The Road to Wolfe (The Sanctuary Series Book 4)

by Nikita Slater

  I tip my head back to glare at him, my grey eyes clashing with his single amber one. His face is a battleground of scars. I wonder if he grew the beard to make his visage more palatable for others to look at. I’ve never had a problem with the way he looks. In fact, his wrecked face matches his black heat. My own heart beats faster and my palms grow damp as his scent hits me. Wild, masculine, Wolfe.

  He's an ugly murderous soldier, not someone I should be attracted to, but for some reason every part of me notices every part of him when he occupies the same room as me. It doesn't matter where we are or how many people separate us, I will always notice him first. It's always been this way. As much as I want it otherwise, our mutual attraction has been simmering below the surface for years, waiting to explode.

  "Is that why I'm here?" I ask softly, stepping back from him. My ass hits the edge of the table and I'm forced to stop. I reach down to grip the wooden edge. "Now that you're Warlord, do you intend to keep me as your prize?"

  He stares at me, that eye drilling into me, the scars on his face standing out in livid relief. His long hair is a wild mess of tangles around his shoulders.

  “No.”

  That single word is like a bucket of cold water to the face. Though I should be relieved, I’m not. I’m the opposite. I’m so angered that my hand swings almost independently of my thoughts. Wolfe has the reflexes to stop me, but he doesn't bother. I slap him so hard that his head snaps to the side and his torso twists, just a fraction. He straightens slowly and looks down at me.

  He takes a moment before he speaks, a moment for me to watch as my livid handprint makes its way across his cheek and grizzled jaw.

  "You hit harder than you did a year ago," he says conversationally, as though I hadn't just hit him with all my strength. "That one was free. Don't hit me again."

  I grit my teeth. "Then let me go."

  "No." His answer is swift and uncompromising.

  I send my fist slamming into his stomach, using every ounce of strength I have behind it. The air whooshes from him, but he doesn't move otherwise. He continues to stare at me, his body thrumming with an energy that mine answers. The air crackles around us and I can sense his intention before he acts. I try to escape, lunging to the side and hurtling away from the table.

  He grabs the hair at the back of my head and yanks me into his chest. I gasp in pain and reach up to take hold of his wrist, digging my nails into the skin. He whirls me around, picks me up and slams me down on the table. My back hits hard and the breath rushes out of me in a whoosh.

  I open my mouth to shout, but the sound is swallowed as he bends over me and slams his lips over mine. His kiss is fierce and painful, but intensely electric. Every nerve ending in my body stands up and screams as he kisses me, taking my jaw in his fist and forcing my mouth open before thrusting his tongue inside. It hurts, it dominates, it calls to me.

  The moment he breaks the kiss, I slam my forehead into his nose. There isn't enough space between us for me to break his face, but I’m sure I got my point across. He grips me by the neck, slams me back down onto the table and covers my mouth with his. Blood is now flowing from his nose, trickling down his face and onto mine. I struggle to get away from him, trying to roll to the side, but his strength is so much greater than mine, I’m practically immobilized by his big body.

  I choke as he thrusts his tongue back into my mouth. I try to snap my teeth shut, but again he grips my jaw and forces it open. I push on his chest and arms, but it's like a rabbit trying to escape a snare. Impossible. I'd have to chew off my own foot to get out.

  After what feels like an eternity, he releases me and steps back. I roll off the table and fall to my knees. I only take a second to recover though, before I lunge to my feet and jump away from him. Using my sleeve, I swipe at the blood that dripped from his face onto mine. Wolfe stands staring at me passively, blood dripping slowly from his nose, over his lips and onto his chest. He doesn’t try to stop the flow.

  "You done?" His voice sounds gravelly and bored.

  I don't bother answering verbally; he gets the hint when I yank a dagger out of the sheath on my thigh and run at him. When he reaches for me, I grab his wrist and fly underneath his arm, whirling against his back. I lift the dagger, intending to sink it into his side. It’ll hurt like a bitch, but it won’t kill him. He needs to understand that he can't fuck with me.

