Chapter 1 – Killian #2
Images flash through the connection faster than I can process. That basement from before. This creature, this exact fucking creature, lunging at her face.
The werewolf that scarred her.
They found it again somehow and they fucking kept it.
And now they’ve brought it here to drag her back.
But even these idiots should know there’s no controlling a werewolf. Not a single one of them looks as terrified as they should be, considering this mindless monster will tear into them as easily as the rest of us. Werewolves don’t have enough sentience to distinguish between friend and foe.
Except…
It’s not attacking. It’s just standing there, glowing yellow eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
That’s when I notice the glint of something peeking through its fur. Silver. They’ve got a silver collar fitted around this thing’s neck like it’s a junkyard dog, and judging from the faint etchings I can see in the metal, it’s enchanted.
So that explains it. Kyle thinks he has a new pet he can control, and I have to admit, it seems to be working.
For now.
“Recognize him?” Kyle’s voice is sickeningly satisfied. “We’ve been saving him for a special occasion. He’s been asking about you, Regina. Well, not asking, exactly, but he gets excited when we mention your name.”
Regina doesn’t respond. She can’t. I feel her magic stutter and freeze, her control shattering under the weight of years of nightmares made flesh.
No. No, no, no—
Don’t let it touch her!
I don’t know if the thought reaches my pack or if they’re already moving, but suddenly we’re closing ranks around Regina, forming a tight circle with her at the center. The werewolf’s yellow eyes track the movement, head tilting with interest.
The coven starts to advance, and everything goes to hell.
I lunge for Kyle first, not just because of the burning need to rip out the throat of the man who hurt my mate, but because I’m sure he’s the one holding the werewolf’s magical leash.
But two other coven members intercept me, throwing up shields that crackle against my fur.
I snarl and slam into them anyway, feeling the shields buckle under my weight.
Behind me, I hear the sounds of fighting. Sean’s furious growl. Micah’s sharper bark and Rowan’s deadly silence. Regina’s found her voice again. It’s cracked but she’s already shouting words that make the air shimmer with destructive energy.
Even terrified, even with her worst nightmare snarling twenty feet away, she’s fighting. Our mate is so fucking brave, and I’m going to make sure she never has to be again.
I break through the shields and take down one of the coven members, a man with a goatee who screams like a goat too when my teeth find his throat. I jerk my head until I hear the crack of his neck and leave him to water the grass.
The next one who gets between me and Kyle meets a similar fate, down before he can finish his little Latin nursery rhyme.
The coven isn’t used to this. They’re used to magical duels fought at a polite distance, with rules and referees and time to cast complex spells. They’re not used to two hundred pounds of pissed-off alpha wolf getting in their faces before they can finish an incantation.
We’re winning.
And then I hear Sean scream.
It’s not a sound I’ve ever heard him make before. Not a growl or a snarl or even a yelp of pain. It’s a scream, guttural and raw, and it echoes through the pack bond like my own pain.
I spin around in time to see the werewolf’s claws rake across Sean’s face. Blood sprays. Sean goes down hard, his wolf form convulsing, and the left side of his face—
Fuck. Oh fuck.
The werewolf looms over him, jaws opening for the killing bite, and I’m already moving, already throwing myself across the distance with everything I have.
I slam into the creature’s side, knocking it away from Sean’s prone form, and we go tumbling across the meadow in a wrecking ball of claws and teeth.
It’s stronger than me. I knew that before we made contact, considering it’s a fucking werewolf, but knowing and feeling are different things. It’s like fighting a bomb. Every blow I land barely seems to register. Every time I think I’ve found an opening, it twists away with that wrong, jerky speed.
But I’m faster. And I’m smarter.
And I’m not fucking insane.
I dodge a swipe that would’ve taken my head off and circle around, putting myself between the werewolf and my pack. Behind me, Rowan’s shouting something. Probably coordinating with Micah to get Sean and Regina out of the combat zone.
They’re gonna have to handle the coven. I can’t let this thing anywhere near our mate again.
Killian! Regina’s voice sounds far off and desperate in my head. I feel her terror, but it’s not for herself anymore. She’s scared for me. Don’t—
Can’t answer. Don’t have the mental space for it. The werewolf’s coming at me again, and all I can do is dodge, snap, retreat, trying to keep its attention on me and away from the others.
It works.
The thing is fixated on me now, tracking my movements obsessively. Whatever’s left of its brain has decided I’m the biggest threat.
Or maybe it just likes the way I smell.
Think I’d prefer the former.
Either way, it’s chasing me across the meadow, away from Regina, away from my pack.
Good. That’s good.
I’m not prey, but I know the game. Distract, lead the predator away from the group.
I already feel myself tiring. The wounds I’ve accumulated, both from the magic and this thing’s claws, are slowing me down. The werewolf doesn’t seem affected by its injuries at all. Its left ear is hanging by a strip of skin where I nearly tore it off, and it hasn’t even flinched.
This thing doesn’t feel pain or fear. Doesn’t feel anything except hunger. Almost like a zombie that’s animated by something wrong and forbidden.
It’s going to kill me.
The thought arrives with strange clarity, like watching storm clouds roll in from a distance. I’m going to die here, in this meadow, torn apart by the same monster that scarred my mate.
And all I can think about is the dream.
That fucking dream I’ve had three times now, the one I haven’t told anyone about. The one where I’m the werewolf. Not shifted and in control of my beast, but lost to it entirely. Where I corner Regina in some dark place, and she looks at me with those green eyes full of terror, and I—
I always wake up before the end.
But I know.
I know what dream-me was about to do.
Is this how it happens? Is this the universe’s fucked-up way of making that nightmare real?
The werewolf lunges. I dodge left, but not fast enough. Its claws catch my side, opening four new lines of pure fire across my ribs. I stumble, almost go down, force myself to keep moving.
Can’t stop.
If I stop, it’ll go back to Regina.
Through our bond, I feel her. Fighting still, somehow, even with her magic stuttering and her hands shaking. They’re winning, but not fast enough.
She’s trying to get to me.
Like hell I’m going to let that happen. If this thing is going to kill me, I’m at least going to take it with me.
Regina, I think, not sure if she can hear me when it’s taking all my energy and focus just to dodge the monster’s hungry jaws. I’m sorry.
Sorry for not realizing what that fucking dream meant sooner, but I think I have an idea now. I may not be a witch, or a psychic, but clearly, the dream was a warning.
A warning and a choice.
Even if I make it out of this fight alive, I’m going to become the very thing she’s terrified of. The thing that kills her.
Fate has an ugly sense of humor.
And Fate can go fuck herself.
The werewolf circles, and I see my opening. It’s not much, just a slight hesitation as it plants its feet, a half-second of vulnerability before it attacks again.
But it’s enough.
I’m not going to survive this. I know that now. But maybe if I sink my teeth into its throat and don’t let go no matter what—
The werewolf tenses to spring. I lower my head, gathering every scrap of strength I have left. My vision is going gray at the edges. Blood loss, probably. Or maybe just the clarity that comes with accepting the inevitable.
Protect her, I tell my pack through the bond. Whatever it takes. Protect her.
The werewolf launches itself at me.
I launch myself right back.
We collide in midair.
What’s that shit about the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object? Feels appropriate right about now.
Guess it’s time to find out which one wins.