Chapter 4

Castor

Damn it, it wasn’t supposed to go this way. He’d had everything planned out in his head, they’d capture the woman and then the pack alpha would hand over his brother’s killer in return. If not, then he’d take her back to his pack and his alpha could decide what to do with her.

Holding her slight body close as he’d carried her out of the forest, he’d felt something inside him awaken.

Mine.

Except she wasn’t, she wasn’t his, and he didn’t want her to be his. Even if her pack decided to let her go, he had no use for a woman. Not even one who looked like beauty incarnate with her waist-length cornsilk hair and honeyed eyes. But he hadn’t bargained on what had happened in the Jeep that had thrown their fates together.

After the crash she’d been knocked out. He couldn’t risk her coming to and fighting him, so he’d tranquilized her, and then he’d driven them to Sheridan. After that he’d ditched the Jeep, knowing Apollo and Zeus would be soon on his track—and stole a car. They’d been here for a day and a half.

A day and a half, thirty-six hours of watching her delicate sleeping form, the way her chest heaved in and out as she slept. Thirty-six fucking hours of trying to figure out how to get out of this goddamn mess he’d gotten into. Thirty-six hours of wondering what the fuck had happened in that Jeep, and why it felt like his entire body was singing when he was around her.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice was hoarse, and she sounded defeated.

He handed her another bottle of water, “Kansas.”

“What?” Her eyes widened in surprise. He was in two minds about what to tell her, but for some reason he felt that she deserved the truth.

“After the crash, I pulled you out. You weren’t injured. Unfortunately, neither were the two men I came with. They weren’t going to stop and listen to explanations I didn’t have. They were firmly set on believing I’d baited them into helping me and betrayed them somehow. A wolf doesn’t give off that scent unless they’re truly mated.” He paused and looked at her pointedly. He’d been going around and around in his head trying to figure out what had happened. She looked back at him blankly, and he felt his initial anger start to abate. Whatever happened, it appeared that she was equally confused about it. “I got the Jeep to start and drove us out of there. In the city, I ditched the Jeep and stole a car. I left no trace of myself. Not that humans would be able to track, but our trackers are good. I’ve made it personal for the best of the best. Your pack will want to tear me apart for taking you. Mine want to tear me apart for what they will see as a betrayal. Both will shoot first and ask questions later. We’re in a bad spot and the only thing we can do is rely on each other.”

“It sounds more like a you problem to me,” Briar May scoffed.

Despite their circumstances, Castor could feel his cock hardening. Something about the way this slight woman was talking back at him lit a flame he hadn’t been aware of. She should have been terrified, yet there she was, defiant like a warrior. She unscrewed the cap on the water and drank deeply, he looked away when he saw her mouth on the bottle—everything was getting to him right now. He needed to pull himself the fuck together and figure out how they would get themselves out of this damn mess.

“Don’t fool yourself. I don’t know what the fuck happened back there, but I came to avenge my brother—if my pack thinks we’re together and this was a ruse to capture my mate? Well, that doesn’t look good for either of us. If your pack kills me, it would be a declaration of war against my pack. I can’t say what future would lie ahead for you, but it wouldn’t be pretty. My pack doesn’t like witches, and nothing short of a bewitching would have caused me to betray my own kind.”

“But I’m not a witch.”

“They won’t believe you.”

She looked exhausted even though she’d spent over a day sleeping. Scrap that, it wasn’t exhaustion, she looked defeated. He saw her eyes glancing towards the barricade at the door, he’d gotten together everything he could find to block the entrance. It might not stop anyone from coming in, but it would slow them down enough to give them a fighting chance.

“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked.

“Afghanistan,” he replied automatically.

They were both clearly surprised that he’d been so honest. What the fuck was happening to him? He’d spent his entire life carefully crafting a closed fa?ade, keeping everyone out and all the hurt, pain, and destruction inside. He’d thought fighting for his country would release the demons, but instead it made their voices stronger and the darkness deeper.

Sometimes it felt like he would never have any peace, sometimes it felt as if the bodies of all those he’d slain over the years were lining up and taunting him.

“You’re a soldier?”

He’d already answered her, seemingly against his will, so he didn’t stop. “It’s amazing how two tours and a few years will fuck your life straight to hell.” He turned slightly and looked longingly at another old mattress in the corner of the room. He’d thrown a clean-looking woolen blanket over it, he’d not slept for almost two days and felt dead on his feet. Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, instead he gestured to the mattress she was sitting on, “You need sleep.”

“I think I’ve had enough of that. Forced rest. Thank you very much.” Her voice was less hoarse now, and she fixed him with those dark, amber eyes that seemed to burn into his soul.

He grunted in response, he supposed she had every right to be pissed at him for what he’d done.

She pulled herself upright, leaning on her elbow for support. He could feel himself tensing in case she made any sudden movements. He didn’t want to drug her again, nor did he want to use those damn stones on her. He had hated the thought of using them in the first place, but it was the only sure-fire way of subduing a shifter, no matter how brutal and archaic it was. Her eyes swept the room, chancing on a small black bag in the corner beside the other mattress. The axes were set beside it. They’d been deadly weapons in his hands, and they looked no less benign gleaming there in a dusty slant of sunlight coming through the slatted wood.

“Don’t,” he warned her in that same tone that brooked zero argument.

There was a flash of anger, and then something that looked like realization.

“That’s right. I saved you, princess. They were ready to kill you, and maybe even me. At this point, I have no choice but to keep you safe. If we want to survive this, then we survive it together. If that means I have to keep you safe from yourself, I won’t hesitate to do it, you feel me?”

He paced over to the bag and kicked the axes well out of the way. He had to get control of himself, stop letting this woman get under his skin. They were both in it together now, whether they wanted to be or not, and the sooner he got a grip on himself the better.