by Tate James
“She'd better fight back soon, or we will intervene for her.” Cole's voice was quiet but loaded with menace.
“Damn right,” Vali grunted, agreeing with his brother.
Kit cried out, mostly in anger by the sounds of things, but it cracked my control just that little bit more, and I felt rage sweeping through my body as the frantic beast in my mind tried to take over. Closing my eyes, I took a couple of long, deliberate breaths to regain my balance and reinforce my mental cage. After the many years I had spent practicing control, I would not let it break now while Kit's life was in danger.
“Yes, that's it baby girl; hit that bitch.” Austin's words were muttered so softly under his breath that I doubt he even realized he's said them out loud. It made me bring my awareness back to the fight at hand, though.
Kit had obviously landed a few blows on her opponent, as the darker girl’s nose was streaming blood and she was favoring one leg just the slightest bit.
“Why isn't she healing?” I asked Wesley quietly, but he looked just as puzzled as I was. Thankfully though, our guards seemed to have relaxed a bit since the fight had begun, and it was one of them who answered me.
“It’s her claws,” he grunted. “When she was kept captive in that testing lab, they did all sorts of weird shit to her. One of them was that they coated her claws in a silver-iron alloy.”
“How does that stop Kit from healing, though?” I frowned, hoping this guy was willing to share his information while he was so focused on the fight in front of us.
The guy turned to look at me with a frown of his own. “Fuck, you really are human, aren't you? Figured those two would have known this, though. They're sure as fuck not human.” He jerked his head towards Cole and Vali, who glowered back at him.
A furious scream came from Chesca, dragging our attention back to the fight in the clearing for a moment. It looked like Kit had just snapped one of her wrists, as it was hanging useless by her side, as she cursed at my girl. A surge of pride rushed through me at seeing Kit get the upper hand, and I curved a grin hearing the boys around me mutter their own support.
“All, or at least most, shifters are allergic to silver. The majority of all other magic users are allergic to iron. By coating her claws in an alloy of the two, they made Chesca into a deadly weapon against her own kind. Only downside is that it has all but eliminated her own ability to heal herself like any normal shifter can,” the guy continued with his explanation. “So this should be an interesting fight. Come on, Chesca!” He screamed the last bit out in support of his pack member.
“That's it,” Cole whispered under his breath. “Stay clear of those claws, Vixen. Use her anger against her.”
Kit was dodging and weaving, for the most part just staying out of reach of the furious brunette whose swings were becoming angrier and therefore sloppier.
“You!” Granny Winter's gnarled old face popped up in front of me, her wrinkled finger jabbing into my chest. “Explain this.” She stabbed her pointer finger at Kit stalking carefully around Chesca, whose face was flushed bright red as she panted with what seemed like a mixture of anger and exhaustion.
“Explain what?” I replied, giving her a disdainful look. Sadistic old bitch.
“You told them to fight. It's hardly our fault that our girl is better than yours,” Cole added, stepping a fraction closer to my shoulder to glare down at the little woman.
“I hope you're not too close with this Chesca,” Austin smirked with a nasty look in his eye. “You did say this was to the death, didn't you?”
The old woman's face paled slightly, and her confidence faltered just a fraction before she visibly pulled herself back together.
“Explain why she still has shifter speed and strength. None of her guardians are here, and she hasn't even seen her strongest one for almost two decades. She should be weak! Why isn't she weak?” Spit was flying from her wrinkled lips as she raged, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see Kit land a heavy blow on Chesca's shoulder. The crack of something breaking echoed across the clearing, and several of the spectators sucked in a gasp.
“Look, crazypants,” Caleb snapped, his lip twitching with barely contained fury. “How many times do you need to be told that she is not Bridget. She's her daughter, Christina. None of us have ever even met Bridget, so she could already be dead for all we know.”
“He's right,” I agreed. “How much more is it going to take before you believe that you've got the wrong girl? Does she need to kill your psycho pet out there?”
