him from pursuing her.
But force will.
I could show force, starting with ripping out his canines so he can’t mark anyone. To be chosen but never able to choose from any future mate, having someone but never able to give himself to her fully. A fate worse than any torture I could elicit.
Alaina’s sobs confuse the wolf within me, stopping me from doing so. My wolf desires to rip the tears from her—if not for me, as they serve no purpose. She still holds a candle for this monstrosity, cares for him more than her mate.
Who is he to her? What happened between them that she would risk his life again? What hold does he have over my mate?She’d rather shed sweet tears for him than mate with me and taste sweet oblivion. Her tears were designed for my pleasure and enjoyment, not for his pity and pain.
If she wants to cry for him, cry for him, she will.
“Was I not clear, mutt?”I spit, my voice gravelly as I cock my head.
Sorry, darling. He’s given me no choice. I have to protect you.
I break his hand in one swift motion. The mutt collapses to one knee, while I crush his hand in grip. Not at all bothering to stifle his screams, showing how pathetic and weak he is to everyone within earshot. I roll my eyes at his outburst as I drop his hand.Some alpha. What does she see in this guy?
My peripherals find her as she gasps, fear and fury fusing with her black raspberry and vanilla scent.
Staring at the pathetic, sobbing mutt, she balls her fists.
“Did that clear up any misunderstandings, Jack?” I look over to Jack, who doesn’t react, despite how much he wants to.
Void of emotion, he holds his head high as he looks me in the eye and regards me with a nod. He moves to tend to his sniffling son, who is clutching his broken hand to his chest.
Jack’s lack of reaction to my show of force doesn’t surprise me. If my father were still alive and Jack had said anything other than “thank you” to this merciful lesson I have bestowed on his son, he would have killed them both, deeming them unfit to lead their pack. I’m sure Jack believes me to be like him.
But he’d be wrong. I’m far worse.
My father was an awful parent, a tyrant king, and took to torturing prisoners and enemies for the sake of information. He was feared—never loved. But it wasn’t his torture or teaching methods that instilled fear but rather his paranoia. He didn’t believe his powers—telepathic predictions I’ve been possessing since his passing—when they showed people’s intentions.
