On the Growl: A Shifter Romance Anthology

by Lynn Red

  He didn’t slow, though. If anything, he increased his speed, racing down the hallway and straight into her bathroom. It was obvious he’d explored her place. She’d bitch at him about snooping just as soon as she stopped wishing she were dead.

  Distantly, she recognized the sound of her shower curtain being shoved aside and then a clattering clang of metal on tile reached her. If he tore down her shower rod…

  More jostling, more pain, and then the stinging patter of water against her screaming skin. A squinty-eyed glance at her body revealed droplets of blood before they were swept away by the freezing water.

  She was bleeding, being torn apart by this thing inside her and she was just… done. The pain pounced on her without warning, without even a hint of what was to come, and she was over being a werewolf now.

  “Please…” Tears sprung to her eyes and the sting was nothing compared to the agony that grew with every beat of her heart. “Make it stop.”

  “I know, baby, I know.” He eased her further beneath the spray, covering her in the sharp, icy spray.

  “No.” She wriggled. At least, she thought she wriggled. In all honesty, it was probably no more than a quick spasm.

  “Yes.” His hold tightened, one arm remaining around her back while the other cupped her cheek. Or rather, what was left of her cheek. She wasn’t sure what he stroked, whether it was skin or fur. But she did know that whatever lingered there pressed and grew, parts of her snapping.

  Bones. Her bones were breaking.

  She forced her eyes open, forced herself to focus on the worried man that held her captive. “Please.”

  Declan knew what she begged for, knew that in the midst of the fever the emergence of a person’s wolf was the most painful experience of a were’s life. He’d observed this process more than once—hell, a dozen—and each time it scared the hell out of him.

  Him, Swan Mountain Alpha, afraid of a natural progression of a changed werewolf.

  Yet the past fear was nothing when compared to the feelings coursing through him at that moment.

  Why?

  Because only fifteen percent of the changed wolves survived the fever. He’d held that knowledge close, refusing to scare her. He hadn’t imagined he’d find his mate only to have her torn from him. This process was the true reason he hadn’t explored a relationship with Brenna. Nothing else but this fearful moment.

  Her body trembled, straining against him. The wolf inside her struggled to free itself, to burst past Brenna’s human bindings and assert a measure of control over her two-footed half. The battle would last for minutes or hours. The time was wholly dependent on the strength of the person’s halves.

  Brenna as a human was sassy, sometimes bitchy, and strong as hell. He imagined her wolf would be the same.

  “You’ll end yourself before you succeed if you do not cease, little wolf,” he murmured against her ear, knowing the animal listened as the part of her that remained human shied from the pain.

  Yet another jarring tremble wracked her body and then, without warning, she went slack, slumping against him, and he shifted his hold to catch her.

  “That’s a good mate.” His words were garbled by his own wolf, but they seemed to relax her further. If that’s what it took to keep the animal happy, then he’d talk until his voice failed. He’d do whatever it took to ensure she survived the ordeal.

  With the initial wave of heat and pain at an end, he gathered Brenna close and eased from the shower, ignoring the water’s continued rain. He’d go back as soon as his mate was settled in bed. Some things—Brenna’s life—were more important than water conservation.

  Soaked and dripping, he carefully padded across the bathroom and into the master bedroom. He ignored her scattered clothing and shoes, heading right to the bed and laying her atop the soft blanket. Water crept into the comforter, but he didn’t dare take the time to dry her. Not when he wasn’t sure when the next wave of pain and heat from her impatient wolf would strike again.

  Declan raced into the bathroom, stripped his clothes—leaving them in a pile on the tile—and ceased the flow of water. In moments he was back at her side, filled with worry as he watched his mate experience the most painful time in her life. He’d questioned other changed wolves, wondering if there was something different about the final transition that could save others during their time.

  The only thing he did discover was this event was more painful than the gravest of wounds and more agonizing than childbirth.

