"Stop the car. Someone's in
trouble."
Blake DeLuca sat straight up in the
passenger side seat with each one his senses heightened in alarm. The sharp
scream of the woman echoed in his head just like it had done across the evening
atmosphere just moments early.
The scream was a cry for help and it
sounded like someone was in despair.
"You heard it too?" Dawson
asked, as he swerved into an empty lot and brought the Maserati to a screeching
halt.
Blake's body lurched forward from
the blunt maneuver, but he didn't waste a moment's notice. He was out of the
car in three seconds flat, rushing toward the sounds of scuffling in the alley.
His wolf was just below the surface of his skin urging him toward the incident.
Plus, they were in unmarked territory where there was sure to be human eyes
everywhere even at this odd hour of the evening. Dusk had just fallen, but that
didn't mean every human was all cozy in their homes.
Dawson was right behind him, his
running footsteps crunching the gravel and broken sidewalk with determination.
With their keen sense of smell, it
didn't take them long to find the scene of the crime. Blake stopped short of
revealing their arrival too soon, keeping his body positioned behind the shadow
of a long dumpster. The woman screamed again, but louder this time.
There were three of them. The
intricate pattern inked on the left shoulder designated them as belonging to
the Other clan.
They had a Caedmon female backed
into a darkened alleyway. A man lay dead on the pavement next to them. The deep
gaping slit on his neck and the pool of blood draining from his throat
evidenced that a cut to the jugular was a cause of death, if not the main one.
What little clothing the female wore were tattered and torn about her body. The
dead male didn't look that presentable either. Anyone could tell they'd put up
a fight and as a result a man had paid with his life.
"We just wanted to have some
fun with you, that's all," one of the men from the Other clan taunted. He
and the others moved closer and closer to the frightened woman. "Your
friend there shouldn't have stuck his snout where it doesn't belong."
One of the men kicked the dead body
and grinned. "He's dead. Now we can play some more."
Blake emerged from the shadows with
rage and curiosity running through his system.
"Help!" The woman cried
out as she finally noticed he and Dawson folding in behind the Other clan.
The biggest one swung around and his
gaze focused on the new threat. His irises were a murky dark gray which was
very unusual for someone of the Other clan. Their eyes usually sparked a bright
silver, especially when they were provoked and up to no good. But this man's
powers were literally seething from his pores, kind of like a Caedmon's would
do, but in far less vivid colors. Although Others were the human branch of
Caedmon kind, they couldn't shift and their abilities and powers were reduced.
Only through the wolf genes were the powers and Caedmon spirit more potent.
"Look what else we got,"
the biggest one said through clenched teeth. "More mutts. I wonder if
they're even worth earning a dull blade. The last one fell quickly--like a limp
rodent." He held up his knife, demonstrating the sharpness by pressing a
pointer finger to the tip.
Dawson growled next to him. 'Let me
do this one in.'
The statement came to Blake through
projection. After claiming the lost relics and on the night of the delegation,
this gift, along with others, was afforded to all six members of the Council.
Thought projection was something that was only shared among mates and close
siblings, so to have something this rare in common with his fellow Council
members who were like brothers to him was a precious gift.
'But there's three of them.' Blake
projected back. 'The one with the most kills wins.'
'Game on.'
Blake pointed to the dead Caedmon on
the ground. "Why is this man dead?"
"For the same reason you will
be lying dead next to him," one replied, taking a step forward to show his
seriousness. "Not being able to mind his own business."
"Westcott was trying to help
me!" The woman blurted out, then shrank back into the building when the
biggest one, presumably the leader, turned on her.
"Shut up, tramp!" he
hissed at her and rushed her with the knife. "You were asking for it. I'll
save you for last...after I get through with these scumbags."
Blake acted quickly, his wolf on the
surface egging him on. He reached the offending male with lightning speed,
grabbing him tight around the wrist. His determination was made clear as he
snapped the offender's carpal bone in two. "Now that's no way to talk to a
lady."
He hollered in pain and dropped the
knife.
There was some scuffling behind them
and Blake figured that Dawson had got into it with the other two. Dawson had
just reached the age when a young male wolf was most aggressive. So Blake was
almost certain that he would have lured them into a fight one way or the other.
