Chapter 17

Alex Stone

My wolf howls in fury at the sight of her. She has a large black eye, and there are bruises around her mouth and on her cheek.

"Sophia!"

I cover the distance between us, but she lets out a growl, lifting her hand, her voice rough. "I don't need your help."

Her breathing is shallow as she struggles to get to her feet. I grab her arm to support her; she pushes me away.

"I said I don't need your help!" she snarls at me.

Pride. And anger.

There is a wealth of both emotions simmering behind her eyes.

Does she expect me to walk away? Turn a blind eye to her condition?

This time when I seize her hand, my grip is forceful. "You're in no position to argue right now!"

She shoots me a hateful look, and my wolf freezes at the sight. Why? Why is she so mad at me? Why is she looking at me as if she considers me the very scum of the Earth?

I help her into the bedroom, ignoring the very precise curse words she's aiming at me.

I can still feel the rawness inside my own abdomen, but I pay no attention to it. From the way Sophia is hobbling, her injuries may very well be located on other parts of her body in addition to what I can see.

"Do you have a first aid kit?"

"I don't need—"

"I know," I say impatiently. "You don't need anybody's help, especially mine. But you're going to get it, so either you tell me where your first aid kit is or I go digging around your entire apartment till I find one. It's your choice."

From the look on her face, she would like nothing better than to give me a black eye to match her own.

"In the living room, under the coffee table," she finally mutters.

My injuries haven't exactly healed, so I can't move very fast. By the time I retrieve the first aid kit and return, I walk in on her taking off her shirt. She's wearing a sports bra underneath, but I can see that her entire back and both sides are littered with bruises. I can't control my sharp intake of breath.

Her body stiffens, and she glares at me over her shoulder. "Get out! I'm changing!"

I don't move. "Who did this to you?" My voice is furious, my wolf enraged. Somebody used her as a punching bag.

"None of your business." She opens her closet, hissing in pain with each movement. She takes out a loose blouse and pulls it over her head. Her movements are clearly painful, and when she hobbles over, wanting to pass by me, I stop her.

"I'm making it my business, Sophia," I growl. "Who did this to you?"

She looks at me tight-lipped, her eyes flashing with anger. "Explain to me why you give a shit. Do you think I'm supposed to feel touched by your concern? Or do you think I need a big strong male to protect me?"

Her words have me staggering, the venom in them something I've never heard from her before.

"I just—"

She gets in my face. "Don't give me an explanation, Alex. You made your intentions very clear to me today. I understand why you have to do what you have to do. But rejecting me means you have no say in my life. So, back off. Besides, if I need a man's support, there's somebody else I can turn to."

She pushes me aside and limps away. I stare after her, my heart feeling like something is clenching it.

"You mean that baby Alpha?" I can't help the cold fury in my voice. "The one who's been fawning over you?"

She comes to a stop, and without turning to look at me, she replies, "Yes. He's the first person to treat me like I matter. So, if I need help with something, if I'm in any sort of trouble, you can bet your ass I will go to him before you any day."

My wolf snarls inside me, furious at me and enraged by her words. It wants nothing more than to go hunt down our rival.

Sophia is moving toward the kitchen. I follow her.

I have never understood Noah's interest in Sophia. Every Alpha Successor or Alpha chooses a mate they know will benefit them and their pack.

"Have you considered what that man wants from you?" I demand, watching her take out a bag of peas from the freezer and press it against her black eye.

Sophia lets out a dry, angry chuckle. "Why? Just because you are discarding me, does that mean every other man is supposed to do the same?"

I clench my jaw. "I'm not walking away from you because I want to! You know why I have to—"

She turns around to face me, and anger glitters in her uncovered eye. She looks glorious and beautiful, even with the bruises all over her. The defiance in her expression intrigues my wolf, stirring its wild nature. It wants to bite her, lick her.

"I am not in the habit of begging for anybody's affection, Alex. Your reasons are your own problem. I never questioned you. I never told you to choose me and not the Silver Wolf. I have not uttered a fucking word. So, why do you think you have a right to stick your nose into my business? You and I mean nothing to one another. If I fuck the next person who looks at me, it is not your business, and if somebody else wants me, I am not going to reject them because of your misplaced pride."

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

She's right. I know she is. I don't have a say in anything she does. But the idea of her and that Alpha Successor with the golden, surfer-boy looks drives me insane. A part of me knows I'm being unreasonable. But the analytical side of me is also concerned. Why is Noah Black pursuing Sophia? There is no logic to it. Her wolf is latent. Even if he is madly in love with her, the pack elders would not accept her as Alpha Female.

