Remy's Wolf (Wolves of Mt. Alexis, 1) Read Free Page A

He
rolled to his knees and turned, offering his bound wrists to Hank.
Hank’s first instinct was to push the guy over and claim him right
then and there, but eventually, someone would come looking for the
dead guy. They needed to be long gone when it happened. As soon as
the human’s hands were free, the guy shot up and began to grab his
clothes. He haphazardly dressed, and Hank mourned the loss of the
naked view.
    “ Grab everything that’s
yours and get out,” Hank instructed him gruffly. He didn’t want to
send him away, but he had no choice at the moment.
    The guy paused, looking over the dead
body in the corner. ‘What’re you going to do to him?”
    “ I’m going to set this
place on fire. But you need to get out for me to do that. Is that
your truck out front?”
    “ Yeah.”
    “ Get in and drive off as
calmly as you can. I’ll give you a ten-minute head start so you can
clear the area. Go!”
    The human ran out of the house, and
Hank heard the engine turning over soon after. Gravel shot up as
the guy raced out of the lot, and Hank listened as the engine sound
died out as the truck got farther and farther away. Hank rested his
head on the mantle and watched the flames for a moment, trying to
collect himself. It wasn’t every day a wolf fought an attacker off
his mate, especially a human mate who didn’t know he was a
mate.
    Hank’s body shook with need. He’d sent
his mate away instead of claiming him as was custom. Wolves loved a
good chase, and he was itching to shift and follow the human, but
he had to clean up the mess he’d made. Hank reached down to his
hard cock, a cock that would remain like stone until he claimed his
mate, and fisted it. He stroked up and down the length, even though
he knew he’d get no release. When he closed his eyes, he could see
the handsome man lying there, scared out of his mind. His scent
still mixed with fear inside the cabin, but now it was mingled with
blood and death as well.
    Hank looked at the
crumpled heap of man on the floor. The things the guy had said ran
over and over in his mind. Like the
others. What did that mean? Had this
guy—Hank leaned down to the dude’s pants and fished out his wallet,
taking a peek at the license—Aaron Collins killed other men? Hank
kicked the leftover clothing and closed his eyes tight when he saw
the park ranger patch on the shoulder of the guy’s
shirt.
    He tossed the shirt into the fire and
once it lit up, he tossed it on the couch and watched it start to
smolder. After that, he took the guy’s pants and did the same,
tossing them on top the old wood table. Once every piece of
leftover clothing was burning in some part of the house, he
prepared to leave. As he was about to head out the door, he caught
the scent of his mate once more. He followed it quickly back to the
couch and when he looked under the flaming mass, he saw a cell
phone.
    Hank picked up the phone and ran from
the burning house. He put the phone in his mouth and shifted,
running through the woods and back up the side of the mountain.
Once he had cleared the valley ledge and he got into the rockier
terrain, he paused to look over at the cabin. Flames had engulfed
the entire structure, the angry reds, yellows, and golds reached
high into the night sky and illuminated the area. He didn’t stay
long to watch, though. Hank raced on until he reached the edges of
his pack’s territory.
    Only then did he feel safe. Yet he
kept running until he got back to his den. Once there, he shifted
back into human form, dropped the cell on his bed, and moved into
the shower to wash the blood and sweat from his body. He languished
there in the shower for hours, wanting to rub his skin raw, as it
would be a better alternative than how he felt on the
inside.
    Already he ached to claim his mate. He
climbed out of the shower, and his gaze drifted to the phone on his
bed. He stared at it as he toweled himself dry. It was a link to
the human. With it, he could potentially find who