Page 75 of Relics of the Wolf

My paws skimmed over the windowsill, and I sailed out, tail tucked between my legs. I landed on the pavers, my joints handling the drop easily in this form, but I had no way to open doors or gates as a wolf.

Glass shattered above me, Duncan pounding the window with his furred fists and knocking out panes. My instincts wanted me to race for the nearest exit, but I glimpsed something on the ground. My jacket. I could only vaguely remember why it was important to the human part of me, but I risked falling glass to rush back and snatch it with my jaws. Items clattered in the pockets, and I remembered the artifacts through the haze of my wolf thoughts. The medallion that belonged to my mother. Yes, I had to escape with it.

With the jacket dragging on the pavers, I turned toward the wrought-iron gate. The fields beyond it called to me. Out there, I could run fast and escape a two-legs. The bipedfuris was more powerful than a wolf but notfasterthan a wolf.

As if to deny my thought, Duncan sprang through the destroyed window. He landed in a deep crouch in front of me, blocking the way to the gate. As he spun toward me, claws slashing, I leaped to the side and ran around him. The jacket gripped in my jaws almost tangled in my legs, and I barely resisted the urge to fling it away.

Medallion. Important. I had to return it to my mother.

With the bipedfuris pounding after me, determined to tear me to pieces, I reached the gate. The smell of fresh air and farmlands enticed me, but I couldn’t squeeze between the bars. Unlike the young wolf who’d gone that way, I was full-grown, and I almost got stuck trying to ram myself through.

Instincts warned me of Duncan’s approach. I dropped the jacket outside the gate, then whirled back, snapping my jaws as his claws raked at me again.

I bit his furred wrist as it blurred toward me, but his blow knocked me sideways. Pain made me yelp as I tumbled across the pavers and crashed into a stone wall.

The entrance to the smelly building was open—the door lying where it had been ripped from its hinges—and I ran toward the entrance. I didn’t want to go in there, but there were few options. Maybe if I could lose my foe inside, I could circle back and escape. And the strong, odious odors should maskmyscent.

Duncan ran after me, footfalls heavy in the bipedfuris form, and I had no trouble keeping track of his position behind me. Sprinting inside, I raced around vats and machinery, the terrible scents invading my nostrils and clinging to my fur.

Faster than the bipedfuris, I outpaced him. Then I realized it wasn’t only my speed that allowed that. He’d stopped. Instead of following me, he waited by the entrance, believing I was trapped.

Was I? The memories of the passing I’d made as a human wafted hazily through my mind, images of wooden beams and a red-tiled cave floor. Another way out.

But when I weaved between the vats and reached the far side of the building, the stout door was closed. I grasped the latch with my jaws, trying to manipulate it, but it was locked. Before, the humans here had invited me in, but now… now they wanted me trapped with the bipedfuris.

Duncan’s thunderous roar echoed through the building, reverberating off the walls.

Growling, I turned toward the far entrance, facing the wide center aisle. At the end, he crouched in front of the doorway with his arms spread, his furry form silhouetted against the light of the courtyard. There was no choice. I would have to face him to escape. I might have to kill him.

He crouched lower as I approached, this time stalking with purpose straight down the aisle. There was no point in hiding. I willed my werewolf power to be great enough to match his and prowled closer.

He waited, saliva dripping from his fangs and his claws glinting as they reflected the small colored lights in the building. There was so much tension in his muscles—in his entire body—that he looked like he might be slow to react.

His face contorted. In rage? Pain? Blood saturated his coat in numerous places, but he looked like he was combatting something internally. Or maybe… Was he fighting the magic of the one who’d sent him after me?

In another form, this male had almost become my mate. Maybe he did not wish to battle me.

As if agreeing, Duncan threw his head back and roared again. Not the roar of battle lust but of frustration.

A faint howl drifted to us from somewhere outside. A young wolf.

Panting from his internal battle, Duncan cocked his head, half turning to look toward the gate. I took advantage and rushed him, jaws opening as I locked on a target that would make any male cry out in pain. He might be conflicted, but I was not. I could not be if I wanted to escape.

Not as distracted as I’d hoped, Duncan whirled back toward me, but his internal war and his interest in that howl had bought me a second. I lunged, jaws snapping.

He shifted enough that I bit his inner thigh instead of his genitals. My fangs sank deep, and it had to hurt, but he didn’t cry out. His arms came down, fists striking my back.

The weight of the powerful blows made my legs give out, and I dropped to the ground, but I hung onto his thigh, teeth latched on. I tried to shake my head, to knock him off balance as I dug deeper into flesh and muscles. He spun, stumbling into the door frame but managed to rake his claws down my back.

Fiery pain made me gasp, releasing the bite. With a roar filled with his own pain, Duncan struck me again. I had nothing to hold on to and went flying, again tumbling across the hard pavers of the courtyard.

With blood soaking my fur, I leaped to my feet. I couldn’t fight him. He was too strong.

Again, I sprinted to the gate. I latched onto one of the vertical bars and threw all my weight into pulling on it, willing my werewolf power to help me, to bend the iron. Its foul metallic taste filled my mouth, but I only bit and pulled harder.

Not far behind me, Duncan roared again. He pounded across the pavers, racing toward me.

The metal bent slightly. I kept pulling.

---