  As I attempt to drive the knife home, he whips around and shoves me back, then slams his fist into my wrist, forcing me to drop the knife.

  I stumble backward, about to go down when he catches me, lifts me against his chest – one hand around my waist and one at the back of my head – and brings his face down to mine.

  "No, no, no!"

  I try to twist my head away, but the hand at the back of my neck grips so tightly that I can't move. I'm forced to take yet another brutal assault as his lips cover mine in the simulation of a kiss. It's not a real kiss, because kisses don't feel this way. Kisses shouldn't hurt.

  I wait him out and the moment he lifts his head, I attempt to slam my forehead into his nose again. But he's learned, he grips me by the back of the hair and drags my head back. He leans down and sinks his teeth into my neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark, but not breaking the skin. I shriek in anger and slam my fist into his shoulder. He doesn't let me go so I reach up and take hold of his hair, yanking.

  He lets go of me, but only for a second. Only long enough for me to let go of his hair. Then he takes my hands in his and shackles my wrists behind my back in one of his huge paws. He uses his other arm to grip me underneath my breasts and lift me off the ground against his chest, my back pressed to his body. He drops his head into my neck and licks me.

  "Let me go!" I shriek, struggling in his arms.

  He lifts his head and presses his lips against the shell of my ear. His breathing hitches a little as he whispers, "That will never happen."

  "Then I will never stop fighting you." I kick back at him, but he shifts and my leg flies past him.

  He drops me and steps away. I whirl around, bringing my hand up with a gun in it. If he so much as sneezes at me I'm going to fill him with holes.

  "Do it," he says quietly, stepping toward me.

  I wipe my face with the back of my arm, trying to catch the blood he keeps smearing on my skin. "Don’t think I won’t."

  He continues to walk toward me, his honey gaze now heated. I want to look away, but I know he’ll use the opportunity to take me down again.

  "Every time you try to fight me, I will kiss you." Even though he’s spent the past ten minutes proving this statement, I almost don't believe him. Wolfe is a fighter, not a lover. He’d as soon kill a person as kiss them.

  "But why?" I demand. "You've never shown any interest in me before."

  "We both know that isn't true." There's a slight curl to his lips as though he's annoyed by my lie. His gaze drops to my weapon. "Put it away or I’ll take it away, Skye. You aren’t going to shoot me."

  I growl and shove it back into my holster, whirling away from him and crossing my arms. I don't want him to see my face right now as I struggle with the truth. I hate him, but he's right. Wolfe was interested in me from the moment I called this palace home. His sharp gaze followed my every movement for years. He never acted on whatever was going on in that brain, but it was obvious that he held me in some kind of regard. Which is why I don't understand why he left me a year ago. I don't want to admit it, but that moment, when he walked away from me, was even more painful than the death of my husband.

  "Where is my team?" I abruptly change the subject, trying to blink away the tears that have formed.

  "They’re my guests… for now."

  "What does that mean?" I demand, turning back around to look at him.

  "They’re safe for now but will soon be asked to leave the city. I have offered them Sanctuary for the night and explained to them that you will no longer be a member of their party. Tomorrow, they will continue their journey and you wil
l remain here."

  "No," I gasp in dismay, then straighten my shoulders and add with conviction. "They won’t leave without me."

  He nods, unconcerned. "That seems to be the consensus among them. Regardless, they will leave tomorrow, and I will escort them personally. If they refuse to leave, then I’ll make an example of their most belligerent member, a man who demands to know your whereabouts with annoying frequency."

  "Deacon?"

  Wolfe’s thick brows lower into a frown, as though he’s irritated by my uttering the other man’s name. "Yes."

  Fear punches me hard in the chest, taking my breath. It's a moment before I can speak again. "Please don't do this. They need me and they need Deacon. I'm their leader, they can't do this without me. And Deacon protects the team. If you keep me and kill him, you’ll be dismantling our biggest hope of surviving the Primitives. The world needs that vaccine."

