N. Walters - Isaiah's Haven

“Neema needs to be protected,” Isaiah began. “From what I saw at the park the other night, I assume she doesn’t have much, if any, fighting experience.”

“I can take care of my mate.” Teague stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest, his green eyes flat and cold.

“How much fighting experience do you have?” Isaiah asked the group as a whole.

Hank stepped forward, his arms and legs loose, his right hand resting on the handle of a knife he had strapped to his upper thigh. Meredith knew the blade was coated with silver. “I was in the army for several years. I can hold my own.”

“I can fight.” Teague strode to Neema’s side and pulled her into the curve of his body. Neema snuggled closer to her mate.

In many ways, they’d sheltered her and she was still so young and immature. Meredith only hoped Neema had the time to grow and mature into the strong woman she knew the younger female could be. Beneath the shy exterior was a female with a core of steel. She’d seen glimpses of it over the years. Neema hadn’t had an easy upbringing, moving from one foster home to another, always different, never fitting in until she’d stumbled across Meredith and her pack.

“This isn’t simply street fighting.” Isaiah let his gaze wander over all of them, assessing strengths and weaknesses. “These wolves will kill any half-breed they find. Period. You do not reason with them. If they attack, you kill them.”

The brutality of it all washed over her. Isaiah was so matter-of-fact, so okay with the idea of simply killing these males.

“It’s kill or be killed. Beneath the human exterior, we’re wolves,” he reminded them.

Maybe she’d been in the city for too long. Maybe she wanted to block out the violence of her early years. Meredith wished that she could somehow make this problem disappear. She’d wanted a different life for her children.

But that was not to be. You played the cards that fate dealt you. They’d survive this and come out all the stronger for it.

She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Do we shift or fight in human form?”

Isaiah narrowed his gaze, his eyes watching the up-and-down strokes of her hands. The motion slowed until it finally stopped, her hands resting just above her elbows.

“At this point, there’s no time to do anything fancy. Do whatever feels best. Hank and Michael will take the point with me. The rest of you hang back and wait. Let’s see if we can get out of this with minimum casualties.”

Isaiah’s head swiveled around to the front door. “They’re here.”

He strode across the room and yanked the door open, facing the three males who stood there. Tall and strong, he braced his legs apart, his wide shoulders practically filling the wide doorway.

Meredith didn’t have time to protest that he wasn’t alpha of this pack, that she was. He’d taken over. For now.

She tensed as Isaiah faced the threat. “You need to leave. You’re not welcome here.” She nearly smiled as his words almost echoed the first ones she’d said to him.

“Are you alpha here?”

“Who wants to know?” Isaiah countered.

The male raised an eyebrow at the challenge, but Meredith glimpsed respect there as well. “Adams from the Black Ridge Pack. Who are you?”

“Isaiah Striker.”

Meredith saw the man jerk back slightly. “Long way from home, aren’t you, Striker?”

“So are you. I’m here to see the sights. You?” Isaiah shrugged, rolling his massive shoulders as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Can we discuss this inside or do you want to risk someone hearing our business?”

Isaiah stepped back and allowed the three males to enter. Their gaze went immediately to her and then to Neema. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose and fury straightened her spine. They were looking for brood mares to bear their young, but they were also here to threaten her pack.

Meredith stepped forward. “I am alpha here. Why have you come?”

The man called Adams raised an eyebrow and glanced at Isaiah. “You let your woman speak for you?”

The male chauvinist ass. Meredith wanted to kick him in the balls on principle. She forced herself to remain calm and composed when what she really wanted to do was attack him.

Isaiah looked totally unconcerned. “She is alpha of this pack.”

Meredith bristled at the assumption that she was only alpha because Isaiah allowed it. She knew he didn’t mean his confirmation in that way, but that was how it sounded.

Another of the men stepped forward. “Then she needs a mate. I’m Spencer and this is Briggs,” he indicated the other man. Meredith’s skin crawled at the way these men watched her. She knew their type. They were like Maxwell, her dead husband. They would take whatever they wanted, the hell with what she or any other woman wanted.

A low rumble came from deep in Teague’s chest as he shoved Neema behind him. Kevin and Benjamin took up posts on either side of her. Hank and Michael spread out slightly to surround the males.

“We received some distressing information,” Adams continued. His gaze flicked to Hank and Michael, but he dismissed them, focusing on Isaiah.

“Can’t believe everything you hear.” Isaiah appeared totally relaxed, without a care in the world.

Adams inclined his head. “True. But this news was very distressing. Seems as though there’s a small pack in Chicago with several half-breeds.” He all but growled the last word.

Again, Isaiah shrugged. “And your point would be?”

He was baiting the other men, she realized. She rolled her shoulders and softened her knees, readying herself to fight.

“Half-breeds don’t deserve to live,” Spencer growled.

“That’s your opinion.”

Adams eyed all the werewolves in the room, his gaze hovering on Meredith. “It’s the only opinion that matters. After I kill your lover and your half-breed mutants, I’m going to claim you and fuck you until you remember what a real male is.” His smile sent a shiver down Meredith’s spine. This was a male who would enjoy subjugating her, hurting her, breaking her to his will.

“After I kill you, I’m going to make your tough hide into a purse.” She paused for effect. “Or maybe a pair of boots.”

Isaiah chuckled, drawing the attention of the three males.

“You find this amusing?” Adams eyes began to glow and his voice deepened. He was close to changing.

“I find the fact that you’d kill one of your own an abomination.” Isaiah didn’t move, but he seemed to grow larger somehow. His long hair brushed his shoulders and his face could have been hewn from pure granite. He was tough and mean and all male. And he was her heart. Meredith couldn’t drag her eyes from him.

“I find the fact that you’d work with bounty hunters a crime against all werewolves. A crime for which you have to pay.”

“Oh, and who’s going to make me pay?”

“Me.” Isaiah sprang without warning, but Adams was ready and met him halfway. The two gigantic men collided in midair.

The other two men took advantage of the confusion and attacked. Hank and Michael were suddenly engaged. It only took a moment for her to realize they were severely outclassed. They had the heart for fighting, for protecting their pack, but not the skills.

Briggs tossed Michael back against the bar. Glasses slid off the edge, smashing to the floor as her son rolled over the top of the bar and off the other side. He took out an entire shelf of liquor as he crashed to the floor.

No one hurt her children. No one.

Meredith yanked at her clothes, shifting on the fly. Her bones shifted and reformed, her jaw cracked and elongated. Teeth bared, claws raised, she jumped on Briggs’s back.