Chapter 4
FOUR
The gunfire came from behind Icarus, from the direction of the burning building they’d fled. From the only path out of the Canyon Lands. Cliffs and dark water—all that existed the other way.
“I’ll cut a path,” the dark-haired man said, and in the blink of an eye, he was in the air, transformed into a crow bigger than any of the ones overhead.
No, not a crow. A raven.
The crows, though, followed his lead, taking flight and barreling through the hole in the ceiling, out past Icarus and into the street, falling into formation behind the shifter and slicing through the fog.
A hand clasped Icarus’s wrist and yanked him out from his hiding place. Adam shoved him against the other side of the disintegrating wall and rammed the muzzle of a gun into the underside of his chin. “What the fuck are you doing here? Did you shoot—”
More gunfire rent the air, and birds scattered as cones of bobbing light shone through the fog. Flashlights, held by the gunmen. At least two of them. Icarus pointed their direction. “Clearly, the shots came from them.”
“You heard the bird,” the dog said. “Get the fuck behind me, and let’s get the hell out of here.” And by behind him, he meant the giant back end of a rusty-blond coyote that appeared after several bone-cracking seconds.
Icarus pretended to be shocked; it wasn’t much of a stretch.
While he wasn’t surprised by the actual shifts—he’d known they were shifters, had witnessed shifts before—he was still struggling to grasp why Adam was working with shifters in the Canyon Lands to rescue a kid and foil Vincent’s evil plans.
Shifters he seemed to know well and share some history with.
“We have to get out of here!” Adam tugged him by the wrist and sprinted behind the coyote, barely stumbling over the uneven ground. “Stay behind me.”
Icarus pretended to struggle, enough to be believable but not enough to slow them down.
He didn’t know if the bullets flying were lead or silver or both; it didn’t matter.
He wanted the fuck out of there too. Dark magic was closing in around them, making the hairs on his arms stand on end and the fog so heavy there was no trace of the earlier fire.
“How can you see in this muck?” he asked Adam, who at no time had used a flashlight or his phone.
“Long story,” he replied.
A snipe about giving the shortest answer possible was on the tip of Icarus’s tongue, but then gunfire popped close enough to steal his words.
The sharp, rich scent of blood spiked the air, and Adam grunted before hauling Icarus close.
He slammed Icarus against the nearest wall and pressed against him, shielding him with his body, hot and thrumming with adrenaline.
Driving Icarus wild.
Instincts on hyperdrive, they threatened to tear Icarus apart, ripping him in conflicting directions.
Take Adam’s mouth with his; it was right there, lips parted and panting, open for the plundering, so goddamn tempting.
Sink his fangs into Adam’s shoulder where a bullet had sliced through fabric and skin, blood welling in the open cut.
Wrench free and rip out the throat of whatever monster—human or otherwise—had harmed Adam and was trying to kill him.
Icarus couldn’t say where that last instinct had come from—the absolute need to protect a virtual stranger, a target he was supposed to deliver to his death—but it was there, stronger than all the rest.
He didn’t get the chance to act on any of his urges.
Didn’t even get the chance to try and blink his senses off.
Adam fired into the darkness, a curse echoed out of the fog, and the coyote launched toward the sound.
A bloodcurdling wail pierced the misty air, followed by a piteous gurgling.
The coyote had taken care of the threat to Adam, same as Icarus would have.
The giant raven screeched overhead again, croaking an urgent warning, and Adam peeled Icarus off the wall. “Let’s go! This way.”
They sprinted through the dark, the wire fence coming into sight, but then a flashlight flickered on from the other side of the border, momentarily blinding them and making Adam’s steps falter.
Making a shot impossible.
Adam’s pulse spiked, and his hand around Icarus’s wrist tightened. Fear flooded the air, more pungent than the blood dripping down Adam’s arm. Whatever the raven thought about Adam’s death wish, Adam still feared it.
Which ramped Icarus’s instincts higher. His vision sharpened despite the blinding beam. He saw a gun, rising next to the flashlight, aimed at them. The shooter clicked the safety off.
No time left, and no coyote or raven to save them.
No one to see him.
Moving at his preternatural speed, Icarus shoved his free hand in his coat pocket, yanked out a high heel, and chucked it at the shooter with all the might the darkness could hide.
A squelch echoed back—direct hit—and the flashlight fell to the ground, rolling away as the gunman wailed.
With the bright light gone, Adam didn’t waste a second. He tugged Icarus toward and through the fence. On the other side, he paused long enough to fire two bullets into the downed shooter—one in the chest, one in the head—before dragging Icarus the rest of the way to the Camaro.
He shoved Icarus against the passenger door, one arm braced on the car’s roof, the other hand pressing the muzzle of the gun under Icarus’s chin. Again. “Did you lead them to me?”
Two of the three earlier urges returned, stronger now that the danger had passed. Icarus blinked, the world going gray and odorless, and his fangs receded. One instinct suppressed. But there was no help for the other, his cock stiffening against Adam’s thigh.
“Lead who?” Icarus ignored the sinking feeling in his gut that told him he knew exactly who had used him as fucking bait, assuming Vincent’s thugs hadn’t already been drawn by whatever diabolical plan Adam had foiled.
“If I did,” Icarus said. “If it was me and not the burning building you ran out of, I didn’t mean to. ”
“You saw that?”
Icarus slammed shut his lips before more things escaped.
“I should leave you here.”
“Fine.” Icarus lifted his chin off the gun. “You killed the bad guys. We’re back on this side of the border fence. I’m safe now.”
Adam scoffed. “That’s the furthest thing from what you are.” He yanked Icarus off the side of the car and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere that’s actually safe.” He lowered the gun and stepped back, giving Icarus the choice.
Icarus slid into the car, closing his eyes and palming the soft leather seats as Adam circled to the driver’s side door.
A brief reprieve before Icarus steeled himself and brought his other senses back online, focusing on the scents of leather and whiskey to distract from the blood, opening his eyes to color and sharpening his gaze instead of his fangs.
He glanced out each window, checking all directions and making sure they weren’t being followed.
Making sure they were safe. That was what he’d been turned for, after all. To protect. Now it seemed the Devil was his charge too.