His own opponent caught him off
guard, throwing a punch with his other fist. It missed Blake's jaw by only a
centimeter.
Blake shoved the big brute hard into
the stone wall.
When the body hit, spittle and sweat
flew away from his neck and face. He stumbled away from the building, shaking
off what was likely the result of being disoriented from the hit. The brute
appeared to give up but then he sprang back up with a second knife, slinging it
in the air at him.
The blade caught Blake in the upper
forearm. He bit his bottom lip and snatched the thing out. Blood pulsed from
the wound down his arms through to his hand. He dug his fingers into his palms
while the blood rage gathered in his fists.
Blake's eyes glazed over and he
began seeing everything in a vivid red, but things were clearer, nonetheless.
His body shuddered as he fought down his wolf, angry and ready to emerge. There
was no subduing this animal any longer. The wolf was his other half, they
completed each other, and they both hungered for revenge.
Blake's canines ripped violently
from his gums.
He heard a squeak and discovered
that the woman was still standing there, unmoving and shocked from what she was
seeing. He caught her gaze and held it.
"Run. Never come back in
unmarked territory again," he said to her.
She wasted no time gathering up her
ripped skirt and running out of the alley.
"I'll carve you," his
opponent screamed. "I'll slice your throat just like your dead Doctor
there." His fingers shook as he pointed.
"Will that be before or after I
stuff your mouth with your own guts?"
The next thing the coward pulled out
from behind his back was a pistol.
Blake ducked out of the pathway of
the first bullet. Within seconds his bones snapped and molded. His skin grew
hot and stretched until he became the wolf. But it wasn't he who earned the
first kill. Dawson had already ripped into the throat of one.
An enemy's treachery fueled the
wolf's rage. The need for revenge of a murdered brethren harkened. As a Council
member, he had pledged long ago to protect his people by any and all means
necessary. Above all else, he wasn't ready to die tonight--not by any man's
hand and not by a gun.
The third and fourth bullet came too
close to his head and he sprang into action. He leapt into the air, hurling
himself at the offender.
His claws dug into a meaty chest as
he drove the man's body into the ground on his back. The wolf offered very
little mercy when it came to cold blooded murderers.
Blood rushed into Blake's mouth as
he tore into the man's stomach, pulling out a mass of guts and tossing them in
heaps on the ground. This murderer's screams were too loud. The only mercy the
wolf afforded that evening was putting him out of his misery by ripping into
his throat to end it all.
After the kill, Blake's wolf spun
around ready for more, but Dawson's wolf had just taken down the last man.
They shifted back into their human
forms almost at the same time, heaving in and out with deep raged breaths
trying to recover. Dawson stumbled to the opposite side of the wall, clutching
his side.
Blake rushed over to him. "Were
you hit?"
He held up his palm. "Dude, I'm
fine. The bullet isn't deep. I got this."
Dawson was brother to the Alpha, son
to a male descending from the original line of Caedmon ancestors. Despite his
youth, Dawson was probably ten times more powerful than Blake was. In a matter
of seconds, Dawson had expelled the bullet on his own and succeeded in stopping
the blood leakage.
Blake pried a pistol from one of the
dead man's cold fingers. He held it up to the light from the moon. "Just
as I thought. This gun is hot. The serial number has been stripped. Bullets are
probably untraceable too." He dumped the remaining bullets from the clip
into his palm.
Dawson picked up a shell from the
ground and pocketed it. "They popped off too many rounds during the
scuffle. Chances that someone nearby heard are high. Let's get out of
here."
They bent together to pick up the
dead Caedmon from the pavement. When they reached the car again, they popped
the trunk and slid him inside.
"I'll drive this time."
Blake gestured to his wounded side. "You need time to mend." He
pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and hit the speed dial key then
the number 9. His call was answered promptly.
"M-9."
"Max, we need another clean
up," Blake replied, as he slid into the driver's side seat.
Max blurted out an expletive on the
other end. "This shit is getting serious, ain't it?"
"Roger that."
Caedmon Wolves Volume II (Books 4-6 Boxed Set): Shifter Paranormal Romance Bundle by Amber Ella Monroe
