Chapter 17: The Burn Pit

Alexander's POV

I shifted at the greenhouse door and ran.

My wolf covered the gravel and the kitchen garden in four bounds.

I came around the corner of the lodge with my fur wet from the rain.

The burn pit was behind the kitchen, a ring of blackened stones where the pack burned prunings and trash.

Braden stood at the edge of it with two wardens, and the fire was high.

He had something in his hands.

Even at forty yards I knew what it was by the smell.

I had smelled it once, face down in the dirt, with my own blood running into my mouth.

Steel, and wolfsbane.

He drew back his arm.

I hit the ground at a dead run, took the change back in mid-stride, and was on two feet when he threw.

The claw-guards went into the fire.

I went in after them.

I did not think about it.

The flames closed over my wrist, and I closed my hand around hot steel and dragged the guards out across the stones.

The pain was enormous.

I clamped my teeth, rolled them clear onto the wet grass, and put my other hand over them.

Braden's wardens grabbed me by the shoulders.

I let them.

"That belongs to this pack," Braden said. His voice was very calm. "Give it here."

"No."

"It is a trophy of the Alpha's house. You are a guest on this ground and you've burned yourself reaching into my fire."

"I know what I reached for."

Under my palm the steel was hot, with the pitted seams of old work, and I could feel crust packed into them.

Dark, dry, flaking.

I lifted my hand and put my face down to it.

Wolfsbane smells of wet iron and old flowers, and the smell does not leave.

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