When He's Ruthless (The Olympus Pride 4)

Aspen licked her lips. “We can’t find Blair. But … we found tracks. Tire tracks.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The breath slammed out of Luke’s lungs. His gut hardened. “Where?”

The females led him to the spot in question, passing a dead human that Blair had evidently killed. And sure enough, there were tire tracks on the ground. His chest tight, he took off, following them … but they disappeared on reaching the road.

The bottom dropped out of Luke’s stomach, and bile burned the back of his throat. “Someone took her,” he said, the words like crushed stone. His cat went AWOL.

“Maybe there were more extremists hanging around,” said Farrell as he and several others came up behind Luke. “Maybe it was one of them,” the Head Enforcer added.

Maybe. But Luke didn’t think so. “He said he’d come for her soon.”

“You think it was her stalker?” asked Bailey.

Luke swallowed hard. “Yeah. Yeah, I fucking do.” Fear—so thick, so blinding, so incapacitating—stabbed deep into Luke’s chest, making every inhale hurt. At that same time, he found himself at the mercy of a rage so hot and consuming he could easily lose himself in it. And he felt his breathing go to shit.

Tate gripped his arm. “Don’t lose it. You can’t lose it right now.”

Luke felt his face go tight. “He has her, Tate.”

“But he won’t kill her,” the Alpha insisted. “Cling to that. She’ll still be alive when we get to her. And we will get to her. She needs you to stay calm.”

How could Luke be anything close to calm, when he didn’t even have an inkling of a clue where the hell she could be? He was always cool and rational in the face of danger or opposition; always the voice of reason even in situations where emotions ran intensely high. But none of said situations had ever before involved his mate being taken.

Havana took a step toward him, her face soft with sympathy. Luke slammed up a hand, halting her. He couldn’t handle anyone touching him right now. Couldn’t handle having his personal space invaded. Not when the dark emotions running riot inside him left him so close to exploding into violence.

Luke dragged a hand through his hair. Fuck, this wasn’t happening. He’d promised Blair that her stalker would never get to her. It hadn’t occurred to him that the bastard would follow them tonight; that he would take advantage of the pride’s distraction and make a move. The sly little bastard.

Luke’s cat clawed his insides, wanting out; wanting to hunt. He wasn’t the only one who longed to go hunting. But he needed a solid plan first.

He drew in a long breath, trying to center himself and quash the dread that ran rampant in his system. But it was hard. So goddamn hard. Dark scenarios kept playing out in his mind’s eye, and his cat’s blinding fury kept his own alive.

There were so many places she could be. So many plans her captor could have. So many terrible things that could happen to her if Luke failed to find her.

Tate was right, her kidnapper wasn’t likely to kill her. But he might well hurt her. He was already angry with her—his last letter had made that clear.

Blair was even angrier. And, far from meek or easily cowed, she wouldn’t feel compelled to keep her mouth shut and do as she was told. No, she’d let loose on him. There was no knowing how the bastard would react to that.

She would also be sure to tell the son of a bitch that she wasn’t his mate at all; that she’d never want him, never be his. And if he would rather see her dead than mated to another …

A cold shard of fear pierced Luke’s chest. If the worst happened, he’d keep his foot in this world, realm, whatever it was long enough to avenge her. Then he’d let go. Because even if he existed, he’d be dead without her anyway.

Hell, he’d been half-dead when he found her six years ago. She’d saved him. It was only her and their bond that gave him peace … though, he suddenly realized, he’d subconsciously worried that the mental tempest would return, mating bond or no. He’d worried that it would sweep him under again, submerging his mind in darkness. Worried that she’d be stuck mated to a man she couldn’t emotionally reach; one who saw her but felt disconnected from her; one so numb and lost and shrouded in a thick fog that he might as well not be there.

Luke realized something else, too. He realized that, desperate to ensure she never met that fate, he’d involuntarily and subconsciously held back from fully committing to her—scared he’d otherwise doom her.

Intellectually, he knew that the fear was groundless. He felt how their bond stabilized him, and he was certain right down to his bones that it would always be that way. But the matter had nonetheless caused him to shy away from the bond on a level that he hadn’t seen until now.