Ruin Me, Alpha-Chapter 17: Marked With Vengeance

The wind cut sharp across the ridge, carrying the stink of pine sap and distant snow. I sat behind Devon on the four-wheeler, arms locked around his waist because the alternative was flying off the back when he gunned it over the rocks. His coat was open; my cheek pressed to the heat of his spine through the thin shirt. Every time he down-shifted, his abs flexed under my forearms like steel cables. I hated that I noticed.

"Hold tighter," he said without looking back.

"I’m fine."

"You’ll be less fine with a broken neck."

I squeezed harder just to shut him up. He smelled like cedar and gunpowder and something darker that made my wolf pace in circles. She always comes one second a day. And I only feel my wolf very briefly.

We were running the eastern border, the stretch that used to belong to Silverclaw before the merger. Three warriors rode ahead, two behind. All of them kept shooting glances at the way my thighs clamped Devon’s hips. I pretended not to see. Devon didn’t bother pretending; he let them look, let them remember whose hands were on their Alpha.

He killed the engine at the tree line. The sudden silence rang louder than the motor.

"Tracks," Jax, one of the warriors, called from twenty yards up. "Fresh. One set. Silverclaw scent."

Devon swung off the bike and offered me a hand. I ignored it and hopped down myself. My boots hit the frozen ground hard enough to rattle my teeth.

"Stay behind me," he said.

"Make me."

He gave me that half-smirk that always made me want to punch him and kiss him in the same breath. "Later."

We moved fast through the pines. The scout hadn’t even tried to mask his trail; cocky or stupid. Probably both.

We found him crouched by a fallen log, silver fur cloak, the old Silverclaw colors. Young, maybe twenty-two. Arrogant tilt to his mouth when he saw us.

He stood slowly, palms open. "Just taking a walk, Alpha Warner. No harm."

Devon stepped forward. The warriors fanned out. I stayed where I was, arms folded, pulse kicking hard for no damn reason.

"Name," Devon said.

"Doesn’t matter. You’ll be dead before you use it."

The kid’s eyes slid to me. The smirk widened. "Heard the great Devon Warner keeps the old Alpha’s daughter on a leash now. How’s that working out, sweetheart? He any good in—"

Devon moved so fast the air cracked.

One second the scout was standing, the next his throat was gone. Just gone. Blood sprayed hot across the snow, across my jacket, across my face. Devon’s hand came away red and dripping. He didn’t even look at the body collapsing behind him.

He turned to me, breathing steady, pupils blown wide black.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

He stepped in close, lifted that blood-slick hand, and painted a slow line down my cheek with his thumb. The warmth of it slid over my skin like a brand.

"So you remember whose territory you’re standing in," he murmured, voice low enough only I could hear.

The forest spun. My stomach lurched so hard I tasted bile.

I shoved past him, stumbled three steps, and barely made it behind a pine before I threw up everything I’d eaten for the last week. The heaves kept coming long after my stomach was empty. I braced one hand on the trunk, the other wrapped around my middle, shaking so hard my teeth chattered.

Boots crunched snow behind me.

"I’m fine," I rasped before he could speak.

"You’re not."

He didn’t touch me. Just stood there, a wall of heat at my back.

I spat, wiped my mouth with the sleeve that wasn’t soaked in blood. "You ripped his throat out. With your hand."

"He looked at you wrong."

"That’s not—" I turned, glaring up at him through the sting of tears I refused to let fall. "That’s not normal, Devon. Even for you."

His eyes were still black, but something colder moved behind them. "Silverclaw scouts don’t stroll into my territory for exercise. He was here to leave another message. Next time it’d be a pup’s head in a box addressed to you."

"So you murder him in front of me?"

"I murder him in front of everyone." He stepped closer. "I want every wolf from here to the Arctic Circle to know what happens when they look at you the way he did."

My voice cracked. "I’m not yours to defend like some—"

"You are." Quiet. Final. Terrifying. "You’ve been mine since the night you begged me to ruin you in that cabin. You just keep forgetting."

I laughed, sharp and ugly. "I hate you."

"I know." He reached out, slow enough I could have stopped him, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with the same fingers that had just killed a man. "Hate me all you want, Irene. Doesn’t change the fact I’d burn the world down before I let another male put that smirk on his face while looking at you."

