Untamed Fate (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 2)

Savannah

Hoots and hollers erupted through the crowd as one of my teammates careened out of the slanted roller derby rink and crashed into a water cooler. Cups and Gatorade sprayed everywhere.

What the hell was I thinking? I’m going to die out there.

Last week, I’d been nearly murdered by a horde of blood demons and a psychopath werewolf with a vendetta against my family. He was dead, but the twisted sorcerer who’d helped him was still on the loose. Having narrowly escaped with my life, I’d decided to immediately risk it again by stupidly agreeing to fill in for Zara’s busted-up roller derby teammate.

There was a blast of sparks and another roar from the crowd, and the ref blew his whistle. “No claws, no magic, ladies!”

My skin chilled. Apparently, they played the game pretty rough here in Magic Side. Worse, our opponents were the Dockside Dens’ team, Bitches with Bite. I was so over werewolves. They’d hunted me, harassed me, and were still following me around town as bodyguards. Now I had to skate against them.

I pressed my fingers to my temples. Had I really kissed their alpha, Jaxson Laurent? What had I been thinking? He was breathtakingly hot, but I hated the pack, I hated Jaxson, and by the looks in their eyes, they all hated me, too.

The only potential exception was my frenemy, Sam—Jaxson’s closest confidant and the team’s lead jammer. From the way she grinned every time she whizzed past me, I was pretty sure she was planning on eating me alive.

Pulse racing, I leaned over to my cousin Casey, who was sitting beside me on the bench. “This was a terrible idea.”

“Are you kidding?” He grinned. “This was the best idea Zara ever had!” Since the match had started, he hadn’t taken his eyes off Rayne, the she-devil he had the hots for, as she zipped around the track. She was our team’s jammer and looked amazing on skates. I wasn’t sure Casey had actually blinked yet

He was a damned fool. Nothing about this situation was good. I was fresh meat, and the werewolves knew it. There was no way they were going to pull any punches with a LaSalle girl in the rink.

At least these werewolves weren’t actively trying to kill me. Yet.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my erratic nerves, but it was fruitless.

There was a part of me that was always on edge these days, plagued by a low, simmering dread. The nameless, faceless blood sorcerer was still out there, lurking in the shadows and the corners of my nightmares.

I clenched my fist. Maybe he was coming for me, but I refused to live my life in fear. Not after the insanity I’d been through.

Instead, I was going to bravely die in a horrendous roller derby accident.

I squinted against the bright lights that swept over the rink. With the fog machines and the dark atmosphere, the place felt like a WWF wrestling arena. The bleachers that lined the walls of the large warehouse were packed, and the crowd pulsed with excitement as those without seats crammed themselves around the padded railing of the rink.

Sam whizzed past wearing black racing shorts, a matching tank with white claw marks on the front, and a silver helmet with a removable star cap. Rayne followed a few seconds behind, devilish tail swishing and determination pulling at the corners of her fiery red lips. Before she could pass, Sam planted her hands on her hips, signaling to the ref to call the jam.

A whistle pierced the clamor of the crowd, and both teams slowed and crowded into the pit.

Zara skidded to a halt before me, sweaty and cheeks flushed. “You’re up, Savy.”

She wore our team’s signature outfit—black shorts, a pink jersey, and retro knee-high socks—with fishnet stockings to top it off. She gulped from a Red Bull and offered it to me.

“No, thanks, I’ve got enough adrenaline pumping through my veins. I don’t need to give myself a heart attack.” I leaned forward to check my laces, but mainly to hide my nerves.

Another whistle had my stomach churning, and Casey clapped me on the back. “Time to kick some ass, wolfsbane.”

Clipping the straps of my white helmet, I glared at my idiot cousin. “Don’t ever call me that.”

“Feisty! Make me proud.” He winked at me, and I spun, skating unsteadily after my teammates onto the rink.

Zara had given me a crash course on the rules, and I’d spent a whole day watching YouTube videos so that I wouldn’t make a complete fool of myself…though my chances of abject humiliation were still decent with only a few practices under my belt.

“You should have told me who we’d be up against,” I whispered to Zara as I eyed my opponents.

She raised a brow at me. “You getting cold feet already? I figured you’d want to kick some werewolf ass after all they’ve done. Now get in position, and don’t make me regret this.”

Oh, she would definitely be regretting this.

I lined up beside my three teammates. We were the blockers, and our goal was to thwart Sam from getting past us while ensuring that Rayne got through and to the front. The werewolf team would be doing the opposite.

