Fated Magic (Claimed by Wolves 1)
But of all the people in the barn, he’s the one I’m most afraid of right now.
My wolf has claimed her as its mate.
What does that mean?
What kind of crazy cult have I walked into?
“You’re wrong.” Ridge’s voice is like gunfire in the silence. He steps forward, irritation flashing across his face. He looks even more intense than he did in the moment when he kicked the mob out of his living room. “She cannot be your mate. My wolf has already claimed her.”
My heart lurches in my chest, and if it weren’t for the fact that my feet are rooted to the floor, I might fall over.
Ridge’s amber gaze seeks mine, and I can sense him trying to calm me. He must know I’m about three breaths away from another panic attack.
Despite everything, despite my fear and confusion and rising hysteria, my body responds to him like it has every other time. I drink in that soothing look, my mind going back to last night and the scent of his skin, his wet shirt beneath my cheek, his heartbeat steady in my ear.
 
; Buoyed by the reminder, I set a firmer stance and shove away the fear that tightens my throat.
The first man who spoke inches farther into the open circle in the middle of the barn-like structure. He has chocolate brown hair and vivid blue eyes tinted green like the ocean. I recognize him by sight—he was one of the big shifters walking down the street that frightened me so much I ran. He carries himself with a kind of lazy, predatory lean that says he’s highly comfortable in his own skin.
Turning those blue-green eyes on Ridge, he shakes his head. “That’s not possible. My wolf has claimed her.”
“Then it’s equally not possible for your wolf to do so when mine already has.” Ridge glances around the room as if to check that everyone’s attention is on him before he says, “I found this woman two nights ago, half-dead in Devil’s Ditch. I was compelled to help her, though I didn’t understand at first why.” His expression softens as he turns to look at me, something I can’t even name burning behind his amber irises. “But it makes sense. My wolf knew before I did that she belongs to me.”
His words are like a match to dry tinder, setting off a flurry of emotions inside my chest.
Panic.
Confusion.
Anger.
And a strange sort of thrill.
I don’t understand what the hell is going on here, and I have to fight down the urge to scream my frustration to the heavens. To lash out recklessly like an animal trapped in a net.
I’m not so stupid as to be unaware of how tenuous my position is right now. Any one of these creatures could rip me limb from limb, and the unfortunate truth is several of them look ready to do just that. I don’t know what the hell is going on with Ridge and these two strange men all arguing that they have some kind of claim on me, but at the moment, it’s the only thing keeping teeth away from my skin.
So despite the fact that I’m still terrified and confused, I stay silent and wait it out.
The rest of the group isn’t so startled into silence, however, and a steady rumble of low voices starts up amidst the crowd.
Ridge and the other two men attempting to “claim” me face off against one another. Their faces grow thunderous as they stare one another down, and I know without a doubt they’re ready to fight at any moment, if it comes down to it.
Because of me.
I’m the touchstone, the pivot point between them, and dammit, I just want to run far away from this madness.
Another figure steps forward from the circle, and my breath chokes in my throat. Jesus, am I about to be claimed by yet another wolf?
But this is an older man with thick gray hair and an even grayer beard, the lines by his eyes thick and deep. He claps his hands and the murmuring falls silent.
“It is not possible for a mate to be claimed by three different wolves,” he says in a deep, scratchy voice. “The bond is formed between one male wolf and one female wolf, as it has been since time immemorial.”
“Then how do you explain this, Elder Barton?” the turquoise-eyed shifter asks haughtily, motioning to Ridge and the golden-haired man.
“Two of you are mistaken, Trystan,” the elder intones, then his gaze shifts to Ridge. “Or lying.”