like the brutal Viking in a movie she’d once watched. “The question is: What are you doing in Cold Creek?”
“I live here now,” she said coldly.
“No fucking way,” he growled. “Every village got a Dogwood female—you’re ours.”
“Yours?” Anger rose inside her. She wasn’t a meaty bone for a pack of coyotes; she was a person. “The Dogwood females were scattered for the winter for orientation and less chance of detection. My orientation is complete, and there’s only one other villager here. It’s my choice where to live.”
“No, it’s not. You might not be a healer, but you’re better than nothing.” His fingers closed around her upper arm. “You’re coming back with us.”
As she tried to jerk away, her ankle wobbled, and his grip tightened painfully.
Brett grabbed her other arm. “You can’t run fast enough to escape us, gimpy bitch.”
Her anger boiled over. “Leave me alone!” Grateful for her hard boots, she kicked Bret’s shin with all her strength.
As he staggered back with a shout, she twisted. Her foot connected with Roger’s knee. Not hard enough.
“Fucking shrew.” His fingers ground against her bone as he jerked her closer and his right hand lifted.
Before he could slap her, a baton struck his forearm. He yelped and jumped back. His grip loosened.
She yanked free.
Her rescuer stepped in front of her, facing the Rainier wolves. He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you all right, lass?”
The frozen steel of the male’s voice held a hint of Ireland. She knew that voice. It was the male from the Scythe garage. Tynan.
Her mouth went dry.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Teeth bared, Roger rubbed his arm. “Do you know who I am?”
“I don’t care who you are.” Tynan’s grip tightened on the baton. “I’m Deputy O’Connor with the Azure County Sheriff’s Department, and right now, you’re looking at an assault charge.”
Taking a hurried step back, Roger lifted his nose, his nostrils flaring as he checked the air. Undoubtedly, he caught the scent that Tynan was a shifter. A mean smile grew on his face. As an alpha, Roger had power almost equal to a Cosantir’s. “I’m alpha of the Rainier Territory and she”—he pointed to her—“is one of my pack.”
“Is she now?” Tynan moved sideways to look at her and still keep the two Rainier males in his field of vision. “Are you in his pack?”
Could Roger force her to return? Heather hadn’t mentioned pack rights. “I was.” Margery smoothed damp hands down her jeans. She took care with her words, “I live here now. I won’t return to Rainier Territory or be in his pack.”
“Right. That’s clear enough.” Tynan narrowed his eyes at the males. “You heard her. Be off with you.”
“I’m not leaving without her.” Roger’s voice rose. “She’s our banfasa.”
No. I’m. Not. She was done with being anyone’s banfasa. Her jaw set tightly. If Roger managed to take her back, she’d escape again, and go much, much farther next time.
Shaking his head, Tynan said mildly, “Apparently not any longer.”
Roger’s face darkened, and his fists came up. Brett, who was almost as big as the alpha, moved forward.
Tynan’s muscles tightened with a rippling motion beneath his shirt.
Oh Goddess, two to one—he’d get hurt.
Should I give up and go with Roger? No, she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. But she could fight beside this male. Her rescuer.
She lifted the bike’s heavy security chain from the handlebars. The thick, rough metal links were icy cold in her hands. If she swung the chain hard enough, it would slow—maybe stop—one of them.
Fear made her heart pound painfully in her chest, but her grip was solid. She’d do what she needed to do to protect Tynan.
He glanced at her, saw how she held the chain, and his eyes crinkled slightly before he told Roger, “Just so you know, if she damages a person, she won’t bandage them up afterward—and neither will our healer.”
“Well said, brawd.”
At the deep resonant voice, Margery jumped. Turned slightly.
Donal stood in the doorway of BOOKS. His perfect lips curved in a cold smile. “Want some help? Been a while since I performed abdominal surgery using my claws.”
An older shifter stood behind him—the one named Joe Thorson from the Scythe garage. He looked like he’d had more fights than all the younger males combined. “Shifters who bother females don’t live long. Not in our territory.”
Outnumbered, Roger backed a step and bumped into Brett. “Fine. We’re leaving. But”—he pointed at Margery—“she’s Rainier Territory’s banfasa. Pete isn’t going to let her walk away.”
As the two retreated with the stiff-legged