Carnage Island (Reject Island)(4)

But I can’t imagine feeling that right now.

I bite my tongue to keep from screaming as my legs finally give out from under me. Canton keeps me in my position with his hand on my nape and my cheek.

It hurts.

It feels as though he’s going to snap my neck.

It’s unnatural.

I need him to release me, to let me finish my shift. Is he punishing me for taking too long? Is he holding me like this to prove he’s in charge?

I whine, my body his to control entirely. What more does he want? I can’t… I can’t fight him. He’s too powerful. Too masculine. Too Alpha.

He finally releases me and unleashes a growl that vibrates through every inch of my being, the wolf inside him demanding my animal come to life.

She snarls in response, but neither of us can fight his call.

I curl into a ball as the shift takes over entirely, my body contorting in ways it’s never done before.

This must be why they don’t allow us to meet our inner animals until our mating. It hurts.

As much as I want to see my animal, I don’t appreciate the pain it requires to meet her. I feel weak. I feel unworthy. I feel soft.

A mewl leaves my lips unbidden, my limbs shaking as the final phases of my transition hit my core.

And then everything stops.

The agony. The fear. The anticipation. It just melts away as silence descends.

Peace.

My wolf yawns and stretches, pleased to finally be free.

Except the sudden intake of air around me has my wolf’s ears flattening in concern. She doesn’t like that sound and neither do I.

I sniff, trying to draw out the cause of concern. It ruffles my fur, the stench of it growing by the second.

“What the fuck is this?” Alpha Crane demands. “Some sort of sick joke?”

I blink, confused.

Canton is no longer beside me, he’s over ten feet away and glowering at me with a look of disgust that goes straight to my heart.

I lift my head, the sensation a bit strange as the muscles in my neck are new to this form.

I can’t stand yet, my limbs still awkward beneath me.

I glance down to try to figure out where to put my paws and how to…

White fur.

I stare at it.

Why do I have white fur?

It should be black. All Nantahala Wolves have black fur. Santeetlah Wolves have brown fur.

The Black Mountain Pack is home to the Carnage Wolves.

And Carnage Wolves have white fur.

White fur, like snow.

White fur, like…

Like my paws.

Oh, moon… I’m in trouble.





2





CLOVE





“Explain yourself!” Alpha Bryson shouts.

I shiver, my focus instantly going to the male I’ve revered all my life. But he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at my father.

And my father… is glowering at my cowering mother.

“I… I…” she stutters, her skin as pale as my fur. “I didn’t know… I…”

“You didn’t know?” my father repeats, his tone holding an edge of fury that I’ve never heard from him before. “How could you not fucking know?” He points in my direction. “She’s a goddamn mutt!”

“I thought she was yours,” my mother whispers. “I… You have to believe me. It… He found me… I tried to fight… But I…”

Her statements are all garbled. Maybe because I can’t hear beyond the pounding in my ears. Maybe because she can’t seem to explain herself.

“I swear, I had no idea,” my father says, his words for Alpha Bryson. “I’ll take whatever punishment you require. This is not a reflection on our pack, it’s a reflection on me and my whore of a wife.”

“He raped me!” my mother shouts. “I tried to fight him! I… I thought… I prayed and hoped she was yours. I…”

“They are known for their savagery,” Canton mutters. “It’s possible.”

Alpha Crane snorts. “You’re naive and young and have a lot to learn.”

“I’m thirty,” Canton points out. “And I’ve faced those beasts in battle, father.”

“That doesn’t explain her not reporting it.” Alpha Crane utters the words with authority and a hint of disgust. “We wanted your best female, and this is what you give us? A mutt of unknown origin?” Alpha Crane spits on the ground near Alpha Bryson’s feet. “I’ve never been more insulted than I am right now.”

Alpha Bryson says nothing, his eyes wandering to me before settling on my trembling mother. “What will fix this?” he asks. “I can offer them as slaves.”

My heart stutters. What?

“You can kill them,” my father adds. “Do whatever you desire. I reject them both.”

“Gafton—”

My father’s hand resembles a whip on the wind, slamming across my mother’s cheek and sending her to the ground. “You will never speak my name again, you fucking whore.” He follows it up with a kick to her stomach, then another to her head, knocking her out cold on the field.

My wolf reacts with a snarl, furious at his treatment of his mate.