Chapter 9

Sorin chased after her, his anger flaring as the scent of her blood filled his nostrils. He was swift, following the trail of bright red.

He skidded to a halt when he saw a wolf a few yards away. It was pure white, its jaws clamped around Colette’s thigh, her blood smeared around its mouth like a messy child.

Sorin growled a warning.

The wolf didn’t seem bothered. It let go of Colette, who scrambled away, slowed by her injured leg. The wolf seemed amused by Sorin, tilting its head with interest.

Colette didn’t know anything yet. It was okay. He could take her back to the cabin, tend to her wounds in a human way. Everything would be fine. But as Colette hobbled over, the white wolf grabbed her ankle, pulling her back for its own amusement.

Unable to control himself, Sorin charged at the wolf, shifting mid-leap. The two wolves tumbled away from Colette, rolling and biting at each other, a whirl of black and white, like a violent yin and yang symbol.

Colette blinked, her stomach churning. She stood on shaky legs, her thigh and ankle throbbing. Her thigh was torn open, her ankle—likely sprained. Maybe a torn ligament.

One minute he was…Sorin. The next, a massive black wolf, with his nearly black eyes. Shocked, she barely felt the pain of her injuries. She stood, stunned, and just walked away. Not toward his cabin. Just away. She walked until she couldn’t hear the sounds of the wolves fighting, but she kept going.

After a while, she heard the distant sounds of rustling leaves and snapping twigs. A quick glance behind her revealed the black wolf following her, the one Sorin had turned into. She panicked and started running.

Sorin shifted back into his human form, chasing after her. Everything was a mess. That stupid mutt shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

“Colette, please stop,” he called after her.

She didn’t, only quickening her pace. It wasn’t good for her. She was clearly injured. He didn’t find her by scent, even though he could have. He found her from the trail of blood.

If she didn’t stop soon, she would reach the city. He could hear the distant sounds of cars and sirens.

He couldn’t let her go. Not like this. He lunged, tackling Colette into the snow. They wrestled briefly before he got her on her back and immobilized.

“Calm down, Colette,” he murmured, brushing his nose across her cheek.

She said nothing, just struggled against his hold.

“I don’t want to lie to you. I want to be completely honest. Now that you’ve seen…me…you’re never going back to your home,” he said darkly.

She gave a few more futile wriggles and fell back in the snow exhausted. “What are you going to do to me?” she cried, not asking about his wolf form.

His heart ached for her. “Nothing. Nothing, my love,” he cooed, sitting her up and pulling her into his arms. “But…” He hesitated, trying to find a way to say what he needed to. “I can’t let you leave now. I didn’t want this for you,” he whispered, stroking her hair.

Neither said anything for a while. Thankfully, Colette had given up on escaping. After holding her for a bit, he moved to carry her back.

Colette winced, sucking in a sharp breath but, again, made no efforts to convince him to let her go, which was good.

Sorin’s wolf was furious. Even though he’d torn the other wolf to shreds, he felt enraged. He’d never felt anger like this, a need to destroy him beyond death. He’d harmed Sorin’s mate.

It took over an hour to get back to his cabin. Colette grimaced with every step. He didn’t know the extent of her injuries but was certain she’d need blood.

He was worried about her reaction. Humans who consumed werewolf blood reacted terribly, spiraling into fits of rage. Some in a hunger-driven frenzy, insatiable no matter how much they consumed.

“I’m sorry you saw me like that,” he began, pausing to see if she’d say anything.

She remained silent.

“I don’t know who he was, but I have to report back to my pack soon. I’ll need to let them know of everything.”

Colette just hung in his arms, frozen, unblinking.

He got her back to the cabin and took her straight to his bedroom, setting her gently on the bed.

“I’ll be back in just a moment. Don’t go anywhere,” he said, but this time he was sure she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

She didn’t even acknowledge his words, just sat motionless.

He went down to the basement to turn on the generator. This situation called for central heating. She needed warmth but also needed to stay in his bed.

He found some clothes in a basket in the basement and quickly put them on. Colette didn’t seem to like him being naked. When he returned to his bedroom, she was still there, exactly as he’d left her.

“I’ll need to take off your clothes to see the extent of the damage,” he said, waiting for her to refuse.

When she said nothing, he pushed her coat off her shoulders and dropped it onto the floor beside the bed. He helped her into a lying position and began working on the buttons of her jeans. Slowly, he worked them down her legs.

She had bruises pretty much everywhere, but her left leg was torn up. The skin was ripped open and mutilated. Her ankle was already blackened, probably broken. She wasn’t going to heal on her own, and if he didn’t act quickly, she’d get too weak to stay awake.

“Colette,” he murmured, leaning over her body. “I need you to do something for me, my love,” he said.

Her gaze slowly found his, emotionless, but he could tell she understood him. “Don’t question me. Just do as I say.”

She didn’t respond, but the look in her eyes told him she would comply. His nails grew longer, slicing open his own neck. Blood started to seep out instantly.

“Colette, drink,” he commanded, tilting his head so her cool lips could touch the open wound.

She pressed her lips to his skin, swallowing slowly at first. Then, she started to drink more eagerly. Her hands found their way around his neck, her sharp little nails digging into his flesh.

“Colette.” He attempted to gently pry her arms away. He tried to sit up, but she clung to him, moving with him.

Colette paid him no mind, pressing herself closer to him as she continued to drink.

“Colette,” he tried again, pushing at her hips.

In response, Colette tightened her legs around his waist, holding him in a vice-like grip. For a human, werewolf blood had healing properties, but it also sent them into a frenzy.

For a werewolf, the blood held the same healing properties, but it was also sensual, an act usually shared between lovers.

For mates, it was more than sensual. It was a binding, intoxicating experience. Clearly, she was more wolf than he had initially thought.

“Colette.” He pushed at her more forcefully. “I need some of my own blood, please.”

Thankfully, she let go of his neck, but her hunger simply shifted. She crashed her lips onto his, moaning into his mouth.