Blood Wolf Dawning

Chapter 3

Knowing Sayre needed some time to calm down, Cian climbed back into the Audi. He drove nearly a quarter of a mile down the mountain, then pulled over into a flat grassy area on the side of the road and parked. Though he never would have believed it, the beautiful little witch had been ready to put a freaking bullet in him. He’d have been incredibly proud over the way she’d stood up for herself, if her target had been anything other than his own body...and the circumstances weren’t so serious.

But they were, which was why there was no way in hell he was tucking his tail between his legs and running. This was nothing but a change in strategy, and a good hunter always knew when to step back and regroup. So while he might have let her think she’d won the first round, he was already focused on the second, determined to be the one who came out on top in the end.

On top of her, you mean, the wolf’s gravelly voice rumbled in his head, and he rolled his eyes at the beast’s wishful thinking. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice—and by nice he meant fucking exceptional—but he knew that sex was the last damn thing he could afford to think about in connection with Sayre. Too much of that already took place when he finally allowed himself to sleep.

Though he’d tried not to, Cian had been dreaming about Sayre Murphy from the moment he’d walked away. Hell, even before that, when he was still living in the Alley and fighting his need for her on a daily basis. But the dreams had been...evolving over the last few months, and while many of them were more nightmare than fantasy now, the erotic ones were becoming shockingly intense. Not that they’d ever been tame—but there was a feverish, visceral edge to them now that had him strung so tightly he was surprised he hadn’t snapped. Over the past few weeks, he’d awakened so many times thrusting and clawing at his sheets that he’d started to feel like a perpetually randy teen again, and God only knew he’d spent too many years perfecting that testosterone-driven stage of his life.

But even his dreams hadn’t done the reality of her justice.

Sayre at eighteen had been beautiful. But Sayre at twenty-three was enough to make him want to sell his goddamn soul for the chance to touch her. She was that incredible. So earthy and warm and sensual that it’d taken every ounce of his strength to claw on to his control when he’d approached her, instead of taking her down to the ground and claiming every inch of her lush little body for his own.

Only the certainty that she’d hate him in the end had enabled him to fight that fierce, possessive pull. That...and the fact that he had no business touching her when he could never give her the things she deserved. Christ, he couldn’t even give her next month, much less promises of love and a family and forever.

Careful to stay hidden, he made his way back up the mountain on foot and studied her cabin from the shelter of the woods. The place was small but pretty, surrounded by a large, colorful garden that was obviously well tended. But the location couldn’t have been more remote if she’d moved to the wilds of Alaska, and it twisted his insides to think of her being stuck out here all alone. It was the last thing in the world he would have expected for the girl who’d always greeted everyone with a smile and a hug; she’d always been an effortless little social butterfly who people couldn’t help but want to be around.

Though there were a lot of Lycans who went away to attend university among the human population, he knew that Sayre had planned on going to a local school for a degree in environmental studies. He hadn’t understood why she was so determined to stay with the pack while she continued her education, but now he thought that maybe he did. If her powers had been increasing to the point that she was having trouble dealing with them, she might have worried over what would happen if she were too far away from her family. He hated that she’d carried that kind of burden back then; girls in their teens didn’t need to be worrying about such serious issues. But Sayre had fought in the war right along with the rest of her family, and it’d been apparent even then that her powers were...different. She’d already been capable of firing powerful bursts of light from her hands, and had taken down the enemy with a skill that had completely shocked him—though young, she’d shown no mercy to those who would have harmed her loved ones.

And now this. Instead of finishing her studies and starting to find her way in the world, she was living like a recluse in the goddamn mountains, all alone. No family. No friends. He felt to blame, even though he hadn’t been there. But wasn’t it better for her to be alone than to be with someone like him?

Not wanting to think about the answer to that question, he glanced at the thick, military-grade watch on his wrist, surprised she hadn’t come down to check that he’d followed her orders and left. Did she actually believe he would just turn and walk away when her life was in danger?

