Broken Blood by Heather Hildenbrand Page A

fact that part of me wanted to attack Lexington even without being ordered. I could still remember him attacking me in the warehouse, fighting to injure me or worse.
    I bit my lip and forced my own willpower to the surface. My wolf, buried deep, stirred. I don’t take orders, I growled. I give them. I am alpha.
    There is no alpha. If you’d let your resistance down, you would see that there is no alpha. No master. Only us, together; one force.
    I have no intention of letting down my walls , I snapped . Save yourself some time and get out of my head!
    Oh, but your mind is such an interesting place.
    I tried to ignore what memories of mine he’d already sifted through and searched instead for a worthy comeback. A believable threat that I could actually make good on. A way to defeat him against the invasion I was experiencing. But there was nothing.
    Instead, a snapshot of a memory forced itself to the surface. Mr. Lexington standing as a wolf on a lonely desert road. Me in a car with George beside me, fast approaching the wolf blocking our way. George and I barely missing a collision as the wheel jerked sideways. My desire for retribution.
    He underestimates you...
    Hatred clung to the words, and I realized how badly I want to attack him. Or how badly Steppe wanted me to. I couldn’t quite pinpoint the difference. Anger pulsed through me. I’d already been furious when I got in the car, I realized. And he was using it.
    Horror crept in like a silken cloud, misting at the edges of my mind and holding there, a wet curtain of dread. This wasn’t a physical force I could combat. It wasn’t even mind games. It was me against me. Because I really wanted to give in and do what he’d suggested.
    I tried to push him out, but I was too long out of practice at shoving away an unwanted lurker. Through the darkness and cruel thoughts, Steppe’s laughter rang in my mind. My muscles tightened and my hands curled into fists. I glared over at him, my skin humming in readiness.
    Instead of attacking the target I was being fed, I launched myself at Steppe. He went down underneath my weight with a grunt that escaped mostly through his nose. Victoria yelled something but I didn’t bother listening to the words as I slammed my fist into Steppe’s unguarded gut. He grunted again and curled up on the floor of the van, trying to protect himself without the benefit of arms and hands. The van lurched as Mr. Lexington slammed on the brakes and veered onto the shoulder.
    My wolf howled on the inside. On the outside, I heard myself yelling without ever making a conscious decision to produce sound. My fists pummeled—his face, his throat, his ribs. And my jaw ached to elongate into something with canines. I wasn’t a human. I was a wolf trapped in a human’s body.
    I was the alpha. Dammit.
    I crouched over Steppe full of rage as I thought about how he’d stolen my wolf. I still didn’t know how. And I wanted nothing so much as my beast in this moment. Somewhere in the midst of my yearning, the thirst for his blood on my hands waned. My need for violence was overshadowed by a sudden sense of awareness. And pain.
    I felt it inside me as a dull ache that pricked sharp with every draw of breath. I’d hurt him. And I was hurting me.
    This isn’t right.
    I barely had time to register my own internal voice of conscience before reality crashed in around me. Victoria’s hands grabbed my shoulders and then upper arms as she pulled me off of Steppe. I let her, chest heaving with my efforts, and stumbled backward onto my ass. My shoulders bumped Victoria’s legs and I rested there, catching my breath.
    Huddled in the corner, Steppe wheezed through his nose. Blood and snot ran from his nostrils, down the tape covering his mouth. His eyes were wide in surprise and pain. His chest rose as it filled with air and then fell heavily as he sank farther back against the corner and away from me.
    “What happened?” Victoria asked.
    There was no judgment in