quickly,” Alonzo muttered to Alexander, his heavy dark
eyebrows pulled into a deep frown.
“Why's that?” Alexander was focused on Marrok, intrigued by his battle preparations.
Originally from Russia, he was unaccustomed to Native American tradition.
Alonzo's voice grew ominous. “He chose only two colors for a reason. Black and white, life and death. His future lies on what he finds tonight. He's made his choice, I can assure you of that. If Marrok doesn't find his mate in that mesa, he won't stay alive long enough to ever add a fourth stripe on his face.”
Marrok walked to them, his muscular body a dangerous combination that came from the
powerful Apache bloodline that ran through his veins, and the supernatural wolf that was a part of him.
His expression was firmly set, the powerful muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching with each step.
Even though Marrok was not the king, he was an alpha of his own right. The men stared in admiration and respect at the awesome, but terrifying, picture Marrok made in full war paint, standing amongst the trees and rocky area of his homeland.
Stopping in front of the two men, he slowly stared at each one. With his red eyes glinting, he vowed, “The sun will not touch the dusty surface of this mesa without my reclaiming of my mate. May my ancestors that came before me join forces with the wolf inside of me this night, giving me the wisdom and guidance I need to have victory. If it takes the very shedding of every drop of blood within this dual-natured body, I will free her, and I will have her.”
His eyes met Alexander's blue ones and held. Some would consider it a challenge, but it was not how he meant it. Marrok waited out of respect for Alexander to acknowledge his words, which the other man did immediately, with a nod.
The guardians and braves inched forward, interested in hearing and seeing it all. Despite the
sheer number of werewolves around them, the area was completely silent. Although it was dark, the darkness was broken up by glowing eyes that ranged from black to golden-yellow. He ignored the others, his thoughts centered on what it would take to regain Taylor. Or vindicate her.
Marrok's voice was firm and filled with intent as he continued, “Do what you need to do when
you're in there, but know that for this night, I'm no longer guardian. I'm mate, and rescuing my mate is where my focus will be.”
“Agreed,” Alexander replied immediately, turning to survey those watching behind them.
Between the two packs, there were at least thirty. Some were already shifted into wolf form, while the others would go in human. Regardless of what form they were in, though, all would hear and
understand what needed to be done.
“Guardians, tonight when we storm that mesa we can't be sure of what we will find. I want the
ones in wolf form to move in first. Should you sense, hear, or smell something that isn't right, we need to know. For those of you still on two legs, protect your brothers and yourselves. You're the best, and I'd like to see all of you walk back out alive. Now, we go to war.”
Excitement spread through the waiting wolves. They were eager to avenge their own. The packs
moved out of their makeshift camp as one, Alexander, Alonzo, and Marrok in the lead. Their powerful bodies quickly made the ascent, their steps light as air. As they neared the man made entrance the wolves spread out, several of them quickly darting into its dark depths.
Without their supernatural sense of smell, they would not have discovered the doorway easily. It was hidden behind an outcropping of rust-brown rock, a ledge extending cleverly over the top. Marrok was certain that their were other entrances as well, but this was the one the other wolves had escaped from.
He eased silently within its dark depths, Alexander at his back. There were human guards
somewhere up ahead. The wolves were dispatching them quietly, the humans not realizing the danger until it was too
John Steinbeck, Richard Astro