“Hudson’s got this, Grace,” Flint murmurs quietly in my ear.

I swallow a scream as Wolf Head lunges at him again. Hudson, in the meantime, doesn’t even seem fazed. He just glances out at the crowd and asks, “Why is there never a newspaper around when you need one?” even as he pretends to smack the wolf on the nose. “Bad doggy.”

Half the crowd gasps (I’m part of that group) while the other half cracks up—including all my friends. Even Jaxon chuckles, and that’s before Hudson continues in the most British voice imaginable.

“Sorry to interrupt your little…ambush? But with all the foaming at the mouth going on here, it seems prudent to ask if you’ve had your rabies shots?”

This time, it’s Marc who lunges straight for him, his hand shifting into a claw as he goes right for Hudson’s face. Hudson, on the other hand, must have decided that he’s taunted the wolves enough, because instead of dodging this time, he stands right where he is and leans back just far enough that Marc rakes his claws down the side of his neck instead of his cheek.

I don’t even try to stop the scream that explodes from my throat—not that I could have if I tried. Jaxon’s hand clamps down on my right shoulder just as Flint’s clamps down on my left.

Jaxon growls. “That was just about not getting into shit with Foster. He let them draw first blood.”

“Well, he did a good job of it,” I snarl back, because blood is flowing pretty freely from the claw marks.

Even worse, it’s emboldened Marc and the others, who are now closing in on Hudson—Marc and Wolf Head from the front, the third wolf from the back—with the look of people intent on ripping their prey limb from limb.

I wait for Hudson to respond, wait for him to give some kind of clue as to how he plans to handle this latest attack. But for what feels like forever, he does nothing except watch them, his bright-blue eyes going back and forth between the two guys closing in on him from the front.

I’m most worried about the one from the back—who he can’t see—but Hudson must sense him, because he shifts a little, making sure that his back is against the wall. But that’s the only move he makes as everything seems to happen in slow motion.

Seconds feel like minutes as sweat rolls down my spine. Terror is a wild thing within me, and I’m positive if something doesn’t happen soon, I’m going to end up screaming the castle down or throwing myself between Hudson and the wolves. Or both.

Probably both.

But just as Jaxon tenses beside me—probably with shades of the same thoughts running through his head—and I reach down deep to find my gargoyle string, Marc rushes Hudson, with the other two hot on his heels. And Hudson…Hudson does the absolute last thing I would ever expect him to do. Ever.

He grabs Marc by the shoulders and lifts him several feet off the ground. But instead of throwing him and moving on to the next threat, Hudson never lets him go. Instead, he pulls his arms up and to the side (while still holding Marc) and then swings the struggling, snarling wolf like he’s a baseball bat straight at Wolf Head, like he’s the ball.

And apparently, Hudson is one hell of a batter, because Wolf Head goes flying. Like, bases-loaded, home-run-ball flying, straight across the foyer and out the still-open castle doors. Then, instead of dropping Marc like most players do their bats, he keeps swinging until Marc’s body meets the stone wall and the laws of physics go to work.

A collective gasp rises up from the crowd as the sounds of both bone and stone shattering fill the room.

Hudson drops him into a heap of broken limbs and ribs before whirling around to face the next threat. The third wolf obviously has a death wish or a God complex, because anyone with an ounce of self-preservation is backing away—including every other wolf in the room.

I’m not sure if this guy is worried about losing face or having his ass handed to him by the rest of his pack later, but whatever it is, it keeps him barreling straight at Hudson like a vampire-seeking missile. Hudson doesn’t so much as blink. He just braces for the attack, feet grounded and arms loose by his sides until one second before the wolf shifter reaches him. Then he lashes out with his foot and kicks him as hard as he can in the kneecap.

The shifter goes down with a high-pitched whimper, but Hudson isn’t done yet. He pulls back his hand and slaps him, hard, right across the face.

The entire room recoils, and I don’t even have to ask why. I may be new to the paranormal world, but I don’t need to be an expert to know that right there is the biggest insult any male of any species could deliver to another.

Even before Hudson leans down and says, “Next time you want to play, I suggest you bloody well make it worth my time. There’s nothing I hate more than being bored.”

And then, to add insult to a whole heap of injury, he pats the guy on the head and says, “Good doggy,” before dusting his hands off and walking straight toward me.

40

Fight or Fright Club

All around me, the guys are whooping and hollering at Hudson’s triumph, because testosterone is a thing, but I’m just kind of frozen in shock. I was so scared, so certain that they were going to rip him apart, that I’m having a hard time getting past the fear.

I jump on him as soon as he gets close, throwing my arms around him in a hug. “Don’t ever do that again!” I tell him.

“Do what?” He pulls back to look at me, brows lifted, a slightly bemused grin on his face. “Kick some werewolf arse? Because I’m afraid I can’t promise that.”

I narrow my eyes at him as I pull away, place my hands on my hips. “You know exactly what I mean. I was terrified you were going to get hurt!”

“I tried to tell her you could handle a few dogs, no matter how bad their attitude problem, but she wasn’t having it,” Mekhi tells him.

“What was their problem anyway?” I demand, glancing among Hudson, Flint, Luca, Mekhi, and Jaxon, who is suddenly interested in looking at anyone and everyone but me.

“What do you mean?” Flint answers blankly.

“Why would they just start in on Hudson for no reason? It doesn’t make any sense.”

All five of them look at me with varying degrees of amusement. “Sure it does,” Luca finally says. “With Cole gone, there’s a power vacuum as they fight it out for the alpha position. It was a dominance display, pure and simple.”

“Pretty sure you mean a lack of dominance display.” Mekhi snickers. “Except for my man Hudson here.”

Hudson just shakes his head, looking more bemused by the second. Once again, I realize just how strange it must feel to realize there are people in your life who have your back, who have faith in you and who genuinely want you to succeed.

At least until Uncle Finn comes tearing down the hallway, loaded for bear—or, in this case, vampire. “Vega brothers!” he snaps out, looking at Hudson and Jaxon both. “Go wait for me in my office.” When they just kind of stare at him, he adds a “Now!” to the command in a voice that has every single person in the room standing at attention—including the two Vega brothers.

“What did I do?” Jaxon asks, an insulted look on his face.

But Uncle Finn gives it right back. “Something, I have no doubt.” He points toward the hallway that leads to his office, then turns to Marise—the vampire who runs the infirmary—and directs, “Get all three of the wolves to the infirmary wing. Have a few of the other seniors help if you need it. I’ll be by later to discuss punishments with them.

“In the meantime—” He turns to look at the still-overcrowded common rooms and orders, “Disperse.”

For once, there’s absolutely no hesitation. The second his eyes sweep the room, people start to scatter.

To be honest, I’m impressed. I didn’t realize Uncle Finn had it in him. He’s always seemed like the kind of headmaster who rules through love, not fear, but apparently he knows how to do the fear thing when he needs to.

I wait for the room to empty out before I approach him, but I’ve barely reached his side when he says, “You too, Grace.”

His voice is a lot quieter with me than it was with the others, but there’s no mistaking the order in it. Still, I’d like to try to explain to him what happened.

“But, Uncle Finn, this wasn’t Hudson’s fault—”

“That’s not for you to decide, Grace.” For the first time ever with me, his voice is cold. My lovable uncle Finn is gone, and in his place is a very pissed-off headmaster, one who apparently isn’t going to take any shit from anyone. Including me. “Now, go to class. The bell’s going to ring any minute.”