Page 45

SASHA

T he impact of the punch I threw bounced back down my whole body.

After leaping away from the punching bag, I dropped into a crouch, spun, and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick. The punching bag rocked back, the chain supporting it, rattling.

Alexandra, one of my senior lieutenants, stood leaning against the far wall—legs crossed at the ankle. Her gray eyes tracked me like a falcon eyeing a rodent.

The thought fueled me into a flurry of punches and kicks that had the bag swinging like a turbulent pendulum.

“The juveniles are getting rowdy,” Alexandra said.

“They’re always rowdy,” I panted.

“The levels are peaking toward violence. They’re beginning to assert their standing in the hierarchy.”

Jab. Cross. Uppercut. “Take them down a peg,” I gasped in between blows.

I caught Alexandra shaking her head out of the corner of my eye. “Won’t take heed as well as if it came from their alpha.”

A growl ripped loose. Wonderful, more shit to pile on me.

“The werebear’s visit affected you.”

I faltered, my punch not carrying enough power behind it. I knew Alexandra would pick up that folly.

Dammit.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but whatever it is… you’re reaching.”

Alexandra chuckled. “The only thing I’m reaching for is the truth.”

“That flea-bitten bear hasn’t affected me at all.”

“Bullshit.”

I pushed off the wall and Alexandra strode closer.

“Over the last two weeks, you’ve been a grumpy ass.

You snap orders to the sentinels like their purpose on this earth is to answer your every beck and call.

You’ve lost your temper with the pups for finger-painting the food hall walls.

It was only fucking finger-paint! You’ve had a stick so far up your ass I’m surprised you’re not strung up like a flagpole. ”

I whirled on her, the punching bag forgotten. “Listen, being alpha means I take charge. I’m responsible for this pack. The title makes more enemies than friends!”

Lies. Excuses.

I knew all the words spewing from my mouth were bullshit, but I couldn’t let her know.

No matter if she was my dearest friend. I couldn’t let any of my pack mates know that Alpha Damon was my fated mate.

Werewolves and werebears rarely formed a fated bond, with only a few dozen cases recorded in Werekind’s history.

That was pretty damn long, considering our history dated back at least five centuries.

To have called a werebear your mate was a sin worse than being a latent.

Alexandra scoffed and retorted, “An alpha’s pack is not her enemy. And you know that.” Her gaze dipped down to my lower body. “Have you been using Dolly more lately?”

I could feel the heat of my flush straight to my toes.

I cast a furtive glance around and breathed a sigh of relief that no other pack mates passed through the training grounds. The high afternoon sun caused the pack to seek shade and conserve energy.

“I have not used Dolly any more than usual. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Dolly was the codename for my vibrator that I kept tucked away in the back of my drawer, under piles of paper. And yes, I may have pulled her out a couple of more times than usual.

“Your bedroom is right next to mine.”

I raised a brow.

“I can hear your mewling when you take care of your arousal.”

My eyes snapped open, gut-twisting. I spun and threw my weight into the following punch. A violent snap resounded. I gasped as the punching bag went sailing across the room, slammed against the wall, and careened to the ground in an explosion of sand—the bag busting.

Jaw slacked, I blinked at the remains. I chanced a peek at Alexandra. Brow raised, she shot me a knowing look, trying not to grin.

What a bitch!

I stared at my nightstand that evening. The pack had retired to their respective cabins, preparing their evening meals now that dusk had descended over the town of Big Sky.

But my inner wolf wouldn’t allow me to eat.

The only thing she craved was Damon, and had spent every night, since his unwelcome visit, pining away.

No, my inner wolf did not hunger for food.

She clawed at me with a different need that she yearned to satiate.

My abdomen clenched, and the muscle spasmed.

I licked my lower lip as sweat beaded on my brow.

A raw need only a mate could relieve and quench—sexual hunger.

Again, my gaze flitted to the top drawer of the nightstand.

I was thinking about the vibrator.

Not that Dolly had done much quenching. If anything, she fueled my primal need for a male body and my claws sliced out. Like hell, I’d beg that mangy alpha to take me.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I trudged toward the drawer.

Not like I have a choice.

A bitter tang wafted into the room from the cracked window to my bedroom. I halted, nostrils flaring. Pain. I’d recognize that scent anywhere.

Emotional pain.

Tearing out of my bedroom, I raced out of my cabin, allowing my nose to guide me to my pack mate, who was undergoing such suffering. My inner wolf whined, pawing at the confines of my mind, seeking to comfort.

The scent of Sage and honeysuckle intermingled with the bitterness of emotional turmoil.

Oh God, Danika.

The smell belonged to Danika, a latent female warrior. I weaved around cabins till my eyes clapped on the one belonging to Danika and her mate, Hunt Pierce. Stepping up onto the porch, I rapped a fist on the door.

No sooner had I lowered my hand, did the door swing back, revealing Danika. Her honey complexion looked pallid and worry lines united her brows. Tears swam in her chocolate brown eyes and she sniffled. “Thank God you’re here, Alpha.”

“What’s wrong, Danika?”

