Something pulls hard and almost painfully inside me, and my wolf growls. Beneath the protective snarl, I feel something so raw and visceral that I can’t even believe it’s happening.
Mine.
I shove away from the wall, my eyes widening as my wolf howls inside me.
She’s mine.
“You know the rules. You signed the treaty yourself. She doesn’t belong here, Ridge,” one of the North Pack’s advisors is saying, trying to maintain some semblance of orderly discourse. “She can’t stay here, regardless of what state you found her in.”
“She’s not a witch,” Ridge growls. “She needs help. Are we to just turn our backs on anybody who stumbles onto our land beaten and bloody?”
“We are when there’s an entire race of beings trying to destroy us.”
“The witch needs to be locked up,” another voice chimes in. “We need to make sure we’re safe from her. Then we’ll discuss what to do with her.”
The blonde woman’s gaze is still locked on mine, her expression a little dazed. Then she shakes her head as if to clear it, dragging her focus away from me. She darts a wild-eyed glance at the door again as the council argues with Ridge.
How has no one felt that ocean of terror rolling off her? How can they not see how frightened and vulnerable she is?
The wolf inside me is raging to get to her, to wrap his body around her and protect her from these assholes.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I take two strides forward. This isn’t normal—Trystan, alpha of the West Pack, having fuck-all to say during a council meeting. I certainly don’t put myself on display like this, and that’s evident in the way people abruptly stop talking and look at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“That woman is a wolf,” I say, pitching my voice loud enough to be heard over the low grumble of unease still filling the room. “I know it as sure as I know my own name.”
Ridge cocks his head at me, though his face doesn’t change. I can see the thoughts working in his head—he’s trying to figure out my endgame, what I get out of saying such a thing and fighting for this strange woman.
Before I can speak again and declare her my mate, Archer comes forward, joining me in the center of the room.
“It’s true,” he says, and his quiet voice is stronger than I’ve ever heard it. He’s a pretty boy with gold hair and green eyes, and if his father wasn’t back home dying, he wouldn’t even be here. But he motions to the woman and says again, “Trystan’s right. I know she’s a wolf, because my wolf has claimed her as its mate.”
Shock thrums through me, making the back of my neck prickle as hackles try to rise even in my human form. What the fuck? How is that possible?
My wolf has claimed her.
She’s mine.
But Archer clearly doesn’t think so.
Across the room, Ridge lets out a long, low growl that leaves no room for interpretation.
11
Sable
Ridge’s growl finally fades, but I swear I can hear an echo of it bouncing off the stark walls of the large building.
The room has grown so silent, I feel as if I can hear every breath being taken. Beyond the breathing, I can also feel the weight of every gaze latched on to me, made heavier by the thick tension that clogs the air.
I don’t like being the center of attention like this. I don’t like all these eyes on me—not Ridge’s concerned gaze or Lawson’s pissed off one or any of the different levels of emotion in between.
My heart pounds with such force that I’m sure every predator here can hear it or sense the blood pumping overtime through my veins. I stand with my feet shoulder width apart, ready to run at the first glimpse of violence, even as fear threatens to turn my knees to jelly. Lawson left the door open, and I will absolutely make my escape if it looks like my only option.
Two nights ago, I decided to live life on my terms for once.
If it comes to it, I’ll die on my terms too.
The beautiful blond man with the soft voice stands closer to me than most, and his expression is calm even as he stares down the rest of the crowd. He looks gentle and not at all like the hard, angry shifters around us.