Desert Fate (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 3) (18 page)

Then why turn your back on your mate?
came the angry voice of her wolf.

For the first time, she thought of it that way: her wolf. She and the wolf were one, just as she and Kyle were one.

Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror as her hands tightened on the wheel. In one quick maneuver, she peeled the truck into a scream of a U-turn and hit the gas, heading back to the fight.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

She drove in a strange state of elation. No matter that Ron and Greer were there. It was Kyle who mattered. Kyle and the pack.

It was her fault they were in danger. She’d brought the menace of North Ridge pack here; she had to stay and finish what she was responsible for starting.

Or die trying,
her wolf added.

That gave her the strength to do it—her wolf. That and the shame of leaving Kyle while she turned tail and ran. She leaned over the steering wheel, coaxing the truck along like a team of horses. An upward glance confirmed that yes, the stars were smiling now, telling her this was right. At the turn, she pulled off the highway and hammered over dirt as fast as she dared. Flying off the crest of each rise, she pushed the vehicle to its limits until finally, Kyle’s house was in front of her. The hair on her arms stood erect when she made a wide arc around Greer’s car and let the headlights capture the scene.

Two wolves stood facing each other like a couple of vicious razorbacks, both throwing bristling shadows that doubled their size. Neither so much as flicked an ear at the truck, so engrossed were they in the fight. Teeth bared and glistening, they circled each other slowly, looking for an opening.

She recognized Kyle immediately, even as a wolf. It wasn’t just the spiky hair or the tint of his coat; it was the power and economy of movement that struck her. The wary countenance of his body was the same—the same, she realized, going all the way back to when she’d first met him at fourteen. He’d been just a kid then, a kid who’d had a hard start. But he’d grown up to make something of himself, all on his own.

Her heart leaped. Kyle the wolf was just like Kyle the man, hiding pain and loneliness behind a mask of detachment. And when his eyes turned to her, she knew. She was sure.

Mate. Mine.

Her next breath—and the one after that, and the one after that—was deeper, richer. Cleaner.

Greer was the other wolf. Huge and haughty. The favorite son of some bully of an alpha, she guessed, who’d never considered anyone but himself. She let her lips curl in a snarl. He was a dark gray color that should have been striking but for the dullness of it, so unlike the sheen of Kyle’s coat. Kyle’s wolf drew her eye just as the man did. But she ached to see darker patches along his body, where he was bloody and torn. She could make out a clumpy line along his flank and another along his shoulder. Not that Greer had gone unscathed: his coat was mottled with dark patches too, if not as many as Kyle’s.

Let Kyle concentrate on Greer. We have to take out Ron.

But where was he? She tore her eyes from Kyle and scanned the yard. She could never fight Greer—even Kyle’s odds were slim against that hulk—but maybe, just maybe, she could fight Ron. Or hold him off, at least, until…until… She shook her head; the plan didn’t extend beyond there.

Her eyes automatically searched for a hunchback of a wolf, but the figure she found cowering behind Greer was Ron in human form. He was holding something in his hands, keeping just out of reach.

Coward.

Her confidence rose a notch. She didn’t know anything about fighting or wolves, but she had a couple of weapons of her own. Anger was one, because she was simmering with it. Ron was the one who started this, and Ron would pay. She had courage, too, a currency Ron would never have. The courage to stand by her mate and fight for what was right. To fight for a future.

For our future,
her wolf agreed.

If anger and courage didn’t see her through this night, nothing would.

The minute she slid out of the truck, the bassline of the wolves’ continuous snarls rumbled through her body. She set her shoulders wide and circled around the wolves, making for Ron.

Coming back for your mate?
A deep voice jeered; that could only be Greer.

Yes,
she thought, eyes pinned on Kyle.
Mate.

She didn’t dare distract him, though. Instead, she focused on Ron. That was her fight.

The man had the audacity to smile.
Stefanie. You’ve come back to me.

The words popped into her mind, clear as a bell, and she could feel the inner scrape again, the sound of nails scratching against a chalkboard as her body responded to his pull. But this time, she was ready for it. Though her eyes were on Ron, her mind held tight to an image of Kyle. This time, she could resist.

