Page 67 of Bound to the Wolf
Delainey threw up a defensive shield that the woman bounced off of and glared at her. The impact rippled through the shield like a stone, and Delainey felt the jolt travel up her arms and into her shoulders. It took real force to hold the ward against a werewolf’s full-body charge.
“A witch,” she scowled. “Well, that’s interesting.”
Reece and the man were fighting, trading blows, and Delainey could smell blood in the air. She could hear the meaty thud of fists connecting, the scrape of boots on concrete as they grappled for position between the stacked boxes, and a grunt from Reece that told her he’d taken a hard hit.
Without offensive magic, Delainey was no match for the woman, but she could keep the shield up indefinitely. The woman seemed to realize it. She turned her gaze from Delainey to Reece and launched herself at him.
It was two against one.
Fuck.
Delainey watched the fight in horror, with no idea what she would do if she couldn’t use her magic. Reece was fast, but two werewolves drove him backward step by step, the woman coming at his left flank while the man pressed him from the front, and a box behind him splintered when someone’s elbow went through it.
The second there was more than a six-inch gap between Reece and his attackers, Delainey extended her magic shield and threw it between them. Unfortunately, Reece didn’t realize that. He ran for the wolves and bounced back harmlessly.
He hit the invisible wall chest-first and stumbled back two steps, the same force that had stopped the female wolf sent him reeling, his nose was bleeding from an earlier hit, a thin red line running from his left nostril to his upper lip.
“Sorry,” she winced as he rubbed his nose. Hopefully, it wasn’t broken.
She and Reece shared a glance. With the defensive shield in front of them, the wolves couldn’t get to them, but they’d been backed up against a wall of boxes and the Iron Runners were between them and the exit.
They couldn’t get out without hurting those wolves, and if they hurt those wolves, it wasn’t going to look good for the Southern Basin pack. Delainey didn’t normally care about pack politics, but it seemed rude to start a pack war when she was a guest of the Southern Basin.
“What’s going on?” A man in a gray suit was stalking down the row of boxes between them. The suit was well-cut, charcoalfabric that had no business being in a warehouse, and his shoes clicked sharply on the concrete with each step. He looked more like he belonged in a boardroom than in a warehouse. He glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist, then over at them. “I don’t have time for this.”
This was Dawson, the alpha of the Iron Runners, who Delainey had only met once. And that was more than enough. Frankly, she didn’t need to start collecting acquaintances with werewolf alphas, and she would be glad if she never met another one.
“A beta.” Dawson glared at Reece. “And one of the witches. This is interesting.” He straightened the cuff of his left sleeve with two fingers, the gesture precise and unhurried. He looked to his wolves. “Back up. We need to talk, and these two are smart enough not to attack.” His brow quirked up as if daring them to contradict him.
Delainey wanted to attack him on principle.
Instead, she let the defensive shield drop and held up her hands. Reece didn’t do that, but he didn’t make any aggressive move either. Maybe that was a werewolf body language thing; she would need to learn.
Or not, because this bond would eventually break, and she and Reece would go their separate ways.
Every time she said it to herself, it sounded weaker.
“What are you doing here?” Dawson demanded. “Don’t tell me you’re playing nice with another witch. Your pack is going to get a reputation.”
Reece bristled, and Delainey heard him growl. She didn’t have to look at him to know his eyes had gone gold.
Okay, this was not good. Dawson didn’t need to know what was going on in their personal lives.
“He hired me,” she said. That was normal enough. Relations between witches and shifters were not traditionally great, butbusiness was business, and this was America. “He wanted to track down Austin. I can’t say I disagreed. That bastard deserves to have his face caved in.”
Reece growled again, and Delainey shot him a look. If this motherfucker ruined it and got them thrown in an Iron Runner cell, she was going to have words with him. His shoulders were tense, and she could feel his disagreement pulse through the connection between them. That was new. Even at the height of passion, she hadn’t felt his emotions through their bond.
“He hired you.” Dawson sounded doubtful. “Reece hired you.”
“I’m standing here, aren’t I? And why would he go to another coven when I have the background on this particular situation and want vengeance just as much as he does.”
“So you decided to come to my territory in the middle of the day. After five months, what brought this on?”
“None of your business,” Reece bit out, his voice dropping into that low register that meant his wolf was doing half the talking.
“Something that happens in my territory is my business, beta.” Dawson barely spared him a glance. This had to be more werewolf bullshit.
Dawson was the alpha; he was in charge. Reece was a beta; he obeyed his own alpha, and maybe Dawson thought that meant Reece was under his regard. But if it came down to a fight between the two of them, Delainey’s money was on Reece.
