The Defiant Claim - The Claim: Book 2 [LGBTQ+]

Five years since that monster murdered his father. Twelve years since he slaughtered half his family and his grandfather. Twelve years since that fucker took everything from him.

Mikwam wanted blood. He wanted to see the bastard scream and writhe in agony before he slit his throat. He would give Noodin a quick death, not that he deserved it, but because he couldn’t risk having him slip out of his grasp.

And then that male appeared in the woods at the border and screwed everything up.

His mate.

He should have killed that runt. He got in his way.

Even with his lust for blood, he couldn’t bring himself to harm that male.

A growl reverberated faintly from his chest. He couldn’t wait to get his claws around his throat.

He ruined everything.

A faint muffled moan beside him stirred the blood in his veins. A beeping noise picked up speed as a rustle hinted at another’s presence. Mik inhaled, a pleasing aroma filled his senses. He groaned before breathing the delicious scent in more deeply, drawing it in to fill every crevice in his lungs. It smelled familiar but he couldn’t place it.

Then it hit him and his eyes shot open.

The smell. The forest. That male.

His mate.

With a snarl, he lurched forward, looking around in the dimly lit room and the monitor beeping his racing heartbeat and a tube attached to a bag hanging on a rack next to him. More importantly, on the other side of him in an identical bed pressed next to his was that male.

“Hey, you’re awake,” the male mumbled as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

A more forceful growl ripped through Mik’s throat as he yanked the wires and tube from his body and threw his legs over the side of the bed—only to tumble out of it.

“Hey! Slow down!” the male called out, rushing to Mik’s side.

“Get away from me!” Mik snarled, pushing him away and failing. The room spun as the blood rushed from his head. It was then he noticed his right arm and leg were plastered and unmoving and he lost balance instead of shoving the male away.

He flinched but helped Mik up anyway.

An older female rushed in to help him ease Mik back onto the bed. “There, there, now. You need to be more careful or you’ll rebreak your arm and leg and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Bring me your alpha!” Mik demanded, pulling free from their grasp as soon as he was on the bed.

She set her hands on her hips. “You, sir, are in no position to demand anything from me.”

“You will bring him to me or I will rip out your throat!”

Before he could blink, she had her hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed it tight. He gasped for air as he stared into her narrowed eyes.

“You forget your place, rogue. Need I remind you that you are in no position to demand anything?”

“Eloise!” the male cried as he and Mik tried to pry her hand from his throat.

She held on for a few more painful seconds before releasing him and he fell back on his bed, coughing and wheezing.

“Speak to me like that again, and next time you’ll get my teeth. It’s three o’clock in the morning. Alpha is sleeping. You are not worth waking him up,” she said before turning to the male. “I’m sorry, Sam. You better watch yourself. He’s got an attitude problem.”

The male, Sam, hung his head as she glared once more at Mik before walking out.

Mik avoided the pained look on Sam’s face as he massaged his neck. His fingers brushed against his hair and he reached up to feel what had become of it. A growl rumbled up his throat. “Who braided my hair?”

His lips curled at Sam as Sam drew further away. “I-I wanted t-to k-keep it clean. I-I didn’t kn-know when y-you would wake up.”

“Stop stammering!”

“I’m sorry,” Sam immediately apologized.

Mik growled to silence him. Dammit! If there was one thing he hated more than sleeping in a pile of shit, it was being near a weak male.

And he’s your mate. That reminder drew forth another growl.

How the fuck was his mate a pathetic, weak-ass male? How? It was impossible! It had to be a mistake.

He pulled the elastic bands from his hair one at a time before trying to undo each braid. How the fuck did that runt manage to put his hair into a dozen little braids?

“The fuck is wrong with you?” he grumbled. “What kind of a male knows how to braid hair?”

Sam shrugged, hanging his head and wringing his hands together in front of him.

He was so weak, he didn’t even have a strong male scent. There was something off about him.

Mik studied his features as he fumbled around with the braids. He had softer features for a male. Large blue eyes framed by long black lashes. His hair was jet black and cropped short. Despite the loose T-shirt, Sam had narrow shoulders and a long, lean frame. His hands were small and soft looking. Mik couldn’t see any battle scars anywhere, only acne scars dotted his face, clean of facial hair. The more Mik studied Sam’s face, the more his fingers itched to touch it.

Growling to himself, he looked away as he brushed his fingers through the wavy strands of hair. It hadn’t felt this soft and clean in ages.

Awkward silence hung thick and heavy between them as they avoided looking at each other. The moment his skin began to prickle, he knew Sam was looking at him and he shot him a hard glare. “Don’t look at me.”

Sam grimaced and looked away. “Sorry.”

Another apology. How pathetic.

His lips curled in disgust. How was this possible? How could the Moon Goddess grant him a male mate? He wasn’t attracted to males. A male couldn’t bare his pups and continue his lineage. A male couldn’t be his Luna and lead his pack at his right-hand side. An alpha needed a luna to lead with them. A female. The harmony and balance generated between a male and a female was necessary for the well-being of a pack.

How could he reclaim his birthright and expect others to follow him with a male mate?