Fated Magic (Claimed by Wolves #1) - Callie Rose Page 0,52

the cabin or screaming for help. I should have hated it, hated his hands on me, hated the way he dominated me.

Instead, I’m still craving him. Craving more of him, while simultaneously wondering what Ridge’s skin would feel like under my fingers. How Trystan’s mouth would taste, hot and wet on my lips. How agonizingly torturous Archer’s hands would be on the most secret parts of my body…

Dare has cracked open something inside me, some kind of deep need I can’t quite come to terms with.

The men all return together, trooping from the bedroom with comically identical looks on their faces. Ridge and Archer have covered up completely with shirts and sweats, but Trystan and Dare have left their chests bare and I’m pretty certain they’re having some kind of manly, my muscles are prettier than yours face off.

I can’t even pretend to understand men. Especially not when I’ve lost all comprehension of myself.

My three companions take positions around me on the couch and matching armchair, while Dare stands near the door as if preparing to run, should the need arise. Considering the way Ridge, Trystan, and Archer banded together to destroy him in the yard, I can hardly blame him. He’s the new guy, the new competition, and as far as they’re concerned he doesn’t belong.

I know otherwise.

When I lock gazes with Dare, he’s looking at me with intense, hungry eyes, broadcasting how much he wishes we could have finished what we started. He certainly doesn’t seem regretful or sorry about what happened.

Honestly, I can’t say that I am either.

Looking away from his dark eyes, I take a couple more breaths. If I have to breathe any deeper or harder to ground myself, I’m going to pass out.

Ridge leans on the arm of the couch and levels his calculating gaze on Dare. “What were you doing out this way?”

“Patrolling,” Dare says shortly. Inside the cabin, his voice booms, even deeper than I realized outside. “Hunting for a witch who’s been sniffing around the boundaries.” His gaze cut to me. “I was nearby when I caught Sable’s scent. I followed it to her, and my wolf felt the mate bond.”

Trystan groans, laying his head back on the edge of the couch, but Ridge says, “It’s not your job to patrol the boundaries.”

“No, it’s not,” Archer adds, his brow wrinkled with annoyance. “What happens when you get yourself killed?”

Fury rises on Dare’s face, and he crosses his arms, glaring at each man in turn. “If the packs were doing a better job of fighting the witch threat, I wouldn’t feel the need to patrol.”

“We’re doing all we can,” Ridge argues.

“Then why are your wolves dying?”

Four voices rise in anger as they start arguing and talking over one another.

“You’re all completely unaware of how bad things are!” Dare roars, pointing at them. “Your sheltered fucking pack life, completely out of touch with how bad things are getting—”

“Hey, fuck you,” Trystan snaps, leaping up from the couch with his hands balled into fists.

The yelling gets louder.

There was a time when Trystan’s looming show of brute force would have sent me spiraling into a panic attack. And for a moment, his giant hands curled into weapons do raise a hint of terror in me. But I do what Archer always tells me—deep breaths, in and out, until the sight of Trystan’s fists don’t alarm me anymore.

I don’t get why they’re all so worked up over this. Clearly, the witches are a threat, and they all already work together for the good of the entire local shifter nation. Why is it such a bad thing that Dare was patrolling?

There’s too much energy in this room. Too much “alpha” and not enough logical thought.

“Hey!” I blurt, my voice almost falling flat under the rise in volume. I raise my tone that much more and shout, “Knock it off!”

The cabin goes silent. All four men look at me as if they’re surprised to learn my voice can get that loud.

“What on earth is going on?” I say, looking around at them all and trying not to blush under their combined gazes. “You’re all on the same team here. Why are you ganging up on Dare?”

Trystan, still looming over the couch with dislike twisting his facial expression, sighs. “Dare was the alpha of the South Pack—before it was splintered and destroyed by witches.”

“What?” My voice drops to a whisper.

“It happened a few years ago. They must’ve planned it for months. It wiped out most of the pack and