Wolf from the Past: Salvation Pack, Book 4 (20 page)

Anny. Sylvie had forgotten her brother’s mate was alone in the house. How had Travis managed to slip by the men?

“Do you hear me? Make a sound and I’ll kill the bitch.”

She nodded. No way would she risk Anny’s life. She was Armand’s mate, but beyond that, she was Sylvie’s friend.

He gave a low laugh. “All your men are busy talking.” He snorted. “I’m a man of action,” he bragged.

Travis suffered the same affliction his brother had—conceit. She could use that against him. She was stronger now, smarter too. She was still afraid, but her fear was no longer debilitating. Gator would come for her. So would Armand. All she had to do was stay alive and look for a way to escape.

He dragged her away from the house. While she didn’t hinder him, she didn’t help him either. Her bare heels dragged on the ground, leaving furrows in the moss and dirt.

Travis swore when he noticed what she was doing. Before he could lift her, she picked up her feet, making herself a deadweight in his arms. He didn’t drop her, but it did put him off-balance. She unsheathed her claws and dug them into his arm.

He roared and dropped her. They were far enough away from the house that Anny would have time to run. Sylvie howled, hoping the men would hear her.

The sound was cut off when Travis brutally backhanded her across the face. She flew several feet in the air and rammed into a tree. She was dazed and hurt, but years of living with her mate had taught her to endure pain.

She staggered but remained upright. “That all you got,” she taunted.

As expected, he charged her. She waited until the last second and threw herself to the side. She almost made it. Razor-sharp claws ripped at her side. Excruciating pain radiated down her hips and leg. The coppery smell of blood filled her nostrils.

“I was going to claim you as my own,” he told her as if that was some huge honor.

Breathing was more difficult than it normally was. Her chest ached and she hurt all over. She didn’t look down. It was better not to see the damage he’d inflicted. And it was too dangerous to take her eyes off Travis for even a second.

He was a big man with a well-honed body and a trim beard. Like his older brother, Travis was a good-looking man, until you really looked into his eyes. It was then you saw what he truly was—a sadistic animal.

“I think I’ll pass,” she told him. It was tough to keep her voice level, but she managed. She had to believe Gator, Armand and the others were coming to help her. And if they weren’t, at least Anny had time to run to safety. That gave Sylvie some level of comfort.

Travis spit on the ground. “You’re not good enough anymore. You slept with that swamp trash,” he accused.

“He’s a better man than you can ever hope to be.” No one was allowed to talk about her Gator like that.

And he was hers. It had happened fast and it was a miracle. No, he was her miracle. Gator had swept into her life and turned it upside down in such a short time. Her wolf knew it and so did she. They belonged together. And now they’d probably never have that chance.

“You better run before the rest of the pack arrives.” Maybe she could frighten him off.

Travis laughed and started to circle around her. She moved her feet each time he did, keeping him in front of her. Each step sent a shaft of pain through her rib cage and down her left leg. Liquid dripped over her skin. She knew she was bleeding heavily even as her body tried to repair itself.

In the distance, she heard a wolf howl and then several more. Travis seemed so caught up in stalking her that he didn’t even seem to notice the sound.

“You’re not worthy to be my mate. Now I just plan to fuck you before I kill you. Payback for what you did to my brother.”

No thank you. She’d rather die first than have him touch her. She needed to shift. As a wolf she had a chance. But she didn’t think she could shift fast enough. He’d be on her the moment she attempted it.

Her wolf howled inside her, but there was nothing Sylvie could do. Not unless she could distract Travis.

Travis jumped, the movement so fast it was a blur. He struck hard, knocking her to the ground. The breath left her lungs in a big
whoosh
and agonizing pain shot through her entire body.

He tore at her top, shredding it. He wasn’t careful either and tore her chest as well. She drove her hands upward and clawed at his eyes. She missed but managed to gouge his cheeks.

Travis swore and hit her again. The blow rocked her head to the side. “You’ll pay for that, bitch,” he promised.

Think, Sylvie
, she told herself. She had to hit him where he was most vulnerable. He tried to catch her hands but she managed to get one free. She shoved it between their bodies. Travis was aroused by the violence, by the thought of hurting her.

She grabbed his cock through his pants and twisted as hard as she could. He howled and shoved away from her. She tried to scuttle back but moving was difficult, almost impossible.

Travis growled low in his throat. He ripped off his shirt and pants and shifted. Sylvie tried to shift too but she was too weak. She needed to concentrate. If she could shift, she’d be able to heal faster and maybe run closer to help. She was under no misconception that she could outrun Travis. He was too strong. And despite the fact she’d hurt him, he was still on his feet and very, very angry.

