The Ruthless Luna Of Alpha Clyde

lowly raised his black vacant eyes to meet his mate who had watched him tear

reappearing only inches away from her. He was standing before her, his soulless black

rified of him. He didn't blame her. He killed eleven men, who she watched transform into unknown creatures far from humans. He didn't kill them with a gun or kni

nything if he spoke. Or that she was planning how to launch an attack on him to defend herself. His wolf needed to calm her. He watched as her b

uggled to remain open. Slowly, her hands fell limply beside he

heartbeat continued to pierc

to his arms. His heart flipped in his chest, and a strange sensation trickled through him as he stared at h

ad managed to remain alive longer than any human who encountered eleven werewolves at a

se. Before midnight, Carrington would be aware that some of his pack m

There was rarely any night he didn't visit her. He had developed a habit of watching her sleep, listening to the sound of her unladylike s

He placed her on the bed as soon as he walked in, and hurried to find materials to clean

He knew nothing about dressing injuries or the sort of plants humans used to heal themselves. Werewolves could heal at a ver

, carrying her to the bathroom and placing her in the tub. He hissed as the first blast of water hit him too. He washed

t of the holes. He stopped and studied every inch of her nakedness,

ed on her thighs as he washed the dried blood off her s

ub and laid her back on the bed. He gave himself credit for dressing her in one of her comfortable cl

creamy skin. He didn't know what had caused her to do such a stupid thing, but he knew she was desperate for something. So

fragile demeanor, there was something far fiercer, more intense and stronger than the way she appeared. Why else would she risk her life to break into a warehouse? Why w

, attractive even, but not refined. Her brown eyes were full of warmth and passion. Yet, they also appeared cold, curious and dangerous sometimes. Her skin was smooth and creamy, like caramel. Her lips were pink and lush, but the fight

hunting down enemies of the pack and slitting their throats. Emily Hales, his ex-lover. Agnes or Mathilde. Wolves who knew how to fight and def

would conceive a strong and

ly saw her gun as her survival asset. She wasn't just a kind human, she was the sort to run two blocks breathlessly after a man's car to return

certainty whenever he thought of revealing himself to her. He had tried to convince himself

as a matter of fact, and join him to lead a group of werewolves? How could he explain that even though he looked like he was in h

She looked so young, sleeping. Had he ever been that young? He su

zed in shock. He hadn't f

the window as he intended not to use the door. Once he was far away from her,

the rest of his body was hanging in

e was gone. The whooshing sound o

would