From within the arena, there was an explosion of sound and movement as Chesca shifted into a huge, scruffy-looking gray wolf.
“Well, now we will see who kills whom,” Granny smirked, watching the wolf with pride. My attention was already gone from her though, my focus glued to the huge wolf prowling closer to my Kitten as she backed up.
My inner beast howled, desperate to defend her from this new threat. The muscles in my shoulders were bunched so tightly it felt like I was about to explode, but I knew we needed to stay put. If any of us intervened, it would create chaos. There were well over one hundred spectators around the perimeter of the arena, and if they were all shifters, then we would be lucky to make it out with our lives.
A low, menacing growl rumbled from behind me—either Cole or Vali—and I sensed they were just as tightly wound as I was.
The wolf pounced at Kit, and she held her ground, taking the huge animal's weight as it hit her and rolling when they smacked into the snow covered ground. For a moment, I couldn't see who had the upper hand. They rolled over and over, a ball of fur and snow and flaming copper hair as they fought for domination, until finally they came to a stop with my Kitten on top.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Finish it.”
Kit was on the wolf's back, her arms around its neck and her hands gripping its gaping jaws in an angle which could easily allow her to rip the animal’s head clean off.
“Stop!” A bellowing voice echoed across the clearing, and everyone seemed to freeze. “Christina, let her go. You're not killing her.”
“What the fuck…” Caleb muttered as Mr. Gregoric stepped out of the crowd of onlookers and into the arena.
Kit didn't move, not to finish Chesca off but also not to release her. Good girl.
“N,” she panted, raising her voice to be heard at the distance he was from her. “What makes you think I'll do anything you say? This slut would have killed me.”
“Don't be so dramatic.” He sounded like he had just rolled his eyes at her, which was probably not the wisest move given how furious she was.
“Fucking excuse me?” She hissed, and I fought back a grin. I loved when she got all fired up; it was ridiculously sexy. “Did you just call me dramatic? I was just told to fight to the fucking death”—she paused for dramatic effect; the irony was not lost on me—“with a goddamn, motherfucking werewolf. Who, I might add, is batshit crazy. But I must be the one being dramatic?”
It was so incredibly not the time, but fuck if my cock wasn't hardening a little at hearing her flay this guy with her words.
“Christina.” The former teacher sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. “Let her go, and step back. Where the hell is Annaliese anyway; how is she letting this happen?” He looked around the circle until he spotted Granny Winter and zeroed in on her.
“Don't you dare interfere in this, Nicholai.” The old woman scowled, straightening her spine and stalking forward into the arena as well. “She deserves to die, and you know it. She's brought nothing but pain to this town since the day she showed up, and I told you, I told you, that if I ever saw her again, I'd make her pay.” There was an emotional wobble in her voice which spoke of immeasurable pain and heartache caused by Kit's mother.
Mr. Gregoric stared at the old woman for a moment then, of all things, began laughing. “You let her think you were Bridget?” he asked Kit, a stupid grin across his face that I wanted to plow my fist straight into.
“I didn't let her think jac
k shit,” Kit snapped. “This stupid old crone wouldn't listen to me when I said I wasn't Bridget.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man groaned. “Kit, let Franny go, please. She won't try to kill you again, will you Franny?”
The wolf under Kit whimpered but did nothing to attack when Kit slowly released her killing hold on the wolf's head.
“Franny?” Caleb snickered from beside me, and one of our “guards” snorted a laugh as well.
“Her real name's Francesca, but she thinks ‘Chesca’ is more badass.” A few of the other men around us laughed quietly as well.
“Nicholai, I swear to God if you do not let Chesca finish her off—” the old woman started but was silenced by a snarl from Nicholai's throat.
Noticing everyone's attention was now on the arguing pair, I took a step into the arena and away from the man supposedly guarding me. When he made no move to stop me, I took a couple more steps. When still no one stopped me, I quickly crossed the space to where Kit stood, warily watching her former opponent as the huge animal slinked behind Nicholai, her tail hanging low between her legs.
