Twenty Six year old Blake Hunter is the Alpha of the largest pack in the region. Finding his mate is the last thing on his mind.
But, in the midst of dealing with uninvited relations, aspiring future Lunas and increasing rogue attacks on his easter...
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Hannah was running for her life.
As the cries from outside increased, Fenrik had leapt into action, shouting profanities at his panicking men and heading for the door. Distracted by the growing chaos, they'd both failed to notice the subtle change in his second-in-commands demeanour.
Slowly, like wax melting on a candle, Berrik's vacant expression had moulded itself in to a sneer of contempt.
Fenrik, his mind already focused on the fight to come, barked his orders to his second-in-command in a manner similar to the way a master commands an errant puppy. Behind him, unoticed by the mercenary, the muscles in Berik's neck pulsated with the effort of restraining himself.
As Fenrik's footsteps faded away and the sounds of shouting retreated into the distance, the giant mercenary had turned to look directly at Hannah.
With a growing horror she watched the glazed look in his eyes drop away as though it had never existed, leaving behind a glint of calculating evil.
A familiar throb asserted itself in the back of her mind as he shifted his position by the door, the strange purple swirls in his jet black pupils settling to focus on her every movement. Berrik hadn't been nearly as drugged up as Fenrik had thought.
“You're going to kill me.” It wasn't a question. She could see the intent in his eyes as he took a single step towards her. He held no weapon. He wouldn't need one. His fists would easily make a short if messy end of her.
He nodded anyway, a feral grin growing on his meaty face.
“Why?” she asked desperately, backing away until her retreat was blocked by the bed behind her.
He didn't answer, just pulled the neck of his tunic down slightly to reveal a small tattoo just below his collar bone. Three claws, tipped with red ink.
Her eyes widened. “You're one of them!”
He nodded, taking a step closer.
She shook her head in confusion. “But Fenrik isn't. I mean, you're his second – "
“Fenrik!” he spat, derision filling his slow deep voice. “Fenrik is a parasite feeding off our cause – ” He took another step, a hunger growing in his eyes as Hannah edged away. “ – A blight in His plan. Corrupting the faithful and stealing what should be ours.” He raised one hand towards her. “I have not been his in a long time.”
With a gasp she clambered over the bed out of his reach, trying to keep at least one piece of furniture between them for as long as possible. “Nothing you're saying makes sense!” she cried, trying to keep him talking as her eyes scanned the room for an escape. “Why kill me? Why now?”
“I have my orders,” was all he replied.
So, Blake and Fenrik do have something in common after all, she thought as his grin grew and he reached down to grasp the bed frame in one meaty hand. Who knew rogues could have traitors too?
