Free Wicked Magic by Madeline Pryce Page B

sensed the danger
and backed off. But pride wouldn’t let him bow out. He was Alpha. Male.
Stronger, quicker, more powerful than these dogs—he’d show them.
    The first wolf attacked, jumped into the air. He pushed off
the ground with his hind legs and sprang to meet him. His tail moved, lashed
against a solid body before they collided in air. The rest was a tussle of fur
and teeth. The wolf went straight for his neck. Trent was quicker. Blood filled
his mouth, the rich, salty taste whetting his appetite for more. The ground
crashed under his feet and he rolled, pulling his attacker with him. The wolf
yelped, a pitiful cry that was silenced when he dug his teeth into its neck and
shook. Bones popped. The wolf’s heart thudded into silence and Trent’s pulse
sped.
    Two wolves jumped on his back. The sting of claws forced him
to drop their brethren. He reared back in an attempt to throw them off. Two
more leaped, sharp teeth dripping with saliva, aiming for his neck. As he pulled
on all his strength, a fierce snarl ripped from his throat. He shook the beasts
off his back, curving his neck enough to grip one of their napes and yank. The
wolf crashed to the ground, yelping before it sprang upright. The dog growled
and limped forward, blood dripping to the ground.
    They circled, never taking their gazes off each other. He
swatted, his paw colliding with solid muscle. The wolf tumbled to the ground,
its snout sliding through leaves. Triumph gave him a burst of adrenaline. The
wolf didn’t get up. Teeth pierced Trent’s thigh, forcing him around in a
circle. He tried to shake off the attack. Another wolf jumped, hit him on the
opposite side. Pain shot through his lungs and made it hard to draw in a
breath. He staggered, thrashed with claws and teeth to fight free. His tail
twitched, dragging through dirt. The beast biting him shook its head, tried to
separate muscle from bone. Heat pierced his leg, spread into his back.
    He cried out and swung, barely managing to take down another
wolf. For every one he threw to the ground, another rose. It was becoming hard
to breathe. Adrenaline coursed through him, kept him upright. Blood dripped
from the wounds along his back and limbs. The pack surged, fed off the doubt
that crawled inside him. They lunged, knocking him to his side.
    The world grew black and the sound of snarls dampened out
everything else. Sam. He shouldn’t have been such a coward. He could jump
headfirst into a fight with a pack of bloodthirsty beasts, yet he wasn’t man
enough to take her, to claim her as his own. He was afraid—fearful that the
joining would somehow weaken him. Well, look where that had fucking got him. A
guttural cry rent through the night, and teeth closed around his neck.
Heaviness pressed along his back and legs. The pack howled, the jaw at his neck
tightened, teeth piercing his skin. Trent was too weak to move, to fight them
off. Samantha…

Chapter Seven
     
    The doors opened with a pathetic ding and Sam pushed off the
elevator wall. She didn’t know why Trent insisted on the stairs. The shaft
worked. Most of the time. Naked and shivering in the cool air, she’d taken
longer to dress than she should have, spending her time staring at the ceiling.
She’d fucked up.
    Head tilted to the ground, she made every effort she could
not to look around when she walked into the bar. Compared to the temperature in
the room below, it felt like a sauna up here. Heat pulsed with the music and
the fog of smoke. It was suffocating. Out of habit, she looked up, searched out
Trent’s table. She felt stupid for even thinking he might have stuck around.
Her eyes watered, blurring her vision. She wouldn’t cry, not here at least.
    She set her sights on the bar and the man behind it, almost
right where she’d left him. For brothers, Jeremiah and Trent looked nothing
alike. ’Miah’s face was grim, his broad shoulders sagging in defeat. He fumbled
with the pull lever on the tap and cursed.
    Beer tumbled