Thea wanted to argue but Conall was already pulling her out of the store.
And then they were running.
She tightened her hand in his as they ran as fast as they could without drawing even more unwanted attention. The burning tingle of warning fizzled uncomfortably down Thea’s neck and she knew the wolves were giving chase.
Most shoppers jumped out of their way as they hurried down the tree-lined streets. Conall raced across intersection after intersection, causing car horns to beep and pedestrians to shout at them in aggravated German.
Finally, after a mile of running in a straight line, Conall turned left down a random street, his eyes on the doorways to their left. Around the midway point, he dove into an open doorway, pulling her through a windowless, empty lobby. They jumped a pile of filled trash bags and Conall burst through the door at the other end. Abruptly they found themselves in the shadowed courtyard of the commercial buildings surrounding them.
He pushed Thea into the farthest corner, and she looked up to note that anyone could witness what was about to happen from the windows above. But better here where no one else could get hurt, she supposed.
“I can fight,” she insisted again as Conall dropped his pack and gave her his back, guarding her.
“I told you, Thea”—he shrugged out of his clothes—“this fight is mine. They touch you, they die.”
Thea barely heard his words—she was too busy watching the reveal of his naked body in awe. Somehow without clothes he seemed even bigger. His broad shoulders and back were powerful in muscle and width. He threw his shirt on top of his backpack, still facing the doorway, and then kicked off his boots and worked the belt on his jeans.
She braced herself, feeling a flush high on her cheeks as he pushed down his underwear and jeans, kicked them off, and straightened to his full height. She shouldn’t look. Shouldn’t ogle.
But Jesus Christ, he was magnificent.
His ass was round and taut with muscle, his thighs thick, his calves the same. He was like one of those Roman statues of male perfection. That feeling of primal female want and need that was becoming too familiar flooded deep in her belly.
Conall glanced over his shoulder at her, his nostrils flaring. She could only stare, stunned by her own reaction to him.
“Ceannsaichidh an Fhìrinn,” his voice rumbled over the foreign words.
Before she could ask what they meant, he curled his hands into fists and Thea felt the energy around him amplify. All the hairs on her body rose as she witnessed Conall transform. First his claws sprang free, long and sharp and deadly, his jaw elongated, and sharp teeth filled his mouth. Thick black fur pushed through his skin at the same time she heard the first snap of bone.
She winced, thinking it sounded painful, but Conall’s groan suggested otherwise. The grunts and moans he made were like ones of pleasure as he dropped to his fours. His limbs cracked and changed.
The appearance of their two hunters in the doorway drew her attention from the Scot and Thea braced to fight, to protect Conall while he was in the middle of shifting. But the wolves immediately tore off their own clothes.
Conall was right.
These two weren’t armed.
They’d come to fight the honorable way.
But there was two against Conall.
Worry tightened her gut, a concern that gave way to awe as she watched Conall’s transformation complete. Where once was a man was now a massive wolf, twice the size of an ordinary wolf.
He huffed through his snout and bared his teeth at the new arrivals, waiting for them to shift before he pounced.
Another wolf wouldn’t have been so courteous, especially when it was two against one.
Thea stepped forward and the black wolf whipped his head toward her, Conall’s pale gray eyes glaring at her. He snarled and she knew it was a warning to stay back.
Annoyed but daring to trust him, Thea retreated and he bobbed his head, which she took for appreciation. He turned his attention to the wolves, who had almost completed their transformation.
They were smaller than Conall, Thea realized. One pure gray, the other gray and brown.
She had to hope they were weaker too.
Her heart jumped in her throat as they suddenly flew at the Scot. His growl was deep and terrifying as he lunged, soaring over the two of them, landing on his front paws, only to twist in a blur of movement, his teeth coming down on the flank of the gray-brown wolf.
Tense with determination to jump in if he needed her, Thea watched, balanced on the tips of her toes, ready to join the fray, as Conall fought off the wolves. She winced when their teeth met his fur and inwardly whooped when he got in a hit.
They tried to circle him, but his size and reflexes made it impossible. Conall bit and clawed, getting in more hits to the two than they managed between them.