Page 27 of Ruthless Alpha (Nightfire Islands Alphas #3)

The sword was warm in my hand, and the sight of it brought my attackers up short. Two of them I only vaguely recognized as my uncle’s drinking buddies—one black, one brown, both ragged and greying around the muzzle. I paid them little attention, locking eyes instead with Stanley himself.

“Are you afraid of me?” I asked. Pouring my magic into the weapon came so easily now, the power fizzing and pulsing at my command.

The sword glowed brighter, and Stanley snarled but didn’t approach.

I’d been afraid of my own power my whole life, thinking it would corrupt me, hurt me, destroy me, but in finding it, I had found myself.

“Go home,” I told him. “Go home, and never bother me again, do you understand?”

His two friends were creeping backward, clearly not invested enough to risk going up against a witch, but Stanley himself stood firm.

I flicked my wrist, and that now-familiar thread of light burst from the tip of my weapon, flicking the brown wolf’s face so he yelped and turned tail, fleeing back toward the woods; I only had to look at the black one before he was doing the same.

It was just the two of us. Just me and Stanley.

Me and the man who should have protected me, who should have raised me and loved me, and cared for me.

He growled, low and threatening, showing me his long, yellow teeth.

It might have been frightening if I couldn’t see the sheen of foam around his mouth from the effort of running after me, a lifetime of pipe tobacco and moonshine catching up with him fast.

“I’m not scared of you anymore,” I said, and it was only as the words left my mouth that I realized I truly meant them.

My heart might be pounding with adrenaline, but I didn’t really believe he could hurt me.

Sure, it helped to have Xander looming behind me, ready to leap in if things went south, but I didn’t need him there.

I could take one middle-aged man with bad lungs and a worse temper. He was nothing.

“Go,” I said again. “I don’t want to kill you.”

That was true, too. I didn’t want to kill him, if only because I didn’t want to kill anyone.

Red had never been my color, and blood would not sit easily on my hands.

I would go through with it if that was what it took to free myself.

If I could separate myself from the man I loved, from my mate, then I could end the life of one miserable, nasty drunk.

I saw his body tense before he jumped: my magic caught him in mid-air, that thread of light wrapping itself around his neck.

I tugged, pouring my intent into the sword, and I heard the dull crack of his spine snapping.

When Stanley landed, it was in a heap at my feet.

His head was twisted at an angle that looked so wrong, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, and I had to look away before I retched.

I stumbled back from his body, reeling and unsteady on my feet. Xander was there in an instant, scooping me up into his arms.

“You did it. You were so brave, angel. Fuck—I’m so proud of you.”

He pressed a long kiss to my hair, and I leaned into the warmth of his hold. His woodsmoke and pepper scent enveloped me, and my wolf purred with satisfaction, utterly content for the first time in weeks.

“We’re gonna get you somewhere safe, okay?” he said, still cradling me against his chest as he set off back across the bridge. I didn’t even know which bridge it was, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be gone, to leave Arbor behind me for good, and all my demons with it.

Xander and I left Stanley’s body where it fell, and I felt only the briefest tinge of guilt.

His buddies would be back in town soon enough, and someone would come by to pick him up.

I wondered if Moira would mourn him—he was her mate, after all—or if she would, in her own way, be grateful.

I dismissed the thought almost as soon as it appeared in my mind.

I didn’t need to care what she thought anymore, and I doubted it would be anything flattering.

She might have been my blood, but she didn’t love me any more than Stanley had.

I’d felt more love in the last two months than I had in the decade before I left Arbor.

Xander’s warmth was soothing against my shaking body, his big hands solid against my bare skin.

I didn’t know how I would leave him again, how I could let him go back to his island and leave me to my not-quite-happiness on Ferris, but that would come later.

For now, I didn’t want to think about it, I only wanted to bask in his closeness, to greedily drink in as much of him as I could in the time we had.

The gentle rocking of his steps was relaxing, and I felt my eyes slipping closed as my head rested against his chest. I had been running for hours, and my head was still sore; I’d never expended so much magic in a day.

In an effort to keep my eyes open, my gaze landed on a long, angry-looking wound on Xander’s chest. Now that I thought about it—with the fog of adrenaline cleared—he’d looked in bad shape when he arrived on Arbor.

There had been other freshly healing cuts and gashes on his body, and his left hand was tightly bandaged where it rested against my thigh.

“What happened?” I asked, lightly touching the wound. Xander tensed.

“Later, angel,” he said. “I’ll tell you later. Get some rest.”

I wanted to keep prying, but Xander could be stubborn when he wanted to be.

I doubted he would want to tell me whatever fresh atrocity had gone down on Ensign—I knew he still held out hope that one day I would return.

I held that hope, too, in the deepest and most secret corner of my mind.

I wanted to take my rightful place with my mate, to build a home together.

Until today, I’d doubted I would ever be strong enough to survive on Ensign, but perhaps I was.

Perhaps one day my magic would be strong enough to grant me the kind of respect that was granted to Eve.

Perhaps one day I could use that power for more than myself.

With that delicate, fragile hope nestled in my heart, I let my eyelids slip shut, safe in my mate’s arms. I slept without dreaming, deeper than seemed possible while being held bridal style and carried across the country, and when I woke up, it was only because of a bright, artificial light.

As I blinked my eyes open, a town came into focus.

It wasn’t one I recognized, not the familiar simple cottages of Arbor or Ferris, nor the austere buildings of Ensign.

If I didn’t know better, I might have thought we were in a human town, with paved roads and bright streetlights and taller, more impressive buildings than any I’d seen on the archipelago.

