Hunted (Riley Cray) (46 page)

“Holy shit,” I breathed, unable to look away from the miniature forks of lightning dancing between his outstretched hands. The small shots of energy every time we touched made sense now, and I felt the fool for not sensing the otherness in him.

“Surprise,” he offered with a lopsided smile though his eyes didn’t move from the smug werewolf standing in front of us even as a ball of energy began to form between his palms, his brows furrowing in concentration.

“You, er, know what to do with that?” I asked in a harsh whisper, not daring to take a step away from him, but not wanting to stand too close either. I wasn’t sure which one was the bigger danger — the psychotic werewolf shaking with chuffing laughter, or the living electrical storm standing close to me in the lurching shadows of my living room.

“We are
so
having a talk about this later,” I hissed, pulling my eyes away from Samson long enough to shoot a glare at Holbrook.

“How about we just try to get through this first,” he replied out of the corner of his mouth, his hands beginning to shake from the effort of containing the writhing ball of energy that had grown to the size of a soft ball. It gave off faint crackles of rogue energy that smelled of burnt ozone and freshly turned earth.

A creak of old wooden floor boards pulled my focus back to Samson. Dammit, I was tired of my boyfriends hiding this kind of crap from me.

Vibrating with anger at Holbrook’s deceit, I set my hands on my hips and demanded, “What do you want, Samson?” I was fed up with playing his twisted game; one way or another, this needed to end.

He looked dumbstruck for a moment as if he had not anticipated being asked that question, confusion swimming in the brilliant gold of his eyes. I almost felt sorry for him, reduced to a shadow of the once charismatic and handsome young man he had been, and then I remembered the faces of all the innocent people he had killed to satisfy his own demented desires.

“You were supposed to be mine,” he replied after a while in something close to a whine. The vulnerable expression on his face struck me, so at odds with the horrifying form he had taken and the monster I knew him to be.

“You tried to kill me! You told me you wanted to fucking eat me.”

“No, no, no,” he chanted, raising massive claw-tipped hands to his head. “I tried to perfect you.”

Obviously, his recollections of the attack were a little different from mine, and I wondered if he’d been bat-shit crazy all along.

“You tried to...” I faltered, realization dawning as horrifying as his beastly visage. “You
wanted
to infect me?”

“I wanted you to be strong like me. I wanted you to be mine.”

“I’ll never be yours. You ruined my life!”

Holbrook’s grunt of strain beside me drew my gaze to him. Sweat beaded on his brow, rolling down through the dark bristles on his cheeks. The air was filled with the sweet molasses scent of him and the burnt ozone of his crackling energy, but beneath it I could detect the sour note of his fear.

“I perfected you!” Samson bellowed, causing the hair to rise along the backs of my arms and my knees to go shaky with fear. His sadness had evolved into blistering rage in the blink of an eye.

I didn’t even have a chance to cry out a warning as he leapt at us, crooked teeth gnashing at the air, but evidently I didn’t need to worry about Holbrook; he knew how to handle himself. I felt the concussive boom of the spell going off as much as heard it, the force of it knocking me off my feet. I went down in a tangle, taking the side table with me. When the pounding in my head had cleared enough for me to open my eyes, green motes danced across my vision. I wasn’t sure if they were real or just the aftereffects of the brilliant green flash that had lit up the room for a second when the spell collided with Samson.

Blinking a few times, I was relieved when my vision cleared and the thumping in my head eased into a dull ache. Judging from the remaining throb, I’d slammed my head against the floor when the force of the spell knocked me down. I rubbed the back of my head as I pushed myself up on one elbow and looked around the room. The shadows appeared deeper after the blinding flash of magic, and it took me a while to discern the shapes of Holbrook and Samson sprawled on the floor.

Holbrook was the first to move, rolling over onto to his side to face me, a pained expression etching deep lines in his face. A heavy sheen of sweat covered his brow and I noticed that he was holding one arm awkwardly against his side.

“Is it broken?” I asked, my voice sounding fuzzy and distorted through the ringing in my ears.

His voice was tight with pain when he responded. “Just dislocated I think.”

Crawling over to him I tucked a shoulder under his good arm and helped him up. His scent was stronger, as if the expenditure of magic had intensified it, and for a moment all I wanted to do was bury my nose in the skin of his neck and breathe him in. Easing him down into the armchair close to the front door, I looked over to the unmoving shape of Samson.

“Is he...”

“Dead? Doubtful. It was just raw energy. Unless it somehow managed to short-circuit his heart, he’s just knocked out.”

“For how long?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Holbrook replied with a shrug, grimacing when the movement aggravated his injured shoulder. “Hand me my gun, will you?”

“Maybe we should get out of here, or call for back up.”

“You think?”

Before we could make a move to the door, Samson let out a low groan, the sound of his claws raking across the floor setting my teeth on edge.

“You filthy fucking warlock,” he snarled as he swung his massive, shaggy head up to lock glowing eyes on us. “You’d dare to use your foul magic against me?”

Scrabbling to hold the gun in his bandaged hand, Holbrook raised the Glock, pain and exhaustion making his aim waver.

Heedless of the gun aimed at him, Samson let out a thundering war cry and launched himself at us, the taunt muscles in his thighs bunching and flexing to propel him forward in an impressive leap. A massive muscled arm swept me aside as easily as a rag doll, knocking me into the wall, as he continued forward towards Holbrook. I heard the loud clap of gunfire, the room lit by the muzzle flash for a brief moment, and felt a rush of satisfaction when Samson grunted in pain. My gratification was short-lived, however, as the deranged wolfman plowed into Holbrook, curling taloned hands around the smaller man’s shoulders to lift him off his feet and drive him backwards into the front door.

