by Aliya DalRae
It was the last thing the Legion would expect, especially from this ragtag group. Nox knew of Maxx’s aversion to guns. Not selling them—he had no problem making a profit—but he’d never liked the contraptions, always having preferred the feel of well-honed steel in his hand. Besides, it took a lot of strategically placed bullets to kill a single Vampire. Guns were a handy deterrent, though, and came in quite useful as a distraction in the middle of a fight. That was something Maxx learned after Nox had taken his leave of them. Unlucky for him.
Maxx kept his brood in a constant state of red alert, even ordered his gunners to sleep in the turrets, so when the alarms sounded, they were ready. It was only a matter of time before the Legion discovered their hidey hole and brought their arrogant might down upon him.
Maxx waited until the fight was well underway, until every Soldier, every Warrior was engaged, and that’s when he signaled his gunners. With the first shots fired, Soldiers began to fall. Maxx didn’t care where the bullets landed, only that it was enough to distract and confuse so the ferals on the ground could move in and finish the job.
So far it was working brilliantly.
Time stood still as chaos reigned on the battle field. From his elevated position in Tower Two, he watched as the Soldiers struggled to defend themselves.
One camouflaged figure broke free from the melee and ran straight for Tower One. What was he doing? When the dark-haired male looked over his shoulder Maxx caught sight of the amethyst spark glowing from a single eye.
Nox.
Maxx could only watch as the male scaled the tower wall and threw himself at the window where Stone was supervising the other sniper.
“Shoot him!” he yelled, but his gunner had wax in his ears, literally. The male could shoot, but he was a pussy about the noise. Maxx slapped the feral’s head to get his attention and pointed, but by that time, it was too late. Nox had already disappeared inside the tower.
“Stay here and keep shooting,” he ordered. The feral nodded and returned to the business at hand. Maxx ran out the door and down the long hall that connected the two towers. He was nearly there when a broad figure burst through the other tower door.
Nox was as stunning as the day Maxx found him hiding on the docks in New York, that long black hair flying wild around a face sculpted by the gods. Maybe more so now, as he bore a confidence about him that he’d lacked on their first meeting. Maxx hadn’t recognized it when they’d met at the park. So caught up in his anger at the male, he’d missed the fact that Nox was no longer the frightened innocent of a hundred years ago.
“Maxx.”
Even the way he said his name was different. There used to be respect, affection even. Not an ounce of either remained, leaving nothing but derision in their place. But Maxx was over that. Any hurt the male had caused when he packed up a third of Maxx’s brood and took off to parts unknown had disappeared as well. There was a fine line between love and hate, and Maxx had crossed it a long time ago.
The skritch of metal upon scabbard sang in his ears as Maxx drew his sword. There would be no screwing around this time. He used his fists and claws at their prior meeting to pound out his frustrations on the male who had nearly cost him everything. This time he would waste no time on such frivolities. This time he was going to kill the bastard.
Chapter Fifty-Six
K ythryn had never felt so alive. Well, maybe close when Harrier had been taking care of business earlier, but besides that, fighting these ferals, finally standing up for herself? This was the shit!
The first time she’d shifted into a liger she had been a victim. She’d got herself kidnapped by the former occupants of this castle and ended up in a silver-coated cage way down in that skanky dungeon. It was by design, all part of the plan, but she hadn’t realized at the time how much it had bothered her. There she was, all decked out with razor sharp teeth and claws the size of daggers and she’d done nothing to protect herself. Even once they’d “rescued” her, Stivali had held her back.
But now…now…this was fucking glorious!
Harrier fought by her side, his claws and fangs almost as impressive as her own. Together they were a lethal combination. The only thing between the ferals and death was the air that separated them from the Dynamic Duo. No, wait. That one was taken. Maybe the Deadly Duo. She’d have to think about that when she wasn’t busy sinking her pointy parts into the bastards who had attacked her. If only she’d known then what she knew now? Gravelly and Whiney wouldn’t have stood a chance.
From the looks of things, that Maxx character had an endless supply of ferals, and they wasted no time in surrounding her and Harrier.
If her liger could have laughed it would have. Never in her dreams would she have thought an enemy would prefer to face off with Harrier than with her, but that seemed to be the way of it. One look at her snarling beast and the ferals were making a beeline for her lover. Well, the ones that managed to get past her. The rest ended up as bloody sacks of flesh, most missing one or two vital body parts.
Kythryn was busy shaking her most recent victim like a chew toy when she realized Harrier was no longer by her side. She threw the feral against a tree and turned to find her beloved a few yards away in heavy combat with several ferals. Much to her delight, Gravelly and Whiney were among them.
She took a step toward Harrier to offer her assistance when something stung her shoulder. She growled, shook herself. The pain ebbed, so she ignored it and jumped on the nearest feral, Gravelly as luck would have it, who screamed like a girl until she tore his throat out.
When Whiney saw his partner fall, he gave a shriek of his own and tried to flee, but he couldn’t outrun the mighty Liger-Kitty. Kythryn pounced on him and gave his head a playful bat with one of her powerful paws. She would have liked to kick him, break a few ribs, but without the steel-toed boots, a little mouse-play was the best she could do. Dazed, Whiney tried to scrabble out from underneath her, but she slapped his head again leaving him cross eyed and drooling.
