“Yes, they do. Threats are aimed at us from all sides.”
Gerald’s hands shook.
“You still being threatened by the Ausgel pack?” Terrent asked.
“Yes. Until our soldiers return, we’re vulnerable to attack,” Gerald said.
Maggie frowned. “Who?”
“A feral wolf pack that doesn’t belong to the Realm.
They’ve wanted our mountain for centuries.” Gerald stretched his neck. “But they’re not your concern. I’ll step up training tomorrow just in case.”
Terrent frowned. “We’ll talk later. Let’s go, Mags.”
She followed him through the lodge and out to an old but sturdy Ford truck. “I can fight, you know,” she muttered.
He pivoted so quickly she almost fell on her butt. “Ten years of training doesn’t make a fighter. Especially when someone still suffers from PTSD.”
That was a nice way to say she had terrible panic attacks.
“I find I don’t like you very much right now.”
He grinned, flashing sharp canines while opening the passenger-side door. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that from you.”
Damn. Would her memories ever return?
She jumped inside, glaring out the window at the peaceful forest as he stepped into the truck and started the igni-tion. Quick movements had the vehicle maneuvered down a dirt road, heading south toward town. She bounced around in the cab, clutching the dash, growling at the terrible potholes.
They made it halfway down the mountain before she turned to look at him. They needed to find common ground.
Arguing with the stubborn wolf gave her a headache. “So you fought with my grandfather in the war?”
Terrent started. “Ah, no. I was just a kid when I met him.”
Instinct whispered if she waited a second, the wolf would talk. Maybe her memories were returning. So she studied his strong profile. Or was it just hard?
Terrent sighed. “Three hundred years ago I lived in a small village in Scotland. The first war between the vampires and the Kurjans exploded, and any allies of either were taken down. My people were wiped out. Completely.”
“I’m so sorry,” Maggie whispered.
He lifted a shoulder. “I was only two years old and barely remember. Somebody hid me, and three days after the mas-sacre, your grandpa found me.”
Maggie blinked. “My people raised you?”
Terrent coughed out a laugh. “No. Your people don’t mix well with other wolves because of their weird ability. Your grandpa brought me to Gerald, and I was raised with his pack until I was eight.”
“What then?” Had the poor guy found a home?
“I had skills—fighting skills that were beyond the norm.
Plus, I came from an Alpha bloodline but lacked a pack. So I trained to sit on the Bane’s Council. All over the world, I trained with the best shifters, vampires, even a couple of demons in order to fight.” He checked the rearview mirror.
“Since the age of eight, I was trained to kill.”
The matter-of-fact tone chilled her more than the actual words. “Sounds lonely.”
“It was.” His dark eyes warmed as he glanced her way.
“Then I found you, and I wasn’t lonely any longer.”
Her heart thumped. Hard. “I wish I remembered us.”
“I wish you did, too.” His hands tightened on the wheel.
“You need to believe that even though we argued, and you took off for a bit, we didn’t break up. You just needed to cool off.”
Relying on somebody else to fill in her past flared her instincts into awareness. “I don’t know many wolves, but it seems we’re ruled by emotion. If we really wanted to mate, why didn’t we?”
His upper lip quirked.
Cute. Way too cute.
“You wanted to get married first,” he said, shaking his head. “Totally unorthodox, kind of silly, but you’re a true ro-mantic.”
Well, yeah. The whole white dress, veil, walking down the aisle sounded sweet. She wanted sweet. “You agreed?”
He scratched his head. “I agreed to anything you wanted except allowing you to fight.”
She’d ignore that word for now. “You didn’t trust me.”
“It wasn’t about trust.” His brow furrowed. “You have many fine skills, but you’re, I mean, you’re—”
“Clumsy?” she muttered.
He snorted. “Horribly clumsy. I tried to train you in blade fighting once, and you almost took off your own foot.” He laughed, the sound deep and free. “God, you were a menace.”
She still was a klutz. But every fighter had difficulties.
She opened her mouth to explain reality to him when something hit the side of the truck.
Hard.
Metal crunched.
The vehicle swept sideways across the road, throwing gravel and protesting with the screech of fuming brakes.
Fear blasted through her nerves. Maggie screamed and claws shot out of her hands. Fire rippled down her legs.
Terrent swore and jerked the wheel toward the center of the road.
At the wolf propelling the truck full force toward a stand of tall pine trees.
Air stopped in Maggie’s throat. She turned to meet feral yellow eyes outside her window. Gray fur was matted down his back. Saliva dripped off his sharp canines. A roaring filled her ears. Her entire body shook. Not now. Not now. Not now.
Terrent yanked the truck into park. He shot an arm out, shoving her back into her seat and bracing her. Fury lit his eyes. “Get ready for impact.”
A thought later, the Ford slammed into a century-old pine tree. Glass shattered inward, cutting her leg. The passenger side tires flipped off the road and landed back down with a hiss of air. The seat belt cut hard across Maggie’s chest, and her skull smacked the headrest.
The world roared into silence.
She panted, her eyes opening, her heart clutching cold.
Terrent grabbed her shoulders. Blood flowed from a cut along his cheekbone, and rage shimmered in his eyes. “Are you all right?”
She gulped air. “Yes.” Tingles cascaded up her spine. Her lips went numb. Panic swept through her on the heels of terror.
Terrent slashed her seat belt in two with sharp claws and shoved her head down to her knees. “Stay here and breathe deep. Cover your face.”
She turned her head and rested her cheek on her leg.
Tightening his lips, he yanked a knife from his boot. In a blur of motion, he exploded through the windshield. Glass torpedoed in every direction.
She gasped and sat up. Had he cut himself ?
Rolling across the hood, he landed on the gravel, immediately slashing the wolf in the jugular. The beast yelped and turned tail, stumbling until collapsing in the center of the road. Two men instantly dashed from the opposite forest, one lifting a handgun.
The attackers from the previous night! They sure hadn’t gone far after escaping.
Bullets ricocheted off metal. Terrent dropped to his knee, propelling the knife end over end toward the shooter with a flick of his wrist.
The knife embedded itself in the guy’s neck, and he went down.
The other man stood at least seven feet tall with a barrel for a chest. Muscles bulged along his arms, and his hands were the size of hubcaps. He smiled and angled closer to the truck. His blue gaze flicked toward her. “She’s ’ars.” The brogue lay thick and heavy in the quiet morning.
“Wrong.” Terrent angled around to the north.
“Let’s ask ’er,” the wolf said, his head tilted.
“Go ahead.” Terrent slid his feet into a fighting stance.
Maggie swallowed, her gaze on the dangerous scene.
Shards of glass framed the hole in her window. “Who are you?”
“Gregory Newt, a friend of yer betrothed.” Gregory aimed his thumb toward Terrent. “Ye don’t want to be with him. He’s Skene clan.”