Page 91 of Howling
I’m no better.
Tyler might be slim, but his pale skin, decorated with his swirling freckles, is like artwork in motion. His red hair is tousled, giving him a just fucked look. His green eyes sparkle with excitement, and he’s practically prancing as his fox rides him hard.
I would say he is adorable if he weren’t so fucking sexy.
The confident smirk he sends me when he catches me gawking at him is enough to have my libido sit up and take notice. Hunger darkens his eyes, and damn if my core doesn’t heat in a silent demand for his attention. Knowing better than to get distracted during a fight, I tear my eyes away…only for them to land on his partner in crime.
Dante is just as spectacular. His broad shoulders look like they can carry the weight of the world with ease, the musclesof his chest flexing, and dear goddess… How many fucking abs does a normal person have?
Because the man is sporting an eight-pack.
My eyes are drawn toward his Adonis belt, and damn if I don’t start fucking waving a hand at my face in an effort to cool off. A tiny happy trail disappears into his pants, and I scowl at being denied.
They swagger toward me like conquering heroes coming home from battle, ready to claim their prize. I should be annoyed at their assumption, but I’m more discombobulated. They’re so rugged and strong, they have the ability to steal the air from my lungs with just one smoldering look.
Dante reaches me first, not missing the way I’ve been eye fucking him. He doesn’t slow his approach, despite my rumpled appearance. He cups my face, grabs the back of my neck, and kisses the ever loving fuck out of me. I cling to him, my hands having a mind of their own as they run across his broad shoulders. The touch of his skin tingles against my palms, almost like magic, and I’m helpless to do anything but try to keep up.
I should hate every second of his possession, since the man is a raging asshole, but I guess I’m a masochist, and I drag him closer.
He’s ripped away from me before I’m ready, leaving me gasping and blinking in confusion. Tyler appears a second later, scanning me from head to toe with a critical gaze. I wait for him to cringe at my messy appearance, so when he yanks me toward him and slams his lips over mine, I freeze in surprise.
He tastes like warm whiskey on a cold night—a little tangy, a little smooth, and a whole lot addicting. He nips at my bottom lip. When I gasp, his tongue invades my mouth, and a moan builds in my chest.
He shuffles closer, his nearly naked body pressing against me, and the thick length of him low against my stomach has my breath catching. The little fox is packing, and I shift when an ache takes up between my thighs, my insides feeling empty.
“Stop mauling her like a bunch of animals.” A hand lands on the back of my neck, and I’m wrenched away and pressed against a cool chest as I struggle to catch my breath and find where my common sense ran off. The smell of frost and a warm fire on a cold night fills my senses.
Bellamy.
To keep from melting into a heap at his feet, I cling to his waist. Rational thoughts return slowly, and I realize I’m tracing faint lines that wrap around his sides and trail down his back—scars, so many scars.
He stiffens, and I gently run my hand down his spine over and over. A mournful howl escapes my wolf at knowing someone hurt him. It’s not until he softens and gently tugs me closer that I realize we aren’t alone.
“Isobel?” A man steps forward, a furrow appearing between his brows. “You’re alive?”
Before anyone can answer, Geoffrey emerges from the church, trailed by his followers…or half of his followers, since many of his minions remain in pieces, scattered throughout the store. Our eyes meet, and hatred twists his expression.
I barely have time to draw in a breath to warn the others before he pulls back his arm and slings a nasty curse in our direction. Every strand of hair on my body stands to attention, and my wolf bristles at the threat.
I don’t need to be a witch to guess the spell is meant to do harm.
I shove Bellamy away, then step into the path of the spell. Remembering Isobel’s comments about learning about my abilities, I decide to study what’s happening. Time seems to slowdown, and I watch as the magic congeals out of nothing—no, not nothing.
Tilting my head, I blink in surprise when magic floats in the air like fluff from a dandelion. The spell draws it into a ball of what looks like electricity. The translucent sphere crackles in the air as it flies directly toward me. Instead of allowing it to slam into my chest, I reach out and catch it with my hand.
Son of a bitch!
Pain streaks down my arm, the strands of power unraveling to slither down my wrist like a vine seeking a target. The magic feels like I’m touching a lightning bolt, the tendrils leaving behind welts where they lash against my skin. My wolf charges forward, snapping her teeth and snarling, killing even the smallest trace of the spell before it can take root.
Refusing to release it, I curl my fingers into a fist, crushing the sphere until I swear something cracks, then crumbles. Particles of black ash trickle through my fingers and drift toward the ground. The magic stops trying to invade my chest and brushes against me comfortingly. The welts along my arms melt away, and the magic gradually absorbs into my skin.
My wolf inhales deeply, drawing the raw magic into her body, and a golden glow rises from my skin. The magic slowly sinks into my bones, where it falls dormant. My bones feel harder, my body stronger, and I sway at the rush of power, lightheaded and dizzy at the sudden influx.
I flex my fingers, wondering what the magic is doing to me. Though I don’t feel like I can cast spells, the magic is definitely changing me. I’m just not sure whether or not it’s a good thing. I don’t have time to dwell on it when shouting erupts around me, and the air sizzles with more spells.
Time warps as it speeds back up, and I realize less than a minute has passed. Garth and Bellamy are already in motion, charging into the crowd. Many of the original coven membersare confused. The angry mob that wanted to tear us apart earlier in the day is gone.
When the townspeople see two shifters nearly feral with rage charging at them, they frantically scramble out of the way. A few aren’t fast enough, and they quickly find themselves plowed over. I take a staggering step after the men, my body feeling all floaty, but I catch up after a few strides.
