Chapter 4 4

Flexing the claws of my right hand and readying them to strike, I asked, "Didn't you have Neutral girls in your pack?"

Grog bowed his head and sighed. "Alpha Gundahar kept them for himself. He said the chances of them conceiving shifters were higher if they mated with the strongest wolf."

I swallowed back a bellyful of bitterness, wishing the former alpha was alive so I could kill him with my bare claws. "Come over here, Grog," I said, trying to make my voice coaxing. "I won't bite."

His nervous laugh raked across my nerves. "Not until you shift, and then you will be mine."

My nostrils flared. "In the meantime, let me teach you to kiss."

"I'm ready." Grog shuffled toward me with his lips puckered, the filthy bristles of his beard picking up the light.

Flinching, I raised my left hand. "Not like that."

He reared back. "What are you talking about?"

"Men close their eyes to kiss." I gulped, trying not to hurl. "That way, it's more romantic."

Grog grabbed my left wrist, pulled me into his chest, and closed his eyes. Outrage burst across my gut, but I clenched my jaws. As he brought his lips to mine, I raised my right hand and swiped at his jugular with my claws. Warm blood spurted from his neck wound and splattered over my face.

"Bitch." His pained roar rang through my ears.

I flinched and scrambled back.

Grog released his grip from my wrist, clutched at his neck, and launched himself off the daybed. Blood flowed through his fingers and down his shoulders and chest, and to the floor.

"A flesh wound like this means nothing," he said, breathing hard.

"Maybe not, but you're less likely to be in the mood for mating with no blood flow to that scrawny maggot between your legs." I bared my teeth and edged around the daybed toward where Fenrir lay.

Grog's eyes bulged, and the cords of his neck expanded like a cobra's. "Marchosias warned me about you," he ground out. "He said you were slippery and I should force you to shift."

Pain swept through my belly like a tidal wave, and my entire body trembled with need. Need for Fenrir, since he was the only male I wanted as my mate.

But as my blood boiled, and the edges of my vision turned red, my stomach sank with the weight of dread. It was only a matter of time before my body cried out for any male.

Even Grog.

"Fenrir," I screamed into our bond. "If you don't get up this instant, I'm going to walk through that ward and shake you awake."

I winced at the empty threat. The pain rippling through my body was so intense, I doubted that I could even hold up my own weight.

My wolf twitched, and my heart twisted with guilt. She was still injured from the battle and needed her rest. The last thing I wanted was for her to take control and get us both mated to Grog.

"Go back to sleep," I said to her. "Everything's all right."

She raised her head, turning it from side to side, and sniffed.

Grog knelt on the floor, still clutching at his neck. "You think I don't know what's happening in your body?" he said. "I've peeped at hundreds of mating couples, and I know when a female is about to present."

My mind was in no condition to picture myself on all fours with my tail in the air, my head twisted around to plead to be mounted. Right now, I needed to subdue my wolf before she tried anything insane.

She shook off the last vestiges of sleep and released a long yowl.

"Lie down," I murmured into our bond.

She trotted forward.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

Part of me already knew. If Marchosias had gifted Grog with a wolf that was anything like mine, then my wolf knew she was in his presence. I clutched at my insides. This was worse than when she'd go crazy in the presence of Beowulf. Worse, because I knew that behind her reactions were the machinations of a demon who wanted to use us to birth his vessel.

Fenrir rolled to his side and pushed himself off the floor, his limbs shaking with the effort.

My heart soared with triumph.

With Grog injured and Fenrir recovering from the poison, I was finally safe.