  Brenna moaned, trembles assaulting her, and he knew another round of screams and cries was imminent. He carefully slid his palm beneath hers, not clutching her fingers, but simply touching her sensitized skin.

  With a renewed howl, he cursed the rogue who’d done this, the male who’d taken the choice from her hands and forced her to endure this agony.

  As before, she repeated the process, the screams battling the whimpers which warred with her wolf’s snarls. The animal was closer to the surface now, a steady game of advance and retreat, weakening her human half until she could no longer hold the beast at bay. With each new push, more of her wolf broke through, her sounds now bestial.

  Her skin tore in some places, arms splitting to reveal fur beneath the surface. It wouldn’t be much longer now. One or two more waves would see the job done and tell him if he had a breathing, furious mate, or another wolf to bury on his land.

  “Please, little wolf, be easy,” he murmured as he stroked sweat-soaked hair from her brow. The beast leaned into his touch, the half-human face nuzzling his palm. “I know you’re anxious but if you push too hard, you’ll kill her.” It whimpered and moved restlessly, arms and legs trembling. The scent of her wolf teased his nostrils, telling him without words that she was anxious to run and mate with his own inner-animal. “I know. Soon. You have to go slow or we’ll never be together.”

  Another whimper escaped her, but she settled, the process easing the tiniest bit. Her screams were no longer as loud or as long, the tearing now merely tight stretches that gently revealed fur, rather than the headlong race.

  The wolf had taken his words to heart.

  Thank god.

  Each time the animal ventured forth, he calmed it with his voice and touch. He knew the final emergence of the wolf would happen soon, he just didn’t want it to destroy Brenna in the process.

  The beast pushed forward for the fifth time after its first bid for freedom, forcing more of his mate’s face to transform to her wolf’s body. Her arms and legs were shorter now, skin giving way to fur. Her abdomen and ribs now resembled the wild animal. All that remained was her face, the formation of her snout and rearrangement of her features.

  The process wasn’t pretty. It was bloody, painful, and seemingly never-ending. He let hope blossom in his chest, a prayer she’d survive. Each time more of her transformed, he allowed another ray of hope to emerge. She was becoming a wolf, and yet the pain seemed lessened by his presence. He’d stay at her side for eternity if that’s what it took to see her through the final stages of her change.

  Another gasp escaped her, another array of bones cracking and reshaping. “That’s it, little wolf. Almost there.” Brenna whined, the sound all animal. “I know. I think you’re ready, huh?” He ran his thumb over her brow, above the yellowed eyes of her wolf. “Almost there.”

  A rustle and thump reached him, the tell-tale squeak of Brenna’s back door opening filling his ears. The sound put his wolf on edge, sending him from soothing to raging in a moment. His mate was vulnerable, so close to the end of her change yet still susceptible to death.

  And that process was being interrupted.

  No.

  He raced to the doorway and then forced himself to still, to take a moment and identify the interloper before racing into what could be a dangerous situation. The rogue was on the loose and he had an incapacitated mate. He couldn’t rush into a fight that would put her in danger.

  So instead of heading into the fray, he paused and took a deep, ca
lming breath. He sorted through the scents, recognizing the older aromas of people that came and went regularly. Then he had a few that were newer, a human male that visited but never stayed. The flavors would have been different had he remained for any length of time. He imagined that was the male who’d abandoned his mate. Good, it left her to him and him alone.

  The A/C kicked on, bringing him more hints of the house, and he recognized the male that intruded. Ballard. One of his gammas and a good wolf. If he was honest, he was glad the male appeared. With Connor off with a part of the pack, he liked having another on alert during this last round of pain his mate endured.

  “Ballard?” He kept his voice low, Brenna’s whimpers tearing at his nerves.

  The male peeked around the corner, eyes brightening when he spied Declan. “Hey, Alpha. How are things?”

  Another whine from Brenna had him glancing back into the room, noting the restless shift of her limbs. Any moment the wolf would burst free and then he could breathe again.

  “She’s about done with the final change.”

