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“I am not yours,” Holly proclaimed as she stood taller and straighter.
She might even have stood on her toes, leaning into him physically just as he’d breathed in the song of her. “I am not Sentinel, and I am not yours, and nothing you can do will change that.”
The pack song stuttered back to static, staggering him as much as the connection had done. Holly turned on her heel, going down the steps with the same authority with which she’d come up.
And Lannie stood there with his side aching from her touch and aching for it, and knew she was exactly right.
Sentinels:
Alpha Rising
Doranna Durgin
DORANNA DURGIN spent her childhood filling notebooks first with stories and art, and then with novels. She now has over fifteen novels spanning an array of eclectic genres, including paranormal romance, on the shelves. When she’s not writing, Doranna builds web pages, enjoys photography and works with horses and dogs. You can find a complete list of her titles at doranna.net.
Dedicated to tree huggers everywhere!
And with thanks to the Hitchin Post, where they not only help me take care of my own horse, they answer silly questions with a grin. The same could be said of my wondrous agent, come to think of it.
Contents
Lannie Stewart fell back against the brick wall with a startled grunt of pain and a rare flash of temper. Son of a bitch has a knife.
His hand closed around the grip of the small blade now caught between his lower ribs; he twisted it slightly, releasing it...sending the white-hot scrape of sensation back at his attackers in the form of a snarl.
All five of them.
One of them cursed. The others didn’t have a chance. Lannie plowed into them, throwing the knife aside and drawing on the wolf within.
Alpha. No-holds-barred.
That made him faster than they were, and stronger, and riding the awareness of every pack he’d ever built. Not to mention infuriated by their assault of someone older and weaker and not looking for trouble.
A quick flurry of blows—fierce, efficient, effective—and they fell back, stunned not just by the impact but also by Lannie’s unexpected participation in a fight that had started out as five men kicking around what seemed to be easy prey. The men hesitated—suddenly wary, not willing to come back at him and not quite able to run.
Human submission. Or as close as they could be in this moment.
Fury still gripped Lannie, swelling against every breath. He eased back one step, then another—and there he held his ground, breathing hard but still perfectly ready.
The men got the message. They assessed themselves and their injuries, spat a few frustrated curses and bent to haul up their faltering friends. Lannie stood silent, letting them limp away—even if they did so with many a backward glance, not trusting Lannie to stand down when he’d gained such advantage.
But that was what a true alpha did.
Later, he’d find out who these men were and why they’d thought themselves safe not just to trespass, but to claim this space as their own. Most likely they’d come for a bro party involving six-packs and fisticuffs,
