Read Online Betrayal: Reckless Desires (Dark Wolves Book 2) by Elianne Adams - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elianne Adams
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everything was in place. When she got to the bathroom, she slammed the door open and jumped at the clatter, but found it untouched.
Releasing the breath she’d been holding, she turned the shower on and stripped out of her clothes. Wesken’s scent lingered on her skin, making her ache for him. For her. For what they should have had and never would. Because even if he would have been able to forgive her before they reached the village—knowing what the Mahehkans had done, what they likely were doing to his young nephew—he never would be able to look at her without feeling the bitter sting of her betrayal.
By the time she stepped out from under the water’s spray, her throat was raw, and her tears no longer slid down her cheeks. She’d talk to Delana, get her advice, and decide what to do then. For now, she’d make her tea and soothe her throat for the long heart-to-heart to come.
She hadn’t taken two steps into the kitchen when she saw it. A page, ripped from one of her books, sat on the table next to a black marker. The top drawer at the end of her counter was on the floor, the contents strewn all around.
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the note.
He wants you. I have the boy. Let’s trade.
You have six hours before he feels it.
You know where to find me.
Vincent
Amalija’s heart thundered, and her vision darkened around the edges. Other than the Alpha, Vincent was the meanest, most heartless male the Mahehkan pack had. He had watched and laughed as other males had raped his sister. Had held her head up, forcing her to watch. Her scalp stung with the remembered pain of his fist in her hair. That bastard had Malec.
FOURTEEN
Wesken had their scents. If they weren’t already dead, three fucking Mahehkans would lose their lives when he caught up. After an hour of tracking in heavy brush and rough terrain, the stronger, fresher scent of his prey finally reached him. His pack mates were close, too. If they hadn’t slaughtered the bastards before he arrived, he would the rip their heads off with his teeth and bathe in their blood.
Just ahead, growls and snarls rumbled, long and loud. He’d recognize his pack brothers anywhere. Khet and Rennan. If he knew them, and he did, Joss and Blade would have already made their way around, blocking the enemy’s escape.
Wesken crested a steep hill going full speed. On the other side, Khet had one wolf’s neck in his huge jaws. Unseeing eyes stared up at the sky. Rennan had the other in his sights. The hair on his scruff stood on end, and vicious snarls kept the second wolf frozen in terror next to a boulder. There was no escape.
Wesken’s gaze darted from one wolf shifter to the other, desperate, seeking. Where the hell was Malec? He leaped over his pack brothers, trusting them to deal with the one remaining wolf as he chased down the third. His heart stuttered as he sniffed the air. At no point since he’d left the village had he caught Malec’s scent. All that meant was that he’d been carried. A toddler couldn’t walk all that way and leave a trail like an adult male or a wolf did.
A high-pitched yelp a hundred feet ahead had him running harder—faster—than he’d ever run before. Joss circled an injured wolf. Bright red blood oozed from a gash on Joss’s flank, but he didn’t back down. With an ominous growl, Joss threw himself at the enemy. More than anything, he wanted to join in the scuffle, but Joss had something to prove. They’d been working with him—preparing him—since they had joined the Komoro pack. Now he’d demonstrate his worth as a warrior.
Blade waited, his entire body tense as the young shifter dealt with the enemy. Within moments, the battle was over. Joss growled as he tightened his grip on the other’s neck. It wouldn’t take long for the bastard to die, but he couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. They had to find Malec.
Wesken stalked closer, shifting as he walked. “Shift, you filthy
Releasing the breath she’d been holding, she turned the shower on and stripped out of her clothes. Wesken’s scent lingered on her skin, making her ache for him. For her. For what they should have had and never would. Because even if he would have been able to forgive her before they reached the village—knowing what the Mahehkans had done, what they likely were doing to his young nephew—he never would be able to look at her without feeling the bitter sting of her betrayal.
By the time she stepped out from under the water’s spray, her throat was raw, and her tears no longer slid down her cheeks. She’d talk to Delana, get her advice, and decide what to do then. For now, she’d make her tea and soothe her throat for the long heart-to-heart to come.
She hadn’t taken two steps into the kitchen when she saw it. A page, ripped from one of her books, sat on the table next to a black marker. The top drawer at the end of her counter was on the floor, the contents strewn all around.
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the note.
He wants you. I have the boy. Let’s trade.
You have six hours before he feels it.
You know where to find me.
Vincent
Amalija’s heart thundered, and her vision darkened around the edges. Other than the Alpha, Vincent was the meanest, most heartless male the Mahehkan pack had. He had watched and laughed as other males had raped his sister. Had held her head up, forcing her to watch. Her scalp stung with the remembered pain of his fist in her hair. That bastard had Malec.
FOURTEEN
Wesken had their scents. If they weren’t already dead, three fucking Mahehkans would lose their lives when he caught up. After an hour of tracking in heavy brush and rough terrain, the stronger, fresher scent of his prey finally reached him. His pack mates were close, too. If they hadn’t slaughtered the bastards before he arrived, he would the rip their heads off with his teeth and bathe in their blood.
Just ahead, growls and snarls rumbled, long and loud. He’d recognize his pack brothers anywhere. Khet and Rennan. If he knew them, and he did, Joss and Blade would have already made their way around, blocking the enemy’s escape.
Wesken crested a steep hill going full speed. On the other side, Khet had one wolf’s neck in his huge jaws. Unseeing eyes stared up at the sky. Rennan had the other in his sights. The hair on his scruff stood on end, and vicious snarls kept the second wolf frozen in terror next to a boulder. There was no escape.
Wesken’s gaze darted from one wolf shifter to the other, desperate, seeking. Where the hell was Malec? He leaped over his pack brothers, trusting them to deal with the one remaining wolf as he chased down the third. His heart stuttered as he sniffed the air. At no point since he’d left the village had he caught Malec’s scent. All that meant was that he’d been carried. A toddler couldn’t walk all that way and leave a trail like an adult male or a wolf did.
A high-pitched yelp a hundred feet ahead had him running harder—faster—than he’d ever run before. Joss circled an injured wolf. Bright red blood oozed from a gash on Joss’s flank, but he didn’t back down. With an ominous growl, Joss threw himself at the enemy. More than anything, he wanted to join in the scuffle, but Joss had something to prove. They’d been working with him—preparing him—since they had joined the Komoro pack. Now he’d demonstrate his worth as a warrior.
Blade waited, his entire body tense as the young shifter dealt with the enemy. Within moments, the battle was over. Joss growled as he tightened his grip on the other’s neck. It wouldn’t take long for the bastard to die, but he couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. They had to find Malec.
Wesken stalked closer, shifting as he walked. “Shift, you filthy
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