Grimm: A Novel In The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 3) (33 page)

This was ridiculous.

I would have to get Indie out of my hair. I needed at least one part of my plan to go as scheduled. I had set everything up so meticulously and it had immediately begun to unravel with the arrival of the Grimms. I needed Gunnar to keep her busy while I
Cake Boss
’d my way through this proposal. Then I sobered a bit.

If, that is, Gunnar
won
.

My gaze swiveled to the impromptu fighting ring, and I settled back to watch. Two Alphas battling was rare. At least to non-werewolves.

Gunnar respectfully dipped his head, arms clad in fur with inch-long, razor sharp, inky black claws. They looked like they belonged on a freaking Polar Bear. Since he hadn’t fully shifted they merely looked like an exceptionally muscular human’s arm covered in fur, with wicked claws. It wasn’t until he completed the shift that the joints popped into those more resembling a
steroid-infused
Arctic Wolf, the muscle mass shifting to the back, haunches, and jaws. But I idly began to wonder exactly
how
the transformation worked, on a magical or scientific level.

Then the leader snarled, and the fight was on.

Gunnar lurched back, barely dodging a fatal swipe of claws. It seemed this fight would take place in semi-shifted form, better able to take advantage of the mental cunning of humans rather than only the bloodlust of the wolf. A merger between the two forms. Perhaps that was normal. Not just showing brute strength but your humanity as well. I shrugged, wincing a bit as Gunnar dodged another swipe. He hadn’t yet attacked. And it seemed he only moved enough to barely evade each attack. No more. No less.

I found myself fidgeting, impotent to help my friend.

As I watched, I noted that Gunnar was toying with him. After each failed attack, he took a step closer to his opponent, unapologetically, and unimpressed – face blank. Almost akin to how one allowed a toddler to throw his tantrum, and wear himself out, while the adult calmly watched, not feeding into the insanity. I grinned.

The Alpha lunged again, a flurry of claws. But Gunnar simply wasn’t there. Then the leader fell over, grunting. Gunnar stood off to the side, holding a clawed hand in the air. It glistened crimson in the falling snow. He showed it to the pack, then turned back to the Alpha, a questioning look on his face. “I’m finished if you are. Neither of us needs die today. I did what I had to do. I don’t want to lead your pack. I was protecting a friend. That is all. Your wolves weren’t following your orders. They stated you didn’t want Temple harmed. But your soldiers didn’t comply. They attacked anyway. After sufficient warning.” He said softly, confidently, but voice still thick with menace. An olive branch. A chance to let both of them survive.

The Alpha roared in fury, pure carnage in his feral eyes. Gunnar sighed, and met him with a bodily impact I could practically feel. The wolves in the circle grew suddenly tense, fidgeting lightly from foot to foot. I heard a thickening crunch, and then watched as Gunnar lifted the Alpha over his head and tossed him into the nearby building. The werewolf slammed into the wall, brick crumbling slightly as his body crashed to the ground. He instantly climbed to his feet on shaky legs, eyes dancing with rage. Gunnar wasn’t even breathing hard.

I told myself this was due to him sparring against a wizard on an almost daily basis for the past decade or so. But I was pretty sure I was witnessing Gunnar cut loose, and he was simply that
good
. It was pretty inspiring to see. After all, I had assumed he was just like every other wolf, that all of them were pretty much as skilled as he.

Apparently not.

I saw Ashley flinching with each sound, no doubt fearing that each was Gunnar receiving his last wound. With the bag over her head, she had no idea. “Go, Gunnar!” I cheered, clapping delightedly. More for Ashley’s benefit than anything else. But it was like a shot of adrenaline for the Alpha. He launched himself at Gunnar in a blur and I heard a pained grunt from my friend, followed by a menacing growl. I darted forward without thinking, shoving wolves aside with a growl, eager to see what had happened. The wall of fidgety wolves had blocked whatever just happened. I heard a few responding snarls.

“Not interfering, just can’t see, mutt. Calm down.” This comment did not make me any new friends, but they did move out of my way, giving me ample space to see. Some weren’t even paying attention, eyes locked on the two figures standing in the circle.

