That night.
The night Gypsy’s brother had died and she had nearly been raped. Jonas and Lawe had been in that cavern with her. Each time Rule had attempted to join them, to be certain nothing more was needed, something had stopped him. Held him back.
He’d excused it, telling himself the girl was too traumatized for more males to be crowding around her. Yet he’d paced outside that fucking cavern—
He’d smelled her terror. The horror of what she’d seen, of what had happened or nearly happened to her. He had sensed the agony that had screamed from her, and he’d snarled at the knowledge that nothing could ease it.
“Ahh, you remember now, don’t you, whelp,” Dane sneered.
“I haven’t mated her,” he bit out.
“Because that animal inside you has held back, knowing you’re too buck fuck stupid for such a brave, courageous young woman.” Dane smiled as though finding pleasure in that thought. “Go ahead, cub, run.” He flicked his fingers to the road. “Go play elsewhere. Because I’d almost bet if you leave, then I just might have a chance of completing that bond with her myself. I could use a pretty little mate like her—”
As though suddenly a spectator to his own actions, Rule felt like a man watching in vicarious pleasure as the animal inside him erupted in a fury unlike anything he’d ever known. Before the Breed, one of the strongest Rule knew, could anticipate his action, Dane found himself flat on his ass, the razor-sharp claw-tipped fingers Rule hadn’t known he possessed before tonight pressing into vulnerable flesh, tasting Dane’s blood.
Rule could see the blood staining the claws. He could smell it, though he was reasonably certain the hardened tips pressing into the hybrid Breed’s throat weren’t causing fatal damage.
Not that Vanderale acted as though he gave a damn. He was still smiling in cold, brutal mockery, despite the smell of his blood in the air.
“Rule.” It was the sound of his brother’s voice, once the alpha who ruled the small pack Rule had been born into before the labs were overthrown, penetrating his senses.
They weren’t in those labs anymore.
And Lawe wasn’t his alpha.
In this matter, no fucking man, or Breed, commanded him.
The animal snarled.
The enraged, primal sound that tore from his throat, directed at Dane, would shock him later. For now, he could only let the animal reign.
Dane actually flinched at the sound.
That reaction, as small and involuntary as it was, was all he needed.
Bounding back, Rule fought the savagery mounting inside him until slowly he felt the claws retract once again, just as the lobby doors swooshed open and Jonas, along with six hard-eyed enforcers, stepped into the predawn night.
“Do we have a problem?” Jonas made no move to give a show of strength. He didn’t cross his arms over his broad chest, prop his hands on his hips or glare.
He voiced the question evenly while the silver in his eyes swirled like thunderclouds preparing to burst.
“Ah, little brother.” Dane was back on his feet, relighting that damned cigar. “Did you come to rescue me?”
Dane was seriously amused now. And that was dangerous. Even the animal inside Rule stepped back a safe distance until it could ascertain the hybrid’s next move.
Jonas grunted at the question. “Actually, Dane, I think whatever sliced your throat should have gone for your tongue.” He turned to Rule then. “What the fuck is your problem?”