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Still sleeping, Jacob nuzzled closer to Alex’s chest, hugging Alex
tighter and making his heart swell with happiness. He held tight to
that feeling as sleep overwhelmed him. They hadn’t talked about
nightmares since the last one they’d shared, and there was always a
bit of anxiety about falling asleep, but not this time. This time all he
felt was peace.
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And love, Alex thought with a dreamy, drowsy smile. He was in
love. He loved Jacob.
He was invincible.
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Ellen Ginsberg
Chapter Eight
Someone small and scared was whimpering in the darkness.
“Alex,” the voice begged, “please—”
A growl interrupted the plea, and Alex’s eyes flew open,
searching the darkness. His heart clenched when he saw the empty
bed beside him. He hadn’t recognized the voice as Jacob’s at first. He
knew why it sounded unfamiliar now.
He wasn’t used to hearing his mate this scared.
Only once before had he heard Jacob’s frightened whimper, soft
and trembling as it was now. It was in their nightmare, and Alex’s
inner beast had roared against his useless human skin to save his
mate. Was he dreaming now? Alex didn’t know and he didn’t give a
damn. He’d promised his mate he would never let the dangers of that
dream find him again. He didn’t intend to break that promise.
Keeping his body still, Alex gave his eyes over to his wolf, letting
them shift to help him see in the dark. It killed him not to
acknowledge his mate’s frightened whimper, but he couldn’t give
away that he was awake, not until he’d surveyed the room, sized up
his attacker, and planned his attack. The small shift satiated the beast
inside him a little, but the knowledge that his mate was in danger
brought a snarl to his lips and a growl to his throat that he could only
silence for so long. He’d wait though, just a few bare seconds until he
could be certain how best to strike.
He wanted to surprise the bastard when he tore his throat out.
The bastards, he corrected himself when his wolfen eyes saw
clearly. There was Jacob, standing in the center of the room, naked as
he’d been when he fell asleep earlier that night, and there was his
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149
captor, a man almost as large as Alex, grasping Jacob’s thin, bare
arms in his hands. Alex could scent he was a shifter, and it would be
enough of a struggle to take him down, but he didn’t make a move to
do it. Instead, he lay paralyzed, his mind racing, fear surging through
his body almost as sharply as it rose inside his mate’s. There was
nothing he could do to help him.
Standing ahead of the man that held Jacob, forming a snarling,
growling protective wall around the bed where Alex lay, were a half a
dozen wolves. For that many of them to be hiding in Borderland
undetected was impossible. They must have come across the
planesgate, Alex determined, but hell if he knew how. There were no
planeswalkers anywhere. Adrianna had shared with her family the
secret of getting across without them, but Alex doubted these huge,
hulking monsters, poised for attack, could have possibly figured that
out on their own. They didn’t seem willing to make themselves
vulnerable to anything. In fact, quite the opposite. They looked
dominant and deadly and murderous.
That jarring realization brought Alex’s musings to a halt. All the
thinking and planning in the world wouldn’t gain Alex an edge in this
fight. He was just plain fucked.
All he could do was fling himself, bloodthirsty and suicidal, into
the fray and hope to God his mate got out alive.
He didn’t wait another instant. Alex let himself melt into a
murderous beast as he gave himself over to his animal instincts to roar
and rage and protect. Leaping off the bed, he snapped his jaw open a
second before it contacted the furry scruff of the animal ahead of him,
and he sank into the warm skin underneath it, vicious as he could. For
a human, it would be impossible to kill a werewolf without a silver
blade or bullet, but as another supernatural, Alex knew he could if he
struck hard and fast enough. Small cuts and scratches would heal, but
his strong jaws could rip out a jugular or snap a spine. He could land a
fatal wound if he was quick enough.
It was going to be damn difficult, though.
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Ellen Ginsberg
Sharp claws scratched down his back, and he bucked backward to
thwart his attacker as he continued to struggle against the first wolf.
His victim was flailing and whimpering now, but his attacker had
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