Rhyannon Byrd - Last Wolf Watching

Mindless with heartache and rage, Michaela clawed at the arm holding her, kicking her heels against whatever part of her captor’s legs she could reach. “Stop it,” a deep, husky voice grunted in her ear. “You’re not helping him by losing it. I give you my word he’ll survive the ceremony, but you have to keep it together.”

“ Nooooo! ” she screamed, too hysterical to listen to reason. “You’re monsters! All of you! Look what you’ve done to him! How dare you! How dare you! ”

The arm tightened with a powerful flex of muscle, cinching her waist, and her breath sucked in on a sharp, wailing gasp. “Shut up before you get both yourself and your brother killed. I will not let that happen. Do you understand me?” he growled, shaking her so hard that her teeth clicked together. “Do you understand me, Doucet?”

“Damn it!” she cried, stricken as she watched one of the guards grab Max by his hair and jerk him to his feet. Around them, Lycans huffed and growled as they watched the spectacle, while others outright howled for the show to begin. “Put me down! I’m going to kill them for touching him!”

“That’s enough!” the voice seethed in her ear. “They’ll tear you apart before you even reach him, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand here and watch you die.”

Suddenly, through the haze of fear and agony and outrage in her mind, she finally recognized who’d caught her. Brody .

He held her in his arms, her body locked against his powerful form, her back to the burning heat of his chest. Held her so high that her toes didn’t even touch the ground. A low, keening sound of anguish tore through her, and her head dropped forward as hoarse sobs of pain ripped from her throat. “Let me go. I have to help him. Please ,” she begged brokenly, knowing only that she needed to get to Max. “Let me go, Brody.”

He muttered something against her hair, his breath warm against her scalp, and Michaela could have sworn it was a single word…but she must have heard wrong. She was too upset. Too furious. Too terrified. She must be out of her mind.

Because it had sounded as if he’d quietly snarled the word never .

Chapter 2

Silently cursing his lack of control where this particular woman was concerned, Brody wondered just what he was doing. He’d sworn to himself that he’d stay home tonight—and yet, when Cian had come knocking at his door, on his way to the ceremony, he couldn’t do it. His fear over what might happen to her had been too great, and he’d found himself following his partner up to the clearing where the Silvercrest pack conducted its business—business that was better suited to the wild than the civilized streets of its town.

He hadn’t been able to stay away from her—he hadn’t even lasted a day.

But nothing had changed, because the facts remained the same. It didn’t matter what he wanted. The truth of the matter was that women like Michaela Doucet never took interest in guys like him—ones who were scarred and used and bitter enough not to care what the world thought about them. Sure, they may have used him for a raunchy one-night stand. One of those “ look at brave little me making it with the big scary guy ” situations, turned on by his scars because of the violence they represented. But even then, they still feared him because of his sheer physical size and power. And they got off on that fear, using it as a twisted means of sharpening the thrill when they found themselves beneath a man who could too easily break them if he wanted.

Users, each and every one of them, and they’d used him until Brody had just grown tired of it all and said to hell with it—to hell with women—no matter how badly his body ached for one.

And you’re being an asshole. Michaela isn’t like that, and you damn well know it .

He ground his jaw down until his teeth ached, soaking in the pain, knowing he deserved it. He was being an idiot, because truth be told, Michaela Doucet scared the ever-loving hell out of him. Despite his determination to stay away from her, he’d known, deep down, that he’d come tonight. Known, instinctively, that it was where he belonged.

He hated it—but there was no sense denying that he needed to be here to protect her. The entire time he’d hiked through the woods, he’d sworn to himself that he’d watch from the sidelines. Simply ensure she didn’t get herself into more trouble than she could handle, and he had no doubt she could cause trouble. The woman lived up to her fiery Cajun heritage like a pro, whipping men into a frenzy of lust wherever she went.

Even now, when she was an emotional wreck, he could sense the unmated males’ interest as the Lycans watched her with a dark, feral hunger, the edgy scent of their lust thick on the air, making him want to snap at them with his jaws.

She was just too beautiful for her own good. And too damn fearless! He still couldn’t believe the depth of her anger toward the pack, or her willingness to confront them over the treatment of her brother. He wondered if the Doucet kid knew how lucky he was to have someone who cared that much about him, who was willing to risk her life because she wanted to keep him safe.

There was obviously a lot more to Michaela Doucet than a pretty face and a body most men would die for the chance to cover—and the uncomfortable knowledge made Brody want to let go of her, turn around and never come within a God-given mile of her again.

But his arms wouldn’t cooperate. If anything, his grip tightened, the sensation of her soft curves plastered down the front of his body enough to make his teeth gnash. He’d known she’d feel incredible if he ever had the chance to be this close to her, to touch her, burying his face in her hair and letting her rich, seductive scent sink into him—but he hadn’t realized her effect would actually make his knees shake…or his mouth water for a slow, deep, intimate taste of her.

He wanted her on his tongue. All of her. Everywhere. His face lowered, lips rubbing against the smooth silk of her hair, and he was a breath away from sliding lower, nuzzling behind her ear, when he suddenly realized where they were…and what he was doing.

Goddamn it! He’d worked so hard to master control of himself—there was no damned way he planned on letting her strip it away so easily. But holding her…it was even more dangerous than he’d imagined. Richer. Sweeter. Every cell of his body ached with the need to claim, to accept the dark truth he refused to even consider.

“Brody?” The sound of his name jerked him out of his internal hell, and he realized Mason was standing just a little to his left, a few feet behind him. He could hear his friend’s confusion, as well as his surprise that Brody had been the one to grab hold of Michaela. Around them, the pack’s energy grew sharper with the promise of confrontation between the Elders and the indomitable human he held in his arms, and Brody understood the need to retreat back to the safety of the other Runners.

“It’s okay, Mase,” he grated under his breath, carrying her with him as he backed up a few steps until flanked by their supporters. “We’re under control here. I’ve got her.”

She’d grown quiet, but trembled in his arms even as she lifted her head high, too fragile for such strength, a contradiction that set his teeth on edge at the same time she sent his pulse rate soaring. He gently lowered her body until her feet touched the ground, but didn’t release his hold on her—and she didn’t try to pull away. She just stood there, pressed against his length, and stared soundlessly at her brother, the rapid panting of her breath making a quiet rasp through her parted lips.