“Hey,” I murmured as I came up behind Kit. “I'm here, love.”
She didn't take her eyes off the defeated wolf, but reached her hand out to me, and I took it in mine. Her body was running with small, barely noticeable trembles, and now that I was close, I could see her chest heaving as she panted. There were several tears in her clothes where Chesca had landed blows with her metallic claws, and Kit's body must be running overtime trying to heal them all.
Stepping in close, I wrapped an arm around her middle and pressed my body to her back. The beast in me was still raging, demanding I defend her, that I kill anyone who might be a threat, but her nearness helped me keep him contained.
“River,” she whispered, leaning back into me and relaxing her tightly wound body just a tiny bit. “You're here.”
“Always, love,” I swore, “always here.”
The tension seemed to be draining out of her quickly, and I suspected if I wasn't there holding her, she might have collapsed.
“—stupid, stupid woman!” Nicholai's voice drew my attention back to the argument going on between himself and Granny Winter. “I sent her here to see Victor! He would have known in a heartbeat who she is! Where the fuck is he, anyway?”
“He's on vacation,” the old bitch snapped back. “He deserves a vacation once in a while, you know!”
“Oh my fucking lord, woman.” Kit's former teacher sounded like he wanted to strangle the old bat. I didn't blame him.
“If you two don't mind,” Caleb drawled, having approached with the rest of our team. “We have had just about enough of your hospitality, and our girl looks like she's half-dead on her feet. Can we wrap this up?”
Kit was indeed looking half-dead, or at least extremely exhausted as she sagged slightly in my arms and began shivering.
“Here,” Vali murmured, holding out the leather jacket that Chesca had so dramatically tossed aside at the start of the fight. Between the two of us, we gently threaded Kit’s arms into the jacket and zipped it up. Closing her back into my arms, I held on tight.
33
KIT
Tiny pricks of pain crawled over my skin as my body fought to heal itself from the cuts Chesca's claws had inflicted. As with the last time I had caught the sharp end of those metal tipped weapons, my body was healing way more slowly than usual and seemed to require a ton more energy, leaving me feeling weak and tired.
Thank God the guys are okay.
I could sense them all around me as River and Vali helped me into a jacket to ward off the icy wind, then River wrapped me tight in his arms. He made me feel so safe, so loved, I never wanted to leave.
Sadly, and I suppose unsurprisingly given the circumstances, the reprieve was short-lived as shouting started up and someone came sprinting into the clearing and collapsed at Granny Winter's feet.
“Quick!” The young man panted. “Please come quick! They're taking the pups!”
Panicked cries and shouts went up from the spectators, and suddenly the clearing was in chaos with people yelling and running back towards town, a good majority of them shifting into impossibly huge wolves as they ran.
“What's going on?” I asked, pulling myself together enough to stand a little straighter without River's assistance.
“Yes, James, please take a breath and tell me what you're talking about.” Granny Winter scowled, taking charge of the situation once more.
“Some men, they came in via the mountain road with trucks and weapons, and they started going from house to house, grabbing people and throwing them into the trucks. They're taking the pups, Granny. The little ones!” The man had tears streaming from his eyes as he relayed this news, and the townsfolk still gathered around flew into a panic.
“What does he mean?” I demanded as Nicholai’s body burst into his fox form, confirming that suspicion, and took off towards the town. Granny Winter was left standing before us, her face chalky.
“The children,” she whispered, sounding terrified.
My gut churned with the awful certainty this was connected to me, and I couldn't just walk away, leaving these innocent shifters to their fate. Despite them all happily trying to have me murdered, I needed to help. Gently pushing River's hands aside, I took a couple of steps before regaining my balance and then used my speed to move, just like I had done during my fight against Chesca.
The trees blurred around me as I pushed myself faster, following the sound of shouting. When I reached the main street of the town, I skidded to a stop, staggering and almost falling at the sight that awaited.
