Chapter 13
At the sound of the pistol hitting the floor, Des—or the thing that Des had transformed into—turned to her.
“Clara.” It was Des’s voice, but it wasn’t, coming out a mixture of an animal growl and human words. The silver glow of his eyes contained Des’s warmth, but also a wildness she hadn’t seen before.
“D…Des?” She stood, frozen in shock. This…this couldn’t be. He couldn’t have been a man one moment, and in the next, something between man and animal. A creature from one of the folk tales she read incessantly
But this was no tale. Nothing contained within a book she could put back upon the shelf when the story was over.
A werewolf stood in her study.
Not one werewolf. Two.
Cyrus had also shifted into a creature. Like Des, he was massive and powerfully built, all of his clothing gone to reveal muscles covered in golden fur. His long yellow claws gleamed menacingly, and he bared sharp fangs in a snarl. His eyes shone amber, cold and merciless as he glowered at Des.
Cyrus angled himself to block the door.
He lunged for Des. At the same time, Des charged at Cyrus. The two massive creatures slammed into each other. Des threw Cyrus into the wall. Cyrus shook himself, recovering, before launching himself at Des again.
The giant beasts grappled, locked together, hurtling from one end of the too-small study to the other. Wooden bookshelves cracked. The reverberations traveled into the beams, fracturing them.
With her back still to the window, she kept the desk between herself and the two wolves.
The fighting creatures careened into the desk, shoving it toward her. She scrambled under the desk, searching for the pistol on the floor.
Her hands closed around the gun’s handle. She clambered out from beneath the desk.
Des wedged a long foot against Cyrus’s chest and shoved. Cyrus went stumbling back.
With little time to aim, Clara pointed the gun at Cyrus. She pulled the trigger. The deafening report from the gun filled the chamber.
Cyrus jerked as the bullet struck him. A moment’s triumph filled her.
And then Cyrus straightened, revealing that the shot had glanced off him, giving him a nick.
But…she’d shot him straight on. She was close enough that the bullet would have at least broken the skin, if not pierced his chest outright.
Oh, God. The bullet was made of lead. Not silver.
Des raked his claws across Cyrus’s lupine face, dragging down his throat and over his chest, tearing the flesh. Blood arced in a crimson shower. Cyrus yelped in pain, then struck with his own claws to hit at Des’s shoulder. Red stained Des’s fur.
The brawling wolves careened toward her.
She tried to keep the desk between herself and the fight, yet the wolves kept pushing it, flushing her out.
She dodged out of the way, barely in time to keep from being crushed beneath their giant bodies.
But no matter where she ran, the wolves were there, locked in their attack.
Another enormous wolf appeared in the doorway. His fur was dark, his body long and lean. Onyx light gleamed in his eyes, and despite the transformation, she knew who this was: Gideon.
Oh, God. They were all werewolves. Every last one of them.
Gideon scanned the room, his gaze falling first on Cyrus and Des tangled together. When his attention turned to her, she shrank back. Trapped, she pressed into the corner of the room.
With a snarl, Gideon leapt into the study. The room was now filled with three werewolves—and her. There was no way out. All she could do was jam herself into the corner. Yet even this position wasn’t safe.
Gideon lunged for her. She curled in on herself in a protective ball.
His arms surrounded her. She braced herself for his attack.
He pressed her into his fur-covered body, his claws gentle against her. Gideon’s body rocked as Des and Cyrus crashed into him, yet Gideon stayed firm and held her tightly.
He was protecting her.
She found herself clinging to him, his body sheltering her as Cyrus and Des continued to fight.
Cautiously peering over Gideon’s shielding arm, she saw the two other wolves locked in combat, slashing and clawing. The study shattered around them, built-in shelves breaking, walls cracking, furniture splintering.
They snarled and bit at each other. Cyrus sank his teeth into Des’s cut shoulder, and Des growled in fury and pain. Groaning, he gripped Cyrus’s muzzle and pried it open. Blood welled from Des’s wound, yet he dug his claws into Cyrus’s chest and shoved. Cyrus stumbled and fell onto the desk.
Des jumped onto Cyrus. They were a blur of fang and claw. There was no warmth in Des’s eyes now, only rage.
He locked one clawed hand around Cyrus’s throat. Cyrus thrashed as he tried to pry Des’s grip off of him, but Des wouldn’t let go.
“We can…go back to how it was,” Cyrus snarled. “Just…kill her.”
In response, Des’s claws dug in tighter.
A thickset wolf appeared in the doorway. Liam. He watched, frozen.
Cyrus whined and gasped, yet Des didn’t stop, his claws jabbing into Cyrus’s throat. Crimson welled, darkening Cyrus’s golden fur.
She pressed her face into Gideon’s chest, squeezing her eyes shut, and his taloned hand covered her face.
There was the sound of tearing flesh, with Cyrus’s agonized gurgle.
A long pause followed, punctuated by Des’s panting and the unnatural stillness of the room in the wake of the battle that had, moments ago, torn the study apart.
“It’s over, sparrow,” Des finally said.
“You’re safe,” Gideon rumbled.
She pulled Gideon’s hand away and took in the scene. Cyrus’s corpse lay atop the desk, his arms hanging limply, his neck a mess of ripped flesh.
Liam had vanished from the doorway.
Des stood over the body, then looked at her. His eyes were hot with bloodlust. Her gaze raked over his huge form, muscles covered in scarlet-stained fur, claws also coated with red.
He was a predator from the depths of her folk tales. The kind that hunted princesses.
Her body heated, her breath came quickly.
She slipped from Gideon’s loosening grasp and bolted for the front door.