I blinked as the tableau unfolded, my stomach tightening in revulsion.

The Alpha had his claws
inside
Gunnar’s chest.

Gunnar merely stared back at the Alpha, gripping the offending wrist with one hand, and the other held safely out to the side. The Alpha’s arms quivered with tension, but didn’t move, unable to overpower my friend. “Last… Chance.” Gunnar managed with a grunt. The Alpha went into a frenzy, redoubling his efforts. His claws sunk a bit deeper into Gunnar’s chest before my friend sighed in both pain and resignation. “Sorry about this, brother.”

And his arms began to flex, slowly forcing the claws from his chest like a sluggish glacier. The Alpha was drooling, spittle bursting from his lips as he fought to sink his claws to the hilt.

But he couldn’t.

Millimeter at a time, Gunnar slowly forced the claws from his chest, and the wound instantly began to soak his gleaming white undershirt, the fabric straining, popping, and ripping along the seams as Gunnar continued to force the Alpha’s claws away. And he never broke eye contact.

In fact, his face never changed at all. No strain. No pain. No mercy.

The Alpha’s face was incredulous as he was slowly but surely forced from a killing strike. Gunnar held him there, arms to the side, leaned forward, and snarled, “No one touches my girl.” Then, faster than I could register, he was inside the Alpha’s claws, right up against his chest. His massive hands clutched both sides of the Alpha’s face. Time seemed to slow as I saw the Alpha’s eyes widen in alarm, arms beginning to swing down towards Gunnar in a last second attempt to kill his opponent. Gunnar twisted his mighty arms with a roar that set off car alarms, and a
snap, crackle, pop
ended the duel like a tiny drum solo. The once Alpha dropped like a sack of bricks to the snow.

Gunnar’s chest heaved as he glared down at the body. Then he tore off his blood soaked tee, rounded on the surrounding pack in a menacing snarl, and slammed the bloodied rag to the earth.

Then he began to move, purposefully, confidently, and menacingly, towards the werewolf holding Ashley. The werewolf flinched, his allies suddenly a few feet back, leaving him to face the new Alpha alone, and clutching the woman Gunnar loved as a hostage. His hands instantly released her, and then hastily tore off the hood, taking an urgent step backwards. “Just doing as commanded, Alpha.” He offered weakly.

Gunnar’s chest heaved, still leaking blood from five very distinct and impossibly deep wounds over his right pectoral muscle. The muscle just might have been thick enough to protect him.

He didn’t take his murderous gaze from the wolf to look at Ashley, merely extended a thick, blood-smeared claw out to her. Her eyes blinked for a few seconds, assessing her surroundings in confusion. She latched onto the claw, not even caring that it wasn’t a human hand. Her eyes tightened as they settled on his wounds. Her hand fell into the pads of his paw, his claws instantly sheathing upon contact, and her skin disappeared from view as white, bloody fur swamped her dainty fingers. Her red hair stood out like a flame against his white furred arms, emphasizing the blood on the ground. “I’m fine.” She murmured softly to him.

Gunnar’s lips pulled back, and still, he didn’t remove his gaze from the now terrified werewolf guard. He silently moved Ashley behind him, shoulders rippling like giant slabs of steak had been tucked beneath the skin. The fur stopped mid bicep, transitioning to his human form at the shoulder, to ultimately reveal a hairy blonde chest. His six-pack had a six-pack.

Listen, you get it. Gunnar was
ripped
, folks. Like, really jacked and stuff.

His voice was gravel. “Listen up. I don’t care if you believe me or not. I killed your Alpha because he asked for it, and wouldn’t back down despite numerous chances to do so. I don’t tolerate anyone harming, or threatening to harm, my friends. At all.” He waited for a response. They nodded as one. Gunnar seemed to accept this. “Same as down in the sewers. I gave them a chance to back down. They didn’t. I did what I had to do. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it had to be done. And I always do what has to be done. Understood?” Again, they nodded, staring at him in awe. I idly wondered where the wolf leading the others in the sewer was. Blackbeard. And how I could find this Rhino wolf to get my ring back.

