The Werewolf King's Human Mate

Chapter Three

Everything happened so fast, I'm surprised my brain managed to process what came next.

I lurched forward, intent on wrapping my baby up in my arms and never letting him go. And I would've reached him, would've felt him in my arms for the first time in five miserable years, if the wolf before me hadn't laid me out flat like a fucking pancake.

I struggled to get on my hands and knees, but my attempts were thwarted as hands pulled me into restraining arms. I stiffened at the feel of a hard, bare chest at my back and a strong hold around my torso.

A female came forward, ushering a concerned looking Jason towards the entrance that he'd come from. As I realized what that meant, tortured panic I'd only felt once before blindsided my senses.

"No!," I screamed, thrashing violently in whosever arms I was currently restrained in.

"Don't take him away!," I cried. Frantic tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as I continued writhing in my captor's hold. They couldn't take him away! Not again.

As he rounded the corner with that woman, my heart broke all over again. An agonized cry ripped through the room, reverberating off the walls and coming back to my, and everyone else's, ears.

The hold around me turned soft, as if they wished to comfort me as I slumped into the chest behind me.

This only lasted a few seconds as seething rage consumed every part of my body. He thought he could cause me so much pain, take away the one thing that mattered to me more than anything, and then try to give me solace I didn't want?

I rounded on the man behind me, drawing the hunting knife at my belt as I turned and swung. My hand was caught as I glared into a set of gorgeous, pained looking green eyes. I didn't miss a beat as my left fist caught him square in the nose. Blood gushed from his injured sniffer, and I probably took too much delight in that.

He releases my right wrist, but I threw the knife to the ground and punched him in the gut. I wanted to make him hurt like I hurt. But I'd do it with my bare hands.

I got in one more punch before he captured both my wrists once again.

"Enough," he ordered, spitting blood out of his mouth. I continued to glare at him as hot tears slipped down my cheeks.

"He's my baby," I practically growled. He frowned, casting a look at the blond giant who'd brought me here.

"You told me his mother was dead, Skylar," he said, eyes coming back to rest on me. He took in my features and his eyes softened. I didn't quite appreciate the look.

I took a moment to study his face as well. He had a strong jaw and high, sharp cheekbones. His nose wasn't quite straight, but that was only noticeable when up close like this. His lips were full and pink. And his green eyes were light, but not quite as light as his wolf's eyes. I'd be lieing if I said I didn't think he was attractive, but Jeff was still the only man for me.

And for some odd reason, I just now noticed he was naked.

"I didn't think she'd live much longer after I took Jason, my king," the blond, or Skylar as he seemed to be named, replied. I turned my glare towards him.

"Well I did, you jackass."

"So, you admit this is Jason's mother?," he asked, an edge to his voice.

"Yes sir," he muttered, looking down at his feet with his head tilted to the side, exposing his throat. Submissive, I noted.

He nodded once and released one of my wrists. With the other, he pulled me out of the room and away from prying, surprised eyes.

I let him pull me along for a few moments, too drained to put up a fight. Although I wasn't quite too sure that I'd be able to reclaim my wrist unless he allowed it. But the silence got to me and I actually managed to retrieve my arm, roughly pulling away from his grip. I shook my arm out, just now noticing the tingles shooting up and down its length. I ignored it, wincing at the memory of the last time anything had tingled at a man's touch.

"Now what? Are you going to slaughter me? Change me?," I laughed, slightly hysteric, and added, "Good luck with that buddy."

He huffed like he was slightly offended and I rolled my eyes.

"You'll be okay, pet," he said and I stiffened. He grabbed for my wrist again, growling when I shied away.

"Don't call me pet," I warned. My mind wandered down a dark path as I glanced at a not quite so random scar on my arm.

"What would you have me call you?," he asked, the amount of gentleness in his tone had me looking up at him. His voice had a deep, raspy quality to it that made my suddenly dark thoughts melt away.

"My name is Kat," I said.

"Lovely to meet you Kat," he said in what I thought what might've been a friendly tone. Although with the amount of dried blood on his face I could be imagining things.

"My name is Callum. And I'm taking you to meet your son."