Free Skin Deep by Sarah Makela Page A

chance. You have no idea how cruel I could’ve been.” He threw down the knife on the bed and grabbed another. Muttering a string of curses under his breath, most which she couldn’t begin to comprehend, he grabbed the remaining fabric of her jacket, slicing and ripping away the material. He continued with each piece of clothing she’d been wearing.
    Once she was nude, he pulled away the ants, tearing her skin in the process. She screamed involuntarily with each tug. He ran his fingers along her sides as if looking for a seam to snag and cut away. The skinning knife in hand, he placed it against her skin just under her armpit and slowly, precisely started slicing.
    She twisted away, trying to keep him from continuing. The piercing anguish caused by the blade made it impossible not to struggle. He held her down, not bothered by her movement. He’d done this before.
    A loud crash turned their attention toward the door. Another bang. Someone yanked away the vines and branches in chunks. A howl of rage pierced the room and, with a final smash, Connor stood in the woodsy debris.
    She dropped her head against the pillow. He’d come for her.
     
    * * *
     
     
    Connor’s heart raced. His hands and arms bore scratches from the jagged thorns. The wounds had already begun healing. The makeshift door smelled of a kind of magic he hadn’t encountered in a long time. Druidic magic.
    The scent of blood hit his senses, and he narrowed his gaze on its source—the bed. He first saw Angelique’s naked, bound form, and then he saw the man sitting beside her on the narrow bed. Crimson dripped from a slice in her side.
    A glint of steel flashed in the man’s hand. A skinning knife.
    Something snapped within Connor. His beast leapt to the surface, urged on by his fear for Angel. Connor’s spine contorted, and he fell to his knees as a rush of agony tore through him. His wolf stretched, filling his body like a glove. Muscles ripped and bones broke, only to reform.
    In his wolf form, he came back to himself and remembered why he was here. His eyesight as a werewolf was better suited for the fight to come. The increased healing rate his abilities gave him had already knitted up the thorny scratches and taken away the last bit of pain from shapeshifting. Gnashing his teeth, he dove at the druid who had hurt his Angel. He knocked into the man, and they toppled over the bed to the floor.
    The man muttered a few words and tossed out his hand, throwing Connor back. “What are you doing here, wolf? I came to an agreement with your kind to be left alone with this girl. Did your leader not fill you in? Shame.” He stood, drawing himself up to his full height. His hands went to his belt, which contained a pelt of fur smelling distinctly like… With a twist of the druid’s wrist, a blast of magic pushed him back a few steps. In a smooth, painless flicker, the druid changed from man into a bear.
    “Connor,” Angelique rasped, her haggard voice sounding foreign to his ears, “be careful.”
    He bounced his head in a nod, then threw himself at the bear. While the druid had his fancy bag of tricks, Connor had his fighting ability. He’d used it to carefully earn and maintain his position in the Pack. He could handle his own in combat.
    The druid’s large, powerful paw swiped at him, but it lacked both agility and the natural grace bears normally possessed. The bear’s claws were a lot longer than Connor’s, but they barely touched the outer layer of his fur.
    Taking a quick step back, Connor huffed and shook his head. He was not impressed.
    The druid stalked toward him. He easily towered over Connor, bumping his head against the ceiling. He let out a deafening roar. The moment the bear dropped to all four legs, Connor lunged forward and bit into his muzzle. His teeth sank deep into the druid’s flesh. Blood flowed from the beast’s nose.
    He let go and skipped backward, but the bear slashed into his side, forcing a yip from him as he darted