She faced the large brown-and-black wolf, knowing her lifespan was measured in seconds now, not minutes or days or months. It wasn’t fair. She’d survived hell itself. No way was she going down without a fight.

Sylvie tried to concentrate on shifting. She was weak, and even with her wolf helping, she wasn’t sure she could actually do it. Travis launched himself at her while she tore at the tattered remains of her top and bra.

It was all over. She wasn’t going to make it.

A flash of black hit Travis before he reached her, driving her attacker into the thick trunk of an oak. He hit hard but rebounded quickly.

A large black wolf stood in front of her. He bared his teeth and growled low in his throat, the rumbling sound a deadly promise of retribution. Gator had come for her.

Still in her human form, Sylvie stood, or tried too. She was still bleeding in several spots. The wounds were closing rapidly but she’d lost a lot of blood.

Weak but determined, she pushed herself to her feet. The pain threatened to make her pass out, but she took a deep breath and clung to consciousness. She wouldn’t allow Gator to fight Travis by himself. She would stand with him.

Silent as ghosts, four other wolves emerged for the surrounding woods. She recognized them all. Armand stood closest to Gator. Then Cole, Louis and finally Jacque ringed the intruder.

The Salvation Pack males had all come to protect her.

Chapter Twenty

Gator’s anger went right to his bones. No, deeper. To his very soul. In most people, anger was a hot emotion. In him it was utterly cool and calculating. Like the creature he was named after, Gator was a stone-cold killer when it came to protecting what was his.

And Sylvie belonged to him.

Travis had made the monumental mistake of attacking her. For that, he would pay with his life.

Gator knew Sylvie was hurt. The smell of her blood and sweat burned his nostrils. As much as he wanted to comfort her, he knew he had to eliminate the threat first. While Travis lived, she would never be safe.

He’d lost at least two decades of his life when he’d heard Anny screaming for Armand. All the men had been patrolling, but Gator had been closest.

Anny had been out of breath and afraid but she’d pointed toward their house and said one word. “Sylvie.”

Gator hadn’t waited for the rest of them. He’d taken off as fast as his wolf could go. He’d heard Anny howl. The others had responded in kind and he knew they were coming.

He’d almost been too late. Sylvie had been down and Travis had almost been on her when he’d arrived. He couldn’t worry about what might have been. He had to concentrate on the enemy in front of him.

It was time to deal with Travis Dubois.

Gator knew Travis would die here. Even if by some chance he killed Gator, Cole and the others would make sure Sylvie was safe. That was all that mattered.

The two of them squared off against one another, both of them strong male werewolves. Where Travis was agitated and driven by anger and the need for blood, Gator was driven by the need for justice. Travis had to pay for what he’d done.

Andre Dubois was dead. Gator couldn’t go back and kill Sylvie’s former mate, but he could remove this threat from her life.

Travis shook himself and finally seemed to realize they were no longer alone. He was penned in with nowhere to go. He shifted back to his human form so Gator shifted as well. If he wanted to fight as a man, Gator would oblige him.

Travis swiped a hand over his mouth as if tasting something foul. “Afraid to fight me on your own, swamp trash?”

He heard Sylvie gasp behind him, but the slur didn’t bother him at all. He’d been called much worse and by better men than Travis Dubois.

Gator’s silence seemed to unnerve Travis. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “Don’t tell me you were taken in by the little slut. She’s spread her legs for half the Louisiana Pack.”

Sylvie made a sound of distress behind him. Gator prayed she wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t engage with Travis. He was a sick man who thrived on that kind of power.

Armand growled but held steady. Gator appreciated his friend letting him handle this situation. It proved to Gator more than anything else that Armand accepted his claim to Sylvie and recognized Gator as her mate.

They hadn’t made it official, but Sylvie belonged to him. And Gator protected what was his.

“You told Pierre about Sylvie, didn’t you?” Gator needed to find out any information he could. Travis had always been a braggart. Couldn’t seem to resist. He didn’t think time had changed that character trait.

“He knows and he’s coming for her. In fact…” Travis trailed off and glanced over his shoulder but Gator and the others weren’t buying it. They’d been out patrolling. And while it was possible one wolf had snuck through, a large group wouldn’t have been able too.

He also knew all the women would be holed up at one of the houses. They were tough females and they also had several weapons at their disposal. If anyone else were around, the women would alert them.