  I allow him to see every emotion in my eyes, my earnestness, my belief in what I'm saying. But I already know his answer. I can see my future in the stony set of his features. I'm not going anywhere.

  True to his personality, Wolfe says nothing more. He's already said it all and he won't repeat himself. He doesn’t care about the vaccine; he doesn’t care about the world.

  "Can you please leave?" I whisper, my voice brittle with the tears that are now welling up and threatening to drip down my cheeks. The last thing I need is for Wolfe to see any weakness.

  Without another word he turns and leaves.

  Twelve

  I never had a problem with the harem before. When I was brought to the Santa Fe Sanctuary seven years ago and told that I would be part of the harem, I had felt some trepidation, but the women quickly put me at ease. Gradually I came to accept and then love the warmth and relaxing atmosphere of the harem.

  Now, the longer I'm locked behind the harem walls, the more I find to dislike about my former home.

  Two days have passed since I was brought here. I have nothing to do but wait, my only company Hannah when she brings food and briefly chats with me. I have tried summoning Wolfe several times, but the guards simply look at me, shake their heads and lock me back inside.

  I'm completely ready for a change in scenery by the time Wolfe finally presents himself. I practically jump on him when the door opens to reveal his big scarred body.

  "I want out," I demand. "Tell me what I have to do to get out."

  Wolfe approaches me where I stand and looks down at me thoughtfully. Finally, he answers, "Time."

  "What the hell does that mean?" I frown at him.

  "It means," he drawls, "that you need time before you’ll be allowed to leave. I need to know that you can be trusted."

  I scoff at him. “Then I guess I'm stuck in here until hell freezes over. I'd rather fuck a Primitive than remain in this city with you."

  Wolfe remains unfazed. He's always been this way. It takes a lot to excite him, either good or bad. He’s like a walking Grim Reaper, constantly waiting for death to come. I swear sometimes he lives just to die.

  "The doctor is coming in to see you. You will allow Dr. Summers to take some of your blood so the vaccine can be re-created."

  I glare at him. "Get it from Deacon; he has plenty of my blood and plenty of the vaccine to go around."

  "I already have what I need from your team, but the doctor wants a clearer understanding of how to re-create the vaccine. Your people have indicated that you’re the one to talk to."

  "I’m not talking to you or anyone until I’ve talked to my people," I insist stubbornly.

  "Your people are being ejected from the city within the hour."

  Fury rips through me like a razor blade. "You’re sending my people away? Without letting me talk to them?"

  Wolfe’s eyes drop to my clenched fists and he raises a brow as though daring me to take a swing at him. Of course, I don't, because I know what'll happen. If I touch him, he'll kiss me, and I can't cope with that right now. I can't have the man that I kind of want dead kissing me and stirring up feelings.

  "As long as they remain in this city, you will hold out hope that you can escape with them. I can't have that. They’ll be heading to the next Sanctuary without you."

  I cross my arms over my chest and work on regulating my breathing, so I don't start screaming. "You're lying. Deacon won’t leave without at least seeing me first."

  "I don't lie." He says it simply, but there's an underlying steel to his words.

  Wolfe is right, he never lies.

  "They won’t leave without me, especially not Deacon," I stubbornly insist.

  He inclines his head. "It might take some convincing to get them out of the city, but they’ll leave." Seeing the look on my face he continues, "They haven’t been harmed."

  "Your definition of harm and my definition of harm are quite different, Wolfe," I growl at him. "I want to talk to Deacon."

  Wolfe narrows his eyes at me and crosses his arms over his chest, imitating my stance. "You're very interested in the welfare of your team. You’ve mentioned Deacon's name more than once."

  I throw up my hands. "I’m their leader! Of course I'm interested in their welfare. I'm responsible for them, I'm responsible for bringing them here and putting them in your path."

  "I’ve told you that they’re fine, now let the matter rest."

