Read Online Betrayal: Reckless Desires (Dark Wolves Book 2) by Elianne Adams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elianne Adams
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bastard,” he commanded.
The wolf curled his lip, but not a sound emerged.
“Let him go, Joss. You’ve done well.”
Joss growled one more time, giving the wolf a final shake before letting him go.
“I said shift.” Wesken grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dangling him high off the ground.
With his injuries, the man shifted slowly. His long blond hair caked with mud and blood running down the side of his bruised face, the man panted.
“Where is the boy?” Wesken demanded, tightening his grip on the back of his neck. He could snap the fucker with one hand, and the idiot needed to know that.
The guy looked at Wesken and sneered. “All we want is what is ours. The bitch you reek of belongs to us. My Alpha wants her back,” he said between panted breaths.
“Where. Is. The. Boy?” Wesken growled again, his fingers digging deep.
The man’s eyes bulged, and his face turned a deep shade of red. “You want him, give up the Mahehkan female.” The man’s voice wheezed out of him as Wesken’s grip tightened.
His struggle weakened more and more until his body went limp and the last of his air escaped from his body.
Realization crashed into him. Malec wasn’t there. She had taken him away from the village. Distracted him when he should have been guarding his pack. Amalija had betrayed them all, and now Malec was gone. Wesken looked at Blade, then at Joss, who had remained in their wolf forms. His heart pounded, and an invisible vise tightened around his chest. Tossing the male to the side, he threw his head back and roared.
***
Amalija didn’t waste any time. She wished she had a choice—any choice—but there was none. She couldn’t leave little Malec to the Mahehkans. No child deserved what they would put him through. She had to find Vincent and hope that he wanted to carry around a little boy less than he wanted to impress his Alpha by bringing them both back.
Wesken had run North. That meant Vincent was nowhere near that. What was south of the village? The creek. Beyond that? Nothing but forest for miles and miles. Wait, the garden. was south of the village. She ran as fast as her legs would take her. Vincent wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t wait around for the men to find and kill him. She had to get to the garden and follow his scent, and she wasn’t much of a tracker.
Her heart pounded, and her lungs burned, but she didn’t slow down. As soon as she got to the garden, she knew she was right. Broken stalks were everywhere, and the plants they’d nurtured for the past couple of days had all been uprooted. Where the hell did she start? Even if she shifted and used her nose, the bastard had made his way through the garden, leaving his scent all over the place. She spun in a slow circle, her chest heaving. Maybe she should go back and get Argram.
A faint sound—more of a grunt than anything—to the far end of the garden had her whipping in that direction. Relief shot through her as she spotted the toddler sitting in the dirt on the edge of the patch. She took a deep breath, ready to yell for Argram or one of the other men, when her legs faltered and her heart stuttered. There was no mistaking Vincent’s foul scent or the hulking form stepping out from the tall grass beyond where Malec sat.
A cruel smile creased his face as he lifted his finger to his mouth, shushing her. He was a foot, maybe two, from Malec. If she tried calling out to Argram, there was no way she’d get to the baby in time to keep him safe. The moisture in her mouth evaporated. Lifting his hand, he beckoned her closer, his gaze never leaving her. She had to figure something out. Anything.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked him when she was close enough that she didn’t have to raise her voice.
His upper lip curled, showing his yellowed teeth. “You know why. You belong to Roger. He wants you back.”
Amalija shook her head, but she wouldn’t argue with him. Not when Malec was still within his grasp. The child
The wolf curled his lip, but not a sound emerged.
“Let him go, Joss. You’ve done well.”
Joss growled one more time, giving the wolf a final shake before letting him go.
“I said shift.” Wesken grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dangling him high off the ground.
With his injuries, the man shifted slowly. His long blond hair caked with mud and blood running down the side of his bruised face, the man panted.
“Where is the boy?” Wesken demanded, tightening his grip on the back of his neck. He could snap the fucker with one hand, and the idiot needed to know that.
The guy looked at Wesken and sneered. “All we want is what is ours. The bitch you reek of belongs to us. My Alpha wants her back,” he said between panted breaths.
“Where. Is. The. Boy?” Wesken growled again, his fingers digging deep.
The man’s eyes bulged, and his face turned a deep shade of red. “You want him, give up the Mahehkan female.” The man’s voice wheezed out of him as Wesken’s grip tightened.
His struggle weakened more and more until his body went limp and the last of his air escaped from his body.
Realization crashed into him. Malec wasn’t there. She had taken him away from the village. Distracted him when he should have been guarding his pack. Amalija had betrayed them all, and now Malec was gone. Wesken looked at Blade, then at Joss, who had remained in their wolf forms. His heart pounded, and an invisible vise tightened around his chest. Tossing the male to the side, he threw his head back and roared.
***
Amalija didn’t waste any time. She wished she had a choice—any choice—but there was none. She couldn’t leave little Malec to the Mahehkans. No child deserved what they would put him through. She had to find Vincent and hope that he wanted to carry around a little boy less than he wanted to impress his Alpha by bringing them both back.
Wesken had run North. That meant Vincent was nowhere near that. What was south of the village? The creek. Beyond that? Nothing but forest for miles and miles. Wait, the garden. was south of the village. She ran as fast as her legs would take her. Vincent wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t wait around for the men to find and kill him. She had to get to the garden and follow his scent, and she wasn’t much of a tracker.
Her heart pounded, and her lungs burned, but she didn’t slow down. As soon as she got to the garden, she knew she was right. Broken stalks were everywhere, and the plants they’d nurtured for the past couple of days had all been uprooted. Where the hell did she start? Even if she shifted and used her nose, the bastard had made his way through the garden, leaving his scent all over the place. She spun in a slow circle, her chest heaving. Maybe she should go back and get Argram.
A faint sound—more of a grunt than anything—to the far end of the garden had her whipping in that direction. Relief shot through her as she spotted the toddler sitting in the dirt on the edge of the patch. She took a deep breath, ready to yell for Argram or one of the other men, when her legs faltered and her heart stuttered. There was no mistaking Vincent’s foul scent or the hulking form stepping out from the tall grass beyond where Malec sat.
A cruel smile creased his face as he lifted his finger to his mouth, shushing her. He was a foot, maybe two, from Malec. If she tried calling out to Argram, there was no way she’d get to the baby in time to keep him safe. The moisture in her mouth evaporated. Lifting his hand, he beckoned her closer, his gaze never leaving her. She had to figure something out. Anything.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked him when she was close enough that she didn’t have to raise her voice.
His upper lip curled, showing his yellowed teeth. “You know why. You belong to Roger. He wants you back.”
Amalija shook her head, but she wouldn’t argue with him. Not when Malec was still within his grasp. The child
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