“Give it up, Travis,” Gator taunted. “We know you’re alone. I bet Pierre told you to keep an eye on things but you couldn’t resist trying to take Sylvie for yourself.” It was a stab in the dark, but it seemed like the kind of thing the other man would do.

Travis growled and Gator knew he’d hit a nerve. “She wouldn’t have you, would she?” Gator drove the cold dagger of truth deeper. “Your brother had her, but you never have. You always wanted what Andre had, but you were never quite as good as he was, were you?” He’d baited his enemy and waited for him to strike.

Travis’s face turned red with fury at the taunt. He roared and launched himself into the air. Calm and controlled, Gator was ready for the attack.

Sylvie cried out his name, but Gator didn’t flinch or turn away from his enemy. At the last possible second, he struck. He went low and fast, ducking behind Travis’s outstretched claws. He grabbed the man’s head and twisted hard, using his momentum to give him added strength. The loud crack echoed through the forest.

He watched, totally dispassionate, as Travis’s body fell to the ground.

He heard a gasp and whirled around, his cloak of cold calm falling away the second he set eyes on Sylvie. There was blood on her side and legs, splattered on her arms and hands. Her face was bruised and swollen.

It hurt him to look at her. “Oh,
chère
.”

Travis Dubois was forgotten as Gator reached for her. He hesitated and started to pull back when his brain began to process what he’d just done. She’d just seen him cleanly and coolly kill a man. For a woman who’d dealt with far too much violence in her life, that had to be shocking. He wasn’t worthy of her.

Before he could lower his arms, she was in them. Maybe he wasn’t worthy of her, but she was here and she needed him. He scooped her into his arms and started walking back to the house. The others could handle getting rid of the body. He needed to get Sylvie home and tend to her injuries.

“It’s all right,
chère
,” he crooned. “I’ve got you.”

Armand was right beside him, his concern palpable. “How is she?”

Sylvie held out her hand to her brother and he took it. Gator never slowed his step. Sylvie needed her injuries seen to. Armand kept pace.

“I’m okay,” she told him. Her brother might believe that, but Gator didn’t. Travis had attacked and beaten her, might have done worse if he hadn’t shown up in time.

Anger filled him, this time it was hot and irrational. “How did he get you by yourself?” Gator demanded. “You were supposed to stay at the house. You promised,” he growled.

Armand stiffened beside him. “Watch your tone.”

“Stay out of this,” he snapped back.

“I didn’t break my promise,” she told him. The fact that she was being all calm and rational only made him crazier.

“Then how did Travis get his hands on you.” Gator would have nightmares about it for the rest of his life.

“I was reading in the hammock. I must have dozed off. When I woke he was there.” She paused and took a steadying breath.

She had to be hurting. She didn’t need to relive what had just happened before she was even tended to. He was being an ass. “That’s okay,
chère
,” he told her. “We’ll discuss this later.” He had to calm down. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him.

But Sylvie ignored him and kept on talking. “He said he’d hurt Anny if I didn’t go with him.”

Armand made a low sound of anger. In his arms, Sylvie nodded. “I couldn’t let him harm her, so I went with him. As soon as I knew we were far enough away, I broke free long enough to howl and warn Anny. I knew she’d go for help.”

“It’s all right,
mon ange
,” Gator told her. “Anny got help as fast as she could,” he told her. He glanced at Armand and saw the pain in his friend’s eyes. His wife and sister both threatened, but that danger was gone, he reminded himself. Travis wouldn’t be hurting anyone else.

The women burst from the house as soon as Gator stepped into the yard. “How is she?” Gwen asked.

“Fine.” Gator kept going.

Anny hurried back and held the door open. “What can I do?”

Gator wasn’t sure. “I’m going to get her cleaned up.”

“I’ll make food.” He knew it was her way of dealing with the crisis. It was always better to have something to do.

“Get Cherise to help you,” he told her. It would help settle both women. Gator knew Gwen was probably already hounding Jacque for details.

He left them all behind. All except Armand, who still had hold of his sister’s hand. At the door to Gator’s bedroom, Armand finally released his grip. “Take care of her.”

Gator gave him a brisk nod. “I will.” It was a promise he’d never break.

“I’m okay,” she promised her brother. “I just need to get cleaned up.”

Gator wasn’t so sure about that, but if she needed stitches he was the best one to take care of her. No other male was touching her.

He growled and kicked the door closed behind him.

It belatedly occurred to him he hadn’t even asked if Sylvie might prefer to have one of the women help her. After what she’d been through, she might not want a man anywhere near.

