Page 38 of Targeted By Temptation
“Why are shifters so predictable?” Calloway faked a yawn. “Always rushing to save their mate even if it means a gruesome death.” He sniggered, and the sound sent shivers up my spine.
I’d never been face to face with him previously; I’d only seen pics, but it was his eyes I was drawn to. They were pale and most shifters, whether latent or not, had dark eyes. His were ice cold, and I was certain I’d never forget them.
He scented of humans and shifters, and my wolf was eager to take him down, as was I. But he didn’t appear to have a gun, and without a beast to fight on his behalf, I didn’t see how he was going to be a worthy adversary. But that worried me because of his confident smirk. And he wasn’t close to Reign, so couldn’t use him as a shield.
He blew on his nails as if he’d just achieved something momentous. But this must’ve been part of his schtick when he was aware he was outmaneuvered.
I put myself between Calloway and Reign because I was anxious to get my mate out of the room so my brothers could protect him.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Yikes, I sounded like an old-timey gangster, and my outburst had Calloway roaring with laughter. Maybe he thought the same.
“You’ve been watching too many mafia movies.” He glanced around the room. “What’s next? A horse’s head in my bed?” He tapped his lips and wandered around the room. “No. You’re going to shift and show me your big bad wolf.”
Goosebumps trampled over my skin because I’d joked to the Stravon guards using much the same language.
“Go on. Do it. I’ve killed many of your kin, and you’ll be just one more, someone I won’t remember in a day or two.”
I lunged and threw a punch that should have whacked him in the jaw. But he bobbed and weaved, his movements reminding me of smoke curling around me, and his fist connected with my ribs. A loud crack ripped through the room as my ribs snapped, but they immediately began to heal. That was a skill Calloway didn’t have.
I’m taking my fur and gutting this guy like a fish.
But before my beast took over, Calloway’s elbow connected with my chin. My vision blurred just as I retreated inside my wolf. This should have been the easy part where sharp teeth sank into Calloway’s throat and ended his life.
His voice coming from far away, taunted me and my beast. “You're not as good as you think you are. None of you are.”
Reign was screaming my name as Calloway stumbled backward to escape my wolf. His expression was no longer cocky, and I expected this fight to be over in minutes if not seconds.
“There it is.” He cackled, and my wolf snarled, ready to leap on him. But as he prepared to launch at the guy, the air around Calloway shimmered.
What the heck is that?I couldn’t make out what I was seeing but was confident my wolf would attack Calloway within seconds. It reminded me of heat rising from the pavement on a stinking-hot summer’s day. It was real and yet it couldn’t be. He had some trick in his hand, like the ones kids used to order from comics.
But my wolf didn’t take him out or leap. He was frozen as the haze or smoke or whatever formed a shape.
It’s a wolf!
It looked like one, but it reminded me of the images protesters projected onto buildings.
But it lunged at my wolf. Oh shit. What was this? It might not have been real, but its teeth appeared hard and sharp, and they snapped a hair’s breadth from my wolf’s muzzle. My beast dodged, but the fake wolf’s hot, stale breath came from somewhere.
When my wolf tried to sink his teeth into the phantom wolf, the other beast moved as if swimming through water. My beast drew back just as sharp claws raked over his shoulder.
It’s real,he screeched while he yelped in pain, and Reign shrieked behind us.
This was his skill. Not so much that he could scent shifters at a hundred paces. This was how he’d danced through life withbarely a scrape and few consequences. He could fight our beasts with a twisted vision of his own.
The phantom wolf attacked my beast, and we weren’t quick enough to get out of his way. More blood spilled, and Calloway’s laugh formed the backdrop to our pain and confusion. It was almost as though we had two opponents—no, we did. Calloway and the wolf he conjured up.
Reign was sobbing, and that, more than Calloway or his phantom buddy, urged me to take out this guy.
The fake wolf lunged again, and I urged my wolf to charge at it and through it. A fiery-hot burning sensation singed my beast’s fur, but he kept going and ran at Calloway. The guy’s eyes registered surprise or maybe shock. For the first time, there was fear.
He was frozen in place, his legs not moving. His arms flailed above his head as my beast’s jaws closed around his throat, and there was a satisfying crunch. The man screamed, and the vision swirled until it was just a blob, before vanishing
Blood spurted over the walls, the floor, and my wolf, but he didn’t let go. He shook the almost lifeless body from side to side, finally letting go, and what had once been a man smashed into the desk. His eyes were wide open as if even in death, he refused to admit defeat.
But it was over.
My wolf was spent, but I had enough strength to take my skin, and Reign flung himself into my arms. I collapsed under his weight, covering him in Calloway’s blood and some of my own.
