Chapter Eighteen #3
The gunman glared at her. “Cut the attitude, bitch. If you were trying to find the parking lot, you would have taken a flashlight or map. You’re not looking for anything, and you’re not lost. You barely have any dirt on you like you’ve been wandering around.
I’m not stupid and I don’t want to hurt you.
Just tell me the truth and we can part ways. I’m not after you.”
She had to buy Shane more time. “Are you hunting something? I thought hunting was illegal in this park.”
“Hell if I know. I’m going to give you to the count of ten or I won’t play nice anymore.”
“You call pointing a gun at me playing nice?”
“One … Two…”
“What season of sports are we in anyway?”
“Four … Five…”
“Is that vest bulletproof too? Looks expensive.”
“Will you shut the—”
A flash of fur darted from the trees behind the man.
Kimberly immediately dove to the ground in case the gun went off in the scuffle.
From the edge of her vision, she saw Shane tackle the man to the ground in his wolf form.
Shouts and growls rent the air as they wrestled for only moments, but what felt like hours.
The metallic odor of blood splashed her senses, and she heard the crunch of bone before a yowling cry of pain.
Then, the gun discharged. The shockwave hit Kimberly’s chest and stopped her heart for only a second.
Her ears rang as she saw Shane limp a few paces, then collapse to the ground.
The hunter staggered to his feet and held his mangled hand, still clutching the gun like a dead-man’s switch.
Burnt flesh from Shane mingled with the new outpouring of blood.
Silver bullets. She had guessed right.
She screamed, or perhaps roared, until her throat went raw.
A bright, blinding pain washed over her, heat rippled over her skin and every muscle sang with that familiar tune of a coming shift.
It came on so fast and so intensely that she didn’t have time to think or even understand what was happening.
In a moment of brutal instinct, driven by that deadly mix of rage and sorrow, Kimberly shifted from woman to wolf and raced for the hunter.
The man turned just a second before she jumped. He lifted the gun, and his injured left hand clumsily tried to pull the trigger again.
The bullet missed her completely as she flew, wind threading through her bristling blonde fur, fangs and claws sought for purchase in human flesh.
She made contact, pinned him to the ground, and went straight for his throat.
Her jaws clamped around his guarding forearm instead, as he tried to throw her off.
Her teeth pierced his skin, and blood flowed into her mouth, fueling her hysteria.
She shook hard, every muscle in her neck and jaws working to rip the man’s arm off.
The gun in his mutilated hand went sailing through the air and straight for the creek.
With a sad plop, it sank to the bottom where it couldn’t hurt anyone.
His knees awkwardly slammed into her ribs.
It only jostled her massive body, and it didn’t help that she couldn’t find a good hold on his torso with her claws, thanks to his vest. She continued to slip off as she thrashed from side to side but refused to let him throw her off completely.
His other hand, the one that still worked, gripped her mane and tried to wrench her away, but not even his fear of death could give him the strength to save himself when faced with a savage shifter with nothing to lose.
When he must have realized that wouldn’t work, the hand released her and began to fiercely grope toward his thigh, but Kimberly’s legs continued to tangle with his arm. She couldn’t remember seeing a sheath for a dagger, but it wasn’t inconceivable.
Over his screams, she heard the pop of his shoulder and other joints dislocating through the shredding of flesh. The arm went limp, zapped of strength, and she seized the moment. She let go for only a moment before plunging forward and biting hard into his neck.
From her periphery, she saw the glint of a blade, the gleam of silver just inches from her head. Her jowls still tight over the man’s throat, she brought up her massive paw and smacked it away. His fingers lost hold, and the dagger tumbled into the grass yards away.
Blood shot in a stream from a severed artery, and she repeated her treatment of his arm onto his neck, destroying flesh and skin and bone.
The screams devolved into a helpless gurgle as blood filled his mouth, then into a quiet, desperate choking.
His struggling slowed, he lost his strength, and then he went still beneath her.
Kimberly held on long after his heart stopped, her wolf needing to soak in this moment of triumph.
It didn’t matter if Shane was still alive, or if that bullet killed him.
This hunter attacked him, tried to kill him, and might have killed her, but she killed him first. She exacted the vengeance that was her right.
That was enough to propel her wolf to the surface, to bring the shift and defend the man she loved.
As the feral instinct for revenge released her, and human logic rushed in, Kimberly kept the reality of her situation at bay. She wasn’t ready to face what she did, not when blood still coated her tongue, and Shane labored from one breath to the next.