“Sylvie.” His voice was hoarse with unexpressed emotion. “I can get Anny or Gwen or Cherise if you want.”

She shook her head and rested it against his shoulder. “I don’t want them. I want you.”

Her poor Gator. He was more upset than she’d ever seen him. He’d been calm and cool and so remote when he’d killed Travis it had been more than a little scary. He’d been methodical, almost detached.

She shivered and he quickly carried her through the bedroom and into the bathroom. She could do without seeing him like that ever again.

No, that wasn’t fair to Gator. He was a complex man and she had to accept all parts of him. As scary as he’d been out there, she knew to the depths of her soul that he’d never hurt her. Would always protect her.

He’d done that today. He’d risked his life to save hers without a thought to himself. For God’s sake, he’d taunted Travis into attacking. It was only after the fact she’d realized it was a deliberate tactic on Gator’s part. He’d known just what buttons to push to make Travis lose all reason and blindly attack.

He released her legs and let her lower body slid down until her feet touched the floor. “Can you stand?” he asked her.

“I’m really okay.” She was shaky and weak but she was alive. That was all that mattered.

“Lean against the vanity.” Gator waited until he was sure she wouldn’t collapse in a heap and then he hurried to turn on the shower and adjust the temperature of the water.

He was already naked, having been out running in his animal form. He was unhurt and mostly free from any blood spatter. She was the one who was a mess. Gator was tall and strong, his shoulders broad and unbowed. The tattoos running up both arms were all that covered his bronzed skin.

Her wolf gave a rumble of contentment, even as the hussy rolled on her back and presented her belly. Her wolf made no secret of the fact she wanted Gator.

What did Sylvie want?

Gator came back to her and briefly hesitated. His mouth pulled into a thin line of determination and he reached for the zipper on her shorts. She was already naked from the waist up. The remains of her tattered top and bra were somewhere on the forest floor.

He went down on one knee in front of her and eased the blood-soaked garment down her legs, careful not to hit the healing wounds. She reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders as she lifted one foot and then the other. He groaned and rested his face against her stomach.

His chest was heaving as he pulled air into it. His hands trembled oh so slightly when he peeled her panties down her legs and off. His touch was so gentle and careful it brought tears to her eyes.

Gator stood, took her hand and led her to the shower. She stepped into the tiled enclosure with him and was immediately enveloped in humid warmth. He turned his back to the spray and studied her.

His jaw hardened when he studied her face. “I hurt you.”

She shook her head. “No, you didn’t.”

“You’re crying.” It sounded more like an accusation. He grabbed the washcloth and began to carefully clean away the blood from her wounds.

“Not because you hurt me,” she told him.

“Your wounds—” he began.

“No.”

“Then why?” Gator frowned as the water cleaned away the blood and revealed that her body was already doing its job. The worst of the wounds were still seeping slightly but the others were already closed.

She caught his hand and made him stop tending her. “Because you’re always so gentle with me.”

“Oh
chère
.” He kissed her then, light and tender on her lips. Then he went right back to work, washing her entire body until he was satisfied all the blood was gone. He gave himself a quick rinse before he turned off the water. He stepped out, plucked a towel off the rod just outside the stall and wrapped it around her.

He didn’t bother drying her. He simply lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. She protested when he went to place her on the bed. “You’ll get the sheets wet,” she warned him.

“Fuck the sheets.” He set her down and raked his fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back from his face. Rivulets of water trailed down his shoulders and chest. Going lower and lower.

Sylvie licked her lips and stared as a bead of liquid was lost in the hair of his groin. His cock was full and firm.

“For fuck’s sake, stop staring at me like that.” His voice had gotten rougher and his vocabulary was deteriorating. He’d never sworn that much around her before. She knew it was a sign of just how upset he truly was.

“Like what?” she asked, curious as to what he would say next.

“Like you want me to fu—” He broke off and sighed. “Like you want me to jump your bones.”

“I’d rather you fucked me,” she told him quite bluntly.

He growled and shook his head. “You’re hurt.” He strode to his closet, his usually fluid gait stiff and wooden. He grabbed a pair of jeans and yanked them on. It took a bit of work to get them up his damp legs but he managed. He zipped them but left the button undone.

Honestly, if he thought that was going to make her stop wanting him, he was wrong.

Sylvie knew she was slightly in shock from the attack and the blood loss, knew her body needed rest and time to heal. None of that seemed to matter. Not when she was faced with a naked Gator, or partly naked now.

Instincts much older were driving her—the need to mate.