Roaring Up the Wrong Tree

by Celia Kyle

  But just because it couldn’t appear didn’t mean it couldn’t help. She’d healed quickly her entire life due to the animal. Now it gave her strength and speed.

  Trista caught Adrienne’s hands, wrapping her fingers around the woman’s wrists and keeping her at bay. She used her hold to halt the woman’s progress, but the she-wolf leaned down and snapped at Trista’s vulnerable throat. The wolf’s heated, moist breath coated her neck and face, bathing her in the disgusting stench of wolf and rage.

  She jerked her head aside, bolting left while pushing Adrienne right, attempting to buck the woman from her body.

  But it didn’t work. Even with her animal’s strength. No, it allowed the wolf to snap her right arm free and scrape those deadly nails down Trista’s arm. She dug deep furrows into her flesh, exposing muscle and releasing blood. She tried to suppress the scream that rose furiously, but it emerged anyway.

  The sound soaked the area and Keen bellowed in return. She sensed his anger, his pure fury. Hopefully he’d take out his rage on Reid and then come to her before Adrienne got her way.

  Then the she-wolf was there again, clawing and snapping, hunting for any hint of Trista’s flesh. Her wounded arm throbbed and pulsed with agony, but she couldn’t spare a thought for the damage. Not when Adrienne attacked anew.

  When Adrienne swiped again she released the woman altogether. She blocked the strike with one arm while she formed a fist with her other hand. She’d been taught how to punch. She’d just never used it on a half-shifted woman before. Well, she used it now. She cocked her arm back, borrowed strength from her animal, and struck. Her bare fist collided with the woman’s lower jaw and more pain vibrated down her arm. Knowing how to throw a punch and actually striking skin and bone were two entirely different things.

  But while she recovered from the bolting ache, Adrienne rocked back. Her balance shifted, the bulk of her weight no longer crouched over Trista but on her ass as it rested on Trista’s hips. This was another thing she’d been taught, how to lie passively beneath someone and then buck them before they had a chance to do any further damage.

  She planted a foot and shoved, twisting her hips to dislodge the fierce woman. The moment she was free, she rolled in the opposite direction and sprang to her feet. Her left arm hung limply at her side, blood trickling over her skin to soak the ground.

  It didn’t matter, though. She was free and she had to survive. Survive long enough for Keen to get to her, to save her.

  She was depending on him to save her, and her mind didn’t balk at the idea. Sometimes leaning on someone was necessary and Keen was the first person, the first male, she’d ever put all of her faith in.

  He would save her.

  Survive. Survive. Survive.

  And she did. When Adrienne came after her, pushing to her feet as she wiped blood from her cut maw, Trista ran. She ducked behind trees and wove through the forest. The heavy thump and crunch of Adrienne’s pursuit filled her ears, but it also spurred her to go faster.

  She skirted the area where the battle began, making sure she was still within Keen’s reach.

  Survive. Survive. Survive.

  She was running and winning. Staying alive meant winning. Adrienne was there, she hadn’t caught her, and she hadn’t—

  Claws scraped down her back, scoring her skin and snaring her shirt. The sudden tug jolted her and she went from racing away to falling back. She shouted in surprise, stumbling until she collided with a tree.

  Blood dripping from her claws, a morbidly smiling she-wolf advanced on her. That was Trista’s blood, Trista’s life, coating the woman’s paws. The pain of her new wound intensified, the nerves finally realizing that bare skin was pressed against rough bark.

  Didn’t matter though because Trista had to remain mobile, had to remain on her feet and out of the woman’s clutches. She backed away, shuffling behind the tree and continuing her backward escape. Still the woman advanced, keeping pace.

  “I’m going to win. I’m going to gut you and bathe in your blood, little bitch. I’ll make it quick if you submit now.”

  No. She wouldn’t submit. Not ever. Before Keen, she might have. She might have given up and let the woman end her rapidly worsening existence. But no more.

  Trista spun and ran. Blood created a red trail across the leaf-strewn forest floor. She tripped and shuffled, but kept distance between her and the wolf. She flew over the ground, racing toward her original position by Keen.

