Protecting the Wolf's Mate (Blood Moon Brotherhood 3)

Hollis thought about her reaction to Byron’s body. Her fury and tension and fear. Whatever he’d been to her, it wasn’t a friend.

“Byron wasn’t the type to have friends,” Mal said, staring after Ellen.

“Whatever. He’s dead. Sort of wish you’d waited to kill him so we could have grilled him.” Dante pushed open the passenger door.

“Next time I’ll try to remember that,” Mal snapped, slamming the driver door behind him. “Dumbass.”

Dante was still laughing when he pulled open the front door of the lodge. The scent of marinara and garlic greeted them. And burning wood. The dull roar of conversation. Followed by a terrified scream.

Chapter Four

Energy hummed in her veins, pure, sweet anticipation tensing her muscles. It was always like this, before a fight. She hoped there would be a fight. Her wolf needed one. Bloody and violent—a challenge they could sink their teeth into. It had been too long.

Byron’s memories had confirmed what she’d already known—that there was a traitor under Finn’s roof. And it was the poor, pathetic, wide-eyed innocent that no one, no one, would ever suspect. Tess played the victim well. And if she left it to the pack, Tess’s blue-eyes and pitiful act would cause doubt. Or worse, they’d think she was using Tess as a way to hide her actions.

Brown, Tess’s father had served as Finn’s head of security for years, hoping he’d have the chance to bring his daughter home. When he had, when he’d finally “rescued” her, she’d not only turned on him, but also on the pack the man considered family. Mal had stopped Byron’s attack before it got out of hand, but not before Brown had been shot.

Now he lay, fighting for his life, with his darling daughter at his bedside. And it turned Ellen’s blood cold. Daughter or not, she was an Other first—Cyrus would have made sure of that before sending her out on missions for him. An Other that would undoubtedly try to frame her as the traitor, if Ellen didn’t move swiftly. Proof or not, she would expose the traitor in Finn’s pack. And, with all the pent-up frustrations and hostilities today had stirred up, she would greatly enjoy doing so.

She didn’t stop to check in with Finn or Jessa, not yet. Not until she knew Brown was safe. He might have been human, but he was a good man. He understood the value of things like loyalty, family, and trust. Everything he did was for one of those reasons. The poor man had no idea what his daughter had become. If she had it her way, he never would.

Getting rid of Tess was the only way to stop her from being a threat.

But that was Finn’s decision, as Alpha, not hers. All she could do was expose the truth, leaving no room for misinterpretation or doubt.

She closed Brown’s door behind her and paused. Brown’s heartbeat. Though pale, there was fight in the man, she could sense it. Maybe the girl still cared for her father? Not that it mattered. She’d lost the right to sympathy and reprieve the moment she endangered Finn and his pack. No, more than that, the survival of their very species. “You haven’t killed him?”

Tess stared at her, wary—but not quite fearful.

Oh, but you should be afraid.

“You were one of his pets, weren’t you?” Her voice was calm, triggering no alarm. “One of his playthings. It hurt to lose his favor, didn’t it? Cyrus, I mean?”

Tess was a pretty thing. Blonde, pale, weak in the way men seemed to find so appealing. Use the urge to protect and claim to your benefit, that’s what Cyrus said.

Ellen had never been any good at it. She needed no man to protect her. And, if she survived killing Cyrus, she would be the one to do the claiming this time.

“Tess.” Her smile was toothy, a hunter toying with its prey. “I know what you are. And what you did? That Byron was banished for letting Mal escape and he was desperate to earn his place back at Cyrus’s side. You were going to help him with that, here.”

Tess paled, then her voice wavered. “Do they know? That you’re a witch?”

Ellen’s wolf bristled, the insult causing an immediate reaction. Cyrus made sure everyone knew she was different. It was the only way to keep them away from her. It had worked. They avoided her—unless they were torturing her. She shrugged, struggling with her calm. “Am I a witch?” She paused, sniffing the air. The scent was familiar. Decay. Illness. Tess had been shot in the skirmish this morning—along with her poor father. The wound wasn’t fatal. As a wolf she should already be recovering. But not this time. “Maybe. A witch would know you won’t recover from your wounds. A witch would know it will fester and you will die, rotting.”

Tess pressed her hand to her stomach, her lower lip quivering. “You’re wrong.”

“No, I’m not.” She rolled her neck, stretching the muscles. “Why do you think he kept me around, Tess? I was useful. He wanted me to cure this sickness weakening his pack. But you know that?” she asked.

When she angered Cyrus, he’d let the pack on her. But his warning was always the same. Don’t kill her. Once when things had gone too far, she’d almost been bled dry. Cyrus had taken great pleasure in using them as an example.

Tess tensed, her gaze searching the room.

“Looking for a weapon? A way to defend yourself? You can’t win, Tess. You will fail. As Byron failed.” Her voice dropped, almost a whisper. “Byron, who bled himself dry on the snow. That happens, when you rip a victim’s throat away. The jugular pulses, beating steadily, pushing the blood out. Causes quite a mess, really.”

Tess’s nostrils flared. Eyes narrowed, teeth bared—Ellen had hit a nerve.

“We’ll fight,” Ellen taunted. “After we talk.”

Tess crossed her arms over her chest. “You wish.”