The Alpha Female is the heart of the pack. She is supposed to be a source of strength and nurturing and, like the Alpha, she is the first line of defense when it comes to protecting the pack.

Even with all of Sophia's strengths, no sane Alpha Successor would choose her as Alpha Female because of her latent wolf. For me, the situation is different. She is my fated mate. Plus, I have no pack elders left alive who would protest the union.

But Noah? Very soon, he will challenge his father for the position of Alpha. It is a rite of passage, and he needs the pack elders' backing. Logic dictates he choose a strong mate. So, why is he pursuing Sophia?

I can only surmise that there is some unknown reasoning behind his actions. I haven't forgotten what she told me about how he bullied her when they were children. Although I only got the gist of the story, I could tell from the fear she displayed that Noah had been a source of torment.

Is this another game of his? Is he planning to make her fall in love with him and then crush her? I would not put it past him. The information I was able to gather on Noah was limited, but after my conversation with Elsa, I had my spies start digging deeper.

The man has a cruel streak. An almost sadistic one. His opponents and enemies fear him for his brutal actions. His methods of torture are so vile and so incomprehensibly cruel that tales of the few incidents that reached my ears made my skin crawl. Even if Sophia despises me, I can't let her be with that creature. He's up to something. I can't figure out what it is, but what I have been able to discern about Noah Black is that nothing he does is without a purpose.

Even Elsa, a human, is worried about Sophia's relationship with him.

To me, it seems that either Sophia is lashing out by letting Noah court her or she genuinely has feelings for him. I can't see the latter being the case. I can't even bear to think about it. Plus, it is simply not possible. With her fated mate in her presence, she cannot be physically attracted to another male. That's simply how our biology works. Our wolves are drawn to each other, and it's as if a switch is flipped off when it comes to anyone else.

This is why I can't understand why my body reacted the way it did when it came into contact with the Wily Vixen. Why was I aroused? This is something I try not to think about, because when I do, it feels like I'm betraying my own biology.

Sometimes I want to bury my head in my hands and scream. This whole fated mate business is messing with my brain. It's hard to even look at another female, let alone consider the idea of giving the Silver Wolf my mating mark.

The war raging within me is difficult to navigate. I know what I have to do, but my wolf is resistant to the idea. It is obsessed with the female before me—who is currently glaring at me as she holds a bag of frozen peas to her black eye. My beast wants to rip every male in her vicinity to shreds so that no one is left for her to look at but me. It wants to possess her in every sense of the word. I haven't forgotten our kiss; it was a mistake and one that shouldn't be repeated, but the sight of her pink lips makes me hungry with need. I want her wrapped around me till all I know is her.

My mission hasn't changed, nor have my responsibilities, but when I'm standing here, looking at the anger in her eyes, the thinly veiled hurt, I want to forget it all. I just want to take her in my arms. I want to beg her to stay away from Noah.

She says I discarded her, but I have tucked her away in the deepest corner of my heart, somewhere nobody else can reach. I have tucked away every smile, every word, every inflection of her tone deep within me so that I can have it when my heart is breaking and I feel lonely. This is the most difficult sacrifice I've ever had to make, and I can see that I'm not the only one who's suffering.

"Don't, Alex." Her voice trembles as she says my name, and I belatedly realize that I have approached her, and my hand is now touching her cheek.

I should move back. I have to move back. I cannot trust myself not to cross all the lines today. Not when she's so vulnerable before me.

When I don't budge, I suddenly feel something sharp pressed against me. Sophia's voice is hard now.

"Step away."

It's a knife. She's holding a knife to my side.

I go still at the realization.

Instead of anger, excitement flares to life within me.

I want to test her. My wolf wants to see if she really will stab me.

Shifters prefer strong mates, and boy, is Sophia strong. My heart is palpitating with feverish exhilaration at the way her piercing gray eyes are flashing at me in fury, at the roaring challenge in her expression as she dares me to make a move.

I can stop her if I want. All I have to do is twist her wrist, and the knife will slip from her grasp. But it seems I want to tempt fate. I want to see how far my woman will go to make her point.

My fingers caress her cheek, and I can feel the tremor in her hand as she pushes the knife against my already injured side.

I consider stepping back. She doesn't want me touching her, after all.

But as my thumb traces her lower lip, I see the cloudy desire filling her eyes. My wolf is circling inside my mind, desperate to claim its mate, to mark her so she can never leave us. She still has a strong grip on the knife, and when my mouth descends to hers, she presses the blade against my side, breaking skin, even as her own lips part.

