Chapter 7 #2
“God, Alan,” he heard her say. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but you have to—”
He rolled to all fours in a jerk of defiance. No thoughts now. Just anger, dark and deadly. Pain burned through his cells and with it came ugly memories.
“Run, Tonya.”
His words came out low. More of a growl but he saw her react. She straightened away from him and her gaze shot to the door. He was between her and it. She’d never make it if she bolted.
His muscles had stopped twitching, but they weren’t normal yet. Weak and unstable. He still managed to push himself upright. He was hunched, his breath unsteady, but words kept coming from his lips. A reflection of the memories twisting through his brain.
He had no control of himself and no mental distance. It was all him. And he was completely feral.
“No cage,” he growled.
She swallowed, the movement drawing his gaze to her vulnerable throat. “You need a doctor, Alan.”
Metal bars. Needle stabs. Fever and pain. Memories swamped him.
“No cage!” His words came out loud. The roar of it burned in his lungs, and he lunged forward.
She leapt back and resolve tightened her jaw as she fumbled at her pants. He heard the pop of a button and the grate of a zipper. She was undressing to go grizzly.
He wasn’t going to give her the chance.
He rushed forward. There still wasn’t enough power in his muscles to make him fast. His motions were as much falling at her as it was an attack.
But even so, he made it count. He gripped her arm and slammed her sideways.
If she’d been human when she impacted the wall, then he might have killed her.
But she’d already shifted even though she still wore her uniform.
Her shoulders were abruptly twice as large.
Her head surged forward as the grizzly hump shoved her arms wide and thick fur cushioned her impact.
He heard her groan, though. Maybe from landing hard on the wall, maybe from going grizzly while still in clothes.
Either way, the moan turned into a snarl.
She came off the wall in full bear and he rose to meet her.
She swiped at him, her claws lethally sharp. He was smaller than her now. If she contacted, he would be thrown aside. But every second that passed fed more power to his body. His legs obeyed his commands now, bracing him where he stood and preparing for a leap onto her back.
He could take her down from behind. Then he would mount her.
Feral and still horny. He would laugh if his every resource wasn’t aimed at gaining mental control. He had to stop, but it was like trying to halt a careening freight train.
She didn’t attack. Her swipe had been to hold him off so she could tear at her clothes. The shirt disintegrated easily, but those pants would take her longer. He had to strike now while she was still easy prey.
He feinted left, then dove right. He scrambled across the sharp remains of the table, then launched himself from the couch.
If the thing had been stable, he would have barreled straight into her chest. But the cushions gave way and the furniture slid on the carpet.
He caught her, but not with the power he intended.
She grabbed him as they slammed together into the television. The sharp bite as it broke had them both bellowing, but she took the worst of it. He shifted his weight, bringing her around and down. A learned moved he’d practiced a thousand times as a kid, executed flawlessly now.
She hit the ground, and he had her on the floor. But she was larger than him and they were face-to-face. He watched her mouth widen as she prepared to bite him. He slammed her head back with his elbow while scrambling away, regretting the pain he’d given her even as he fought for dominance.
Pain bit into his feet as he stepped on glass, but he hardly cared.
She was his target, so he pivoted and leapt again.
She caught him easily, her larger size allowing her to grab him and roll with his movements.
Back into the television, this time hitting the thing’s base.
It cut painfully into his shoulder, and his head rang from where she slammed it against the wall.
And then it was full survival. No thought, no planning. Just instinct as he tried over and over to mount her. And she just as determined to fight him off.
Unwilling.
The word echoed in his mind, taking a long time to settle into meaning.
His thinking mind latched on to it, but his body wouldn’t stop.
Dominance was primal. Consideration was not.
And while he struggled with the sexual imperative, his arm went numb and one of his legs started bleeding.
She was hurt, too, and he could smell the coppery scent of their blood mingling in the air.
It was in a pause to regroup when the word finally coalesced into understanding. Unwilling. She was an unwilling female and he was in too much pain. He couldn’t best her now.
He should leave.
He gathered himself for a leap. He saw her tense, knew that she was preparing to impale him on her claws. So he jumped. But not where she expected. And certainly not in the path of her paws.
He sprang sideways and then ran around her out the door. There were people pouring into the hallway, probably because of the noise. He swerved around them as they cried out in surprise.
A door was slipping closed, but he made it there first. He slammed it open with his shoulder then scrambled down concrete steps.
A huge twisting landscape of concrete, but he jumped and slid his way down.
Gunshots reverberated in the narrow space.
He heard pings around him and he roared at a hot burn across his shoulder.
But then he was down. Dash through the door. Outside.
He smelled the air and knew the sudden openness of outdoors.
Free.
He still ran. As fast and as far as he could go.
Free.