Not that she let on to Ron. He’d played dirty back in Colorado, attacking her out of the blue. She wasn’t above doing the same.

Let that bastard get a taste of his own medicine.

She took another step, trying to project weakness while clinging to the courage inside. Ron held his hand out, waving her closer, and despite what it cost her pride, she approached. One step. Two. She could see a smile play across his lips as his canines emerged.

Greer and Kyle erupted into a whirl of ferocious noise punctuated by vicious snarls, making her scuttle aside. Her ribs registered a sharp twinge, and her first thought was that Ron was drawing her in again. Then she realized this was different: the pain was real. Her eyes flipped to Kyle. Was he hurt?

It took everything she had not to cry out his name. Kyle was hurt, but she had to focus on Ron. He held a rope in his hands, and his fingers played over the braided strands. He’d been planning to trip Kyle up, it seemed, or otherwise interfere with the fight.

She saw something else, too. Not a yard from Ron’s right side, an ax protruded from a stump. If she could get to it…

There was another outburst from the wolves, and when Ron glanced their way, she rushed forward and yanked the ax free. The weight of it felt strange in her hands now that it was a weapon and not a tool, and the most she could manage was a wild swing.

Ron skittered out of the way and pulled his focus back to her, eyes narrowing.

Bitch.

She heard that clearly, too, and stepped closer, undeterred.

“Try vengeful bitch, asshole.”

Ron’s dark eyes went wide. “Stefanie,” he barked, trying on the voice of command. “Stop this nonsense and come with me.”

She widened her grip and raised the ax, gauging its heft, then took an experimental swing.
Whoosh!
It sliced through the air, and Ron’s eyes went wide. She let out a grunt.
There, that’s better.

“I will never come with you.”

She was about to take another swing when Greer and Kyle sprang into motion. They rolled in a heap, booming in anger and pain. They wrestled and snapped, and Greer brought all his weight to bear on Kyle. She felt the twinge again and knew it was him, howling inside from a couple of broken ribs. He was fighting back, but his strength was ebbing under the onslaught.

The next thing she knew, she was charging Kyle’s way, brandishing the ax at Greer. She felt nothing, thought nothing, concentrating entirely on her enemy.

“Greer!” Ron shouted in warning.

Greer twisted off Kyle just in time to leap clear of her blade. Kyle scrambled for his footing; Stef saw that much before she stumbled and found herself facing Greer head-on. His wolf jaws were red and bloody, his eyes wild, and she froze, helpless as a mouse before a python. Then thunder roared in her ears and everything became a blur. She was falling, rolling, struggling to her feet. Kyle had shoved ahead of her, blocking Greer, ready to take up the fight. Another bout of wolf snarling began, its epicenter not two yards away, the timbre decidedly lower, more dangerous than before.

Breathe!
She struggled to control her feet.
Think!

But she lost her footing and everything went wrong from there. At her yelp, Kyle whipped around to check on her just as something came hurtling from out of the shadows. Ron had tossed a log to Greer, who shifted into human form behind Kyle. His paw stretched into a hand just in time to catch the log and bring it crashing down on Kyle’s head. Stef choked out a garbled warning, but it was too late. A blur of brown, a dull thump, and Kyle crumpled.

“No!” she screamed as Greer clubbed Kyle a second time. He was preparing for a third strike before she could act, lurching forward to stop him. But Ron body checked her aside, and Greer struck again.

With strength she didn’t know she had, she shoved Ron away and jumped toward her fallen mate. “Kyle!” He lay terrifyingly still, blood running down his muzzle, eyes closed.

Greer—in human form now—rose like a giant over Kyle’s prone wolf, grinning in triumph. His eyes raked over her, his naked body showing his greed.

“Stefanie,” he said, all cat to the mouse. “Such a pleasure to see a woman with spunk.” The spark in his eyes told her exactly what kind of pleasure he had in mind.

She bit back a disgusted cry. The man was a brute, a barbarian. This was an alpha? A leader? He was nothing like Ty, the Twin Moon alpha, who tempered his raw power with a steady, fair hand, nor anything like Cody, with his diplomat’s voice and kind eyes. Those men knew what duty and honor meant. This man was a monster.

Shift,
her wolf demanded.
Let me out.

