Safe? Right. “I … we need to help.”
“You are injured.” His voice was tight, as if he actually cared.
“And I’ll heal, you know that.” The bullet had gone through her leg, but she could feel the bleeding had stopped. “We need to help.”
“They are fine. The humans are already pulling back.”
Though her eyes strained to see clearly through the dark fog around them, Delacroix was right. Only a handful remained of the human forces, and even then, half of them had been sacrificed so the others could jump into their vans and make a getaway. Unfortunately, their side seemed to have suffered injuries, though no casualties.
“Mika …” His lips were so near the shell of her ear, his breath hot on her skin. Lust crackled between them as if she could see the sparks. When did he plant his hand on her hip? Even through her clothes, the heat from his touch branded her as his fingers ran up the side of her stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Knuckles brushed below her breasts.
“Let me go,” she whispered. “We should—”
The blanket of darkness over her disappeared as if it had been yanked back. She drew in the cool night air desperately into her lungs, and quickly broke away from Delacroix’s grasp. Perhaps there was also something about being in the shadows with him that had amplified what she was feeling because out here, the pull to him felt dulled. It was still there, just less intense. Ignoring her wolf’s yowling protests, she marched toward the tall figure standing in the middle of the street.
“You all right, Arch?” she asked, wincing as she saw the wound on his arm.
Arch Jones’s unusual violet eyes twinkled as he flashed her a weak smile. “Yeah, it went through. And you?” He glanced down at her bloodied leg.
“Same. Dry cleaning bill’s gonna be a bitch.”
He glanced around at the carnage they had caused. “Same with the cleanup here.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Well, that’s why you’re in charge of making sure the humans don’t suspect a thing.” Arch was not only their best agent, but also a smooth talker and born diplomat. He often liaised with authorities to help keep humans in the dark about their secret. That particular task had been increasingly difficult because of all the skirmishes with the mages, but he’d managed the task brilliantly so far.
“I’ve already given the police commissioner a call. The forgetting potions are ready to be administered to any humans who may have witnessed anything. Daric’s transported the worst of the wounded to medical, and Cliff’s getting everyone rounded up.” He jerked a thumb behind him where Cliff Forrest, the head of their combat division, was kneeling down to check on one of their guys. “Are the pups safe?”
She nodded. “Thank God, yes.” Adrenaline was slowly leaving her body, and exhaustion was creeping in.
He brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay.”
“Yeah, I—”
A low growl from behind made her freeze. “Shouldn’t you be headed to the doctor, cher?”
The hum of possessiveness in his tone sent a bolt of lust all the way to her core. Summoning up her annoyance, she turned to Delacroix. “I told you, I’m fine.”
His scowl deepened when his gaze flickered to Arch, his lips curled into a half-snarl. “This senseless war …”
“Senseless?” All feelings of lust dissolved, and she was reminded of his flippancy this morning. Good. It was best to remember what a good-for-nothing slacker he was with no moral compass. “They just tried to take two of our pups. Do you know what would have happened to them? To this clan if they succeeded?”
He reached out to her. “Cher, I—”
She slapped his hands away. “Stop. Just … get away from me.” She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe when he was around. Her damn body—and wolf—focused on him, only him.
The shrill ring of her cellphone made her sigh in relief. Fishing it from her pocket, she didn’t even bother to check who it was. “Westbrooke.”
“Everyone all right?” came the tense voice of Lucas Anderson, Alpha of New York.
She winced, and Arch raised a brow at her. “Yes, Primul.” Hearing her use the formal title for their Alpha made him step back. “No casualties on our side, but a few of them got away.”
“I want those motherfuckers hunted down. No one gets away with trying to take my mate and son.”
“We’re doing our best, but we need to tend to our injured.”
“Fine. But report to Fenrir as soon as you can. Adrianna and I will be here.”
“Will do.” After slipping her phone back into her pocket, she surveyed the scene before her—the destruction, the dead bodies, the Lycans who had transformed back into their human forms and were in various states of undress, not to mention the curious onlookers were starting to gather.
“Let’s get to work,” she told Arch. “And—” Oh. Delacroix was nowhere to be found. Huh. Figures. It was a good thing he’s gone, she convinced herself. There was so much work to be done, and it was going to be a long night.
“Tell us everything that happened.”
Lucas Anderson sat behind the large desk in his office, seemingly a vision of calmness. But there was no mistaking the power and fury he was trying to contain, his mismatched eyes—one blue, one green—blazed with a fire that could explode at any moment. Beside him, his twin sister, Adrianna, leaned against his chair, her fingers gripping the leather so tightly her knuckles were white. Her eyes too—same as Lucas’s but mirrored—were burning with a quiet rage, her lips pursed tight.
Mika tried to relax in her seat, but it was difficult to say the least. The atmosphere in the room was so tense she could cut it with a knife, the anger from the two Alphas coming off them in waves making it hard to breathe.
Of course, it was understandable. The mages had attempted to kidnap two
