Page 19 of Lone Wolf’s Claim (The Kincaid Werewolves #1)

Thomas’ voice broke as he threw down the gauntlet.

"As o' this moment, ye are nae longer a member of this pack.

" He had to shout now to be heard above the snarls and howling that broke out around them, his hands fisted at his sides and his face twisting as he fought his own change that was trying to overtake him.

"Brock Hume, if ya live through this, ye are exiled from our lands, never tae return or contact us again.

Ye are a siubhal, a lone wolf, from this day forward. "

This last was spoken in more of a deep growl than anything else as the alpha dropped to the ground, the change fully overtaking him. A flash of fear shot through Brock, even though he'd known this was coming, as the sounds of breaking bones and tearing flesh echoed around him.

He ground his jaw together and willed his own change to take him before the first attack came from his former pack mates. As he dropped to the ground, he glared at Thomas' advisor, the only one there still in his human form.

He was smiling.

Eventually, Brock realized that his entire body was covered in gooseflesh and he was shivering.

Whether from the cold or the awful memories, he couldn’t say.

Gathering Heather into his arms, he got to his feet, easily lifting her with him.

He wanted to get as far away as possible from this damn water before night came.

Heading into the misty forest, he pondered more deeply the implications of his decision to keep this woman.

He realized that he was going to have to tell her why he was without a pack.

He wanted no more secrets between them. He just hoped that she would understand and that he could convince her to stay with him.

There were a lot of reasons why she would think they shouldn't be together.

His jaw set in a stubborn line. She would stay with him, and he would make her happy. As soon as they got the fuck out of this place.

Once he'd gotten far enough away for his own comfort, he found some shelter under a thick cluster of trees that were up on a slight rise. Now that the tidal wave had leveled out, if worse came to worse and the water made its way toward them, he'd have time to get them to safety.

Setting her down carefully so as not to jar her healing bones before they’d had a chance to set properly, he set about making a fire to keep them warm.

Moving her closer to the heat, he cuddled up behind her to share her heat and watch the flames.

His stomach growled to protest the loss of their skoochat that day, but it was just going to have to wait.

There was no way in hell he was leaving her here alone and injured and unable to defend herself.

As night fell, he fed the flames and tried to keep her warm.

He worried about her clothes still being wet, but if he took them off, she'd be as bare as he was to the chilly night air.

And they were beginning to dry already, so he left them on for now.

After the heat of the boiling flood, it seemed unusually cold.

He reached over his head to the small pile of wood he'd gathered there and threw another small log onto the fire, watching the sparks dance above the flames.

Heather moaned in her sleep, drawing his eyes back to her flawless profile.

Freckles stood out starkly against her pale skin, and he pulled some leaves out of her damp hair.

The muscles in his jaw clenched as he watched her try to get into a more comfortable position, and then moan in pain without waking. He helped her roll over carefully, pulling her up close to him again.

He was so done with this place. It was time to get them the fuck out of there, come hell…he snorted quietly…or high water. Tomorrow he would find the place he'd started. He'd carry her the entire way if need be, and get them home.

He needed to make plans, needed to figure out how they were going to get around the bias they would receive for being together. But his lack of sleep the night before and the excitement of the day caught up to him, and he finally gave up and closed his eyes.

* * *

When he woke up a few hours later, there was a pile of dry clothes for him to wear folded by the fire.

He wanted to throw them into the flames and scream his frustration, but he did neither.

Checking on Heather, he found her clothes and hair were almost completely dry, and she seemed to be sleeping more peacefully.

He kicked dirt over the smoldering fire and donned his new clothes with silent determination, then he lifted Heather up into a sitting position.

Brushing her off as well as he could, he settled her in his arms and started walking back toward the water, hoping he'd find some remnant of the trail he'd left.

It wasn’t anywhere near morning yet, but he could see through the darkness as well as he could see through the fog.

Maybe he should leave new markers, so he wasn't walking around in circles.

Gathering Heather's unconscious form into one arm, he extended his claws and used his free hand to slash at the tree trunks as he passed.

Possibly with a little more force than was really necessary.