We drew more than a few suspicious glances as we moved through the town—naked and covered in varying amounts of blood in the early morning—but Xander paid them no mind, walking confidently up to a large building made of a beautiful, smooth stone.

He turned to bang on the door with his elbow, and when no one came to the door, he banged again, louder.

Eventually, the door was opened by a disgruntled-looking male with a mess of copper curls. He was shirtless, dressed only in soft sleep trousers, clearly having been asleep only a few seconds ago.

“Arbor tried to steal Rosie back,” was all Xander said, and the man in the doorway sighed.

“Seriously?” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

“Never mind. Welcome to Leo’s home for wayward Alphas and their mates on the run from Arbor, I guess. Come on in.”

“It’s not my fault your neighbors are the worst,” Xander grumbled as he carried me over the threshold.

I expected to be put down once we were inside, but Xander’s arms stayed firm around me, so I unhooked one of my arms from around his neck to wave at Leo.

“Hello. I’m Rosie. Nice to meet you.”

Leo smiled, the expression warm and easy.

“I’ve heard so much about you, Rosie. Welcome to Argent.”

I returned Leo’s smile as I snuggled back down against Xander’s chest, gently stroking his skin to soothe the slight growl that had started rumbling in his chest. It was ridiculous of him to get possessive over a pleasant greeting, but I couldn’t deny that it sent a warm thrill through my tired body.

Leo didn’t seem to mind, either, rolling his eyes at me briefly before beckoning us both upstairs.

“I’ll leave you both here, and there’ll be a witch on her way to see to your wounds—both of you.” He gave Xander a pointed look of chastisement, and I decided that I liked Leo very much.

The room he led us to was large and comfortable, nicer than Xander’s back on Ensign, although it must have been one of many spare bedrooms in the luxurious house. Xander laid me gently on the bed, smoothing down my hair before he turned back to Leo.

“Is there—” he started, but Leo cut him off.

“There’s a bathroom through that door there.” He pointed to a door on the right-hand wall, and I had to hold back my incredulity at the idea of the room having its very own bathroom. “There are towels and hot water for you to clean up a little.”

“Thank you,” said Xander, low and earnest, and Leo shrugged.

“It’s what I’m here for, apparently.”

He closed the door with a soft snick, leaving us alone in the plush room, dawn light creeping through the blinds.

We didn’t speak as Xander retreated to the bathroom, returning a minute or so later with a warm, wet washcloth.

He set about cleaning the blood from my hair with gentle concentration, murmuring apologies whenever he brushed up against the tender spot on my head.

It was sweet and intimate, and tears welled up in my eyes.

I’d put him through hell, and here he still was, strong and kind and so, so gentle with me.

I put my hand on top of his, stilling him.

“My turn,” I managed.

He let me take the cloth from him, let me get up and walk over to the bathroom to get a fresh one, wiping away the single escaping tear where he couldn’t see.

When I returned, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, and my heart ached to see the extent of the injuries that peppered his body.

Most were long cuts and slashes, but others were round and angry-looking.

I could do nothing for the ugly, mottled bruising, but I would tend to his wounds as best I could.

“Sit back,” I told him, and he obeyed instantly, shuffling back so he was leaning on the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him. I swung one leg over his so I was sitting in his lap, and I saw his pupils dilate slightly.

“Rosie—” he started, but I shushed him gently, bringing the cloth up to the longest, angriest gash on his chest.

“What happened?” I asked softly, and he winced.

“I didn’t—I didn’t want to tell you yet, but I’ve been trying to change things on Ensign,” he admitted. “Turns out that a lot of the males didn’t like being told they couldn’t kill each other whenever they fancied or go after any female they liked the look of.”

He gave me a wry smile, clearly trying to make light of the situation, but the enormity of it hit me nonetheless, and I froze, the cloth dripping pink water onto his chest.

“They challenged you?”

“All thirty-something of them, yeah.”

He was still trying to play it off like it was nothing, like he hadn’t put his life on the line for me. Suddenly, I could see it so clearly: that other version of reality where I faced off against my uncle alone, where I returned to Ferris only to be told I would never see Xander again.

This time, the tears came fast, and I collapsed against his chest, needing to hear the steady beat of his heart.

“Shit,” said Xander, “I thought that would make you happy.” How could he not understand how much I cared? How the thought of him dying made me want to rip out my own insides.

“You asshole!” I cried, muffled against his skin.

“You can’t throw your life away like that.

” I knew how hypocritical I was being—that this was the only way he could have enforced those kinds of rules on his Pack, but I was too exhausted and too emotional to care.

I would never have forgiven myself if he’d died because of what I’d said to him on my last night on Ensign.

“Hey, I lived,” he reminded me.

“But you could have—you might—” I couldn’t even say the words, but he understood. With a hand beneath my chin, he lifted my face to his, brushing away my tears with his thumbs.

“It was a risk I was willing to take,” he said. “I think I’d do anything for you.”

That did nothing to stop the flow of tears, and I could only let him hold me together as they fell. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve him; I could only thank fate for the blessing.

“I don’t want to—I don’t want you to feel like you have to come back,” he continued, quickly. “Things are still pretty unstable, and you’ll probably be safer on Ferris until things calm down.”

I let out a wet, hiccupping laugh.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” I told him, “but I’m kind of a badass now. I think I can handle it.”

His dark eyes lit with the faintest spark of hope, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“You’re coming home with me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

I nodded, fresh tears welling in my eyes as I pressed my forehead to his.

“I’m coming home with you.”