I Don't Come Back to My Alpha Again novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: The Deal

The feral dropped its head and came at me.

I threw the bread at it.

It didn't even slow down.

The bear spray was in my jacket, on the hook by my father's door, two miles up the ridge.

I had one choice left.

I hadn't shifted in five years.

The first year, the wolfsbane collar wouldn't let me. After that, the cave walls were veined with old silver, and every time I tried, it felt like my bones were being pulled through barbed wire.

I didn't know if I still could.

I let go anyway.

It hurt like it hadn't hurt since I was thirteen.

My spine bent. My shirt split down the back. My hands hit the gravel and weren't hands anymore.

And then she was there.

My wolf. Big and white, the silver sheen on her coat catching the last of the light.

She shook herself once, hard.

Then she met the feral head on.

It was smaller than me, but it didn't care about pain anymore. That made it dangerous.

It went for my throat. I twisted, and its teeth closed on the thick fur of my neck instead.

I threw it off. It came back.

I felt Beck's stitches tear open in my foreleg.

Then a dark brown shape came out of the pines at a dead run and hit the feral broadside.

Beck's wolf.

He was enormous, brown as a bear, and he rolled the feral across the road like it weighed nothing.

The feral scrambled up.

It looked at the two of us, standing shoulder to shoulder.

Then it ran.

It went crashing back into the trees and up the valley, toward the wall.

Toward home.

I stood in the road panting.

Beck's wolf turned and pushed his big head against my shoulder, once, gently.

Then he shifted back.

I shifted too.

The second time was easier.

I came back to myself on my knees on the cold gravel, with my clothes in rags around me and my arm bleeding again.

And Beck in front of me, wearing nothing at all.

He'd heard the fight from the ridge, I'd find out later. He'd come down the mountain on four legs and hadn't stopped to take anything off.

For one long second we just looked at each other.

Then he pulled his own eyes away, very deliberately, to the trees.

"There's a shirt in the truck," he said hoarsely. "I'll get it."

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