The heat is instantaneous, a kaleidoscope of colors and a scalding desire that refuses to lower in intensity. It's like giving a thirsty man a drop of water. He just wants more.

My other hand seizes the back of her neck as I kiss her deeply, our teeth clashing, my tongue exploring that sweet mouth in the filthiest of ways.

I don't know how to stop myself. She's not pushing me away. She's not stabbing me. She's just holding the knife there, against my ribs, as she kisses me back. I can smell the faint scent of my blood in the air, but I'm too far gone to care.

Her lips move clumsily against mine, hungry for more, and I oblige. I hear the soft moans spilling from her lips, and they drive me on. Both of us are far too bruised and broken to do anything more than this, but the taste of her mouth is like an aphrodisiac.

I can feel my cock harden as I realize she has not yet lowered the knife.

She's actually managed to cut me to some extent. Instead of worrying, my wolf is quivering with excitement. At the very basic core of us, we are creatures who are violent by nature and who value strength. The fact that she has managed to nick me is a display of dominance, and my wolf wants to put her in her place, to remind her that he is the one who is dominant in this relationship.

But as I continue to kiss this woman, I know she will never bow her head before anyone. She's too fiercely independent, too hardened by her own trials and tribulations. Vulnerability is a weakness in her view. Especially around me.

Sophia thinks I do not understand her or know her, but I've spent a lifetime observing people in order to get a read on them. It was a survival skill as a child navigating a treacherous battlefield, and now it is second nature to me. I can read this woman like the palm of my hand. She wears her emotions on her sleeve. Perhaps it's because we're fated mates, but from the moment I met her, even when I found her frustrating, it felt like I had known her my whole life. Her presence is a breath of fresh air, calming to my chained beast.

She is a source of light in the midst of never-ending darkness. If she could see herself through my eyes, she would not look at me with such hurt and anger. If she could feel an ounce of what I feel for her, I doubt she would let me do what I intend to do—which is to crush my heart into rubble.

"If you dig that knife any deeper," I breathe roughly, "you're going to cause some irreversible damage."

It's as if my voice has woken her up from a long dream. Her eyes become alert, and I see shame in them, followed by dark fury.

She jumps back, and I let out a pained sound as the tip of the knife exits my body. The concern in her eyes as she looks at the wound is endearing, but I could've stopped it at any time. I simply chose not to.

With the one lover I've had, it was a sweet, gentle experience. Both of us were inexperienced and na?ve. But if ever I get Sophia into my bed, I don't think it will be sweet or gentle. The fire inside her that she tries to bury may very well consume the both of us.

Sophia sets down the knife on the counter, her hand still trembling. "I warned you. You didn't listen."

"Sorry," I respond insincerely.

The silence that follows my words is awkward, and she finally mutters, "I'll fix that."

She tries to move past me, but I block her way. "I would rather patch you up first. And I want to know who did this to you."

"Why?" She looks at me, her voice blunt. "What are you going to do? Why do you care?" I open my mouth to say something, but she cuts me off. "You'll be gone soon enough. If somebody beats me up or kills me, you won't be around. It won't affect your life. So, I don't need your concern now."

Her words are like a slap in my face. She's right. But when she walks past me, my hand reaches out to curl around her slim wrist, stopping her.

"I don't like seeing you hurt."

Sophia scoffs. "That's rich, coming from you."

The harshness of those words isn't lost on me, but I follow her to the bedroom anyway, my hand clutching my injured side. I make sure to visibly wince with each step.

"Just let me patch that up," she says, sounding annoyed, but I can hear the guilt in her voice.

"Sure." I sit down slowly on the chair facing the bed. "But only if you let me patch you up first."

She's holding the bag of peas to her bruised eye again, and she glares at me with the other one.

"Why are you so goddamn stubborn?!"

Does she really expect me to ignore her bruises? I can still see them on her legs. She's wearing a pair of shorts, and her slim thighs are littered with black and blue marks. No human could have landed such blows on her. It had to be another shifter.

Why is she protecting him? Why won't she tell me who it was?

A stab of fear makes me want to throw up.

It can't be.

"Was it Noah?" My insides feel frozen over. "Is that who you're protecting? If he put his hands on you—"

"It wasn't him!" Sophia gives me a furious look. "Why won't you let this go?!"

My frustration matches hers. "Why won't you let me help you?!"

She picks up the first aid kit and slams it against my chest. "Patch yourself up!"

Stunned, I watch her storm out of the room.