Holbrook’s head struck the solid wood with a meaty thump, and I watched horrified as he went down like a rag doll, his eyes rolling back in his head until only the whites were showing. When the air was suddenly colored with the rich scent of blood I assumed he had a head wound, and could only hope it wasn’t too bad. The Glock skittered out of his slack grip, sliding across the floor to land between Samson and me. Samson’s gaze drifted to the fallen weapon at the same time mine did, and I knew there was no way I could reach it before he did.

As much as I hated to leave Holbrook alone without knowing how bad his injuries were, he’d be dead for sure if I didn’t lure Samson away.

“Come and get me you psychotic fuck,” I challenged, and then threw myself through the nearby window, covering my head with my arms as I fell through the shattering glass and tumbled to the snow outside.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

ROLLING TO A breathless stop, I launched into a run, not waiting to see if Samson had taken the bait. Over the sound of my bare feet crunching on the frozen snow I heard the telltale tinkling of more glass breaking as he burst through the window frame.

I’d already stripped off my shirt by the time I reached the tree line, and was glad I’d changed into sweatpants when I began to shift, the flimsy cotton tearing away as the wolf emerged. The change flowed over me like water sprouting from a spring, and before I knew it I was dodging through the trees on four feet. Samson’s angry roar rang out behind me, cutting the air like a whip crack. Part of me wanted to run as fast and far as I could, but the rational side of me was aware that I had to make him chase me, leading him away from Holbrook. After that, I had to figure out how the hell I was going to kill the crazy son of a bitch.

I felt the moment Samson locked on to me like a warm breeze ruffling my fur, something inside me aware of his presence. Was that why I’d been having dreams all these years and been able to see his actions in the twisted visions that had haunted me in recent days? Was I somehow inexplicably joined to him through the wolf? I’d never heard of being tied to another were, but there was so much about being a werewolf that I didn’t know or understand. Hell, I didn’t even know if everything I had experienced was normal for a were, or if Samson had done something to make me something else, something different. Sprinting through the trees, my heart pounding like a piston in my chest, I cursed my naivety. What else didn’t I know about my own kind, and how my ignorance could be used against me?

“You can’t hide from me, Riley!” Samson called out, his voice bouncing back and forth between the trees, echoing eerily and making it impossible to pinpoint his location.

Where are you, you bastard?

Slowing to a cautious trot I tried to listen for any sign of his whereabouts above the sound of my breathing, but was only greeted by silence. Even the creatures of the forest didn’t dare to make a sound for fear that the dangerous beast hunting amongst the trees would find them. Samson was out there somewhere.

Watching. Waiting.

I could feel his eyes on me as surely as if he was standing right beside me, his proximity raising a ridge of fur from the back of my head all the way down to the tip of my tail. As much as the thought of fighting him terrified me, it paled in comparison to the nauseating sensation of being watched by him. For a fleeting moment I wished I still possessed my human voice and could call him out. Instead, I had to settle for emitting a brief, sharp bark that I hoped would draw him out into the open. At first I thought he wouldn’t rise to the bait, but then my ears perked, swiveling towards the sound of snapping branches as something approached. Something big and fast.

He exploded out of the darkness in a horrifying maelstrom of gnashing teeth and rending claws, the sight of him looming up out of the shadows like a vision from my nightmares rooting me to the spot in fear. My mind screamed at me to run, but I seemed unable to propel myself into motion, frozen by his twisted visage.

Move, Riley! Run!

One giant razor-tipped hand swung at me faster than I ever could have anticipated, swatting me aside as though I were no more threatening than a fly. I felt the air rush past me as I went airborne, my legs scrambling uselessly as I struggled to tell up from down. I landed with a jarring thud that knocked the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping for breath for a terrifying, eye-watering moment.

Clawing at the ground, I pulled myself back up to my feet, my legs shaky but remaining steady. The wetness of blood matted the fur on my side, and I knew without looking that the impact had torn open my stitches. It wasn’t a lot of blood, but any amount wouldn’t be good around a crazy werewolf. Shaking off the fogginess in my head from the fall, I rounded on Samson, or at least I tried to.

He was gone.

Ghoulish laughter sounded in the dark, made impossible to pinpoint by the overlapping echoes and ghostly creaking of the trees. Somehow, we had made it back on to the road leading to my cabin, but the open area didn’t make me feel any safer. Not for the first time since being thrust into the cluster fuck that my life had become I felt as if I’d stepped onto the set of a cheap horror movie. Any minute now I would be overrun with zombies, or denizens of Hell.

Maybe they’d be kind enough to take out Samson before they feasted on my brains and devoured my soul.

A flicker of motion in the corner of my eye had me spinning around, once again too late, as Samson streaked towards me. The gleaming canines of the wolf, looking out of place in his primarily human face, distorted his lips and garbled his laughter. The madness I remembered when he had torn into my belly all those years ago shone bright in his eyes, and I wondered how I had ever missed the evil inside him.

He swung at me again, his hand cutting through the air in a blur. I leapt back, trying to dance out of his reach, but didn’t quite make it. Pain burned along my ribs as his claws scoured across my flank, tearing into my flesh, as yielding as warm butter. Anger blinded me, the wolf taking over for a moment, granting me an extra burst of speed as I rounded on him with snapping jaws.

I was so surprised when my teeth connected with the flesh of his arm that I almost released my hold on him. Thankfully my thoughts cleared enough for me to tighten my grip rather than letting go. Bones ground between my teeth, blood and meaty flesh squishing against my tongue. Growling loud and low I shook my head as though his arm was a rabbit and I was trying to snap its neck.

He howled in pain, his other fist crashing into the side of my skull with the force of a dump truck, filling my vision with stars, and knocking me loose. Staggering back several paces, my legs even more rubbery than before, I stared up at him, wishing that the heat of my anger would make him drop dead.