Free 1302 The Alpha (The 13th Floor) by Christine Rains

could smell.
    Stefanie didn’t know if it was the blood roaring in her veins or if she screamed as she lurched forward. With her mouth already gaping open, she snapped onto Wyatt’s right rear leg. She could play the same game too. Sawing her jaw, savoring the resulting crack and Wyatt’s yowl.
    He spun and whacked her, but she dug her front legs into the soil to keep in place. They clashed in a fury of teeth and snarls. Two raging storms with a thunderous explosion. No thought in her head except to kill Wyatt. Not even that. For it wasn’t thought. It was action. Instinct.
    An Alpha’s instinct. Leader of her pack. One that needed her.
    His neck was too thick for her to wrap her jaws around. But her teeth were sharp. And his pulse beat mightily. It called to her.
    Wyatt reared up, smashing his great weight onto her and forcing her down to the ground. Stefanie’s bad leg hit a rock, and she yelped, losing her grip on him.
    Gazing up, there was nothing sane left in his eyes. He was all animal, crimson froth and unending growls. Not that the man had ever been reasonable, but the wolf was hungry anger.
    Stefanie kicked at his wounded leg as he tried to hammer himself against her again. Wyatt fell to one side, and she dove in. Shredding with her teeth, she homed in on his jugular and tore it open.
    It was nothing like killing a rabbit. Nothing like a raccoon or deer. Wolf killing wolf, it wasn’t supposed to happen. When wolves fought for a position within the pack, it was never to the death. The loser was respected as much as the victor. For it was always about what was best for the pack, not the individual.
    There would be no respect lost for Wyatt. There had been none to begin with.
    He gurgled, legs spasming like a marionette directed by a child. Stefanie pushed herself away from him and pressed herself against James. His body was warm against hers and there was still breath in it. He was alive. She choked on a grateful whimper.
    Wyatt’s body jerked a few more times and was still. The man reemerged, painted red with blood.
    There were no cheers. No surge of ecstasy. Stefanie closed her eyes for a moment and raised her head. Her mournful howl filled the woods.
    One, two, and then three joined hers. Their lamenting symphony eerie yet lovely.

CHAPTER 9
     
    Turning her head, Stefanie licked James. Their noses briefly touched. Her Beta. Her soon to be mate once they were both well enough she could do something more in bed than sleeping.
    His belly wound wasn’t fatal. It looked bad, but it was wider than it was deep, and no internal organs were falling out. James whimpered, sniffing at her leg. She nudged him away from it. Even a warm tongue wouldn’t help it at the moment. She needed someone to set it so it would heal properly.
    First thing first, though. Stefanie turned her attention to Matt. He was the only one who hadn’t transformed. He didn’t join in the pack’s howling.
    Matt’s gaze was fixed on Wyatt’s body. No grief or anger visible. Stefanie wished she knew what he was thinking. Would he want to fight her to avenge his brother’s death? Or claim leadership of the pack himself?
    Finally he looked up and his gaze met hers. Her heart sped up. She didn’t think she could fight any more.
    “Look at me.”
    Everyone’s head whipped around to stare at June. She was human again, dressed, and held a gun in both her hands pointed at Stefanie. Her face was bruised and her short hair looked like a tumbleweed.
    “You killed Colin.” June’s voice wavered, becoming higher pitched. “You killed Colin! It’s my right to avenge his death.”
    Stefanie remained absolutely still. Fast as she was, even with an injured leg, she couldn’t outrun a bullet. She tried not to blink. The tension in the air was so sharp that one tiny movement might make June pull the trigger.
    “June.” Matt’s voice was cautious, but chastising.
    “No, you don’t get to tell me what to do, Matt.” June jabbed the pistol forward.