I make a move to follow her, but the gash in my side is getting more painful, and I have no other choice but to open the first aid kit and try to bandage the wound myself. However, with only one functioning arm, it's not possible. After a few failed attempts, I set down the bandage and make a frustrated sound. Maybe I should just let it heal by itself. If I get an infection, I can always take a healing potion. There's no way I—

The bedroom door whips open, and when Sophia barges in, her expression is dark. She sits on the bed across from my chair and snatches the bandage from me. She doesn't utter a word, simply glowering at me, silently daring me to open my mouth. I want to snipe at her because of my own hurt feelings, but I only take a sharp intake of breath when she pulls up my shirt.

Her hands are gentle as she cleans my wound. I can't take my eyes off her. My heart is pounding at each soft graze of her fingers, a blaze of heat and electricity forming a path in whatever direction those delicate fingers take.

How is she so unaware of my feelings?

I wish she weren't taking those damn blockers. Actually, I'm glad she is. My thoughts are scattered. I would go wild if she unleashed her scent on me. The memory of it is still vivid. Cool, refreshing, tantalizing. It made me want to lap her up.

"Don't make me stab you again," Sophia threatens, applying the disinfectant to my cut.

It's then that I realize the scent of my own desire is thick in the air, blanketing us both. She's able to resist it, which annoys me.

I can only watch her in silence. As angry as she is, she is still taking care of me. She unwinds the bandage and wraps it around my waist before tying it carefully. Lowering my shirt back down, she puts everything back in the first aid kit and leaves the room. Her foot has barely crossed the threshold when I hear her say, "I didn't mean to hurt you. But I don't want you touching me, either."

I stare after her, feeling slightly elated at her tender care. It makes me wonder if she really does feel anything for Noah Black. If she did, she wouldn't keep coming back in here to help me.

*** **

It's hard to lie in bed when I know Sophia is out there, probably asleep on the couch. I can feel my body healing slowly, but I still need a couple more days. I glance at the wall clock before getting to my feet. Flexing my injured arm, I'm relieved that it is regaining some of its movement. Making my way into the living room, I see Sophia lying on a mattress on the floor next to the coffee table.

The feeling of guilt is intense. I should be the one on the floor, not her. I can see from her uncomfortable expression that she's not sleeping easy. She keeps tossing and turning. I crouch down next to her and press my hand down on the mattress. It's quite lumpy. Making up my mind, I gently pick her up, swallowing a groan of pain when her weight settles on my injured arm.

I have never missed having a healer around more than I do right now. It's a struggle to carry Sophia even though she weighs next to nothing. I slowly place her on the bed and cover her with the blanket. Her tense muscles relax, almost as if her body recognizes where it is. My lips form a small smile.

Stroking the wayward strands of hair off her forehead, I study her calm expression.

She looks so at ease now. I don't think I have ever seen such an expression on her face. She's not going to tell me who put these bruises on her, but I'm going to find out. And like I did with Freddy that night in the woods, I'm going to teach whoever it is a lesson he will never forget.

I sit down on the chair beside the bed and watch my fated mate sleep soundly.

How can I protect her?

She's right, yet again. Once I leave, no matter what anybody does to her, I'll be too far away to do anything about it.

What if I convince her to join us? If we are successful in locating the Silver Wolf, maybe I can talk Sophia into coming north with us. The bond between us should disappear once I take a different female as my mate. I can find Sophia someone worthy of—

The train of thought comes to a halt as I realize the gravity of what I'm trying to plan. Hand Sophia off to another man? My wolf is throwing itself against the cage of my mind, enraged by the idea. No. No, I can't do that.

I should just make sure I get rid of those who want to hurt her. Starting with Noah Black. I don't trust him. There's something about him that doesn't rub me the right way.

What was with his strength? Even if he has been training, there is no possible way he should surpass an Alpha when it comes to speed and strength. But I could hardly keep up with him.

My eyes linger on the sleeping Sophia, and I feel the cage that holds my wolf inside me crack. It wants to be near her. It wants to comfort her, lick her wounds. If I restrain myself any longer, I know the consequences aren't going to be pretty, so I allow the shift to take place.

The bed is narrow, and I circle it anxiously, not knowing how to lie down next to my mate without waking her. Finally, with no other choice left, I rest my head on the bed, rumbling happily, one paw on her stomach. When she doesn't stir, I close my eyes, letting myself slip into sleep, Sophia's presence soothing the agitation inside me.

I know she's going to have words to say to me once she wakes up, but I would rather not think about it now.