You're My Mate? But You're a GUY! (BoyxBoy)

~Chapter 16~

~Chapter 16~

Kent’s POV

The wolf has complete control. I let it take me over because it’s easier then feeling the overwhelming pain and fear I have to think about Blu, lying unconscious a few feet away from me. Everything is instincts, smells, and an overwhelming need to protect; to fight. I can only think like a wolf, a very intelligent wolf, but a wolf none the less.

There is a white she-wolf in front of me; she is baring her teeth, her stance aggressive. She must be the one I’m supposed to fight. But who am I supposed to protect? Not important now, I’ll find out who later, now I need to stop her, kill her.

Growling low in the back of my throat I take on offensive stance in front of the white wolf. She starts to circle but I’m playing by different rules. With everything in me I leap at her, claws starched in front of me and teeth out. I catch her off guard. Landing on her, we go rolling. On our second roll I pin the she-wolf beneath me, snarling in her face.

My eyes and snarl tell her to back down. Any wolf would know that. My un-relinquishing stare, and the fact that she is trapped beneath my weight, is enough to see that I am stronger and above her in a pack status. I growl and snap my teeth in her face, a threat deadly threat.  

But there is no fear in her eyes, no repentance even though it is clear I am superior. I don’t like that. There is something wrong with this wolf, something crazy in her bright blue eyes. It startles me, makes me uneasy to see her and that wild look in her eyes. Wolves are naturally wild, but we are not crazy like she is.

With a new burning need to put a stop to that look in her eyes I swipe at her face with my paw, leaving long bloody marks from the end of her muzzle to her ear. The blood beads and rolls off of her face, dripping from her black nose. She whimpers in pain, than barks with pure anger. Trashing beneath me she bucks up, dislodging me from on top of her.

We’re circling each other now, she’s foaming at the mouth and again it unsettles me. She is so very wrong, so very sick in the brain, it scares me. But above all else, it makes my protecting instincts spike. She must be stopped; I cannot let her go on. Bad things will happen if she goes free.

With this simple thought pulsing through my wolfish brain I charge again. The white she-wolf dodges and I skid to a stop. Growling I charge aging, and again, and again. She is quick, she is agile. Even if this is so, I know with certainty that if I trap her again I can do it, I can kill her. 

I do a quick scan of my surroundings. There are three other wolves, one brown she-wolf, a big black male one, and another white male wolf. They are familiar somehow, and I know by some strange logic that they won’t hurt me, that they are not a threat. Beyond them is a deep ravine, a gulch if you will, filled with gagged gray rocks and twinning roots.

And suddenly I know how to stop the mad she-wolf.

Sneering, I charge. She takes a back step, just how I want her too. We repeat this dangerous dance again and again. Still she has no clue. The white wolf is playing right into plan. A few more lunges and back steps and it’s over.