Wolves' Bane (The Order of the Wolf, #3)(53)

For one blissful moment while watching her earlier, he’d thought he had it all figured out. He thought he could arrange things so that she didn’t have to fight Lazarus, avoid the battle altogether and keep her from betraying them. When it came down to it, the battle would only happen on the lunar eclipse if the Hunters set it up to happen. If they hid Morgan away, kept her safe on that night, then it would slip by and the prophesy might not come to be. But then reality crashed over him. When it came to the Huntresses, fate had a nasty way of sneaking up on them. Lazarus would not rest until he got his chance at her, especially if she was truly his bride. He wanted an heir so badly that he would do whatever he needed to do to get her.

Yeah, like turn all of her friends into beasts to lure her out of hiding.

It would be torture for Morgan, an unbearable burden. Lazarus would get her out of hiding one way or another. Cal had heard the stories his whole life, he was well aware of what Lazarus could and would do to get his prize. Cal’s mother had been no exception. Lazarus had turned every single one of her family members into werewolves in an attempt to weaken her, and Cal supposed, in a way, it had worked. She’d succumbed. She’d betrayed them. And she had died for her sins.

The fact that Kelly couldn’t see Morgan’s battle clearly meant nothing. It was going to happen on the lunar eclipse just as it had in the past, the only night that Lazarus was most vulnerable, and somehow Morgan would fail them. The only glimmer of hope Cal had was that Kelly had predicted that Morgan would fatally wound one of the beasts. It might be Lazarus.

Or it might not. There was just no way to know for sure.

His crushing thoughts had sent him spiraling into a foul mood and even with a few hours of punishing training, and a hard pummeling of the punching bags, he was still depressed and angry. So here he stood outside her room, wanting so badly to go in and lie down with her. Feel her soft curves and hard muscles. Smell that ever-present exotic scent that seeped from her pores, the one he just couldn’t get enough of.

He raised his hand to the doorknob and gave it a twist, using his body to push forward, then grunted with surprise as his chest and face collided with the door. He stepped back to stare. “What the…” He tried again, twisting and pushing, but nothing happened.

As he laid his hand on the door just above the knob, he felt it—the warm, throbbing presence of a symbol. She’d locked him out with magic. He ran his hand along the pattern, feeling for its edges, then pulled away as a spark snapped at him through the wood. “Fuck.” The magic she imbued on the door was stronger than anything he’d been able to wield. She was using his own magic against him and she was better at it.

Cal pounded on the door, suddenly too angry to think straight. She would not lock him out.

He was midway through a second round of furious pounding when the door suddenly flew open, and Morgan stood on the other side, glaring in his direction “What?”

“Why did you lock the door?” he growled.

Morgan glowered at him. “Because I don’t want uninvited visitors just waltzing in here, *.”

He ground his jaw, certain that he was about to bust a tooth with the force. “Oh?”

With a slow, wicked smile spreading over her face, Morgan leaned toward him. “I’m not your whore, Cal. My door is closed to you from now on. Thanks for the power share, but I don’t need you anymore. I prefer Lance, anyway. He’ll teach me everything I need to know. And he’s not a dick.”

Her words were like a blow to the chest. Cal clenched his fist as he took a step toward her, his anger flaring once again. “Lance?” He sneered as he replayed all of the touching Lance had done to her during their training. “You prefer Lance…”

Morgan nodded as she took a step back and moved to close the door. He put his hand out to stop it but jolted back as another spark of magic seared through his skin. “Son of a…”

Morgan was smiling with cool detachment as she shifted her gaze from his fingers to his eyes. “Like I said, I don’t want any uninvited guests.” She slammed the door in his face only to open it a moment later. “Where’s my phone, by the way? I’d like to call Rachel and tell her about what an * you are.”

Cal glared back at her. “I crushed it.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before sliding back to a hard look. “You broke my phone?”

He turned away. “Yeah, it was causing too many problems so I got rid of it.” He started walking down the hall, practically tearing himself from her. Even with her hatred-filled eyes, he still wanted her. He still needed her.

“You are an *,” she hissed as she slammed the door again.

He shook his head as he jerked his hand through his hair. Not the outcome I was expecting.

“And don’t come back, you f*ck-head,” she shouted through the door.

He continued down the hall, his shoulders slumped, defeat washing over him as he made his way to the barracks. He’d sleep with the rest of the guys until he figured out what to do. And he needed to do something or he was going to go mad. Cal had thought it would be easier if she was angry with him, but it hurt like f*cking hell. All he wanted was to scream and yell with her, let her take her anger out on him in whatever way she wanted to and then fall into a passionate embrace—angry sex to make up for all of the hate. He craved her now more than anything.