I narrowed my eyes at Sam, who was shooting the shit with Rayne as they positioned themselves behind us. As if sensing my attention, she met my gaze with a flash of amusement.

I did want to kick some werewolf ass, starting with Sam. I’d saved her from the clutches of the blood drainers, and we’d had a bit of a bond, but our last conversation had ended with her telling me to keep my dirty little LaSalle hands and lips off her alpha. Not that I wanted anything to do with him, but being told what to do pissed me off like nobody’s business.

The whistle sounded over the din of the crowd, and the two jammers barreled toward us and into the line of blockers. One of the wolves shoved me aside, so I elbowed the bitch and pushed through the morass of sweaty bodies, my sight laser-focused on Sam. Two of her teammates had managed to open a space for her. Leaning low, I knocked one of them down and smashed my shoulder into the other, planting my body in the gap that opened in the line.

Sam plowed into me, pushing me back several feet. “I was wondering when you’d come out to play.”

I growled through clenched teeth, locking one of my toe breaks. Though she didn’t look it, Sam was a mass to be reckoned with and had rock-hard abs. Where the F were my teammates?

Zara was caught in a shoving match with one of the biggest werewolves, while another pink-jerseyed woman screamed as one of the wolves bit her. Was that even allowed?

Pain shot through my side as Sam’s elbow rammed into my kidney. Before I had time to shout, she spun around me and broke through the line.

Shit.

I used my weight to slam into the muddle of bodies surrounding Rayne, and using my ass—since hands weren’t allowed—I managed to make a gap for her to pass. She shot through and booked it after Sam, who was several seconds ahead.

Pushing and shoving the other team, we followed our jammer. The Bitches with Bite were several points up on us and would likely win, which made me want to play extra dirty.

Like a pack of entangled ferrets, we rounded a bend in the rink, and I shunted one of the shifters. She hurtled into the padded railing, and the crowd went wild.

One down. But not the one I had my sights on.

Excitement and adrenaline coursed through me as I lengthened my stride and formed a line with my teammates. Sam and Rayne were coming up behind us, and I really wanted to take Sam out.

Sam wove between two of her blockers, trying to skirt around us, but Zara and I pushed ahead using our outstretched arms and asses to cut her off.

Cheers rocked the warehouse as one of our blockers grabbed Rayne by the wrist and slingshotted her around the pack. Free from the chaotic cluster of jostling and cursing women, she flew forward, her long strides propelling her ahead.

Sam growled from behind and burst through Zara and me with a laugh, nearly taking my arm off and causing Zara to lose her footing and swerve into the pit.

My adrenaline surged, and only one thought filled my mind: Get even.

Biting back the pain, I sped after Sam, hunting for blood. I’d been on the bench the whole game, and with seconds left to play, this was my only chance to blow off a little steam.

Sam slowed slightly as she glanced over her shoulder, and I used my speed to cut the corner and propel myself into her. My hip crashed into hers, but she stayed upright. She elbowed me in the ribs and shoved me sideways with a wicked grin just as the ref blew the whistle.

I crashed into the railing beside the rink, and the impact drove the air from my lungs. My teeth ached, the beds of my fingernails itched, and I was ready to murder. That, or collapse and moan a bit.

Hands gripped my arms, and I blinked as faces from the crowd flooded my vision. Then Zara was beside me, cursing at the bystanders and pulling me back into the rink.

The taste of copper filled my mouth, and I touched my lower lip, wincing at the sting, my gums throbbing.

“What happened to your mouthguard?” Zara asked, looking at my busted lip with concern.

Dang it.

Zara shook her head but clapped my back. “You did good, Fury. You’ve got some bite.”

My enthusiasm drained as I checked the sorry state of the scoreboard. “But we lost. Big time.”

“Eh, we were never going to win. The Bitches with Bite have been undefeated for the past two years,” Zara said, guiding me to the pit.

Sam and her teammates circled the rink, pumping their fists and hollering at the overexcited crowd. As they neared, she winked at me.

Irritation simmering, I skated into the pit, only to be enveloped in Casey’s arms. “You kicked ass! Way to represent. Next time, aim for her face.”

I shook my head, a part of me hoping there would be a next time because I’d actually had fun. Skating on eight wheels might be my jam after all.

My teammates were surprisingly upbeat after losing the match. Each of them congratulated me on my first game, and a few told me to come back next week. Our team skated around the rink as we congratulated the Bitches with Bite for their win.

“Ready to go? Drinks are on me,” Casey said as I pulled off my skates and slipped on my tennies.

My lip was still bleeding, and I probably looked like a sweaty vampire. “Where can I clean up first?”