She batted the thought away. She could barely coordinate four feet; she’d be useless as a wolf. Somehow, she’d have to think her way out of this. But how?

Giving herself up to the North Ridge wolves was a repulsive proposition and would do nothing for Kyle. They’d kill him as he lay unconscious even if she surrendered. She eyed the distance to the house and the phone inside. She could call for help. The pack would help her…wouldn’t they?

Greer seemed to read her mind. “I’ll huff and I’ll puff,” he chuckled.

She wished she could come up with a cutting remark to put the man in his place. “You’re no man,” she snarled. “No wolf.” Because she got it now. There were wolves of honor just like there were men of honor. But there were cowards, lowlifes, and opportunists, too.

She expected him to attack, but Greer only kicked some dust at Ron’s feet. “Get moving, idiot. Get your mate…if you can.”

That mocking tone was also unlike anything she had heard at Twin Moon Ranch. Obviously fate had led her to the right place.

Her wolf nodded inside.
Destiny.

Ron looked suddenly nervous, Greer strangely excited. The alpha crossed his arms over his chest and thrust out his chin. “I think I might even enjoy watching this.”

With that, he turned to the stump and sat, ready to be entertained.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Stef knew she should hold her tongue, but she couldn’t. “You are sick,” she said to Greer, even as she brought the ax up to ward off an advancing Ron.

She swung, but the weight of the ax head got away from her, and Ron easily sidestepped the blow.

Breathe,
she tried.
Ready…

She braced her legs to take another swing—on target this time—but stopped at the sudden cramp in her side. Ron’s eyes narrowed in glee, and her stomach knotted. It was happening again—his pull was sucking her closer.

Greer laughed, enjoying the show. At least his mind was off Kyle. Stef glanced at the prone form, wondering if there had been a flicker of movement in his ear. She tightened her grip on the ax as Ron came straight at her, fists raised.

His tobacco scent assaulted her first, and she swung wildly. Ron ducked and grabbed for the ax, but she managed to twist it away. It happened once, twice, but each time she was a little too late, a little too hesitant. Her arms were tiring fast, and Ron’s fangs were starting to show, reminding her of the horrible day that started all this.

She fought on, and Greer clapped when she got in a siding blow that knocked Ron to the ground.

“Bitch,” Ron growled, heaving to his feet. “You will come with me.” The red in his eyes dared her to try again.

Enough with the sissy hits.

She twisted the ax handle in her hands so that the blade faced her enemy as she barreled at him. Ron was faster than she expected, though; he caught the handle and grappled for control. Greer was cheering, Ron snarling, her body screaming inside. Her strength was no match for Ron’s, and he forced the ax away. Hands were yanking her hair, clawing her skin, and suddenly, he had her pinned to the ground, his fangs coming at her. Every muscle in her body kicked and flailed in desperate defense.

No! No! No!
her wolf and human sides screamed as one.

There was a little bump at the edge of her mind, a stirring. Kyle! It had to be him, struggling back to consciousness. But she couldn’t wait for his help; right now, she was the only one who could save them both.

Yet nothing she did could hold Ron back. A greedy murmur sounded beside her ear as he closed in.

The first bite turns, the second bite mates.

The drool of hot saliva seared her throat as Ron’s teeth scraped along her skin, honing in on their mark.

Then a cloud drifted free of the moon, and the pale light washed over the landscape. Something tore through her. A roar filled the night, and just like that, she was a spectator, watching a brown-haired, brown-eyed wolf rip its way from under Ron’s grip. The wolf instantly launched into a counterattack, knowing just where to bite and when to twist, how to coordinate four feet and a pair of jaws that felt mighty and powerful.

Stefanie lived it all, because she was the wolf, taking her fury out on her attacker.

Don’t just watch
, the wolf cried.
Help me!

That’s all it took; she was all in. Not just a witness, but a fighter in her own right.

Ron’s eyes went wide as she jumped at his exposed neck. Then all she saw was his fur, close up. She tasted blood gushing between her jaws and held on even as bile rose in her throat. It was two against one: she and her wolf against the man who started her nightmare. She braced her legs and held on and on until he ceased struggling and the last dribble of blood slowed. Then, with a grating click, her jaws released her foe.