This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,123

of you.”

I shake my head. “Tristan… I don’t understand…”

He opens his eyes.

As his gaze meets mine, his emotional walls crash down. His deepest impulses smash into me, a wave of darkness so pure that a scream builds in my throat. The darkness chokes me, a force so bloody, so full of hatred and malice and thirsting for pain that my scream fails and I can’t breathe.

“He’s part of me, Tessa,” Tristan says. “The same way he was part of my father. And my grandfather, and his father before him.”

The thirsty darkness rushes through me, growing, building, creeping toward my heart and curling around it, squeezing so hard that I fear my heart will stop beating.

“The deceiver. The coward. And finally, the killer,” Tristan says. “They are the three personalities of Cerberus, my ancestor. The wolf whose three minds destroyed him. We can try to fight the impulse to lie. We can try to hide from our sins. We can rage against the need for blood, but eventually, our darker nature wins.”

He strokes my hair from my face, nudges my lips with his, even though I’m drowning in his darkness and my screams can’t escape.

“I am the three-headed wolf,” Tristan says. “I will kill everyone I love. Just like my father did. Until someone is strong enough to end me.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

My scream rages through me, an incoherent wail that shrieks around the room. Tristan is tearing my heart apart. My wolf knows what needs to be done, but my human heart is breaking.

Tristan strokes my face before he draws back. “All you have to do is step aside, Tessa.”

He rises quietly to his feet, pulling me with him.

I sense his physical pain where he allowed himself to be hit, where he didn’t dodge blows, where he welcomed the wounds Cody inflicted. He could have really fought back—it looked like he was—but he could have ended the fight swiftly if he’d wanted to. The melding bond allows me to sense his heart hammering in his chest, a rapid beat.

His body is fighting to live while his mind has made its decision.

I don’t know what he intends when he turns me toward Cody until he says, “Get Tessa out of here. Make sure she doesn’t see anything.”

There’s a storm in Cody’s eyes. The tattoo across his chest is smeared with blood, some his own, some Tristan’s, possibly even some mine, but the ink isn’t damaged. My wolf’s silhouette is a perfect shadow to Cody’s wolf within the tattoo.

His shoulders are squared, his incisors bared. I have no insight into his real feelings for me. When I tore away his inhibitions, he wanted me, but he also described me as a thorn in his paw, a pain he can’t escape. I wonder now if his tattoo is a reminder that I am his enemy—the same way Tristan’s tattoo is a depiction of self-destruction.

Now, Tristan is handing me over to Cody, willingly giving me to his enemy, requesting that Cody protect me.

I’m stunned as Tristan leaves my side and strides toward Baxter.

Tristan drops to his knees on the ground, bares his neck, and splays his arms out at his side, shouting at the same time. “Baxter Griffin! I want to make a deal.”

It’s a submissive pose, one wolves only make when they’re surrendering.

Baxter shoves aside the tables that stand between himself and Tristan. His eyes are brighter than before, his smile cruel. “Name your terms.”

“My life for my pack’s,” Tristan says.

Baxter folds his arms across his chest. His scars are hidden beneath his formal attire, but I remember them, curved and old, from the night I first saw him. “Repeat your offer so I understand you clearly.”

“My pack isn’t responsible for what happened to your daughter,” Tristan says, keeping his neck bared. “I was prevented from killing my father that night. That’s on me. My pack is innocent. They’ve paid a price they never should have paid. Take your revenge on me and let them live in peace.”

Baxter’s smile is triumphant. “I accept your terms. Prepare to breathe your last.”

No. My objection chokes in my throat. I’m not bonded to Tristan, but I feel like my life is about to be ripped away from me, like it’s my throat that is bared.

Baxter holds out his hand to the guard on his left, who gives him a dagger.

It’s such an emotionless gesture that I want to scream. Every nerve in my body is on fire. Every beat of my heart thumps loudly. Every breath I take