Several large trucks were stopped in the middle of the road while heavily armed men systematically shot townspeople with tranquilizing darts then threw their unconscious forms into the backs of the trucks.
In the middle of it all, staring back at me with a gloating grin firmly on his face, was Simon.
“Nice of you to join us, Kit,” he called out, his beady eyes running over me and making bile rise in my throat. The guys were still probably a few minutes behind me, so I was on my own facing down this man who had once been close enough to be a brother to me. Since he had left me locked within my traumatic memories back at Blood Moon, I had dreamed of getting my hands around his scrawny neck.
A cruel smile crept across my lips as I stared him down, stalking a little closer, and I saw his eyes shift nervously. One thing clearly hadn't changed: he was all false bravado.
“Simon.” I grinned wickedly. “How good of you to save me the trouble hunting you down.”
“Uh-uh-uh,” he tsked, snatching a small person from the arms of a passing mercenary. “Come any closer and I'll snap this little freak's neck.”
The little girl he was holding was still conscious, and the poor thing was utterly terrified. She looked back at me with huge eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched a bunny to her chest and Simon’s disgusting hands held her firmly by the neck.
“Si, what the hell are you doing here?” I asked in a vaguely less threatening tone of voice. Maybe if I could play to his mental instability, I could get him to let the little girl go. As he had made abundantly clear the last time we had met, part of him just wanted to be loved.
“Why don't you let the child go and we can go somewhere to talk, just the two of us?” I coaxed, taking one cautious step closer. Around us, someone had made some sort of signal, and the mercenaries were closing up their trucks, getting ready to leave.
“I should thank you, Kit”— Simon sneered, ignoring my suggestion—“for leading us right to this community full of little freaks like you. I will be rewarded well for this haul.”
“Rewarded by whom, Simon? Who is it you're working for now? Dupree is dead.” I took another cautious step forward.
“I'm not as stupid as you think I am, Kit,” he sneered. “Just be thankful I'm not allowed to bring you in with all these freaks.” He gave a tight nod to someone out of my line
of sight, and pain ripped through me.
Sucking in a gasp, I watched helplessly as Simon clambered into the cab of his truck, dragging the little girl with him. My hand clutched at the burning pain in my chest, and blood began welling up beneath it. Knees buckling, I crashed hard to the ground. Waves of agony rolled over me as I kept my eyes glued to the retreating trucks while I willed my body to heal faster.
From the trees behind me, a huge burst of sound exploded, and for a moment, the sky above me turned dark as the enormous wings of a dragon obliterated the light before he skidded and stumbled to a stop on the road in front of me. Wings outstretched, as though for balance, he did an awkward looking hop before righting himself and swinging his huge, scaled head around to face me.
“Hey big guy,” I croaked from my position on the ground, waiting for my body to heal. For some reason, I knew this green and black dragon was Cole and not Vali. He huffed, and ice-cold breath washed over me, little crystals of snow crusting against my skin.
“Cole, that’s fucking freezing. I just got shot; can you not?” I tried to joke, but it fell a bit flat given how weak my voice sounded. Overhead, another huge pair of wings flapped past us and continued in the direction of the trucks. “Go help Vali; I’ll be fine in a minute.” Or, at least, I seriously hoped I would be. My entire body was radiating with waves upon waves of agony, and I’d totally lost the use of my limbs. The scrapes inflicted by Chesca’s metal claws were still struggling to close, and spots were dancing across my vision.
Cole's massive dragon head dipped toward me, puffing another icy gust of air from his nostrils before he backed up a few steps and took back to the sky. His take off was a little wobbly, but I supposed it was to be expected, him having just grown wings for the first time and all.
I watched mesmerized as his powerful form flapped higher, then took off in the same direction as the trucks and Vali had gone, towards the mountain road. While we had arrived via seaplane, there was also overland access, but it was treacherous during winter due to the amount of ice on the road. Fuzzy blackness began creeping in across my vision, and I was helpless but to surrender as I passed out from the searing pain in my chest.