Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(12)

“Where’s your family, boy?” She ran her hand over his head, stroke after stroke, as those liquid eyes watched her. “If you don’t have one, you can live here.”

The words were out before she really thought them through, though it wasn’t like he could possibly have understood her. She didn’t have time for a dog. Still, the thought of his waiting for her at night made something stir inside of her, an excitement and longing for companionship that she hadn’t felt in weeks.

“Since you can’t tell me your name, I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you a new one. What do you think of King?”

He gave her a disgusted snort and she laughed. “Okay, not King. How about Bruiser?”

He looked away as if he couldn’t bear it, making her grin.

“Not Bruiser, then. I’m half tempted to call you Wolf, but the neighbors might think you really are one, and I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

But at the sound of the name, he lifted his head expectantly and barked once, low.

“You like Wolf?”

He barked again, his eyes all but laughing at her.

“Okay, Wolf it is. Did someone already give you that name? It certainly fits.” She stroked his big head again. Would he be happy here while she was at work all day? Did she really want responsibility for an animal? This animal?

Staring into those kind, intelligent eyes, she knew there was nothing she wanted more.

Her hand sunk into the fur beneath his ear as she stroked his neck. “I’d be honored if you chose to live with me, Wolf, but I understand that you may already have a family. Regardless, you’re welcome to visit me anytime.”

As Natalie returned to her work, Wolf curled up on the carpet at her feet, a warm, welcome presence. She’d worked for nearly an hour when Wolf suddenly leaped to his feet, baring his teeth, a low growl rumbling deep in his throat.

“What is it, boy? What do you hear?”

The animal met her gaze as if he understood every word she uttered. In those dark eyes, she could swear she read indecision, as if he felt torn between investigating and protecting her. What a wonderful dog.

She placed her laptop on the sofa beside her and rose. “Come on. We’ll investigate together.”

But he stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Wolf, move.”

He glanced up at her, his eyes stubborn and determined, and damn if he didn’t shake his head again. Which was impossible. He was a dog.

But when she tried to push him out of her way, he refused to budge.

“Wolf . . .”

She heard a bang at the front door, as if someone had thrown something against it. Or kicked it. A moment later, her front door splintered and crashed back against the wall. Shock reverberated through her body, her heart leaping with terror because she knew . . . she knew . . . that whatever malevolent force had killed her friends and stolen her brother, had come for her again.

Chapter Four

Wulfe growled low in his wolf’s throat as the first of the Mage sentinels came charging into Natalie’s family room, sword drawn, triumph on his face, and violence in his eyes.

Wulfe’s mind roared with fury that they violated Natalie’s house, that they threatened her safety, even as he thanked the instincts that had driven him to check on her this morning. What if he’d waited until tomorrow morning, then arrived to find her missing? Or dead.

The thought barreled through him, lending furious power to his hind legs as he leaped at the first of the bastards, crushing the Mage’s skull between his powerful jaws. The last thing he wanted was for Natalie to witness any more violence, but . . . no . . . the last thing he wanted was for her to become a victim of it herself. If that meant forcing her to watch him take out her attackers, so be it. He could always clear her memory of the sight later. He hoped.

A second Mage intruder rushed into the room, and a third, and a fourth, all dressed in the tunics of Inir’s sentinels. Why were they here? Was it because of her glow?

Wulfe leaped for another of the Mage, killing him, too, as a blade tore through his shoulder from behind. Not good, not when he wasn’t healing much better than a mortal these days. Fire licked through his muscles, the pain radiating down his limb. Son of a bitch.

“No, don’t hurt him!”

As Wulfe turned to tear off the hand of the Mage who’d stabbed him, he saw Natalie grab the wooden lamp off the end table, rip off the shade, and swing it upside down as if she planned to use it as a weapon. Admiration and terror rushed through him in equal measure because she was going to get herself killed.

Not if he took care of these bastards first.

He lunged for the next of the Mage, going for his throat. As the pair crashed to the floor, half a dozen more ran into the room, swords drawn, eyes blank. Soulless.

“Don’t kill them,” one commanded. “Inir wants them alive.”

Them? There was no doubt that Inir . . . or Satanan . . . had felt Wulfe’s presence, and his Daemon essence, before. On the mountain, he’d heard Satanan say, I sense one of mine. Blood calls to blood.

Hell, the Mage might have followed him here. He might have inadvertently led them right to Natalie.

He leaped for another Mage, taking him down, then scrambled out of the reach of grasping hands to attack another and another, taking three more blades to the shoulders and side.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Natalie swing her lamp at one of the two Mage who’d cornered her, cracking it against his shoulder. But before she could pull her makeshift weapon back for another swing, the second of her stalkers seized it, wrenched it from her grasp, and grabbed her.