Chapter 30
Ben stood close to the back door, his senses on alert. The forest was quiet—too quiet—and that was why he had come outside. It was the lack of sound that alarmed him. Usually he could hear small creatures in the forest, squeaks and movements too high-pitched or soft for human ears. Now, though, all noise had ceased. Every living thing behind Delilah”s house seemed to be holding its breath.
He looked to the houses on the left and right. All the lights were off at each one. They were probably far enough away from Delilah”s house, maybe a hundred yards each, that they wouldn”t hear anything tonight. If they did, this was the mountains and they wouldn’t be too concerned about hearing mountain lions, bears, or wolves.
He scented the air. Immediately that dusty, smoky odor reached his nose. The rogue—Damien—was here. Ben crouched on all fours and let his lion take over.
It was then, in his most vulnerable moment as he was shaking off the shimmering magic that encapsulated his body, that the wolf struck.
It barreled into him, its jaws clamping immediately on Ben”s neck. Ben twisted and fought to get away, but the wolf”s grasp was too strong. A cowardly attack, Ben thought, rage pulsing through him. Maybe he should have expected it.
He brought up one paw and slashed angrily down across the wolf”s shoulders to its flank. The wolf let him go with a shrill yip.
Ben smelled blood. It was his own. The wolf”s blood was also in the air, but it was fainter. The wolf backed away, its haunches poised to spring. Ben readied himself for the attack. He was stronger and he had trained harder. It wasn”t great that he was already bleeding from the neck, but he could turn this around.
He growled low, tauntingly. Come and get me, asshole.
Springing forward, the wolf took his invitation. Ben twisted to the side, just missing the wolf”s snapping jaws. He curled around the wolf in a rapid motion and landed on the wolf”s back. He sank his claws in for purchase.
The wolf growled. All Ben knew was the survival instinct pulsing through his body. All he could hear was the tearing of flesh, the growling of beasts. He felt no pain, only the lust of battle, the desire to protect. He had to save his mate and their child, he had to defend them.
The hot, coppery scents of blood and fury filled his nose.
The wolf feinted toward Ben’s right, but Ben saw it was a ruse and followed the wolf to the left, forelegs raised and claws out. He brought them down over the wolf’s snout and felt the ripping of flesh. But the wolf kept going, straight for Ben’s unprotected belly.
Ben thought he had known pain before, but he had never been torn into like this. His flesh gave. He fell to his side and immediately jerked his hind legs up to kick away his attacker. His claws caught on the wolf’s neck, tearing.
The wolf’s jaws clamped around Ben’s hind leg and snapped the bone. Ben kicked harder with his free leg and the wolf fell back, blood coating its muzzle. Ben’s blood, the wolf’s blood.
Ben panted. Every breath, every beat of his heart felt as if it were sending blood into the ground. This couldn’t be how it ended, how he ended. He had to put a stop to this wolf as soon as possible, before he lost consciousness. Already the night scene around them seemed darker, more menacing.
Ben slowly got to his feet, favoring his broken leg. The wolf stood, too, looking just as shaky as Ben. Perhaps neither of them would survive this fight. Ben faced him, weak but determined.
A whooshing noise cut through the silence. Instinctively, Ben fell to his side again.
Right where he’d been standing, an ax sliced through the air. The wolf didn’t move fast enough. The ax lodged in its neck.
Where the fuck had that come from? Ben raised his head to look around, saw only shadows. He’d lost so much blood. He turned his head again—had he imagined the ax coming through the air?
No, there it was, dirtied with fur and blood. The wolf’s eyes were glazed in death.
Ben stayed down, breathing heavily. He sniffed the air to search for clues. Cedar filled his nostrils.
Kyle—the alpha of the Saltwood Pack.
No, Ben thought. But then he realized—yes. The rogue hadn’t been a rogue after all. That day in the diner, Kyle had spoken to Ben so carefully, so slowly. He’d been speaking in half-truths, and it had been those half-truths that bothered Ben at the time. He hadn’t been lying at any point. He probably really had kicked Damien out of the pack for the reasons he’d explained to Ben. But then he’d tried to use Damien.
Used him, and killed him. It was so callous, so careless. And here, Ben used to think he was the monster.
Kyle walked past Ben, fully clothed in jeans and a plaid shirt. He stopped in front of the dead wolf and nudged its muzzle with his toe. “I have no use for weakness,” he said.
Ben struggled to get to his feet, but his body didn’t want to cooperate. He’d lost too much blood.
“Stupid fool,” Kyle said, then turned to look down at Ben. “He wanted back into the pack more than anything. He knew I collected dragon relics, so he told me he would retrieve one if I let him rejoin us. Some idiots will do anything for territory. Why let him in, when I can retrieve the relic myself?”
Something changed in the air, a lack of both sound and scent. Ben remembered what this meant from when Gracie’s court had first arrived in the Corona territory. He kept his gaze carefully on Kyle, not wanting to tip him off. Likely, Kyle didn’t have any experience with vampires.
“So I’m here,” Kyle continued, “and you’re down there. And the knife is inside. With your mate, I presume?”
