To Rule the Alpha's Heart

29. The Onyx Craven Alpha

CALLA VORONÍN

Calla felt Einarr's rage. She felt it in her own bones– in her chest– suffocating and consuming, all at once.

When the challenger first entered the clearing, Cyril whispered a quick translation of Einarr's conversation with the male, but it did not take long for their words to turn into snarls. Cyril stopped translating the conversation when it became apparent that the challenging male spoke of Calla, his dark, callous eyes seeking her out in the darkness.

She stood tall and held the challenger's gaze, even as the werewolves stiffened around her. She could easily guess what sort of vile things the male taunted Einarr with, but she did not feel afraid. No– she trusted Einarr to protect her. And that realization surprised Calla more than she anticipated.

Her heart began to race unpredictably in her chest, and her eyes studied Einarr's back. The way his spine straightened and his fingers curled into tight, trembling fists. The hardened muscles of his backside clenched and unclenched. With every twisted, Nortend word that slipped from the challenger's mouth, Calla knew that Einarr's control slipped, too.

Then, without warning, her mate snapped.

His body contorted with alarming speed, man transformed into beast, and the fight for control of the Onyx Craven Pack began.

Having shifted first, Einarr had the immediate advantage. The male from the Night Keep pack shifted while Einarr moved, but he was too late. Einarr's monstrous gray wolf pinned the onyx-coated challenger to the forest floor, entangling in a mass of teeth and claws.

Calla's breath caught in her throat as viscous snarls filled the clearing, from both the fighters and surrounding werewolves alike. The Onyx Craven warriors yipped and howled their support of their Alpha, but no wolf stepped in to fight alongside Einarr. This was his fight. His pack to defend from any challenger.

Teeth gnashed and claws that resembled talons tore into flesh, but even Calla's inexperienced eyes recognized that Einarr fought with unparalleled skill and brutality. The challenger appeared weak and unpolished by comparison, and pride swelled in Calla's chest.

The challenger, still pinned to the forest floor, attempted to lurch upward and sink his teeth into Einarr's neck, but the movement left him exposed– just for a moment. Einarr took advantage of the blunder and plunged his beast's jaws into the black scruff of the challenger's neck.

The challenger yelped, emitting sharp, prolonged whimpers as his body thrashed to gain freedom from Einarr's hold. His paws raked against Einarr's underside, but Calla's Alpha only tightened his death-grip, thrashing his head back and forth to further rip into the opposing male's flesh.

The fight would be over soon– Calla was certain of it.

And yet, as the challenger moved with less vigor and the fight left his body, one of the bystanding wolves entered the fray. Calla screamed as a little gray wolf, one of the shifters that had accompanied the challenger on his conquest, launched onto Einarr's back, her jaws clamped around the back of his neck.

Einarr's wolf released his hold on the black-pelted challenger, and a furious howl emitted from his blood-soaked jowls. He reared back onto his hind-legs, twisting in an attempt to dislodge the wolf on his back. Somehow, the enemy female remained. Still, no one from the Onyx Craven pack moved.

"Cyril!" Calla shouted, lurching forward as if she might be able to provide her mate with some assistance. "Arkan! Do something!" she half-demanded, half-snarled at the Sanguin shifter.

A pair of rough hands– Cyril's hands – clamped down on her shoulders, preventing her from rushing into the clearing, where Einarr still struggled to dislodge the female wolf from his back. Calla tried to rip out of Cyril's grip to no avail. "Let go of me!"