Chapter Nine #2
Pissed that blood continues to drip down my arm, I switch my blade to my other hand, never once taking my attention off the threat.
The wolf stumbles back on three feet, rage twisting his features.
When he limps backward again, like he’s ready to flee, I follow him, refusing to let him retreat, only for him to come back for the guys later when I’m not here to protect them.
Snarling in a fit of fury, the wolf charges me in a blitz attack, determined to take me down in retaliation before he dies. Though I’m fast, running isn’t an option, not when dealing with shifters. Their instinctual drive to hunt will take over…not that my wolf ever considered it.
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 is incongruous 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 by the 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.”
When he doesn’t blink or acknowledge me, I barely resist the urge to kick the idiot.
“Now!” I infuse every ounce of alpha demand into that single word, gritting my teeth when it feels like I’ve been dunked in acid where the chains sear my flesh.
The blank expression on his face cracks, devastation darkening his green eyes…then he robotically turns on his heel, his movements jerky as he fights the command. When he vanishes into the darkness, my shoulders slump and I release a silent breath.
“Smart choice,” the Orion murmurs, hurrying me along. “I would hate to have to kill him.”
Fire burns in my veins at the casual mention of killing Foxy, and I’m so consumed by rage that I don’t protest being dragged behind him.
Instead, I focus on my escape…so I can beat his fucking ass for threatening my friend.
Metal pings and cracks like water being poured over a hot surface, and the spells weaken enough that I feel lighter and lighter with each step.
Reaching up, I slowly unwind the first loop of chain, then the next, until I’m left holding almost the full length. We’re hauling ass toward the tree line, and I know if he takes me any farther, I will never be seen again. I wrap the chains around my fist, over and over again, then plant my feet.
When I stop moving, the Orion jerks to a halt and turns to glare at me over his shoulder.
I don’t hesitate to sock him in the face.
He staggers back from the blow, his grip loosening on my leash, but he doesn’t release me completely.
Not waiting for him to recuperate, I lash out again, wrapping the length of the chain around his neck and wrenching back with all my strength.
He hisses in outrage, his pupils narrowing into slits until his beast is staring back at me. My eyes widen in surprise, and it’s only years of conditioning that keep me moving. I twist the chain around one of my hands, then let my fist fly.
The metal crashes into his temple hard enough that he grunts.
His body folds up, dropping him to the ground, and his heavy ass nearly drags me down with him.
While I might be powerful, I’m well aware that the chain is the only thing that allows me to get the upper hand.
The spells etched into the metal land with the force of a baseball bat.
Not willing to take the chance that he’ll come after me again—not until I get far, far away—I crouch and haul the big lug upright, dutifully wrapping the chains around his chest over and over. When the two ends of the chain meets, they snap together like magnets.
When he slumps back to the ground, a muffled groan escapes him, and my gaze flashes to his face. Though he’s still out, he won’t stay that way for long. A tiny trickle of blood seeps from a cut above his eye, and I grimace when I feel a pang of guilt.
He’s the bad guy.
He was going to return me to a life worse than any prison.
Regardless, the guilt doesn’t disappear.
Rising to my feet, I try to appease myself with the fact that he’s still alive—that’s more than what he deserves.
Hidden by the shadows of the trees, I watch Foxy finish loading the car.
Garth and Dante have shifted back to their human forms, the two of them covered in so much blood and gore that they resemble zombie rejects.
The men search the dead bodies, and I step deeper into the shadows, not wanting to draw their attention. Before I can escape, a hand latches onto my ankle. Jolting in surprise, I kick out with my boot before I process the thought, wincing when my foot crashes into the Orion’s face.
A grunt of pain rumbles in his chest, and I twist free of his hold, dancing out of reach…then blink in surprise when my leg holds my weight.
My eyebrows furrow, not comprehending how I’m still standing.
He had me in his grip—twice, really—and I’m relatively unhurt.
He had a chance to pulverize the bones of my ankle.
Fuck, he could’ve knocked me on my ass hard enough that I wouldn’t have woken up until we returned to Kyperian.
Instead, he’s the one on the ground, injured.
“There are more Orion after you.” He leans to the side, then spits out a glob of blood, not taking his eyes off me for a second. “They won’t stop coming for you.”
It’s both a threat…and a warning?
Magic ripples in the distance.
The wards.
More wolves are closing in fast—over thirty—heading this way from all directions, surrounding our location. Our attackers must have sent out a distress signal, or reinforcements came to check when the wolves never returned.
I glance at the car waiting in the driveway, then back into the woods behind me. If I were smart, I would leave now, put as much distance between me and the Orion as possible.
And yet I hesitate.
If I leave, Dante, Garth, and Foxy will be at the mercy of the pack. Instead of running, the trio searches the ground, as if looking for any sign of me, and I very much doubt the stubborn assholes will leave without me.
Fucking hell!
The small pack will fight, but they’re already in rough shape. If I leave, their chances of getting out alive will be slim at best.
Cursing, calling myself an idiot, I stomp toward the house.
A grunt from behind me has me whirling, and I see the Orion struggling to his feet. Most shifters are built sturdy, but he’s a giant, nearly seven feet if I had to guess. He staggers on unsteady legs, still chained, and takes a resolute step toward me, determination hardening his expression.
The thought of leaving him to the wolves is repulsive.
Though he’s still bound, I highly suspect he could wipe out the wolves without breaking a sweat…but not without sustaining damage.
Still buried in my mind from the silver poisoning, my wolf grumbles in protest, demanding that we take him with us.
She refuses to budge without him. As ridiculous as it sounds, I feel possessive of the asshole, not to mention that he now has my scent.
If I leave him, he’ll lead the other Orion right to me.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, defeat slumping my shoulders.
It’s either kill him now or take him with us.
I debate the pros and cons of both options, but it comes down to one fact—I can’t kill an unarmed man. No, that’s not right. I have no problem killing.
It’s him.
The thought of murdering him hurts my soul, which just pisses me off more. With a snarl of frustration, I grab the chains binding him and yank him after me. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”