Rescued by the Wolf (Blood Moon Brotherhood 2)

Tonight had scared the shit out of him. When Dante fell, he’d been too far away to get to him. But seeing the helicopter land, watching the Others close in, knowing Olivia was inside… He’d left the fight to get to her. He’d had no choice. She was exposed, at risk, in danger. No fucking way.

Now the Others knew she was alive. It was safe to assume her scent revealed the rest: Olivia was a wolf. What that meant for her, for them, he wasn’t sure. But it sure as hell wasn’t good. There were too many unknowns. Mal, his wolf, didn’t like unknowns.

“Damn, Mal,” Dante’s voice was thick.

Mal stared at his friend, his family. His chest grew heavy, and the familiar dread that had tightened his stomach since they’d left him eased. “Glad you’re okay.” He’d spent a lot of nights wondering how th

ings had turned out—if anyone else had been lost in the fight.

Dante swallowed, answering Mal’s unasked question, “You were the only casualty.”

Mal shot him a look.

“Jessa said you saved her,” Dante went on. “She blames herself.”

Mal shook his head, Olivia stiffening in his arms. He ran his hand down her back, offering comfort—taking it in return. Jessa wasn’t the one that left him swinging from that tree. Logically, Mal understood. Finn would pick Jessa, his mate, over him. But it wasn’t always easy to think logically when you’re chained to a wall getting your ass kicked by two sadistic werewolves.

“Ellen said you were dead,” Dante said.

“Ellen?” Mal growled, his hand stilling on Olivia’s back.

“She is—was—one of the Others. I don’t fucking know where exactly she fits.” Dante paused. “But she’s helping Jessa through her pregnancy.”

Mal stared at Dante. He’d never considered they’d welcome an Other into the pack. “And we’re trusting her?” Cyrus’s plant was in plain sight?

“Not all of us.” Dante frowned. “It’s an uneasy truce.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” he mumbled. Finn gets a mate and loses all judgement? Another reason to steer clear of the whole mate mess.

His wolf growled. Olivia slid from his lap. Maybe she sensed his agitation. Or maybe he was squeezing her a little too hard.

“Seeing you—your throat torn out—” Dante broke off, shaking his head. “No one should have survived that.”

“I did.” He rested his head against the seat, breathing through the pain and anger Dante’s words stirred. Maybe he was right. Maybe he shouldn’t have survived. There’d been times he wished he’d died. The last time, strung up, back newly skinned, something inside him cracked wide open. He’d wanted to give up—until Cyrus had given him a knife to end his own suffering. But the smile on the fucker’s face had been too smug. Mal had thrown it at him, slicing through the bastard’s ear, and lost his one chance to make the pain go away.

Olivia’s hand took his. She didn’t face him or move closer, but her fingers wrapped around his. He was hurting. Touching her made it better. It was simple and honest. He pulled her hand into his lap, breathing easier when she leaned against his side.

His wolf was pleased—Mal ignored him. “How is Jessa?” She’d been nice enough. He hoped she’d survive life as the mate of their messed-up pack’s Alpha.

“Due anytime now,” Dante said.

“She going to make it?” he asked. The mother of Finn’s first child, the result of a hookup and failed birth control, had died when baby Oscar was born. Her cause of death had been a mystery—the Others or due to the abnormal pregnancy. If it was the latter, there was reason to worry about Jessa’s life.

Dante shrugged. “Sure as hell hope so. Finn’s losing his shit as it is.”

Olivia yawned, drawing his attention. She was worn out—she had every right to be. She was facing the biggest change of her life. Throw in new scents, new sensations, new threats—her nerves had to be shot. Him acting like a moody asshole wasn’t helping.

If he were the sort of guy that apologized for being a dick, this would be the time.

“You look tired.” Dante led them to the waiting plane. “It takes a couple of hours to get to the Montana refuge. You can sleep.”

The plane’s interior was chrome and leather, soft lighting, every modern convenience. The exact opposite of where he’d spent the last three months. Now the hiss of the air, the thrum of the plane beneath his feet, the shift in the air, plucked at his senses. He’d rather shift—trek through the woods and let his neglected senses take over for a while. He gritted his teeth, the space closing in on him.

Olivia’s presence grounded him. She looked as dazed and lost as he felt, but the slight smile she shot him, soft and trembling, made him wonder why he was fighting this. Not just her, but his wolf.

When they landed, he’d run until his wolf collapsed.

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