  His eyes lightened even further and the man’s own wolf peered from behind his yellowed orbs. “Yeah? She made it then?” A grin split his features. “Wasn’t sure since she was so drunk and stuff.”

  Happiness rolled off the man, excitement joining the emotion, and Declan took a deeper look at the wolf. He was twitchy, shifting this way and that to peek into the bedroom.

  “Right. Drunk?” He knew the truth and he could count the number of his pack who knew the facts surrounding her attack. Brenna, Harper, and Connor.

  Ballard was nowhere in that list.

  “Yeah, man, yeah.” Ballard nodded and yet another inconsistency was added to the growing pile of suspicion.

  Subordinate wolves always, always called their Alpha by his title. Betas were the only exception as the bond between the two strong wolves was deeper than dominant and submissive.

  “Hey, how’s her arm healing?” Bright amber eyes collided with Declan’s.

  “Her arm?”

  “Uh-huh. Got tore up pretty bad, but she made it, huh?” More trembles slid over the wolf.

  Again, no one knew but Connor, Harper, and himself.

  Right. Well, he had his answer, didn’t he? He knew which wolf had attacked and killed so many others, and the one who’d brought about Brenna’s current state. He just had one last thing he needed to know.

  “Ballard?”

  The crazy-eyed wolf turned to him, tearing his gaze from the struggling Brenna. “Huh?”

  “When, exactly, did you lose control of your wolf? Or should I say”—he rushed Ballard, jumping forward and pinning the male to the wall with his forearm—“when did your wolf steal your control?”

  Ballard snarled, exposing rapidly shifting teeth. A wolf’s fangs dropped into place as the animal’s snout quickly emerged. Fur slid from Ballard’s pores, brushing Declan’s skin. The man writhed, fighting his hold, but Declan remained in place. Brenna’s cries warred with Ballard’s struggles and he needed to end this. Soon.

  A high-pitched scream that transformed into a wolf’s wail snared Declan’s attention and he glanced over his shoulder. She arched off the bed, head and feet the only parts of her still resting on the soft surface. The noises continued, going on and on as the animal battled her from within.

  At the same moment, searing pain engulfed his shoulder, pain emanating from the area as the scent of his own blood filled his nose. His body reacted without thought, releasing Ballard and sinking his claws into the male’s flesh. One hand gripped his throat while the other wrenched at his jaw, fighting to force the wolf to release him. The moment those teeth slid free, he dropped Ballard to the blood-stained carpet.

  The beast shook himself like a fucking dog and Declan took that moment to release his own wolf. The animal was waiting for the barest hint of permission to emerge and it burst free the instant he allowed it to come forward. From one heartbeat to the next, he transformed into his wolf’s shape, taking on four paws and solid legs with ease. What was taking Brenna hours to complete took him less than a second. With age came practice and eventually power.

  It was something Ballard had underestimated in him.

  As soon as his paws hit the ground, he leapt, sending himself flying toward his opponent.

  Screams accompanied his snarls, moans echoing his groans and cries joining his rabid roars. As Declan battled for Brenna, she fought for her life.

  Attention split between his mate and Ballard, he took more hits than he liked. Ballard got in a good shot to his foreleg and Declan countered with a strike to the male’s chest. The slice across his snout was returned as a scrape at Ballard’s throat. They brawled, wound for wound. Had he focused, had he kept his attention on Ballard and not allowed it to be torn by Brenna’s pain, he would have killed the man with no more than three swipes.

  Instead, he was pummeled and he battered his opponent in return. Teeth clashed, quickly joined by claws, and blood flowed freely from various wounds.

  An echoing howl paused the fight and had both males freezing in place. The sound continued, slicing and shattering the air with its length until stilled, cut off in an instant.

  Then she was there. In all of her blond glory, a wolf that scented of his mate stood in the hallway, hackles raised and teeth bared. Feral eyes met his for a moment before she leapt.

  She barreled into Ballard, untutored teeth and claws attacking, but never relenting in her assault. She did not pause, he didn’t think she even breathed as she went after the male. Pure, unadulterated, savage power.