Zara pointed to a hall between a pair of bleachers, which were rapidly clearing out as people filed for the exits, heading to an afterparty or bar, no doubt.

“I’ll meet you guys in the parking lot,” I said, and headed toward the bathroom.

The cement floors were sticky with beer and spit and God-knows-what else. Three women exited the ladies’ room. “Nice jam tonight, girl! Hope to see you on the rink next week.”

“Thanks,” I said, laughing, and stepped through the scuffed gray door. The bathroom was empty apart from the overflowing trashcans and paper towels strewn across the ground.

I examined my reflection in the cracked mirror. My lower lip was swollen and tinged pink with blood, and my cheeks were flushed and damp. Though I’d only been in the rink for one jam, the excitement and nerves of the night had made me sweatier than a pig.

I splashed some water on my face and swished the last remnants of blood from my mouth as I tried to wash away the cocktail of residual emotions from the game. I’d lost my cool and probably owed Sam an apology, even though I was the one with the fat lip. When Sam had whipped past with her cocky laugh, my brain had fried, and I’d had the irresistible urge to chase after and hunt her down.

I grabbed a handful of paper towels and dragged them over my face, feeling a modicum of relief. Suddenly my heartbeat skyrocketed, like I’d been hit with a dose of epinephrin. I gasped and stumbled back from the sink as I glimpsed my reflection.

Staring back at me were a pair of honey-gold eyes. My eyes.

No, no, no.

Pressing my eyelids shut, I inhaled slowly and counted to ten.

It’s not real.

This had happened right after I’d killed Billy. I opened my eyes again, and they were a steely blue—their natural color. Was I losing my mind?

Maybe it was just PTSD or something. I’d been hunted and hounded by werewolves, and my mind was starting to play tricks on me.

“Get a hold of yourself, Savy,” I muttered as I tossed the paper towels in the trash and pushed through the door.

I needed to figure out what the hell was going on with me. But my gut told me that the answer was tangled up with the sorcerer, and until I discovered who he was and hunted him down, I’d be shit out of luck.

My hands were shaking when I saw Zara and Sam down the hall. They both looked at me, and I balled my fists and put on a fake smile.

“You okay?” Zara asked.

“Yup. Right as rain. Just had to gurgle some water.”

“Great. Casey’s waiting outside. I’ll meet you guys in a few. Nice game tonight.” She turned to Sam. “Check ya later.”

I didn’t wait for Sam to speak but beelined for the exit at the end of the warehouse that led out into the back lot.

Sam appeared beside me. “What’s up with you? You seem…off.”

“Maybe it’s because you just bodychecked me into the crowd. Or maybe it’s because your pack is a bunch of lying, murderous, psychos hellbent on destroying me and my family.”

Sam chuckled. “You’re being dramatic, and you know it. Billy was a wildcard.”

“Right, and the others he recruited? Lemme guess, they were just flukes?”

“There’s a lot of bad blood, but only a few acted on it. Jaxson has hunted down anyone in the pack he thought would be a risk.” Her tone grew serious, and a shiver skated down my spine. What had he done to the traitors?

“Anyway,” Sam continued, “sorry about your lip. I figured we both needed to blow off some steam tonight. Are we good?”

I gripped the doorknob of the exit and glared at her but only saw truth in her eyes. Sam was the one member of the pack who I’d grown to like, though she was prickly as hell and our last conversation still stung because it was the truth: You and Jaxson can’t ever be a thing. Just stay away.

I sighed and stepped out into the orange-lit parking lot. “Yeah, I’ve got no beef with you, just—”

My breath left my chest in a rush, and my pulse quickened. Instead of the bodyguards Jaxson had trailing me, I saw him.

“Jaxson freaking Laurent,” I hissed, my gaze locked on the devil beast himself. Six and a half feet of man-hunk under those blue jeans and dark V-neck. He was leaning against the hood of his truck with his arms crossed and a sinfully sexy scowl on his face, like he was annoyed that I’d kept him waiting. His eyes drank me in before flashing gold. My skin flushed, heat pooled low in my belly, and I silently cursed.

“Remember what I told you about smelling like a rare piece of steak? Lock your horny thoughts down, Savannah,” Sam chided.

Balling my fists, I tried to channel my embarrassment and irritation and turn it into calm. I failed.

“Did you know he’d be here?” I seethed through clenched teeth, hoping my anger would mask the heat under my skin.

She smirked. “Of course. He told me to make sure I took some of the fight out of you.”

Funny. I was just getting started.