  Wolfe is becoming clearly frustrated. Even in the face of a Primitive attack I’ve never seen him anything less than unflappable, yet something about my concern for my team bothers him.

  "I won't drop it until you let me talk to Deacon."

  Wolfe takes a threatening step toward me but stops short of touching me. "You will not say his name again."

  "Do you mean Deacon?" I narrow my eyes at him.

  "You just signed his death warrant. If he enters my territory again, he's a dead man."

  "Very mature, especially since you just told me my team will be unharmed. I thought you didn’t lie. Do you mind telling me why you're threatening my second-in-command?"

  Wolfe reaches out to take my arms in a painful grip and gives me a small shake. I stiffen and try to push away, but he continues to hold me.

  "He is not your second-in-command. He never was. That’s my job. No one else will get that close to you."

  I'm shocked by his words. What does he mean? Wolfe is my second-in-command? The idea that Wolfe might bow down to anyone, let alone a woman, is ludicrous. But before I can question him, he continues, "I will not listen to the name of another man on your lips. You will forget him."

  Again, his demands surprise me. Wolfe is always so in control of himself. He almost sounds… jealous. But that can't be right. Though we were partners when we defended Tucson Sanctuary a year ago, he never hinted at anything more. At least nothing that I caught on to. He was my shadow, my protector, but nothing more.

  I tilt my face to look up into his. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying, I don't want my wife talking about another man."

  A long time ago my grandmother read the story of Alice in Wonderland to me and my younger sister. We'd been under attack by a rogue Primitive who was beating at the walls of our cabin, trying to get in, trying to kill us all. Grandma distracted us with a story. To this day I've never forgotten the tale of Alice in Wonderland. At this very moment I feel much like how Alice must've felt when she fell through the rabbit hole and found herself in a strange land and a strange situation meeting strange people. Of course, the comparison can only go so far. This isn't a harmless children's tale that will end in the defeat of the Jabberwocky. This is our lives, and in the time of the pandemic all lives are lost, no matter who we are. To die of old age is unheard of in this time.

  "Please, Wolfe," I beg. "I don't understand. You don't want me to speak the name of another man because it’ll upset your wife?"

  His grip on my arms gentles and his face softens. "I don't want the woman who will become my wife to speak the names of other men, especially men that she has worked and fought alongside."<
br />
  "It almost sounds like you're saying that I will be your wife." I laugh nervously. "But that can't be possible."

  He doesn’t answer but drops my arms and steps away from me. I can tell by the shutter settling over his features that he’s done talking. I’m lucky I got as much as I did.

  “Please let me talk to my team before you eject them from the city.” He ignores me and heads for the door. I call after him. “Wolfe!” He stops but doesn’t turn around. “I promise you, they are very loyal to me. If you don’t let me talk to them then they won’t leave. They might leave the city on your orders, but they won’t leave the area. Not until they get me back.”

  He half turns, his gaze still not touching mine. “Then they will be killed.”

  I take a few steps toward him, my mind racing. I believe he’ll do exactly as he says. He won’t hesitate to kill anything that gets in his way. This is the strange dichotomy that is the new Santa Fe Warlord. He will grant Sanctuary to old women, incapable of having babies, yet he’ll remorselessly kill my team if they defy him.

  Finally, I use a weapon that I’ve been hesitant to use, because it means admitting that Wolfe has feelings for me. "If you kill any member of my team, then I will never soften toward you." His eyes rise to meet mine, as if trying to read the truth there. "I will not condone the murder of innocents."

  "You will do as I say," he says simply, and then leaves.

  Once again, I’m left alone in the harem with more questions than answers.

  Thirteen

  I'm completely taken off guard when, less than an hour later, Wolfe strides through the door of the harem with Deacon in tow.

  "Deacon!" I exclaim, taking several steps toward him.

  The look on Wolfe's face stops me in my tracks. His stare is hard and filled with violent promise. Without a single word he’s warning me away from touching the other man.