Page 34 of Howling
We are not prey.
I crouch low and brace for impact, readying my knife. The wolf launches into the air, mouth gaping open wide, fangs on display and ready to rip out my throat. I lift my damaged arm to block him, my blade already swinging.
A millisecond before he would’ve latched on to my arm and mauled it, someone thrusts their own arm into the beast’s maw, forcing the wolf to fucking choke. Even as the wolf plows into me with his full weight and speed, my knife slams down on the top of his skull. The dense bone slows down the blade only slightly, the sharpened metal easily passing through it before entering his brain, and it’s lights out.
The effort it takes reverberates up my arm, but my blade holds strong.
The impact sends me falling backward, and I’m buried under the furry mess, my breath knocked out of me. Wolf fangs gleam just inches from my face. One fang has punctured the arm of my rescuer, entering his skin only enough to draw blood. The other fang barely even dimples his flesh. The blood from the wolf and my rescuer drips toward me, peppering my face and lips, the taste of death and raw power an intoxicating mix that I can’t stop myself from licking away.
I glance up, ready to demand that my would-be rescuer drag the mutt off me, only to fall mute when I peer up at the gorgeous eyes of a stranger. Power swirls in his liquid silver gaze. Even in the darkness, his black and silver hair gleams, a few strands catching the moonlight and twinkling like diamonds. In a trick of the light, I swear his skin shimmers for a moment too.
The black and silver hair should make him appear old, giving him the impression of a silver fox, but his youthful expression isincongruous with that. A shifter’s age is deceptive, so he could be anywhere from twenty years old to over a thousand.
From the power radiating from him, I’m going to assume it’s closer to the latter.
Never once looking away from me, he reaches down, casually snapping the wolf’s jaw before retrieving his arm. He reaches forward, lightly touching my face, smearing even more blood across my lips. “Found you.”
Then a hardness enters his eyes, and it takes me precious seconds to realize he’s not a pack member.
He’s Orion.
They found me.
Fear sparks like a blaze in my chest. As he rises to his feet, I desperately try to wiggle out from the dead wolf, but I’m pinned tight. I watch in horror as he calmly uncurls chains from around his torso before kicking the body off me.
Even as I spin, ready to take off running, he slams into me like a fucking truck. One knee lands between my shoulder blades, pinning me to the ground as easily as a bug. His free hand casually captures my wrist, and I clutch my blade tighter, refusing to release it. “I think I’ll take that. Can’t have you trying to make me into a pincushion, can we?”
The deep sound of his voice resonates in my bones, the huskiness rubbing deliciously along my nerve endings, and my wolf fucking freaks out, torn between snarling at the asshole for restraining us and panting like a bitch in heat.
Crazy hussy.
He pries my knife away from me like it’s nothing more than plucking a flower, and my wolf paws at the ground in appreciation of his strength—me, not so much. My beast sniffs the air, practically panting when the fresh, crisp scent of frost on a cold morning hits our lungs. Lust bleeds into my veins, my wolf urging me to play with him, pin him, and take what we want.
I’m so distracted, it’s only when the heavy chains wrap around me, muting my senses and nearly cutting off my wolf, that my head clears marginally. The metal is silver, which keeps me from shifting and represses my beast. My skin reddens where the chains touch my flesh, but I’ve been conditioned to silver poisoning. Though it shouldn’t be possible, I’ve worked up a resistance, meaning that while it hurts like a bitch, it won’t kill me, and it sure as fuck won’t keep me down.
The spells woven into the metal are a different matter.
I’m dragged to my feet, more than a little surprised by his gentleness. Not that I can run away when the weight of the chains feels like I’m trying to drag a mountain behind me. The spells embedded in the metal singe my nose, and I can practically see the runes etched into each separate link.
Once on my feet, I toss my head back to get my hair out of my face…and see the destruction around us for the first time. The backyard is a massacre, dead wolves, blood, and random limbs decorating the grass. Garth and Dante have the last wolf cornered, slowly whittling him down with each blow. The beast is nearly feral, knowing that his death is imminent.
They can’t afford to leave any survivors, not if they want to buy enough time to flee.
My gaze is drawn toward the rooftop, but Foxy is nowhere to be seen. Though worried about him, I’m glad he’s not here to witness me being dragged away, and my heart pangs at not being able to see him one last time.
I don’t fight being captured—not yet, anyway—not wanting the Orion to linger. It’s a small mercy that he’s leaving the others alive, taking me while they are distracted, and I don’t want him to rethink that decision.
I don’t resist the hand on my shoulder as it guides me away from the house. Refusing to be dragged back to Kyperian, I focus on pushing down my wolf, not wanting her weakened bythe silver chains. I diligently work on drawing out the dormant powers buried deep in the marrow of my very bones.
Rousing the magic is like being pierced with pins and needles, as if my whole system is trying to wake after a long slumber. After being dormant for so long, power bleeds into my veins slowly, the pain threatening to steal the oxygen from my lungs.
The magic is not happy at being locked away, and it’s taking its pound of flesh in retaliation, stitching itself back into the very fabric of my essence. As we round the corner of the house, I suck in a harsh breath when I find myself facing the brutal end of a gun barrel.
Foxy is standing on the other end of the gun, his implacable expression unwavering as he glares at the man holding my chains. My heart skips a beat at the thought of Foxy trying to fight a member of the Orion.
He wouldn’t stand a fucking chance.
I tilt my head, stepping into his line of sight. “Remember what I said before the fight? Now is that time.”