Only you never actually got around to telling her that part, did you? his beast muttered, making him scowl. He didn’t need the animal telling him what he already knew. Yeah, he should have explained the seriousness of the situation to her right from the start, but he’d had his reasons for holding back.

At first, he’d simply been too dumbstruck by how she’d changed, and he couldn’t blame himself for that. He’d all but been knocked back on his ass by the sight of her. But then he’d told her there wasn’t time to explain, which was bullshit. He could have made the time, but the fact was that he simply hadn’t been ready to spill the whole sordid story. Telling her meant giving her one more reason to hate him, and she already had enough of those.

But no matter how angry she was, or how much the situation sucked, he wasn’t leaving this mountain without her. He might have turned his back on her before, but only because he’d thought it was the best way to keep her safe.

Only...the danger had found her anyway, hadn’t it? Which meant that for all his running, he was still stuck in the same destructive loop, and there didn’t seem to be any way out of it. Not until Aedan no longer hung over his life like a malevolent shadow, ready to wreak pain, terror and death on anything that he wanted for himself.

The minutes moved by in a slow crawl, the air hot and sticky with humidity, though he barely noticed, his attention completely fixated on Sayre as the witch went about her daily routine. Every now and again, he would pick up the muted sounds of her voice as she talked to herself, the low words edged with anger and frustration. He’d definitely pissed her off by coming there, which meant that she was still angry about the way he’d left and hadn’t gotten over it. That she hadn’t forgotten him. And as wrong as it was, he liked that she’d been thinking about him all these years. That he’d made a big enough impact on her life to be remembered.

You’re her life mate, dimwit, his wolf grunted. Not like she can just forget that little tidbit.

“Piss off,” he muttered, knowing damn well that the beast was right.

Are we going to just stand out here all day? the animal persisted. Because we belong over there with her. We belong inside her.

He choked back a curse, the need searing through his veins making him sweat even more than the heat. He’d never so much as kissed Sayre, and yet, he strongly suspected that sex with her would be unlike anything he’d ever known. Just the fantasy of it overshadowed every woman he’d ever been with, and there’d been so many. Too many. Faces and bodies and names that he wouldn’t have been able to recall to save his life—which only made him that much more of a bastard.

The wind finally picked up, but he was far enough away that he didn’t need to worry she would scent him on the air. Though Lycan blood pumped through her veins, she was unable to take the shape of a wolf, which meant she didn’t have the same heightened abilities as the rest of them. Instead, the women in her bloodline were known as witches, or healers. They were each powerful in their own right, but he’d never felt the charge of energy surrounding a Lycan-born witch like he had with Sayre. She was truly in a class of her own, and he couldn’t help but wonder how those powers would mature as she grew older.

He seriously doubted that she needed the gun. Though he’d once been able to force his way through her power, when they’d been in the heat of battle and he’d been hell-bent on protecting her, she was stronger now. If she’d wanted, he was sure she could have blasted him with enough energy to put him out of commission for the rest of the day—and Christ, that was sexy. Everything about the woman was...intoxicating. He’d always thought she was beautiful in an ethereal, fey kind of way, and had been intensely attracted to her. But now...Jesus. There honestly weren’t words to describe the way she affected him. Her curly hair had to be a good seven inches longer, reaching the middle of her back, the color a deeper red that was shot through with streaks of gold, no doubt from all the time she spent outdoors. Her once thin, coltish body was now deliciously curved, her breasts and ass a little fuller, giving her slender figure a more lush, womanly look. He couldn’t help but imagine what this new shape of hers would feel like spread out beneath him, all that sweet, creamy flesh his for the taking.

But his attraction to Sayre Murphy had always been about more than her looks, and that hadn’t changed. If anything, the force of her will held an even deeper draw for him now, her fiery spirit when combined with her tender nature creating an alluring package that would entice any man, but especially the one chosen by fate as her perfect match. Everything about her was designed to please him, and a gruff, troubled burst of laughter softly fell from his lips as he scrubbed a hand over his face, knowing he was in some seriously deep shit. Even if she weren’t the sexiest thing he’d ever set eyes on, he’d have wanted her. The fact that her innate sensuality was even more prevalent now, her mouth and scent and the husky sound of her voice calling to him on every primitive level, well...that was just overkill. A play of the universe to make the coming days as excruciatingly painful as possible. Hell, at this rate, he was pretty sure he’d feel like he’d gone ten rounds in a medieval torture chamber by the time this nightmare was over. And he’d no doubt bear the scars to prove it, on his skin as well as his blackened heart.

