Filed to story: Luna Lovette and Alpha Kodak Story
“Oh good Lord,” she said, snorting at the sheer ridiculousness of the number of wolves he had brought with him. Forty against seven? Yeah, very brave. It was a clear attempt at intimidation but Lovette knew it hadn’t had the desired effect. Why Roscoe had thought that Kodak – someone who was practically the personification of intimidation – would be rattled was anyone’s guess.
When Kodak came to a halt twelve feet away from the intruders, Ryan came to join the wall that the Phoenix wolves had made. Roscoe’s gaze settled on her and anger flashed across his face, most likely in response to Kodak’s marks.
“Never had you down as someone who played games, Lovette. As you can see, game’s over. Get in the SUV while I have a talk with Coleman.”
Lovette almost laughed. “You sound as though you honestly believe I will.”
“Come now and we can avoid all this.”
“I’d rather lie under an elephant suffering from diarrhoea with my mouth open wide.”
“You know what will happen if you persist with this. People are going to get hurt, namely Coleman. Do you really want that on your conscience?”
“Oh no, you don’t get to turn this on me. If anyone gets hurt today it’s because you refuse to let go of something that was never yours to begin with.” She would bet money that if she had been within reach, Roscoe would have slapped her for that.
“Don’t be looking at Lovette, look at me.” Kodak’s tone demanded attention. “I’m the one you should be worried about.”
“You must have a death wish, Coleman,” said Roscoe. “It’s the only reason I can think of that would explain why you would kidnap my mate.”
“Kidnap your mate,” repeated Kodak with a smile. “I think you’ll find that Lovette’s mine.”
“She wears my mark.”
“Not a mark, a wound – one that I very nicely covered with a mark of my own.”
“She’s mine,” snarled Roscoe.
Growls of disagreement rumbled out of the throats of the seven males around her. Lovette couldn’t help but notice that, by contrast, although Roscoe had a large crew, they didn’t appear to be standing with him. There was no one flanking him or eyeing up the rest of Kodak’s pack, picking an opponent they wanted for if it turned into an out-and-out fight. They were simply just…there.
“Here’s how it is, Roscoe. Lovette is my mate, I’ve claimed her, and I will kill anyone who tries to take her from me. If you can accept that, you can live and you can leave here peacefully. If you can’t, well, you must want to die.”
“Then it looks like we battle it out.”
Lovette gaped. “You have got to be kidding me. Why would you bother? You can’t tell me you’re that obsessed with the idea of breaking my spirit until I’m some kind of slave.”
“That’s what he had planned?” Kodak’s wolf leapt for control, wanting to gut him.
Roscoe shrugged. “What male wouldn’t want to be able to turn a dominant female like Lovette into a gorgeously submissive slave?”
“Well they would be the sane males,” said Lovette.
“Stand back, baby,” ordered Kodak as he removed his t-shirt and then tackled the fly of his jeans. “You heard him. He wants to battle it out.”
She might have tried to calm the atmosphere if she hadn’t known from experience that when two dominant male wolves agreed to battle, it meant the situation was passed help. She had the strange urge to kiss Kodak, but knew he didn’t need to look weak right now.
“To the death,” Kodak said to Roscoe in a calm but icy tone. “We battle to the death.” Having heard what Roscoe intended for Lovette, Kodak’s wolf wasn’t going to be happy until he’d tore out his throat. There was no way Kodak would stop him from going feral.
Roscoe, now naked, nodded. “To the death.” Suddenly bones were popping and his body was altering and then, mere seconds later, he was a large sandy snarling wolf.
But Kodak was larger, Lovette soon found out as she watched him shift into a seven foot long and approximately thirty-two inch high gorgeous silvery grey wolf. He looked just as intimidating and overawing in wolf form with his powerful build, his heavily muscled neck, and his robust limbs. His hackles were raised, his angry eyes were drilling into Roscoe, his ears were upright, and his lips were curled back, exposing fangs and gums. The growl emitting from him sounded more like a boat motor.
Abruptly the sandy wolf sprang from his crouched position and rushed forward at the grey wolf, coming up short just to snap his teeth together. The grey wolf didn’t move a muscle, just stood looking large and fearsome, making a clear point that he was the more dominant animal in this situation. The sandy wolf reversed slowly only to once again rush forward aggressively and snap at the other.
Apparently the grey wolf had then decided that the other had had his chance to back down and he wasn’t going to stand still any longer. Growling, he began circling the sandy wolf, who then copied the move so that they were circling each other. Maybe because he was stupid or maybe because he was just suicidal, the sandy wolf growled at Lovette. That was when her mate went feral.
The grey wolf lunged at the other wolf and they came together in a clash of claws and teeth. As shifters had superior speed and strength, it was like watching a recording in fast-forward motion. There was growling, there was body slamming, there was scratching, there was biting, and there were side swipes as each wolf fought to pin the other to the ground.
Lovette winced when the grey wolf bit down hard on the other’s hind leg, making him yelp loudly. The yelping faded to whimpering until the grey wolf yanked hard with his powerful jaws, snapping the sandy wolf’s leg.
Damn, that had to hurt.
When the injured wolf tried scooping himself off the floor, the other wolf slammed into him and knocked him onto his back. Then, in a typical wolf shifter killing move, the grey wolf slashed open his opponent’s midsection with his claws and simultaneously closed his jaws around his throat. With one sharp yank, he’d torn out his challenger’s throat.
As much as it had seemed like forever before it was over, it couldn’t have taken more than a minute for the feral wolf to have overpowered the sandy wolf. Overpowered was a mild word. Hell, the grey wolf had the other’s lifeless body by the throat, shaking it like a rag doll while growling loudly.
Several more minutes went by and the grey wolf continuing to attack the carcass, showing no signs of tiring or calming or any willingness to part with it. It was clear that he wasn’t coming out of his feral state any time soon.
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?