She stepped to the side, allowing me entry. I swept into the foyer and headed to the spacious living room where Hunt stood pacing the crimson floor rug. Upon seeing me, he abandoned the rug and rushed forward.

“Chelsea is missing,” Hunt said. His claws sliced out, slashing at the open air as he flexed his fingers.

A chill tiptoed down my spine. Chelsea Pierce, daughter of Danika and Hunt, eight years of age and just a mere pup. Too young to venture out on her own with nightfall fast approaching.

I spun toward Danika, who remained off to my side. “When was the last time you saw her?”

Wringing her hands, Danika cried, “This morning, before she headed to school.”

“What time does she usually arrive back?” I beetled my brows.

Hunt replied, “Her walk from the school usually takes about thirty minutes… forty tops.”

I did the math in my head.

Shit.

She had been missing for over three hours.

At my incredulous expression that must’ve shown on my face, Danika said, “I-I figured she had detoured to play with some of the human children she’s friends with.

Sometimes, they play in the woods. But she is never late like this, returning home.

” Her face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets.

“I-I should’ve gone to look for her earlier.

” Her head dropped. “I-I should’ve g-gone. ”

“No, no, Danika…” I moved and encircled my arms around her, drawing her close. “Don’t start blaming yourself. We’ll find her.”

Sobs wracked Danika’s body, her shoulders trembling and tears soaking my shirt.

My eyes slid over to Hunt. He held my gaze, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.

I noted how the burly male, one of the few werewolves in my pack who could shift—a male not prone to expressing emotion—struggled to restrain his worry.

But the fear bled through his eyes. No doubt for his mate’s sake, as she was unraveling with each passing moment.

But as we held each other’s gaze, we both feared the worst for Chelsea, yet tucked that grim thought into the darkest recesses of our minds.

I organized a search party and sent out all but a few of my senior sentinels, leaving the rest to guard the territory alongside the warriors.

Hunt had insisted on joining the search, and though I worried his emotions would cloud his tracking ability, I granted the father his request. Our group had split up, trekking multiple trails in search of Chelsea.

Her odor was an integral part of the pack.

Chelsea’s scent was like a brand in our memory since she belonged to Hopecrest.

Flanked by Garret and Alexandra, I hiked the trail nearest to where Chelsea attended school. Thick grass flanked the dirt path, oak, and pines towering overhead, their dense canopy melding with the inky canvas that stretched above.

“Do you smell her, Garret?” Alexandra asked.

The world brimmed with clarity because of my night vision. I could detect Garret’s nostrils flaring through the darkness that almost swallowed us whole.

“No,” Garret said. He let out a frustrated growl. “I can only smell prey.”

I inhaled a deep breath, capturing the scents wafting on the breeze. The musk of squirrels, raccoons, and various other animals permeated the forest.

“I can’t scent her either,” Alexandra hissed. “It’s too damn dark. My God, she’s out here all alone like this.”

My throat tightened at the thought of Chelsea wandering the woods, dark shadows closing in, and afraid.

I lengthened my strides. As my eyes scanned the loose dirt for any signs of small footprints, I caught a whiff of sunshine and nutmeg.

It was faint. My inner wolf stood, ears pricked. She knew. We both did.

“I’ve caught her scent,” I told my sentinels.

“God, really?” Alexandra asked.

Garret tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath. His eyes snapped wide. “It’s Chelsea!”

After breaking out into a run, I streaked through the forest, my pack mates on my tail. As I rounded a bend in the trail, I noted a glimmer of light that flitted through the trees.

Red and blue lights.

My heart thundered in my chest. I captured Chelsea’s essence again. Sunshine sprinkled with nutmeg, but a hint of something else intermingled with it. A metallic tang. My stomach pitched.

No. Please, not blood!

I pelted across the ground, picking up speed as my legs propelled me forward. Alexandra called for me to slow down, to stop. But my legs wouldn’t respond. My brain misfired, the thoughts swirling through my head like a jumbled mass.

The lights grew brighter. I could now make out police vehicles in a clearing, lining the trail up ahead. Several figures—humans—stood scattered within the circle of cars. They all stared down at something at ground level.

God no. Please no!

Chelsea’s scent grew stronger, coming from the direction of the men. Crime scene tape that encircled the trees to form a barrier surrounded by officers in uniform.

“Sasha!” Garret’s voice boomed across the distance. But I was too fast, the distance between us growing wider.

A crew of humans stood off to the side, a woman standing before a camera, the man behind it signaling for her to raise her microphone closer to her lips. The blonde spoke, her voice drifting my way.

“It appears the young girl encountered a bear along these trails. Authorities still haven’t?—”

Oh, God…

The blood roared in my ears, drowning out the rest of the speech. The words ‘ young girl’ bounced back through my mind.

Between the patrol vehicles lay a tiny figure on the trail. Splotches of crimson stained the shirt the person wore and pooled under the body. Blood. Dark brown hair curled in ringlets became visible as I drew closer. Honey-brown eyes stared unseeing up at the sky.

Chelsea’s eyes.

Grief fisted my heart, and the muscle spasmed. Tears blurred my vision, and a wail ripped past my lips.

“Chelsea!”