the haze of fear and agony and outrage in her mind, she finally recognized whoâd caught her. Brody.
He held her in his arms, her body locked against his powerful form, her back to the burning heat of his chest. Held her so high that her toes didnât even touch the ground. A low, keening sound of anguish tore through her, and her head dropped forward as hoarse sobs of pain ripped from her throat. âLet me go. I have to help him. Please,â she begged brokenly, knowing only that she needed to get to Max. âLet me go, Brody.â
He muttered something against her hair, his breath warm against her scalp, and Michaela could have sworn it was a single wordâ¦but she must have heard wrong. She was too upset. Too furious. Too terrified. She must be out of her mind.
Because it had sounded as if heâd quietly snarled the word never.
Chapter 2
Silently cursing his lack of control where this particular woman was concerned, Brody wondered just what he was doing. Heâd sworn to himself that heâd stay home tonightâand yet, when Cian had come knocking at his door, on his way to the ceremony, he couldnât do it. His fear over what might happen to her had been too great, and heâd found himself following his partner up to the clearing where the Silvercrest pack conducted its businessâbusiness that was better suited to the wild than the civilized streets of its town.
He hadnât been able to stay away from herâhe hadnât even lasted a day.
But nothing had changed, because the facts remained the same. It didnât matter what he wanted. The truth of the matter was that women like Michaela Doucet never took interest in guys like himâones who were scarred and used and bitter enough not to care what the world thought about them. Sure, they may have used him for a raunchy one-night stand. One of those âlook at brave little me making it with the big scary guyâ situations, turned on by his scars because of the violence they represented. But even then, they still feared him because of his sheer physical size and power. And they got off on that fear, using it as a twisted means of sharpening the thrill when they found themselves beneath a man who could too easily break them if he wanted.
Users, each and every one of them, and theyâd used him until Brody had just grown tired of it all and said to hell with itâto hell with womenâno matter how badly his body ached for one.
And youâre being an asshole. Michaela isnât like that, and you damn well know it.
He ground his jaw down until his teeth ached, soaking in the pain, knowing he deserved it. He was being an idiot, because truth be told, Michaela Doucet scared the ever-loving hell out of him. Despite his determination to stay away from her, heâd known, deep down, that heâd come tonight. Known, instinctively, that it was where he belonged.
He hated itâbut there was no sense denying that he needed to be here to protect her. The entire time heâd hiked through the woods, heâd sworn to himself that heâd watch from the sidelines. Simply ensure she didnât get herself into more trouble than she could handle, and he had no doubt she could cause trouble. The woman lived up to her fiery Cajun heritage like a pro, whipping men into a frenzy of lust wherever she went.
Even now, when she was an emotional wreck, he could sense the unmated malesâ interest as the Lycans watched her with a dark, feral hunger, the edgy scent of their lust thick on the air, making him want to snap at them with his jaws.
She was just too beautiful for her own good. And too damn fearless! He still couldnât believe the depth of her anger toward the pack, or her willingness to confront them over the treatment of her brother. He wondered if the Doucet kid knew how lucky he was to have someone who cared that much about him, who was willing to risk her life because she wanted to keep him safe.
There was obviously a lot more to Michaela Doucet than a pretty face and a body most men would die for the chance to coverâand the uncomfortable knowledge made Brody want to let go of her, turn around and never come within a God-given mile of her again.
But his arms wouldnât cooperate. If anything, his grip tightened, the sensation of her soft curves plastered down the front of his body enough to make his teeth gnash. Heâd known sheâd feel incredible if he ever had the chance to be this close to her, to touch her, burying his face in her hair and letting her rich, seductive scent sink into himâbut he hadnât realized her effect would actually make his knees shakeâ¦or his mouth water for a slow, deep, intimate taste of her.
He wanted her on his tongue. All of her. Everywhere. His face lowered, lips rubbing against the smooth silk of her hair, and he was a breath away from sliding lower, nuzzling behind her ear, when he suddenly realized where they wereâ¦and what he was doing.
Goddamn it! Heâd worked so hard to master control of himselfâthere was no damned way he planned on letting her strip it away so easily. But holding herâ¦it was even more dangerous than heâd imagined. Richer. Sweeter. Every cell of his body ached with the need to claim, to accept the dark truth he refused to even consider.
âBrody?â The sound of his name jerked him out of his internal hell, and he realized Mason was standing just a little to his left, a few feet behind him. He could hear his friendâs confusion, as well as his surprise that Brody had been the one to grab hold of Michaela. Around them, the packâs energy grew sharper with the promise of confrontation between the Elders and the indomitable human he held in his arms, and Brody understood the need to retreat back to the safety of the other Runners.
âItâs okay, Mase,â he grated under his breath, carrying her with him as he backed up a few steps until flanked by their supporters. âWeâre under control here. Iâve got her.â
Sheâd grown quiet, but trembled in his arms even as she lifted her head high, too fragile for such strength, a contradiction that set his teeth on edge at the same time she sent his pulse rate soaring. He gently lowered her body until her feet touched the ground, but didnât release his hold on herâand she didnât try to pull away. She just stood there, pressed against his length, and stared soundlessly at her brother, the rapid panting of her breath making a quiet rasp through her parted lips.
With a knot in his gut, Brody wondered if they had explained to her exactly what the Novitiateâs ceremony entailed. Any moment now, Max Doucet would experience his first shift as a Lycan. Under close watch, his guards would have alerted the Elders when it was time to begin, recognizing the signs. Fever. Sweating. Cramping. The initial change was always the hardest, both mentally and physically, and only the strongest humans survived. Brody hoped the kid had it in him, because if his body failed to completely accept the shape of his wolf, yet he still lived, the rules of the ceremony were that heâd be killedâand then he and the others would have a battle on their hands, with Drake inciting the pack into a vicious frenzy.
With a cruel smile, the Elderâs cold gray stare traveled over their united force, lingering with bitter disapproval on his offspring, Eric and Elise, before cutting to Jillian Murphy. âItâs clear where your loyalties now lie,â he sneered, curling his lip as he addressed the packâs Spirit Walker. Through her maternal bloodline, Jillian held the sacred position of holy woman, or witch, for the Silvercrest pack. She was also the mate and fiancée of Brodyâs fellow Bloodrunner, Jeremy Burns. Beneath Drakeâs scornful stare, Jillian didnât so much as bat a lash, but beside her, Jeremy bristled with outrage.
âRest assured, Jillian,
