Savage (Wolf Ranch 4)

“I’m checking up on my wife,” he tossed at her. “Making sure she’s safe while she chooses to live apart from me.”

Becky rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You are so full of shit. What was this really? More vandalism or were you actually trying to crawl through my bedroom window, you sick psychopath?”

Todd didn’t like that. He lunged for her, and I snarled, slamming him up against the house, my fingers wrapped around his throat. It would be so easy to watch the life drain from him. The evil would die, and my mate would be free of him. But then, she’d see the real me, and I couldn’t allow that. Ever.

9

CLINT

“Clint,” Becky warned immediately, like she was afraid I would take things too far. She wasn’t wrong. It was my job to eliminate rogue shifters. Well, this fucker was a rogue human.

Fuck, she might be right. My jaw was clenched, and my gaze was narrowed. I had no doubt my eyes had changed color. This dickwad wasn’t just harassing Becky, he was flaunting it, as if it was his right.

I was usually level-headed, but when it came to her, I lost all control.

I squeezed harder for another few beats then released my hold on his throat and watched him slump against the side of the house and cough.

“You like to beat on women?” I asked, pulling him up, then slamming him up against it again. “Huh? Is that why she had to file a restraining order?”

“She’s my wife,” he shouted, like that made everything okay.

Becky was right. The guy was a psychopath. He certainly didn’t seem to have a healthy grasp on reality or that Becky wanted shit to do with him.

Except—and this would have been comical if it wasn’t fucking wrong—the moment the sheriff parked and approached, Todd shifted into playing the injured party. As the lawman listened, he was just the smooth-talking, concerned husband checking on his wife.

I went over to Becky, resisting my desperate urge to make contact even though I wanted to wrap my arm around her and pull her in close. Instead, I stood at her shoulder with my arms folded across my chest, like her fucking bodyguard.

Which I was—or planned to be. Among other things. Up until now, she didn’t know it. But now? Everything had fucking changed. There was no more of her pushing away. There was no more of me giving her space. Her ex wasn’t just a jerk. He was a problem to her safety. The way she was shaking, to her health, too. I couldn’t step back a second longer.

A second patrol car came, and between the two officers, Becky’s restraining order was checked out. Once he caught on that neither man was going to fall for his shit, he got quiet. Fast. Todd was arrested and taken away as we watched. Little did the guy know, he was safer in jail since I couldn’t get my hands on him.

I’d have to talk with Rob. As alpha, he heard issues like mine. My mate was being threatened, and the cause had to be eliminated. It was the pack way. The challenge? Todd Nichols was human. We couldn’t make a doctor from Meade disappear. It was my job to see things like this done. The one time I was eager to kill someone, I wasn’t able to do it.

After the cop cars’ brake lights disappeared around the corner, I turned to Becky and set my hands on her shoulders. So she didn’t have to wrench her neck, I bent down, so we were eye to eye. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Thanks for helping. Do you want to come in for… coffee or something?”

If coffee was a euphemism for headboard banging sex, then yes.

“I’ll come in, sugar, but just for you to pack a bag.”

She frowned.

“You’re not staying here. Not when that fucker’s still breathing.”

She laughed. “I foresee him breathing for a very long time. I’d just like to not be legally tied to him. Although, killing him has crossed my mind.”

I turned her toward her front door and nudged her inside. She’d been outside in the cold long enough. “Sugar, I don’t blame you. Now, let’s get a bag and get out of here. You’ve probably had a long day, and you should get some sleep.”

I followed and closed the door behind me. She flipped a switch and a lamp gave the living room a soft glow. Her place was small but cozy. A tan couch faced a gas fireplace with a flat screen TV above it. It was clearly a rental with cream walls and neutral carpet, but landscape photos on the wall gave it some personality.

“I’m not going with you.” She rested a hip against the back of the couch.

“You’re not staying here.” No fucking way. She didn’t know she was mine, and I had to get her to see it, slowly. But not in this house and not alone.