Ben growled, unable to help himself. Again he fought for the strength to stand up. He had to protect Delilah and McKenzie even if it was his very last act on this earth. His legs were unsteady, but he managed to hold himself up. If he could just shore up enough strength to hurl himself at Kyle…
Kyle pulled the ax away from Damien. Ben winced, feeling bad for the dead wolf shifter. He’d been searching for territory, a place to belong. The Corona Pride could have given him that, if he’d come to Marlana and asked in the right way.
Hefting the ax in one hand, Kyle looked again to Ben. “Your time is up, lion. I have no use for weakness, like I said.”
Ben shook. His broken leg was useless. Growling, he limped forward.
Kyle laughed and pulled back to throw the ax.
Another scent reached Ben’s nose—another mountain lion. It was Fraze. No sooner had Ben smelled him, than Fraze appeared, bounding up from the tree-line to leap at Kyle.
Kyle flung his arm sideways. The ax’s blunt edge hit Fraze right in the side of his skull.
Fraze went down.
Someone screamed from the rooftop and a silent shadow landed on Kyle. Gracie. Kyle pulled away, punching the shadowy air with a fist. Gracie went down, falling to her knees in the grass. She brought a hand to her dark pink lips and Ben saw blood.
Ben turned to check on Fraze’s limp form. Was he moving at all? Was he breathing?
Fraze’s chest rose and fell, ever so slightly. One of his eyes opened to a slit.
Gracie moved toward Fraze, but Kyle tackled her. She was strong, but Kyle had the advantage of size. He pinned her to the ground with his legs and one arm. With his other hand, he still held the ax.
“A vampire, huh?” Kyle said. “Never met one of you before. Let’s see. A stake to the heart, meeting the sun, or…the head coming off.” He looked at the ax in his hand, considering.
Gracie tried to buck him off, her fangs out as she grimaced.
No. Ben wouldn’t let Kyle hurt her. Not Gracie, not while he was still alive and could do something about it.
Kyle wasn’t paying any attention to Ben, probably thought him too weak to be a threat. Fraze was still lying motionless. If Fraze could do something to save his mate, he would be doing it already.
It was up to Ben.
Silently, he stood up, mentally shoving aside the excruciating pain radiating from his hind leg. He could clearly see Gracie’s look of fear. Kyle held the ax up high.
He was two good leaps away.
Ben jumped. It was as if everything happened in slow motion. His broken leg faltered, but he put more of his weight on his good hind leg as he sprung up. One more bounding leap between them, and again he hurtled himself forward.
He tumbled into Kyle’s back and they both landed on top of Gracie. Ben could feel her moving, trying to free herself. The ax sliced into his shoulder, too close to his neck for comfort. What was a little more blood at this point, though? Ben pushed through the pain and clamped his jaws around Kyle’s throat. He didn’t pause, he didn’t think. He ripped through flesh to protect his people.
Kyle fell over, the light immediately gone from his dark green eyes.
“He was—he was corrupt,” Gracie said, rushing over to Fraze. “Marlana figured it out. She explained everything when she told us to come here.”
She knelt at Fraze’s side and placed her hand on his chest where it slowly rose and fell. A faint light came around Fraze and he shifted to his human form.
“Gracie,” Fraze said, reaching for his mate.
Gracie pulled Fraze into her arms, whispering to him.
Ben shifted back to human, closing his eyes against the light surrounding him. It seemed too warm, too bright. He felt weak, but the shift helped his skin knit back together.
He would live.
Delilah. McKenzie. He had to check on them. He staggered up, but his left leg wouldn’t hold his weight. Broken, still; the shift hadn’t healed it completely. He hobbled toward the door.
Fraze stood up, still naked, holding his head. Gracie stood with him. He said something to her that Ben couldn’t quite catch—all of Ben’s energy was focused on reaching the back door.
Fraze came up next to him and put his arm around Ben’s shoulders. “I’ll help you.”
Ben leaned on him. “Thanks.”
“You could have died,” Fraze said as they made their awkward, painful way to the house. “You could’ve died to save her.”
Ben didn’t have anything to say to that.
“Why’d you do it?” Fraze asked. “Why’d you get in front of Kyle and that ax?”
Ben paused, breathing heavily through the pain of his leg. He could feel it trying to heal, but it wouldn’t have much of a chance until he sat down. And he couldn’t sit down until he was inside and absolutely certain that Delilah and McKenzie were okay.
Fraze pressed, “Seriously, why?”
“Because she’s a member of the pride,” Ben said, sounding grumpier than he meant to.
They reached the door.
“You don’t hate her because she’s a vampire?” Fraze asked.
“What? No,” Ben said.
“After what one of them did to Chase?”
Ben stopped walking and faced Fraze. A fresh wave of emotional pain pulsed through him, grief rearing its ugly head like the sneaky asshole it was. Chase shouldn’t have died, but… “Gracie didn’t do that. Astor did.”
Fraze didn’t say anything else as he led Ben to the door. Then he said, “Your leg’s broken. Sit down for a couple hours and let it heal right.”
“Sure thing, doc,” Ben said, but the sarcasm was lost because it came through clenched teeth—his motherfucking leg hurt like someone was cutting it off.
“We’ll take care of the bodies,” Fraze said.
“Thanks.”
Ben pulled at the door handle. Locked. But when he tapped at the glass, Delilah was there a second later, her eyes wide and fearful, her face pale. She opened the door and took in his bloody appearance.
“If you didn’t look like hell,” she said, “I’d be tempted to kick your ass.”