Rabid (Kingdom of Wolves #6) - Ivy Asher Page 0,88
I am being pressured into another one. These alphas act like it’s all no big deal, but it is.
With an irritated huff, I take one last look at the river and the falls and then start to walk back. I pick my way through the shadows of the tall trees, stewing on what just happened. The reality is that we don’t even know each other. Our wolves like the other’s smell, and he fucks like a god. That’s a yay for my vagina, but not exactly a solid foundation for a mate-for-life situation. I don’t care what he says about trusting my instincts, because I’m scared of what will happen if I choose wrong.
I take my time as I stomp through the underbrush, scraping a clawed hand against the trees as I go and trying to work through my thoughts. Annoyance and outrage settle in my limbs because these fucking trees know more about this guy than I do. His scent covers them, as though he personally marks each one every morning.
I tip my head back and take in the canopy of pine needles and leaves. “Do you know if Tyran is going to treat me right?” I ask, as though the vegetation will lean over and whisper all their secrets. “Will he respect me, hear what I have to say, care about my opinions?” Unsurprisingly, the foliage doesn’t answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I grumble, just as peals of pup laughter and hearty conversations reach me from where the pack is gathered around their fires.
Stopping at the treeline, I stand there, painfully aware that I’m always on the outside looking in. The pack mingles, laughing and teasing, eating and bonding, and something like longing fills my chest. My irritable gaze finds Tyran easily, his large, hard body moving from one group to another. He checks on them, pausing to talk or tease or chuckle. His eyes are bright and comforting, his smile jovial and warm. Gone is the icy castigation that was just aimed at me. I survey him as he brushes hair from his face with a hand and chortles deeply at something another male says.
As I watch, he saunters over to a fire that has a few cuddling couples surrounding it. I study them and huff incredulously; I don’t even know if the alpha is a cuddler, since he’s always leaving. Yet I’m expected to bite the impatient bastard just because he bit me first.
Please, I snort.
A figure stands and offers him their seat, and I realize it’s a female when the light of the flickering flames catches her profile just right. Tyran sits, a wide smile on his face, and then my mouth drops open with utter shock when the female moves to sit in his lap...and he allows her to.
Red slams down over my vision, and rage curdles my blood as Tyran’s hands go to the female’s waist. She wraps an arm around the back of his shoulders, and the group collectively laughs about something. But from the outskirts of their camp, all I can see is anger, all I can taste is the salty call for blood, the demand for death skittering up my spine as I fight to keep my fur and fangs inside.
Hurt and disrespect rocket through me like bombs, and before I even know that I’ve taken a step in their direction, I’m suddenly standing outside of the group, staring at Tyran and Presley like I’m going to destroy them. My wolf is snarling inside my chest, demanding that I take what’s mine, but I shut that all down.
A feral, spine tingling growl crawls up my throat and spills from my lips like oil from a wrecked tanker, and all the laughter, teasing, and friendly exchanges drift away. The happy sounds die, my presence serving as an off switch.
Tyran’s eyes narrow on mine, and there’s something in them that I’m too pissed to read. But he does nothing. Just sits there with a bitch in his lap, after all the bullshit he just spewed at the reckoning, after everything he just made me believe.
“Trust and loyalty, huh?” I snarl, raking my gaze over the two of them like they’re the piss puddle a scared dog leaves behind when it smells our kind. “And here I was thinking those words actually meant something to you and your people. Good to know they’re just your nicknames for this bitch’s tits,” I snap, turning my glare to Presley, who bristles at my words.