CAINE
"No! I didn't. She—she wouldn't let me get near her. I swear it, High Alpha."
Fenris growls low in my head, but Jack-Eye's hand grasps my shoulder, squeezing hard. "Caine," he says. Just my name, but his tone is full of warning.
I killed the last Alpha. Killing his successor is going to bring more trouble and headache. These are all facts I understand, but my brain is screaming, howling for a blood payment to ease my rage.
"That girl is mine," I whisper, forcing my clenched fingers to relax. The moment tension is released, his face slams to the ground again, still victim to my dominance.
Kill him, Fenris says, as if he wasn't the one to force a promise of pacifism out of me earlier.
I shake my head, fighting to clear the red haze of bloodlust clouding my vision. The struggle is visceral—a war between my baser instincts and whatever shred of civility I've managed to maintain since ascending the Lycan's throne.
