Page 103 of The Wolves of Forest Grove

The great black wolf slowed from a sprint to a canine jog as he cleared the last bit of space. His bright orange gaze went first to Clay, and then, without bothering to hide his disappointment, to me.

When his gaze slid from me to Sam, Ryland jerked so violently that his claws dug deep channels in the earth and his hackles went up from the top of his head all the way to the end of his tail.

His eyes were wide. Wild.

Shock was evidenced in the rigidity of his stance. In the quick, short bursts of air filtering in and out through his nostrils.

Sam cried out and all at once I realized what was happening.

Clay saw it, too.

He watched as his sister cringed and buckled, whining as she fought against the invisible force making her head bow just as Ryland’s did.

And when finally she broke free of it, how she pressed up from the earth, her neck long and chest jutting out as a long howl tore from her mouth.

It rose like a scream in the night, tangling the deeper sound of Ryland’s own howl.

Clay’s blue eyes met mine, panicked and confused. He growled low in his throat, and I lurched over to him, tucking myself in close to his side, trying to soothe him.

Don’t, was all I said in his mind, terrified to voice anything else.

Ryland was the first to let the howl fade, dropping his hungry eyes to his new mate. He sauntered toward her like a predator stalking beautiful prey. Like he was strangely disarmed by her beauty but intended to make a meal of her all the same.

It was difficult to look at. Difficult to stomach.

I couldn’t even imagine what was going through Clay’s mind right now, but I did know he was working very hard to hide whatever it was because not a single wisp of a thought broke through his defenses.

I stepped on Clay’s paw as Ryland approached, and he grudgingly took a step back, allowing Ryland to stalk a slow circle around a shivering Sam.

Mate, Ryland’s throaty roar echoed in my skull, and I knew without needing anyone to tell me that it was a declaration. That it was a single word projected to the entire pack. I buckled under the force of it and Clay flinched.

It was difficult to tell, but I got the sense that Ryland and his mate were having a conversation we couldn’t hear. Like when I first mated to Jared and Clay. Even though they weren’t my pack yet, the mate bond allowed us to communicate.

Judging by the little sounds they were making, it seemed like it wasn’t a horribly unpleasant conversation at least. Sam’s shaking began to subside, and her bowed head rose, and she rolled her shoulders back, taking in her new mate like someone would take in a brand-new car.

The fear I’d seen in her for an instant had abated.

She looked…happy.

And like she wanted to take that new car for a test drive.

Ugh.

Clay growled low in his throat, and Ry turned on him with a snarl, but Sam, surprising me, snapped in Ry’s direction, earning herself a surprised stare from Ry.

No, surprised wasn’t the right word. Shocked, maybe?

Outraged, definitely.

Though Sam didn’t back down from his withering stare.

I heard someone else coming and peered into the tree line toward camp, finding several other shifters emerging, awoken from Ryland’s declaration.

Their approach was enough to tranquilize Ry, who resumed his leering of Sam.

Appreciative leering, as though she hadn’t just done something to offend him a few seconds before.

Charity was the first to reach us. She looked between Ryland and Sam, her eyes watery and her movements stilted.

Once she got a good enough eye full, she fled, leaving the other approaching pack members to ogle their alpha’s new mate.

My heart ached for her even though I would never understand her attraction to him.

Ryland shifted, going from wolf to human in one fluid movement, one step a wolf, and the next on mortal feet. He grinned down at Sam, his look encouraging her to do the same.

When she did, Clay and I followed suit along with many of the other shifters who’d come to investigate.

I barely felt the shift this time, too preoccupied with needing to make sure Clay didn’t intend to strangle Ryland. I shivered in the cold and tucked myself into Clay’s side, wrapping my hand around his clenched one. For a second, I thought he might shuck me off. I expected it.

He didn’t like to be comforted. I knew that.

Which was why I was surprised when he relaxed his fisted hand enough to slide his fingers through mine, gripping tight. For once, I was able to offer him what he always offered me. Courage. And maybe a bit of calmness.

Ryland appraised Sam. His tongue slipped out, licking his lips as though he’d just finished a particularly intoxicating meal. Sam appraised him in turn, and though I could tell she was not wholly satisfied, she seemed at least accepting of what she saw.

I wouldn’t say it, but I had to assume it was to do with his age.

From what I knew generally the mate bond formed between two shifters nearer together in age naturally, but I also knew that that wasn’t always the case.

It seemed Sam and Ryland were the exception to the rule.

From what I knew Sam was only a year older than I was.

And Ryland was…what? Close to fifty? Ick.

I felt sick for Clay, and more than ever before, I prayed that what I learned tonight was not true.

Shouted admonishments of congratulations rose from the gathering of my pack mates.

Forrest and Harrison whooped, bumping fists with each other before they clapped Ryland on the back and welcomed Sam with open arms and naked embraces.

With kisses on her cheeks and shakes of her hand.

She grinned broadly through it all, laughing as she kept a seductive eye on her new mate and he on her.

She beamed as he announced a celebration to take place on the weekend. To properly welcome his new mate to the Forest Grove pack.

Not a clue that she may have just mated to the most dangerous shifter here.