Moon Claimed (Werewolf Dens #2) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,11

squeezed my lungs. Still smirking, the dark-haired werewolf released my leg. Chest burning, I dragged my body upward to the surface, gulping in air when I made it.

Where was the tower?

Body heavy, I spotted the tower behind me. So far.

I paddled in that direction.

An engine roared at my back, and a boat circled me.

“Need a hand?” Leroy held the engine out of the water.

I ignored him, staring up into honey eyes. “No.”

“How did you fall out of the tower?” Sascha Greyson asked, jaw clenched.

How was he dry?

“Someone shook it. I suggest you ask your pack.” I choked on a mouthful of water.

Sascha stilled. “You’re exhausted. Here.”

He extended his hand, and I shoved it away.

Was the tower getting closer or farther away?

I yelped, dragged bodily from the water by a grip on the back of my shirt. Sascha deposited me in the bottom of the boat.

Mustering my strength, I tried to sit. Leroy, of course, chose that moment to put the propeller back in the water. Huffing, I sagged against the wall of the boat, refusing to return Sascha’s intense perusal.

I peeked at the shore, groaning at the stewards lining it, all of them facing this way.

For fuck’s sake.

Sascha crouched before me. “You said the tower was shaken.”

I didn’t answer because my heart was thundering.

A wolf just bit me.

On purpose.

What did that mean? I had to find out. And until then, I couldn’t make a big deal about a Luther attacking me.

Questions would be asked.

Fuck! Were Luthers born or made? I seriously hoped werewolf movies weren’t accurate on the bite front.

I thumped my head against the rubber side of the boat.

Leroy guided the craft alongside the pier, but Sascha didn’t move from his crouch.

“You’re terrified.” He searched my expression.

I pulled myself to sitting. “Well, I’m in your company, aren’t I?”

Leroy growled low, quietening at a sharp look from his leader.

With the grace of a cat, Sascha cradled me in his arms. I crossed my arms as he stepped up onto the pier.

Wade was the first to reach us.

“I’ll take her from here, Luther,” he said coolly.

Sascha froze, sniffing. “You’re bleeding.”

“You’re hurt?” Wade took me in his arms. “I saw you fall.”

“It’s nothing,” I said, feeling the exact moment Sascha smelt the lie. I was too close to miss his sudden tension. “The ladder caught my leg as I fell.”

Rhona ran up. “What happened?”

“The tower was shaken. Someone wanted to throw me off.” I avoided Sascha’s gaze.

She spun on the Luther.

“I didn’t see them.” I cut her off.

Lie.

“Only one species here is strong enough to shake that tower,” she snarled at Sascha.

My leg ached, and I couldn’t risk anyone here seeing the wound. “I have no proof, Rhona. A penalty would be disallowed. But a penalty for you attacking their leader in plain sight would not go unpunished.”

She cocked her head, slanting me a glance.

I looked at him then.

His body almost vibrated with the force of his anger. Yep, he smelt the lie, alright. Wade tightened his grip on me.

I wasn’t the only one noticing his reaction.

“Thank you for bringing the boat over,” I said. “Congratulations on the win.”

Sascha’s gaze darted to my leg and back. His fingers twitched at his side. “We both know you didn’t intend to win that round, Miss Thana. You won’t find me a relaxed opponent despite your recent introduction to Victratum. I respect your cunning too much.”

With a short bow, the werewolf returned to the boat. Rhona stared after him, fixing me with a curious look.

“Let’s go,” I muttered.

Wade carried me down the pier.

“Get everyone dispersed, please, Rhona.” I sighed. “There was an attack on me, but we have no proof.” That would fire everyone up. “They did well today, and the Luthers should fear the next time we meet them in Water.”

Let’s hope I could live up to that promise.

Or just live in general.

“How’s the wound?” Rhona asked, striding into the office.

I tensed at the mention of my injury. The wound had the appearance of a cut at least—the Luther’s teeth must be razor sharp. I’d told everyone the metal of the ladder caught me on the fall.

I shrugged. “Fine. Bruising is turning yellow, and everything is scabbed over.”

Thank fuck. The tribe’s history only mentioned a werewolf’s volatileness at the new moon. Two days into that lunar phase and I’d felt nothing at all.

No sideburns or extra hair.

No fangs.

No growl in my voice.

Only one thing wouldn’t let me relax—the Luther’s smirk. What was he so happy about? Scaring me? I wished I’d got a clear