Keep her alive and keep my hands to myself. That needed to be his new mantra—but the second part wouldn’t be easy. When she stood up after tending another colorful flower bed and lifted her arms over her head to stretch her back, the little tank top she wore rising up to reveal her sexy tummy and a tiny, dark tattoo that was scrolled around her navel, he realized it would be damn near impossible.

Sweet little Sayre had a tattoo?

Holy...shit. He was fairly certain that his jaw had just dropped down to somewhere around his ankles, his cock so hard he probably wasn’t going to be able to walk straight. He didn’t know what the intricate symbols of the tattoo meant, but he’d have sold his damn soul in that moment for the chance to drop down on his knees in front of her and press his open mouth to that provocative little piece of artwork. And he sure as hell wouldn’t stop there. Trailing his tongue down the center of her body, he would keep going until he was breathing in the sweet, humid scent of her where it would be the richest. Like hot, wild honey on his tongue, melting down his throat, making him hunger in a way he didn’t think any human male could ever completely experience. A hunger that went deeper than his flesh—that bled down into his veins and his bones and pumped through the very heart of him.

A drop of sweat slid down the searing heat of his temple, stinging the corner of his eye, and he shook himself out of his thoughts, painfully aware that they weren’t leading to any place he’d be able to go. And damned if it weren’t enough to make him want to bawl like a friggin’ baby. Or howl at the rising moon.

When she reached for something in the back pocket of those short-as-hell shorts and started to walk around the back of the cabin, Cian pushed off from the tree he’d been leaning against, ready to change his position so that she wasn’t out of his sight. But he froze when his cell phone suddenly vibrated in the front pocket of his jeans, his brows lifting with surprise. He was unused to anyone trying to contact him, since the number was one he’d gotten after he’d left five years ago, and there were only a few informants he’d employed over that time who he’d given it to. They rarely contacted him, and how was he even getting reception out here?

This is so ridiculous. I know you’re out there. Leave. Now. Before I go all West Virginia on your ass.

The text was from Sayre?

How the hell did you get my number?

I asked Mic for it.

Ah, that’s right. He’d texted Brody that morning, so his number was in the Runner’s phone. All Mic had to do was—

Enough stalling, his beast snapped, cutting him off. Text her back!

How did you know I’m out here?

That’s not the issue, Cian. Leave. Like I told you before, I don’t want you here.

He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering just how strong her powers had gotten over the last five years. Christ, she couldn’t read his mind, could she? No, if she could, then she’d know about the danger from Aedan, which meant she’d understand how serious he was about taking her back to the Alley, where the others could help him protect her.

Knowing he just needed to get it over and done with, like ripping off a bloody bandage, his fingers flew across the keypad as he typed in his response.

I can’t leave, Sayre. I’m here because you’re in danger. You need to give me the chance to explain.

She didn’t text back right away, and he hoped she was finally taking him seriously. Then his phone vibrated again.

No explanations needed. If that’s true, then I can take care of myself. Just go.

He cursed, hesitating, then forced himself to write:

I can’t. It’s because of me.

Huh. So what did YOU do? Do I have some psychotic jilted lover coming after me now? Did you accidentally let it slip that you have a mate? Should’ve told the poor woman you want nothing to do with me. She’s wasting her time.

Oh, Jesus. He barked out a dry laugh, even though there was nothing remotely funny about the situation. Not want her? There were parts of her he wanted so badly he was surprised the need hadn’t permanently damaged him.

Would serve you right, his beast muttered with disgust, as disappointed in him as everyone else who had ever meant anything to him.

You’re damned right I am. And you sound pathetic.

