Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I growled at him, hopping lightly on my pads as I issued the warning.
Paxton flicked his ears. “Challenge accepted.”
The balls took flight, coming at me from all directions, and setting my wolf off snarling. She—me—was very fussy of our brilliant white fur, and did not appreciate it getting wet and clumpy with mud.
I leaped up—my powerful hindleg propelling me to the tree branches, and snapped at the offending waterballs that dared to soak me.
They sailed right through me and splashed on the grass, soaking uselessly into the dirt.
Paxton yelped, frustration rolling off his fur. For some reason, people always forgot moon wolves were born with the edge.
I ran at him, nipped his nose, and danced away.
“Hey!” He nipped back, trying to catch my tail, and snapped on air. “That’s cheating!”
I’d have been giggling if wolves could do that. The most I managed was a growly, hoarse half-snort. Spinning on my pads, I clamped his hindleg and got smacked with a muzzle full of water.
Paxton’s growling half-snorts were ten times louder than mine watching me sneezing and tossing my head worse than the summer I got fleas. Fucking fleas. We wolves hated those little hopping bastards more than we could ever hate vampires.
“Come on, Volana.” Paxton nipped my backside when I wasn’t looking. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”
He went shooting off before I could have my revenge, pretty much ensuring I had to chase after him. We bounded through the trees—forcing aside anything that didn’t jump aside.
Paxton was fast. Incredibly fast. He raced across the forest floor like water, letting nothing slow him down. My wolf was running flat out to keep up with him, and she loved it. She’d always been the prettiest, fastest, strongest, and rarest wolf in the pack. That Luame searched the clans and offered her up mates that were just as fast and strong thrilled her for all the wrong reasons.
The superficial cow loved that she had a bunch of wolf husbands she could show off and brag about while they gave her a litter of pups that would be the best wolves in the world.
My wolf was my better half. That didn’t mean she wasn’t ridiculous.
Even so...
My human soul gazed out through her eyes, watching his blacker-than-night form dance in and out of my vision. Just because my wolf had fallen for Paxton, and just because Luame crushed on Paxton, it didn’t mean it was the same for me.
Paxton was right. It was me, not Luame or my wolf, who rejected Paxton. Which meant it was me who had to truly love and want him again if there was to be any chance of resurrecting the bond.
But do I?
What was love, anyway? Of course I loved Castor, but it was different with him. We were hopefully, obsessively, dangerously desperate for each other from the moment we met. Love was too small a word for how I felt. It was like Luame split my soul in two, gave Castor my other half, and I had to be with him to be the whole of me.
Was that what I needed to have with Paxton to get the bond back? Could I ever feel that way for someone else again—my fated mate or not? And was there hope for any of my fated mates, Paxton most of all, if I was forever comparing them to Castor? Because by that comparison... Paxton had already fallen so short.
I was willing to die for love, but not like this, I thought, slowing down. Wolf Nation sliding into a horrific legacy of genocide, invasion, and enslavement all because my wounded heart refused to let anyone else in.
Luame said I’d be the cause of the Golden Blood-Soaked Age of Wolves. This wasn’t supposed to be what she—
A sharp, vicious yelp stung my ears. “Ahhh! Ahhhhh!”
I skidded to a stop as something fleshy and writhing suddenly appeared before me. I crashed over him, tumbling muzzle over paw across the ground and smacking hard into a tree.
My human body hit the ground, cracking my head on a tree root. “Ughh,” I groaned, feeling my wolf healing pop something back into place. “P-Paxton? What happened?”
“H-help! Ugh, fuck! Daze, help me!”
The real pain and urgency in his voice shot me up. I raced back to him, falling by his side.
Paxton was completely naked and on display in all his lithe, muscled glory—which gave me an unobstructed view of the metal teeth latched on his ankle.
“What the fuck,” he roared, face purpling. “A wolf trap? What the hell is a wolf trap doing in our woods!” He yanked and clawed at the thing, fueled by shock more than panic.
A wolf finding a wolf trap in their own home was like a mundane walking into their kitchen and finding a mountain bear rooting around in their fridge. It did not belong.