Black Wolf's Revenge by Tera Shanley Page B

fell onto the floor near her feet. Grey held him in the air and Marshall flailed. He kicked at Grey while he clawed at the hand that was cutting off his air. Grey grabbed Marshall’s leg with his free hand, wedged it against his knee and snapped the man’s leg at the femur like a toothpick. The audible snap of the bone came a moment before Marshall let out a shriek of pain, high and grating.
    “Oh my gosh,” she whispered.
    Grey slowly turned around, looked at her with feral, empty eyes. She had been mistaken that it was him. His gaze churned in angry glowing slits and his face was contorted in a rage that terrified her.
    Grey wasn’t home. Only Wolf remained.
    Grey snapped his head back around so fast he blurred. One second she was drowning in his fury-filled eyes, and then she was looking at the back of his head. His cheeks widened with a smile as he snapped the man’s neck with his bare hand and threw the body to the side. He stood, panting through his clenched jaw and glaring at his kill. His muscles were tensed into stillness.
    “Grey? I was so scared you were dead.” Fear and shock were thick in her voice and it trembled like a flame, but it couldn’t be helped. “There’s another one. He’ll be back soon.” She searched his face for understanding but found nothing recognizable.
    “Did they touch you?” His voice came out a throaty snarl, each word sounding odd behind gritted teeth.
    It hurt to frown. Could he not see her face? Her nose had stopped bleeding for the most part, but she could feel all of the caked blood from everything that happened. Her face had its own pulse it hurt so badly. Of course they’d touched her.
    “I mean,” he clarified, “did they touch you.”
    Her eyes widened with comprehension. “Not yet,” she whispered.
    Grey’s nostrils flared. “I can smell him on you.”
    Under his scrutiny, she wanted to look away so badly. Wolf scared her, now more than ever. Turning, he closed the door and dragged Marshall’s body to the far corner where he wouldn’t immediately been seen by John when he walked in. Grey took his shirt off. It was bloodied from torn stitches and soaking gauze, but it smelled a hell of a lot better than the rank rag she wore. His hand was steady as he offered it to her and she draped it over her lap. Her neck was exhausted from hefting the chain and she set her face back down on the edge of the mattress. He kneeled down in front of her and laid his hand against her ear. The tiny patch of flesh was the only undamaged area on her face. She leaned into his hand and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. Could he hear the inky depths of despair in her words? Could he hear the truth in them?
    “Don’t you dare apologize for what those monsters did to you.” Gold-flecked eyes studied the lock on the collar and as he gave it a test pull, she groaned as it dug into her chaffed neck.
    Balanced on the balls of his shoes, he rocked from side to side, intense gaze focused on the metal. His jeans smelled of his blood, and the bandages that crisscrossed his torso were bathed in crimson. The muscles of his arms flexed as he rested them on his knees, and his jaw twitched under the pressure of his clenched teeth. A lock of hair had fallen forward, and she wished for the courage to press it out of his face so she could see all of him. She’d never seen a more beautiful sight in her entire life.
    “John has a key. The one who is coming back.”
    “John Gates. He’s the one responsible for this, isn’t he?” At her nod, he promised, “I’ll get it. I’ll get you out of this. Wade will be here any minute and he can help clean you up. I don’t even know where to start,” he said, hands fluttering over her face but never touching it, as if he was afraid of hurting her more.
    “They told me they’d killed you. This whole time, I thought you were dead.” Her voice hitched and she swallowed against the urge to sob her relief that he still