Blood & Wine

17 | Dasher

Something about Fynley fucking Iris made me sick to my stomach.

Like everybody else, I sat, waiting for his command. His last command to us was, Watch how a real werewolf fucks his woman, and he had made us sit there while he pushed her against that tree and fucked her. She moaned and writhed under his touch, a smile on her face, and it was wrong. That smile belonged to me.

Or, at least it should.

Iris was beautiful—tall, honeyed skin and dark black hair that hung down her back with the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen before in my life. They were wide and lovely, framed by thick eyelashes, and when she wasn't trailing after that asshole with the moon in them, they held strength and power. In her wolf form, she was smaller than the others and dark brown with short, thick fur and a long, slender body.

They went on for half an hour, appetites insatiable. He had returned to his werewolf form filled with rage. He had left for a moment because the others had started to wander toward Eden, my Eden, distracted by her smell. She smelled like nature, like Earth—and a touch something else, something wolfy. It had distracted me, too, but I knew her. I recognized that scent and was able to put it out of my mind.

The others were not.

I wished I knew their names, but we had arrived late, and we hadn't wanted to get to know each other. At least not yet. Not all of us were sure we would stay with this pack. I knew I wouldn't. I didn't belong here.

Fynley had gone to corral Eden, to do something with her—something, he assured me, that would not hurt her or even upset her mood—to make sure no one would touch her. She had promised not to use magic unless I was in danger or she was. The idea that those werewolves were after her made me angry enough to kill one of them. I had snapped at someone's neck, and Fynley had immediately rectified the situation.

Now no one touched her.

He was an asshole, and he was arrogant, but he made for a good Alpha. He did what it took to make sure we were all safe and controlled in our werewolf forms. Had brought us somewhere no humans went.

Humans.

When did I stop thinking of myself as a human?

I whined, wanting to get out and do something, but it seemed like we were going to be freed soon anyway. Iris had climaxed, tossing her long hair back and crying out. Fynley was a step behind her, biting down on her neck.

A growl built in my chest.

Mine, mine, mine.

Someone nudged me, a nose in my side. I turned, snapping at the pale white wolf, baring my teeth. It shivered, sitting back on its haunches. Weak, I thought, sending that thought to her. She had been here longer than me, not new to being a werewolf like I was.

A part of Fynley's pack.

Iris's scent, post-sex, hit me, and it made me stare down this little white wolf even more. I growled at her, stepping forward. Needing someone to take my anger out on. It would have to be her because I had promised Eden to let her kill Fynley.

The wolf trembled.

I sprung forward—

But someone knocked into me.

I slid into the ground, Jagger on top of me, his teeth snapping at my throat. Calm down, he growled. You don't attack your pack.

This isn't my pack.