Daddy’s Mail Order Mate (Twilight Meadows Wolves #3)

Chapter 18 - Gwen

Everything is sore. That’s the first thought that hits me—because damn, my body feels like I’ve sent it through a trash compactor and laid it out to dry for jerky.

My eyes peel open and I stare at an unfamiliar ceiling. I’m a little too busy for the first minute or so to get my bearings with where I am, as all I can really do is settle in to my aching flesh and figure out how hard it’s going to be to move. With a grunt, I roll over, squinting in the morning light.

This isn’t my room. Rather, this isn’t the guest room in Thorn’s house I’ve been using. And there’s only one room in the house I haven’t gone into before: his bedroom. By the time we made it here, I wasn’t really in much of a state for admiring the decor; I was far too busy enjoying Thorn’s body tangling with mine.

I brace myself up on my arms and look around. The bed is empty and I don’t feel any lingering warmth from another body. My throat clenches and there’s a tentative spark of despair that tries to come to life. Am I really so frightened of being abandoned that this is enough to bring me close to tears? I’m a grown fucking woman. He’s probably just gone downstairs or is looking after Rowan. It does seem absolutely like him to go right from a body-destroying gauntlet of intercourse straight into being Father of the Year.

As I try to maneuver my aching body around, I feel a wet oozing between my thighs. It’s well cooled now, but serves as a vivid reminder of what we’d gotten up to. My ears flush a bit in embarrassment and I make a note to myself to go get myself cleaned up properly right away. However, when I scoot to the edge of the bed I happen to notice a yellow sticky note attached to the baby monitor. An unintentional groan punctuates my reach to grab both—there is a lot he and I have to talk about, and chiefly is that if this is to become a pattern, I’m going to need him to pamper me into a hot bath first thing when I wake up.

If . There’s always the possibility this was just an indulgent mistake on his part. He rejected me before. Why wouldn’t he reject me again, now that he’s had his fun?

“Goddamn it Gwen,” I scold myself hoarsely.

My attention focuses back on the note, and I find that Thorn’s handwriting is as precise and formal as the man himself.

Gwen

Council business.

Be safe at this point I’m completely locked in a senseless and unshakable tunnel vision that is screaming at me to get the baby at whatever cost.

“ HEY! Daniel, where are you?! You were supposed to grab the bitch!”

Just as I’m about to get in arm’s reach of Rowan, the feel arms violently lock in around me. I know I’m taller than the man trying to grab onto me—so in a blind brutality, I swing my elbow back and slam my arm with as much force as I can into the side of his head. I feel the impact before I hear it crack out through the room like a gunshot. His arms slacken around me just enough for me to break free and I launch forward, howling like a banshee.

The man at the crib grapples me, and this close I’m able to recognize him. He’s one of the Portsmill Pack members I’d seen at Elm Wood. So why are they here breaking into Thorn’s house?!

“Don’t hurt her yet, you fucking idiot,” seethes out a chilling voice behind me.

“Layman, I’m trying not to,” the man trying to apprehend me answers through grit teeth. At this point I’m trying to kick him between the legs, but he manages to evade my knee. “She’s making it pretty hard! If you’re so damned particular about it, come get her yourself.”

“Do not talk back to me, whelp .”

Layman. Where do I know that name?

James Layman. The troublemaker with the bestial stare.

He pulls me off his man and sends me sprawling down to the floor in one fluid pull of supernatural strength. He and two more men have filtered into the room and crowd around me. I snarl at him and start to push myself back up, but his boot connects with my face and sends me reeling back. Pain erupts on the back of my head as it connects with the floor.

I don’t care if it hurts. As long as I’m awake, as long as I’m alive , they aren’t touching that boy.

And with that emotion blazing inside of me, I brace my hands—

Only to see the sole of that boot again collide into my chest and stomp me back onto the floor. Breath drains out of me and I claw at his leg, even though his heavy clothes more than protect him.

This man embodies everything I grew to hate and fear among my kind. He stands over me as though I am dirt beneath his heel, and the loathing in his expression makes me wish I could spit acid to blind his hateful eyes for good.

“Stay down and stop pretending like you’re a proper wolf. I need you alive, you defective whore. For now, anyway. A shame though. I’d love to put you out of everyone’s misery. The world is always made better when you get rid of a waste of pelt like you.”

He’s right. I’m not able to protect Rowan. I’m not able to protect anyone , not with how weak and broken I am. Sorrow begins to spew up around the edges of my fury and the world blurs with tears building in my eyes. Thorn is gone to who knows where. A frail hope sparks in me that maybe he’ll somehow save both of us. But all that does is tear open the wounds of my heart. I once trusted him with all of me when we were young, and he willingly ruined it right before my eyes.

“Get the kid. He’s what we really need to make sure Vata falls in line and releases our people. It’s a tragedy of our kind that people like her can roam free while true wolves like my father and Arthur Gates are chained up in some council holding facility.”

“ No, ” I choke out.

“Shut up,” one of his followers snaps, kicking my side for good measure.

Even though I recoil, the pain isn’t what I pay attention to. Instead, I’m staring past James and watch as another man reaches into the crib to pull out Rowan. The fire within me sparks up from the ashes, all teeth and maternal rage. I need to protect my mate’s child. I need to protect my baby. Something territorial and profound snaps in me like tearing sinew. They won’t take him, they won’t hurt him. I can’t let them!

This is my home, my family.

I buck with all the intensity of a rabid animal, which is just enough to roll out from beneath the boot pinning me down. I brace myself on my hands and my knees, and when I snarl at them, it is with a mouth full of fangs. There are no words in this shape, but I don’t need them. A violent yowling cry announces my intent, and I pull my jowls as I pace out from beneath the robe my human form left behind. A few of them look a bit startled, but James just looks bitterly amused at the sight of me.

“Just don’t kill her boys,” he announces in a droll tone.

One remains in human form and pulls a knife, another a gun, and the third who I caught with the lamp shifts to match. He’s so much larger than me, but I don’t care how many of them are or how the odds are stacked. If I have any blood in my body, I will protect Rowan. The two of us pace for a second and I try to get my bearings; the whole world feels so strange and sharp in this body.

But my struggle to keep up with my senses gives him the perfect opportunity to close the distance. I see the wolf rush me, but I’m too slow to respond in time. Jaws lock around my shoulder and my shrill yelping sets off some sadistic chuckling among the crew. I gnash and squirm, but all that does is send us in circles as he crashes me into furniture and spills my blood across the floor. Soon enough I’m left wheezing on the ground, and the only blood I taste in my mouth is mine.

“Grab her and let’s go. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

I’m too delirious and exhausted to track much as I’m practically dragged downstairs. The men are talking, but I can’t make much sense of it anymore, especially when my ears start ringing. The only sound I can truly focus on are Rowan’s cries, which grind the pieces of my broken heart into dust.

I failed him. I failed that poor little boy right when he needed me most…

The world outside is far too bright. It’s hard enough to try and look at anything without all that light forcing me to squint blindly against it. I can feel blood leaking through my fur as I’m dragged across the ground. My vision swirls, but I can tell that I’m being lifted up a white mass that I blearily identify as a maintenance van of some kind.

But then I hear it: a growl, fierce and ceaseless, roaring right towards us. It must be an absolutely massive wolf, with how loud and deep the sound is—

I turn my head towards the sound and try to stare with these unfamiliar canine eyes.

Ah… It’s not a wolf, I dimly realize.

It’s an engine.