  She neared the tree line, clear sky in sight, and tripped before she could burst into the air. Once again Adrienne was on her, straddling her as she reached for Trista’s hands.

  “I’ll tear out your throat, bitch.” Adrienne’s face was more wolf than woman. Yellow eyes, gray fur instead of skin. The head of a wolf on a female’s body. The beast nightmares were made of captured her.

  Or rather, her body, but not her hands. One, but not both.

  Trista reached for a weapon, a rock, a branch, anything. And God, for fucking once, answered her prayers. Maybe he didn’t hate her any longer.

  Her hand closed over a rock, a stone larger than her palm, and she curled her fingers around her makeshift weapon. Adrienne still scrambled to capture her wrist, but Trista’s animal was pissed. Pissed and angry and aching to taste the she-wolf’s blood.

  With all of her strength, with every ounce of power she had lingering in her body, she raised her arm. She heaved the stone at Adrienne’s head, pushing through the motion, pretending she punched through the woman’s skull. She imagined it sinking into bone and flesh and destroying the woman.

  Once again, vibrations jarred her bones, sending a new ache along her frame. But her strike connected, landed on Adrienne’s temple. Split the she-wolf’s skin and a trail of blood snaked down her face. It also stunned the woman, freezing her in place for a moment. Adrienne’s eyes flickered from yellow to brown and then a soft gasp escaped her lips. The female’s body went slack, first shoulders slumping forward followed by the rest of her body caving in and finally falling to the side.

  Trista didn’t check to see if the woman was simply knocked out or dead. No, she sprang to her feet and ran. She ran toward the sounds of roars and snarls, bear against wolf. She knew her mate would win, knew that a bear could defeat a single wolf. But could a bear battle a gun and come out the winner?

  She clutched the rock in her hand, the stone coated in Adrienne’s blood. She’d use it on Reid, if needed. Use it over and over until he too remained prone on the ground. Then she’d pray he didn’t get up.

  She emerged into the space, stumbling past the last few trees and finally sliding to a stop. The sight had her heart freezing mid-beat as a new type of pain overtook her.

  Keen was a bear, a massive, glorious animal that stood tall on his back legs. A bellowing roar escaped him, shaking the earth itself with its volume.

  That awed her, but also exposed the fact he was injured. Blood coated his fur, darkening until matted and black against his skin.

  Reid had done that to her mate, hurt him.

  The beast inside her released its animalistic cackle that eventually pushed past her human lips. The sound halted the battle before her as the males flicked their attention to her. Keen faced her, focused and intent as he took in the condition of her body. Reid glanced over his shoulder, giving her a good look at his bloodied and bruised face, but it also told her other things.

  He was on two feet, so he obviously hadn’t fully shifted, but his face was still mostly human, as was the hand clutching his gun. She took a moment to take in more of him, noting the shredded clothing and the gray fur covering parts of his tanned skin.

  She connected the dots in that split second. While she fought Adrienne, Reid and Keen went at it as animals and then, when Reid realized he was on the losing end, went back to two feet. Two feet and no paws so he could aim that fucking gun at her mate once again.

  Reid’s eyes roamed over her, one flick up and then down. His expression told her he didn’t see he
r as a threat and she had to admit that battered and bloodied, she didn’t look like much. Except he hadn’t counted on pure stupidity and animalistic rage. He hadn’t anticipated a half-shifter woman not giving a fuck about his power or his strength.

  He hadn’t considered her.

  The moment, the instant his attention was on Keen, that instrument of death aimed at her mate, Trista sprinted. Not away—no—right at Reid. She truly flew over dirt and grass, feet hardly touching the ground before she was mid-stride. Then she leapt, going airborne and aimed at the Alpha. The arm holding the rock came back, the stone tight in her hand, and when she was upon him, almost frozen in the air, she brought that weapon down. She struck his head, rock colliding with his skull just before her body crashed into his. She was over two hundred pounds of furious, hyena-souled woman and this wolf had threatened her male.

