Fighting for the PJV – J.A. Belfield’s Ethan Holloway
“Hey.” I rub at the back of my neck. “I’ve been sent here by my creator, J.A. Belfield. If you want the truth, I’m sick of the shit she keeps making me do but she gave me no choice. Besides, this beats the stupid questions off people she keeps insisting I answer. Maybe I’ll just make her life hell by refusing to talk when she needs me to.”
I smile at the thought before gathering myself and remembering why I’m here.
“Unless you’re a werewolf whose butt I’ve kicked into line, you’ve probably never heard of me—though thanks to my brother’s love life going global, I seem to be getting more attention from females just lately.”
I tilt my head, purse my lips.
“Not sure what to make of that yet.”
My shoulders lift in a shrug.
“Anyway, I’m Ethan—Ethan Holloway. Son of Alpha and oldest younger-generation member of the Holloway Pack. I’m also the pack muscle. If an outside werewolf strays onto our territory, I very nicely ask them to get lost. Should we accidently find ourselves in another pack’s territory, I convince them to let us pass through without incident. And when specialist interrogation tactics are required?” Palms raised, I shrug. “I’m your wolf.”
I pause, scratching at my scalp.
Telling humans my secrets doesn’t sit all that well with me, but J.A. will most likely kill me off, or something, if I don’t comply, so I loosen my lips that want to clamp shut and push on.
“My last kill was called Thomas Richards, or something. He was part of the pack that took my pack sister, Jem—my brother’s mate.”
At the reminder of the occurrence, a growl brews in my chest.
“They snatched her.”
From under our noses.
The vibrations beating against my sternum refuse to die down.
“Nobody messes with my family that way and gets away with it. Nobody. And only an idiot would expect to.”
I take a deep breath.
“Luckily, she escaped. So, at first chance, we snatched one of them in return. And I beat the bastard until he spewed their address so we could pay them back how they deserved. I busted his nose first. Broke an arm. Some ribs. Internal bleeding has to be watched for if you don’t want to send them to their knees before you have your answers. Too many thumps to the torso can do that—especially if each punch lands in the same spot. Pop-pop-pop.” My fist snaps out at an invisible body, three successive empty pummels in time with the sound effects before I catch myself and return my hand to my side. “I watched him with every hit. Watched his eyes cloud as he tried to block out the pain. Watched the blood spray from his lips. And I listened to every sound that passed his lips—his cries, his grunts, his groans—until he gave us what we needed.” My lips twitch into a smirk as my eyebrow quirks up. “Then I snapped his neck.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Personally, I’d have been happier letting him bleed out in the forest where the carnivores would have slowly gnawed him down to the bone. But Dad said we couldn’t afford the mess right then.” My smile evaporates as my hands fist. “Thomas got off light.”
I tilt my head a few times, left, right, left again, stretching out my neck.
“My first kill happened at the age of eighteen. I found myself across the border in another pack’s territory—with one of my pack brother’s to defend. Eighteen months past my initial change in a body I was still figuring out how to use. By the time I’d finished with the wolf who wanted to turn us in to his Alpha, I had a clear idea of my abilities. So did he. Served him right for calling Kyle and me ‘wet behind the ears’ and clouting me round the head for my ‘piss poor upbringing by a father who obviously hadn’t taught me there were limitations as to where I could go’. The shithead did not lay a second finger on me, that’s for damn sure.”
I pound a fist against my palm.
“Anyway … as to why I’m here: the pack made me come today be
cause they reckon I’m too modest about my kills—they said I need to stand up and accept the glory for my achievements. Personally, I think they talk a load of rubbish—I do take credit for what I do. I just don’t shout my mouth off about it …” until now. “Though I’d have come anyway. After all, I have a reputation to uphold. That’s what I’m doing here. This is a contest. And I’m not used to losing. Ever. You understand me? Losing is not an option.”
Jem Stonehouse, a housewife with a neurotic husband bent on keeping her in line, dreams about werewolves in, what she believes, is a bid to escape boredom.
Sean Holloway is a werewolf, living a charade within the human race, whose mind drifts to a bond he shares with a woman he hasn’t met–at least, not in this lifetime.
Apart, the two are safe but live unfulfilled lives.
Together, they’ll become prey to rival packs just as they have been for hundreds of years.
When their worlds collide, and not for the first time, instinct takes over. Dreams become reality. Futures are uncertain. To keep history from repeating itself, Sean must teach Jem about his heritage, convince her of her role, and win her love.
Can Jem accept her destiny before it’s too late, or is her inner wolf buried too deep to save her future with Sean?
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