My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

As Gunnar awaited his fate at the hands of this powerful male who he had woefully underestimated for years, Graeme squinted his eyes closed in regret at this situation. The male shouldn't get away with this—he didn't want him to get away with it—but what would happen if Graeme retaliated in the way his instincts were telling him?

It would definitely cause an issue with him retaking power. The elders could use violence against a male council member as an example of any number of things: how Graeme was out of control, unfit for power, under the control of his "witch" mate, a threat to the pack… it would give the elders the ammunition they needed to keep Graeme from rising.

He also didn't want to hurt anyone like that in front of August. What would she think of him if he fully unleashed that inner beast—especially when this male was submitted? Gunnar wasn't fighting or denying. He was owning what he did.

Most of all, this male had a mate. Now that Graeme had found August, he understood the implications of that more than ever before.

With these thoughts, Graeme searched that familiar place inside of him where he knew August's emotions ran together with his own like water—that beautiful river of theirs that flowed deep within them both. Now that he was back on pack land, he could feel it more clearly, and he wanted to know her feelings without having to search her or ask.

How did she wish for him to proceed?

August watched in stunned awe from where she was seated now in the mud, not daring to move. Whatever was happening between Graeme and the males who had left and now this male before him seemed like some kind of show of power that she didn't want to interrupt. It wasn't her place.

When Graeme asked about whether Gunnar had a mate, August knew the answer. She had seen his mate in his thoughts when he approached her that first day at the pack house after she, Greta, and Graeme had all met with the council. Gunnar cared for his mate deeply. He was not without flaws, but he cared for his mate.

The thought that Graeme could possibly kill him now for August's sake and, in turn, kill his mate was horrifying—regardless of what he had done to August. She wasn't sure she could entirely blame him. After all, the events of the day had made her terrified of herself. Why wouldn't he or anyone else be terrified of her?

Her thoughts ran over the series of events that had occurred after photography with Sage in the market, trying to understand how this had all unfolded to a place where Greta and Sam were in prison and Graeme was looming threateningly over a pack member who had dragged her by her hair through the mud. It was a nightmare—one that she felt at least partially responsible for.

When she met those mates earlier, the sickening familiarity with that type of abuse rose from a place she thought she had moved passed. Alan was abusive to her mom, and she had witnessed it, but she didn't realize her body had the physical memory of it that way—the sudden surge of adrenaline and fear and protection that came from deep inside of her somewhere.

That whole situation in and of itself was upsetting—and then to find out that they were mates? The female had looked at August with such terror and hatred afterward.

'They were right. You are a witch!' She had said with more fear toward August than toward her abusive mate. 'You almost killed us us.'

August just kept coming back to how it was even possible that she had stopped the air from… moving? From being available to breathe? Her eyebrows pinched seeing it again. It kept repeating in her mind—Sage bent over… lacking air. And the way he was gasping afterward.

Just hearing about that incident would frighten anyone in the pack. And that was before the males with Lucas had witnessed her voice change the way it had… another thing she couldn't understand or control.

No, she didn't blame Gunnar. If he cared about the pack and she was some kind of creature none of them had ever seen before, why wouldn't he act that way? The question was why Lucas seemed to spring to her defense.

Suddenly she felt Graeme stroking that place inside where he lived within her—he was seeking her feelings about how to proceed with the male before him. August could feel his rage as if the threat of it was puttering in her own throat.

Goddess, he was back. She was feeling him again—so close that it was as if he was within her own skin. She sighed in relief at that comfort of him at home in her and at the way he was inviting her into this dilemma he felt.

He still hadn't turned to look at her. He was facing away—his stance protective in the way he had positioned himself between her and Gunnar. So she was forced to look at the beautiful rolling muscles of his back and the perfect round curve of his ass…

Just as her mind started to wander, Graeme growled softly in her mind. She was distracting him with the direction her thoughts were headed.

Clearly August was not eager to see Gunnar pay for how he had treated her. Graeme had to fight to not let his smirk show for how her thoughts were wandering.

"Gunnar, right?" Graeme took one step back away from the male, allowing him room to breathe.

"Yes, Alpha," the male responded, head still lowered.

"Gunnar, I will take your behavior today as an indication of what I have already come to suspect: that our pack needs the leadership and guidance it hasn't had. For that reason only," Graeme's voice lowered again to its threatening depth, "am I sparing you today. Your mate needs you.. Remember that the next time you are graced with the presence of mine."