No one even glanced at the Alpha on the ground. Well, the werewolf who had been punched in the stomach seemed to smile momentarily before nodding along with the rest of the pack.

Gunnar’s pack.

Huh. This could come in handy.

“Hey, Gunnar. This might just help us out a bit. We could really use some backup when the Grimms come back. And now you have your own army.”

Gunnar was already shaking his head to himself. He turned to face me, and then pointed a finger at the brick wall.

Achilles burst out laughing. Several of the wolves smiled proudly.

I blinked, and studying the ice cold nature of his glacier blue eyes, I wisely turned back to do as requested. I wasn’t obeying an order. I was complying with a friend’s wish.

Seriously.

It wasn’t like his Gladiator impersonation had rattled me a bit. I mean, I had known Gunnar his entire life and had never seen him like this. And I had put him in some pretty dire situations. But this time was different. I hadn’t seen him resonate so much authority as he did now. It was almost as if his victory had granted him the ability to lead. And apparently, the pack seemed to agree. On the other hand, I realized him sending me away was a
very
wise move. His new pack would see him ordering a non-werewolf away rather than letting a friend jump into inner circle politics. This would earn their trust. Or solidify it. Just because he was my friend didn’t mean I had any say whatsoever in future decisions regarding his pack.

I found myself smiling as I neared Indie. She was watching me incredulously. Achilles studied me, and nodded, realizing I had understood the underscored benefit of complying with Gunnar, even though I was used to ordering him around. Kind of.

In the
Nate and Gunnar
show, I was used to figuratively
wearing the pants
.

But in the
Gunnar and pack
show, I wasn’t even a
consideration
.

I felt silently proud of my friend.

Then I saw a werewolf lunge at Gunnar’s unsuspecting back, a wicked knife clutched in his fist as he closed in on Gunnar’s neck. I didn’t even have time to shout a warning.

Chapter 33

T
he werewolf’s dagger was less than a foot away when he was suddenly tackled to the ground with enough force to give the attacker whiplash. Then his head cracked solidly into the fender of the jeep on the street and his body went limp. The defending werewolf snatched the dagger from his unconscious hands, and slammed it hilt deep into the attacker’s eye socket with a grunt. The body flinched and went still. It was the werewolf from the sewers. Blackbeard.

Gunnar had whirled, claws out, eyes dancing from body to body, realizing he was surrounded. Then he noticed the two wolves on the ground. One stood with a bloody knife clutched in his fist. It was the werewolf who had attempted to stop the duel.

Blackbeard sat in a pool of blood.

You could have heard a pin drop.

The savior tossed the knife to the ground and dipped his head in respect. Gunnar grunted, nodding after a few seconds as he stared down at the familiar werewolf who had started the whole mess down in the sewer. “Thanks,” He finally said to his hero.

The man shrugged. “You’re our Alpha now. It’s kind of my job. I’m your Geri.”

Gunnar was silent for a moment. I grunted, recognizing the word. “The
Ravenous
?” I translated the Norse word. “One of Odin’s two wolves.” I elaborated. The wolves simply stared at me with surprise, except for Gunnar. He continued to stare at the werewolf. “We’ll see about that.” He replied softly.

The man cocked his head for a moment, but didn’t say anything.

Gunnar elaborated. “I’m not fit to lead a pack. I guess you could say that I led a
pack
of FBI Agents once. And failed spectacularly. You deserve better.”

The crowd lit up in an uproar, arguing over each other in variations of, “He has to lead us!”

Geri studied the crowd until they grew silent. Then he spoke to Gunnar as if no one else was present. “They are right. Our pack will devolve into civil war as we fight for a new leader. This saves bloodshed. That is the point of the Alpha Duel.” He said gently.

Gunnar grunted again. I knew after being fired from the FBI he had a sore spot in the confidence department. Surely this would nip that in the bud. Geri seemed to notice this. “It is for the best.”