My knees nearly buckled. I locked them hard.

He studied me for a long second, then pulled a black bandana from his pocket and wiped the blood from my cheek himself. Gentle. The same hand that had just ended a life.

"There," he said. "Clean."

I swallowed. "You’re insane."

"Probably." His thumb brushed my lower lip, smearing a fresh streak he’d missed. "But I’m yours."

The words hit harder than the kill. I couldn’t breathe around them.

One of the warriors cleared his throat. "Alpha. Orders?"

Devon didn’t look away from me. "Bag him. Send the body to Henry with my compliments. Tell him if he wants to send more messengers, I’ll start mailing pieces back one by one."

Jax hesitated. "The head?"

"Leave it on a pike at the border. Let the crows have the rest."

They moved to obey. I stayed rooted, staring at Devon like he was a stranger. Maybe he was.

He finally stepped back, giving me six inches of space. "You’re shaking."

"I just watched you murder someone."

"You’ve watched me murder before."

"Not like that." My voice came out small. "Not... casual."

His jaw flexed. "Nothing about you is casual to me."

I hugged myself. The wind cut right through my jacket now that the adrenaline was draining. "You can’t keep doing this. Killing people for looking at me."

"I can. I will. Get used to it."

"I won’t." I met his eyes. "I’m not some fragile thing you keep in a glass case, Devon. I don’t need you painting blood on my face to prove a point."

Something dark and raw flickered across his face. "You think that was for him?" He laughed, low and bitter. "I did that for me. So every time you wash your face tonight you’ll remember who you belong to. So every time you close your eyes you’ll feel my hand on your skin instead of his smirk."

My breath hitched.

He stepped in again, crowding me against the tree. Not touching, just close enough his heat burned through my clothes. "Tell me you don’t feel it," he said, voice rough. "Tell me when I touched you just now your pulse didn’t try to rip out of your throat. Lie to me, Irene."

I couldn’t.

His eyes searched mine. "You hate that you want me. I hate that I need you this much. We’re even."

I swallowed hard. "You scare me."

"Good." His knuckles grazed my cheek, feather-light. "You scare me too."

The confession hung between us like smoke.

Behind us, the warriors were zipping the body bag. The sound scraped over my nerves.

Devon dropped his hand. "Come on. I’ll take you home."

"I can walk."

"You’re not walking anywhere with his blood on your clothes." He turned, strode back to the four-wheeler, and swung on. Didn’t look to see if I followed.

I did.

The ride back was silent. I held on tighter than before, face pressed between his shoulder blades, trying not to shake. He drove slower, one hand leaving the handlebars every few minutes to cover both of mine where they locked over his abs. Anchoring me.

When we reached the compound, he killed the engine but didn’t move to get off.

"I’m sorry," he said to the empty air.

I blinked against his back. "What?"

"That you had to see it." His voice was barely audible over the wind. "I lost it. When he looked at you like you were meat—" He broke off, jaw clenched so tight I heard the click of teeth. "I’m sorry."

I climbed off the bike on shaky legs. Faced him.

He watched me warily, like I might bolt. Or hit him. Both were still options.

"Don’t do it again," I said.

"I can’t promise that."

"Then promise you’ll warn me first. So I can look away."

His eyes softened a fraction. "I’ll try."

It was the closest I’d ever get to an apology from Devon Warner.

I started to walk past him. He caught my wrist, tugged me back. Before I could protest, his mouth was on mine; hard, desperate, tasting like blood and pine and something that burned all the way down. I kissed him back because I was weak, because I was furious, because the alternative was screaming.

He pulled away first, breathing ragged. "Go inside before I drag you into the trees and finish what we keep starting."

I went.

But at the door to the Omega barracks I paused, looked back. He was still sitting on the bike, watching me like I might disappear.

"Hey, Alpha," I called.

He lifted a brow.

"Next time you feel like marking your territory?" I touched my cheek where his bloody thumbprint had been. "Use your mouth instead."

Heat flared in his eyes so hot I felt it from twenty yards away.

I walked inside before he could answer.

But I was smiling.

God help me, I was smiling.