Page 60 of The Warlock's Kiss

Merrick wrenched open his connection to the ley line. Magic, rawer and more powerful than he’d ever felt, surged through him, suffusing his entire being. The heat within him built to a near unbearable degree—but it could not match the heat of his anger.

“Kill him,” the alpha growled.

Merrick swept his arm in a wide arc, unleashing a wave of unshaped magical energy.

The front wolves, who’d been mid-leap already, were struck head-on. The energy swept back their fur for a fraction of a second before it blasted them both backward. Despite their size, the wolves flipped end-over-end in a pair of arcs that saw them crash down only a few yards away from the garden hedge.

Using that power was a thrill; it came effortlessly, without depleting Merrick’s magic, without drawing from his own energy. Heady as it was, he recognized the danger of it—this power would destroy him if he tapped into it too fully. But hehadto use it. This was the surest way to keep Adalynn and her brother safe. No risk was too great to protect them.

And the ley line offered more than just raw magical energy. Merrick’s senses were opened wide, expanded beyond reason—he was acutely aware of the mana songs, no matter how faint, ofeverythingaround him, even the blades of grass, the tiny pebbles, the dirt under his feet and the worms burrowing through it. He held those senses in check. He knew instinctually that, should he choose to, he could expand that awareness to any point along the line. That he could senseeverythingalong its entirety.

He also knew that to do so would mean losing himself—hisself—forever.

The alpha and the gray female staggered to their feet and shook away their disorientation. Faint wisps of smoke rose from their fur. The brown werewolves had retreated several feet from their original positions, eyes wide and breath ragged.

“For the pack,” the alpha snarled.

Those words seemed to jar the reluctant pair. Their features hardened, and they moved in unison with their companions, fanning out to form a wide half-circle in front of Merrick. Though they hung nearly ten yards back, Merrick didn’t lower his guard; they could close that distance incredibly fast if they chose to do so.

He didn’t intend to give them that chance.

He acted without allowing himself another moment’s thought, lashing out with invisible magic coils to latch onto the sources of the various mana songs around him—clumps of grass and the far-reaching roots of trees older than the house behind him. As one, the wolves’ hackles rose. Their fur shone in the blue glow Merrick was emitting, which was cast by the magic coursing freely over his skin like dancing forks of lightning, brighter and more intense than ever before. He forced energy through his connections with those plants, altering their resonances, amplifying them.

Merrick swept his arms upward, and the grass and roots surged from the ground, growing and expanding in the blink of an eye. They writhed and whipped like angry tentacles, grabbing at the wolves.

The werewolves reacted with superhuman speed, but it wasn’t enough; they only managed a few feet before the magic-infused vegetation caught all four of them, halting their advance. The wolves snarled and struggled, snapped and growled, shredding the plants with fangs and claws. Their strength and ferocity saw them gradually gaining ground.

“What is he?” asked the gray female.

“Doesn’t matter,” the alpha replied. “He’s about to be dead.”

Merrick split his focus, pouring magic into his hands to form pulsing spheres of raw energy. His hold on the plants slipped slightly. The alpha lunged forward, gaining a full two yards before a thick root coiled around his neck and stopped him.

The alpha roared. The powerful sound swept over Merrick—it was so primal, so rage-filled, that it sparked a hint of fear deep in his gut. Merrick cast that aside; he would not let fear consume him, would not let himself be afraid of these brutish creatures who’d come to take what was his, to threaten his home, hiswoman.

The fury that had already been stoked in Merrick erupted. He let out a roar of his own—it rumbled with magic, quaked with rage, thundered with protectiveness, possessiveness, and love—and unleashed the magic from his hands.

Blue-white energy sprayed from his palms and ignited the magic-enhanced vegetation, enveloping the wolves in a blinding column of raw power. He knew immediately it would not be enough; the grass and roots disintegrated within a second, but the werewolves were made of tougher stuff than that. Freed of their bindings, they all leapt clear of the supernatural blaze, crashing to the ground to the left and right of the blast zone—all but the gray female, who leapt directly at Merrick.

She emerged from the blaze with singed, smoking fur and raw burns all over her body, but her eyes were bright and filled with bestial fury. Her black claws, each more than an inch long, gleamed in the light of his magic. They could rend Merrick’s flesh as easily as a razor could slice a sheet of paper.

Andimmortaldid not meaninvulnerable.

Merrick released his hold on the magic and jumped aside. The wolf soared past him, her claws opening a set of shallow gashes on his shoulder as she twisted to account for his movement. Hot blood trickled down his arm, seeping ethereal blue wisps of magic, as he turned to face her.

She hit the ground hard, rolled, and sprang back to her feet. Smoke wafted from her damaged body, but her wounds—despite their severity—showed signs of healing right before his eyes.

Apparently, the werewolves’ already accelerated healing factor had only been enhanced by the Sundering.

Her gaze met Merrick’s, and she leapt forward to attack again.

Through the ley line, Merrick sensed the other wolves moving, but he didn’t look away from the charging female. He lifted both arms and shaped his magic into solid, pointed shafts—like spears of glowing blue glass—and extended the weapons out from his palms.

The points struck the female in the chest and burst out her back. Her momentum carried her along the shafts, closer to Merrick, with arms and legs thrashing wildly and jaws snapping.

Merrick growled and channeled magic through the spears—magic directly from the ley line. The surge of unbridled energy tensed his every muscle and resonated through his bones, threatening not merely to drown out his mana song but to unravel it entirely. He held on, wrapping himself in a cocoon of willpower and fury to maintain his assault.

The magic flared inside the wolf. She opened her jaws wide and released a cry that was part agonized scream and part bloodthirsty roar. Her flesh split and cracked; arcane energies poured out of the widening wounds.

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