Broken Bond (Claimed by Wolves 2)

“Dare, please.” Adrenaline pulses through me. I’ve seen the men bicker and argue before, but I’ve never seen them fight with such vicious anger. I slip from the bed but keep my distance. Partly because I’m terrified of this man, his face so twisted in rage I don’t even recognize him. “It was my choice. I was part of this too.”

The snarling shifter doesn’t even seem to hear me. All his attention is focused on Ridge.

Ridge reaches out and shoves against Dare’s chest, dislodging the other man’s iron grip on his throat. “At least I didn’t fucking abandon her when she needed me most. I sat by her bedside. The three of us took care of her while you ran like a pussy.”

Dare shoves back, his lips curling in fury. “Don’t act like you know me or know what I’ve been through.”

Ridge’s eyes narrow. “Right. Losing your pack to witches who have no connection to Sable is a great reason to turn your back on her.”

“You don’t know my pain!” Dare roars, stepping closer to Ridge with both fists clenched.

My heart seizes in my chest. I’m certain that these two men would be evenly matched in a fight. They could kill each other if things get out of hand, and there’s no way I’m letting that happen. Not tonight. Not ever.

The magic inside me boils just beneath my skin, not visible but so powerful I can feel it in every atom of my body. I struggle to contain it, trying to force images of snapping jaws and blood-soaked fur from my mind.

“I know your fucking pain,” Ridge grits out. “Archer knows your pain. Losing people you love to witches isn’t rare, you asshole. But you know what? None of us make her feel like some unwanted monster. Not the way you do.”

Dare bares his teeth and shoves Ridge again, making his back hit the wall. “Witches are monsters,” he hisses.

Those three words rip through me, opening every single old wound in my body and shattering my heart into a thousand pieces. I hear in his voice just how much he means what he says.

All I am to him is a monster.

When the magic came for me, I ceased to be Sable, his future possible mate, and became nothing more than an abomination.

So then why is he so furious that I had sex with Ridge? Would he want to have sex with a monster? His anger doesn’t make any sense. I’d expect this reaction from Trystan, not Dare, yet the West Pack shifter hasn’t moved from his place by the door.

The room has grown frigid and still. Archer and Trystan both look equally furious—and hurt—at the turn of events, but neither of them makes a move to join the two scuffling shifters. But they both look at me with an undercurrent of pity, because they know exactly what pain Dare put me in with his callous words.

Ridge is right, as always.

The three of them never once made me feel less than wanted or needed. Or less than whole. Even Trystan with his macho, hothead alphaness hasn’t made me feel worthless at all.

Ridge shakes his head as he presses away from the wall, and his face contorting with fury. He lashes out, punching Dare in the face. The blow clips the black-haired man across the jaw, and Dare’s head jerks sideways as he grunts. With a snarl, he recovers and lashes out, his hand wrapping around Ridge’s throat as he slams the amber-eyed shifter against the wall.

Ridge’s hand tightens into a fist again, and I brace for the blow. But it never comes. Instead, he uncurls his fingers, glaring at the man in front of him.

“You fucking jackass,” he rasps, a disgusted tone in his voice. “No one here is a monster but you.”

My panic has risen in the face of all this anger and violence. I clutch at the bedcovers, swaying on my feet. I want to run away and get out of here, to flee from the emotions churning through the room like thunderclouds. But I don’t. I stare at the two men before me, wondering how on earth we got to this moment.

“Please. Stop,” I whisper, surprised at myself that I even have the nerve to speak.

For a split second, Dare doesn’t move.

Then he backs away, letting go of Ridge’s neck as if his skin had burned him. He looks over at me guiltily, then glances away before we can fully lock eyes. His jaw hardens, but he keeps his gaze firmly away from me.

Nobody moves.

Nobody even seems to breathe, really.

Then from the doorway, Archer speaks up. His voice is pained, as if he already suspects the answer to his question.

“Does this mean it’s over? You’ve chosen Ridge to be your mate?”

14

Sable