  He was hers and she’d be damned if someone took that away from her. She’d finally learned to trust and this bastard thought he’d ruin that? No. Just… no.

  Again she hit him, the wolf flailing beneath her, rolling and shoving at her. His hands weren’t claws, they were human and nothing compared to the she-wolf.

  Was that all he had? No, he’d bloodied her mate. She’d simply surprised him. So she’d surprise him again, she’d hit and scratch and bite and…

  A streak of brown teased her periphery and she caught site of another bear, not her mate, soaring over the ground, racing toward a snarling, bleeding wolf speeding from the forest.

  Adrienne.

  She hadn’t killed the woman. The hyena was disappointed.

  A cry collided with a snarl and she pushed that fight from her mind. She had Reid beneath her and she wanted him dead, craved his blood and wanted to bathe in—

  Human hands hauled her from atop the Alpha, pulled her and shoved her behind a naked, red-stained back. Keen. Keen kept her from the man who’d tortured her year after year and—

  The scrape of metal on metal told her Keen had racked the slide on the gun, making sure a bullet lived in the chamber. She didn’t know a lot about guns, but that sound was familiar.

  “Fucking move and I will fucking end you.” Keen’s voice held more than a little of his bear.

  A wailing yelp raced on the heels of Keen’s last syllable and Trista looked toward the source, saw a massive, rapidly shifting bear standing over the limp body of a wolf, its neck tilted at an unnatural angle. In moments, she met Van’s stare. He’d wanted Trista dead and now he’d killed to protect her.

  Trista focused on Adrienne’s lifeless body. The woman was gone and she couldn’t find any sadness over the loss of life.

  In fact, her hyena rejoiced.

  Trista let it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The trek from the lake to the clan house seemed endless. Lethargy pulled at Keen, the loss of blood combined with the adrenaline crash sapping his energy. But he refused to lose focus. Pain or not, protecting Trista and remaining at her side trumped all.

  She leaned against him, her weight comforting his bear as they made their way to the den. He sensed her pain, her exhaustion, yet she refused to let him carry her.

  The bear was both pleased and enraged by her strength. It wanted to hold her close, ensure she was safe and whole. Instead, she’d pushed away his hands and simply leaned against him as they forced one foot in front of the other.

  Males rushed from the house, racing toward them. The scent of their panic and worry reached them a bare moment before they stood before him and his mate.

  “Keen?” Ty’s gaze swept over him and then Trista. Trista with her battered body and exposed skin. Ignoring his brother’s question, he demanded the man hand over his button-down shirt. “What? You want…?”

  Keen nudged Trista behind him. He didn’t give a damn about his own nudity, just his mate’s. “Give me the fucking shirt.”

  Ty’s attention shifted from Keen to Trista and back again, eyes widening. “Oh.”

  It took seconds for his brother to strip and Keen turned toward Trista, assisting her into the massive button-down, covering her seeping wounds and bare skin from view. As he clothed his mate, he spoke to Ty. The men who’d accompanied Ty had already raced off to assist Van and left him to give his report.

  “Reid and Adrienne attacked. There’s a twisted history between Trista’s father and Reid’s mother. The man’s rage was justified but his methods were anything but.” Keen slipped the last button through the hole and turned to Ty. “Van took care of Adrienne.”

  “I see,” Ty murmured. “And you two are okay?”

  Keen snorted. They were both bloodied, bruised, and torn apart, but at least they were alive.

  He focused on Trista, on her upturned face and the clear blue of her eyes. Fear no longer lurked now that the imminent threat of death was gone. Reid couldn’t fight her despite the amount of hatred he harbored. The male was going to be locked up and presented for judgment when Terrence arrived. If Trista was the man’s niece, the Alpha attacked someone in the Southeast ruling family. The Itan would not tolerate such an infraction go unpunished.

  No, fear didn’t linger, but tiredness and vestiges of pain did. Dirt dotted her pale skin, hiding the depth of her bruises, but he knew they were just beneath the brown surface. He wished Adrienne still breathed so he could exact his own brand of justice.

  “We’re as good as can be expected, I guess.”

