Rejected Wolf by Rae Foxx
8
My tongue was stuckto the roof of my mouth. I tried to open and shut it, but my jaw was clenched shut. Either that or it was swollen seeing as pain ripped me over and over anytime, I attempted to move it. Sun beat down on me, making my skin burn like a thousand pairs of pliers were pinching my arms and legs, but none worse than my cheeks and nose. They ached, and the jagged hardness that I was laying on made it worse. It felt like I was sleeping on layers of broken glass.
I tried to roll over, gasping in pain as the reason for all that pain came crashing down into my mind and jolted me awake with adrenaline. The Alpha and Hutch, hovering over me. Breathing me.
My mate, of all people, had tried to kill me. Beat me until I was on the cusp of death, all in an effort not to have me be Hutch’s mate. No wonder everything hurt, they had been hell-bent on killing me.
Fuck! Maybe I was dead, and this was hell. It would make sense seeing it was as hot as the devil ass. I should be pissed that I was in hell, but hell had to be better than that pack.
I groaned and rolled over, pain flashing through me again. Okay, maybe I wasn’t dead.
Shift. We have to heal. Shift. I called out internally for my wolf, begging her to unleash herself so that we could heal. I didn’t know much about the shifting process since my first shift was only the night before, but I had heard the stories of wolves who were badly injured and healed, only by the supernatural magic.
Except my wolf was battered and broken, not just externally either. My fucking mate had tried to kill me to break our bond. She was hurt. She would have to get over it, though, because I was pissed as hell.
I wasn’t dead, so I'm going to make that fucker pay.
Forcing my eyes open, I scratched at the ground with my fingers and realized I was in some kind of desert. Hot stings of sand lodged themselves under my fingernails while I saw rigid peaks and layered rock formations in shadowed grey shapes far off in the distance.
They’d left me in the desert to die. Smart idea, bad execution.
It was official, I was alive. Which was both bad and good. I needed water more than I needed my next breath. The sound of rushing water filtered into my ears, and I forced myself to roll onto my stomach, determined to make it to wherever the water was rushing from, even if it meant I drowned in its depths. With my fists clenched, I army-crawled toward the sound. I could even see the wavering water in the distance, clear and glittering as the sun touched it. I opened and closed my mouth. My tongue could already feel the wetness of the water on my tongue, feel it quenching my thirst as it healed me.
It wasn’t water.
It was more sand. I was licking sand. Although, the sound of water became louder as I laid on the sand, staring into the waving air where the water had deceived me of its existence. Except now the sound was more of a rumbling. It shook the ground and vibrated every hurt part of me like I was a gem in a rock tumbler though I neither felt shinier or more valuable.
No, that wasn’t water at all.
It was the sound of motorcycles.
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t going to die out here.
“Hey!” I called out but it sounded more like a cat coughing up the hairball of the century. The sound that I now recognized as motorcycles grew until it was right over me. I tried to yell at them again, to flag them down for help. The only thing I was able to manage was flopping onto my back. I probably looked like a dead desert fish.
The motorcycles revved one last time before they stopped. I heard the sound of kickstands being put down and the swish of clothing as someone got off the bikes and headed toward me.
Even with my nose busted, I couldn’t have missed the scent that preceded them. The rot of death, the decay of bones and marrow, the stench of dried blood, it all permeated my senses and caused a dry heave to come from my mouth.
Oh god. No. Maybe it would be better if I died out here. This was worse. So much worse.
“Get the fuck away from me!” I attempted to shriek, even though I was sure it came out as a hacking cough.
Every shifter on the planet knew that scent. It was the foul stench of rot and decay, life-sucking.
Vampires.
They were fucking vampires.
Some packs had warred with vampires and their clans for centuries. Some shifter packs had made pacts with them to keep the peace but not Vengeful Shadows. We didn’t make contracts with those devils.
I tried to run. Okay, I tried to move, but no way in hell was happening. My arms could barely hold my weight let alone my legs.
‘Shift, damn it. Fucking shift. I know you’re all ass-hurt about the mating but fuck, there are vampires behind us. Now would be a great time for you to grow a pair.’
Still, she didn’t budge or even attempt to emerge. I screamed and kicked up dirt, like that was going to help - but screw me I had no other way to attack right now.
Fuck, this running away thing isn’t going to happen.
I only had one choice. I had to gather every bit of courage inside me and try to defeat these fuckers before they sucked me dry. I’d rather lay on this desert floor than have their fangs inside me, their lust for blood draining me of my life.
“Come on you fuckers. Come and get me. I dare you.”