Irritated that the animal had just called him out for taking part in an embarrassing private pity party, he started to make his way toward the cabin, ready to face the wrath of Sayre and her gun, when he and his beast both instantly realized something was wrong. While the wolf chuffed in his head, Cian lifted his nose and sniffed the mountain air, searching for what had snagged his attention, and promptly finding it. Two...no, three human males were closing in on Sayre’s cabin from the north, and Cian stealthily headed in their direction, until he could pick up their muted conversation.

“Oh, man, he didn’t tell us she was such a hot little piece. I’m thinking we need to try this one out before we deliver her,” one of them said, obviously eyeing Sayre through the trees.

“I get her first,” argued a second male.

“Like hell you do,” a new voice cackled. “You always break them and then they aren’t any fun for the rest of us.”

“But I’ve got a thing for redheads,” the second one whined.

“We don’t give a shit. You can wait your fuckin’ turn.”

Cian moved silently through the trees, drawing nearer, every part of him completely focused on his prey. Did these idiots actually think he was going to let them get close to her? Did they have any idea what they were walking into? Either way, it didn’t matter. Their fates had been sealed the instant they voiced their intentions.

“Let’s spread out, blocking her exits. That asshole who hired us said it might be a few days before he showed up to collect her, and I’d rather spend the time we’ve got with her having fun than running her down.”

One of his friends snickered. “That’s just because your bum knees don’t hold up anymore. But I kinda like the thought of chasing her down like a bitch.”

In that moment, Cian almost regretted the necessity of killing them quickly. It no doubt made him a brutal bastard, but he would have enjoyed making these assholes suffer long and hard before he finally finished them off.

He quickly texted Sayre, ordering her to lock herself inside the cabin. Then he shoved the phone in his pocket, and released his long, lethal fangs and claws, the sharp tips piercing through gum and skin with a brief but familiar bite of pain. Without the light of the moon, this was as much as his body could shift form, but it was more than enough. Whatever weapons the humans possessed, they weren’t going to be any match for his speed and skill.

In normal circumstances, he would have never revealed the deadly, animalistic side of his nature in front of humans, since the Lycan race’s existence was a carefully protected secret from the vast majority of the population. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and these assholes weren’t ever going to leave this mountain.

Relaxing his tether on his beast, Cian allowed the wolf to prowl closer to his surface, the animal’s possessive, visceral need to protect its mate punching deeper into his system, ramping his adrenaline at the same time he shifted into a state of total focus. His objective was extremely simple: destroy the threat by any means necessary. With a deep breath and a flex of his claws, he launched his attack.

It took only seconds to find the first male in the line of trees behind her cabin, the vile stench of body odor impossible to miss for someone with Cian’s acute sense of smell. He slashed his claws across the human’s throat and swiftly retreated to avoid as much of the thick, crimson spray as he could. Its rich scent had his pulse ramping up, the blackened part of his soul that he hated with such ferocity awakening with the rush for more. For that wet, slick spill to slide down his throat and feed the darkness. Forcing himself to abandon the kill and move on, he quickly closed in on the second human from behind, the bastard never even knowing he was there until he felt the sharp press of Cian’s blood-covered claws tearing across his throat as his body crumpled to the forest floor.

Two down, one to go.

The third male had made his way around the eastern edge of her property, intending to cut off Sayre from the south. Following the scent of cheap beer and stale sweat, Cian easily found the human standing between two towering trees as the last vestiges of sunlight held on, not yet ready to release its claim to the day. There was a nauseating leer on the bastard’s face as he stared at her cabin, his tongue slicking across his lips while he tapped the blade of a hunting knife against his thigh. Cian was giving private thanks that Sayre had actually listened to him and gone inside, when she suddenly stepped out from behind the small shed not ten yards away from where the man stood, holding a rifle in her arms. He heard the click of the gun a fraction of a second before she fired a bullet into the male’s thigh. The force of Sayre’s shot sent the human crashing to the ground, and Cian quickly finished him off with a fatal swipe of his claws before turning toward the headstrong woman who apparently didn’t know how to follow orders to save her life.