  Ty cleared his throat. “What do you two need? We’ll sort out the mess here, but what can we do for you?”

  Keen cupped his mate’s cheek, brushing away a clump of dirt and grass. The scent of her blood taunted the bear and the animal urged him to get his mate away from these others so they could assess her injuries. He reminded the beast they had a few of their own to inspect, but it didn’t give a damn. The inner-animal was more concerned with Trista.

  “Have some first aid supplies brought to the guestroom.” His voice was imbued with his bear’s growl.

  “Do you want Mom to tend to you?”

  “No.” He shook his head while remaining focused on his mate. He knew his mother would do a good job cleaning them up, but he needed to be alone with Trista, needed to reassure his animal and remind the bear she was alive and on her way to being well. “We will take care of each other.”

  “But—” Ty tried again.

  Keen straightened the shirt covering his mate and then spun to face Ty. “We’re good. If you could take care of Reid, I’d like to take care of my mate.”

  “Of course, of course…” Ty nodded. “I’ll have supplies brought to you. And if you need anything else…”

  “We’ll ask.” He wouldn’t suffer out of pride. Trista was more important than his ego. If she needed something he’d either hunt for it or ask someone to provide for them.

  Ty stepped aside and Keen led his mate away, easing past the rapidly growing crowd. No one stopped them, no one uttered a sound. Murmurs of the gathered people followed them, Ty’s a hint louder than the others, and then one of the resident guards jogged ahead of them.

  He kept his steps even with Trista’s, not hurrying his mate as they approached the den. The back door was held open by the guard and the male followed them in, pausing to speak with Gigi.

  Keen still didn’t stop. No, he carefully led Trista down the hallway and into the room they’d share.

  Quiet reigned, the lack of sound comfortable and almost soothing.

  Button by button he undressed her, sliding Ty’s shirt from her shoulders before going to work on her clothing. Marred flesh peeked through the large tears and his bear bristled, growling with the desire to tear Adrienne to pieces.

  He eased her toward the bed and urged her to settle on the soft mattress. Then, ignoring his own pain, he dropped to his knees and reached for the cloth clinging to her.

  “Keen?”

  “Hush,” he whispered. His claws came out without asking his animal for help. He easily sliced away the remaining fabric, parting it to reveal her once pale skin.
“Oh, Tris.”

  His eyes stung and he told himself it was because of dirt and not the emotional agony coursing through him. Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss near one of her healing wounds and then moved to another, gently begging her forgiveness with each touch. “This shouldn’t have happened. I failed you.”

  “Oh, Keen.” Soft, dirt-caked hands stroked him, brushing over his cheeks, and he allowed her to tilt his head back. “There was nothing you could have done. They wanted this and they got it. This isn’t you or me, it’s them. They did this, not you.”

  “I…” I should have protected you better.

  “Now you hush.” She grasped one of his hands, pulling him away from her hip, and she brought it to her mouth. Soft lips brushed over his palm and then she forced him to rest his hand over her heart. “Can you feel my heart?”

  Of course he could. He lived for her, and was aware of her on infinite levels. He knew her heart still beat because his beat for her. If her life ever ended, his would crack into a thousand pieces. “Of course.”

  “Then you know I’m alive, I’m here, and I’m with you. This”—she gestured to her body with her free hand—“is nothing as long as you and I are together. Nothing.”

  A rustle of cloth had him dragging his attention from his mate and to the bedroom door. He noted a flick of pale fabric disappearing from view just as he recognized a familiar first aid kit resting inside the doorway.

  Another reminder that he’d failed his mate, that he hadn’t kept her from harm. Seemed that’d been happening a lot lately.

  “I need to take care of you.” He slid his hand from beneath hers, but she curled her fingers around him, halting his retreat.

  “Like you said, we’ll take care of each other.” Trista pushed to her feet and the tattered remnants of her clothing drifted to the ground.

  He was going to hell for staring, going to hell for looking at the patches of pale skin and becoming aroused with the sight. She was so gorgeous. Even battered, broken, and bruised, she appealed to him, to his bear.