  And his. All his.

  As soon as he kept her from decapitating his kill. He’d weakened the male, the least she could do was let him end the fight.

  In seconds, her inexperienced movements took Ballard to the ground like a true Alpha Bitch. Pups were taught how to fight from a young age, but Brenna wasn’t hindered with how things were “supposed” to be done. The beast wanted him dead and it seemed she was going for just that.

  She had Ballard’s neck between her jaws, squeezing and shaking as the male whimpered. Damn it. She really was going to take the joy out of killing him.

  Declan strode forward, pushing aside any lingering pain and throwing forward every inch of dominance he still held. Ballard had weakened him, but he was not weak.

  He moved until he was within striking distance and curled his lips away from his fangs, exposing his deadly teeth. With the move, he snarled and growled, allowing saliva to drip from his mouth. It was his kill and the wolf was finally onboard with pushing Brenna aside so he could finish off his prey.

  She rumbled in return, going motionless but not releasing Ballard.

  He repeated the sound, stepping forward and glaring at her as he did.

  She didn’t back down and he was torn between pride and anger.

  Pride inched forward a little, but he still wasn’t going to let her take Ballard’s life.

  He jerked forward, barking as he did in an effort to scare her into dropping him.

  She didn’t. Stubborn bitch.

  Next he nipped at her shoulder, fangs catching her flesh without piercing her skin. He wanted her gone, not injured. It appeared she had enough blood on her as it was. That thought had the wolf tearing away his control. The aroma of blood permeated the air, hanging above them like a heavy cloud, and he couldn’t detect if any of Brenna’s joined the mix. He needed to know. Now.

  This time around, he did cause her a hint of pain, her high-pitched yelp proving he’d hurt her at least a little. The moment she jumped back, a glare living in her eyes, he leapt forward and ended Ballard’s life with a quick and fierce shake.

  He hated killing one of his pack members, hated the necessity, but the laws were very clear when it came to rogues. Whether by his fangs or another’s, a death sentence was a certainty.

  Declan dropped the dead wolf, its head colliding with the blood-soaked carpet with a heavy thump. The weight of Brenna’s stare sat on his shoulde
rs and he knew her anger would blister him the moment she figured out how to shift back to human.

  Since he didn’t imagine the wolf would be ready to give up her claim any time soon, he figured he had at least an hour, maybe two, of blessed quiet. If there was anything he’d learned about the woman over the years, it was that she always had something to say. Especially when she was angry.

  Staring at her now, her blond fur covered in blood and gore while she tried to kill him with her eyes, he discovered something else.

  She was sexy as hell when she was pissed.

  And as soon as she got back to two legs, he’d tell her.

  Then, with luck, he’d show her.

  Chapter 5

  Four hours and three showers later, Brenna was sure she still smelled like wolf’s blood and wet dog. Gross.

  Even worse, Ballard’s taste remained on her tongue.

  And the wolf part of her liked it. Like, really liked it and wondered when it’d have another chance to come out and play.

  Brenna’s answer? No. Not ever. Fuck it all. Maybe in heaven because it sure as hell ain’t on Earth.

  The wolf was not pleased.

  Well, she wasn’t pleased with waking up covered in Ballard, fuck you very much.

  The wolf part of her sensed Declan’s approach before her human half. Her skin bulged and stretched in her arms, the same happening to her legs, and her animal whined to be set free.

  Fuck. That.

  Declan’s scent surrounded her, teasing her with his flavors, and she fought against the urge to rub against him like a cat. She was a wolf for God’s sake!

  Instead, she remained frozen in place, hands clutching the counter in an effort to remain upright. She distracted herself by tracing the variations in the granite with her gaze. He’d dragged her to his home the moment a clean-up crew arrived and now she was enveloped by his things, his house, his very being. She gripped the edge tighter. She was weak when it came to him and she knew it. The moment she showed any hint of relenting to his sensual assault, he’d pounce.