Harrier’d finished up with his opponent, so Kitty figured play time was over. She picked Whiney up with a mouthful of shirt and shook him hard enough to make his brains rattle. When his eyes focused again, she dropped him and bit his face off. She wished he would have suffered more, but the kill was satisfying enough.
She glanced up to find Harrier watching her. He looked every bit the Warrior he was, tall and powerful and covered with his enemy’s blood. When he caught her eye, he grinned. His fangs were long and lethal, and his eyes sparked bright enough to light up the entire area. She gave him a valiant roar, the closest she could come to matching his smile, but as he approached her his face fell.
“You’re hit.”
Kythryn growled again, then reached around him to bite off the arm of a feral who was trying to sneak up on them. She shook the arm in her mouth, spraying them both with blood as the creature screamed his lungs out.
“Nice,” Harrier said, wiping a bit of feral goo from his eye. “But your blood is mine now, Liger-Kitty. Remember that.” Harrier held her eyes, his expression full of so much love, Kythryn’s giant heart melted in her big furry chest.
As Harrier took a couple of steps back, things slowed down to stop-action speed. One moment his face was full of excitement and joy, the next of shock and surprise. Of pain.
Kythryn watched, frozen, as he grabbed his chest, his fingers wrapped around what looked like the shaft of a spear, the pointy end protruding several inches beyond his grasp. Blood stained his hands, spilled through his fingers as he stared at the offending rod in disbelief.
Something struck him on the arm, and his body jerked to the side. He stumbled back a step, two, his face fallen and bewildered as a blow to his chest sent him reeling. Again and again, projectiles from nowhere pounded into him, pushing him further and further away from her.
When their eyes met, the golden light had nearly faded to his natural yellow. A single crimson tear formed in the corner of his eye and spilled over, tracing a d
istinct red path down his grime-covered cheek.
Kythryn could feel their enemies filling the clearing, but she couldn’t move, could do nothing but watch as the man she loved told her everything she needed to know with that one look.
But when he spoke, he didn’t waste time on words of devotion. All he said was, “Run,” before he collapsed on the forest floor.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
N ox stood tall, once again face to face with the male who had both rescued him and tried to destroy him. Since their skirmish in the park, Nox had spent every waking moment training with the Soldiers. Facing Maxx again was an inevitability, one in which Nox knew he must prevail.
Maxx stood before him, his sword drawn and murder in his eyes. “What happened to you, Nox? There was a time when you were a respectable feral, or well on your way to becoming one. Now look at you,” he spat. “Dressed like a Legion Soldier, and all you had to sacrifice was your eye.”
Nox bared his fangs, his one good eye sparking violet in his anger.
“Was it worth it?” Maxx went on. “Selling your soul to the Primeval?”
“I’ve sold nothing,” Nox said. “The Primeval, the Legion, they’ve asked much less of me than you did. You were the one after my soul, forcing the brood, forcing me to do things against our will, to be things we didn’t want to be.”
“I gave you a home,” Maxx screamed. “A family, and you repaid me with betrayal. I cared for you.”
“You cared only for yourself.”
Maxx’s face contorted in a mask of emotion Nox was unable to read. It didn’t matter, though. This walk down memory lane was not one he cared to take.
“I’ll ask you once, Maxx. Call this off. Tell your people to surrender, and I’ll convince the Legion to go easy on them.
Maxx’s eyes flashed like orange flames, burning with a hatred Nox didn’t understand. If anything, that animosity should belong to him, but Nox felt nothing but pity for the other male. Pity and shame. Should he be grateful for Maxx rescuing him on the docks all those years ago? Perhaps, but he often wondered if he mightn’t have been better off letting the sun take him. Life with the Primeval had been bad, no question, but the horrors he experienced at this male’s hands were equally abhorrent.
“Give it up, Maxx,” he said again. “I’ve taken out the one sniper, and your other seems to be having trouble.” Nox pointed out the window. “The tides are turning back in the Legion’s favor. Don’t let your brood die for nothing. Call them off and I’ll do what I can for you.”
“You fucking cunt,” Maxx spat. “Nothing but lies and betrayal. I would die before turning myself over to Legion scum. I thought you were better than this,” he said, waving his sword at Nox. “You’re nothing but an ungrateful traitor, offering yourself to the flavor of the month, swearing oaths to anyone who can further your agenda. You’re a user, Nox. Unfortunately for Mouse and the rest, you hide it extremely well.”
At the mention of Mouse, Nox’s eye blazed and his fangs grew to lethal proportions. Talk time was over.
Nox reached out with his mind, ready to wrap mental fingers around Max’s brain and force him to do what an honorable male would have done freely. However, instead of grasping Maxx’s thoughts and turning them to his will, Nox’s probes were met with impregnable resistance. He tried again to force his way in, to breach the shields Maxx had inexplicably raised, but it was no use.
Maxx laughed like the lunatic he was. “You’re wasting your time, Nox. You forget I have powerful allies now. The kind who know how to defeat even you.”
With his one true weapon nullified, Nox wasted no time with verbal volleyball. With a fierce yell, he lunged at Maxx. Mindful of the other male’s sword, he managed to dodge the steel as he dove at the feral’s middle. With a mighty blow, he knocked the blade from Maxx’s hand and they tumbled to the stone floor.
A hundred years’ worth of anger and frustration bled from Nox’s fists and claws as he fought with the greatest enigma of his life. Savior or tormentor? Family or foe? Maxx represented all and more, and the turmoil Nox harbored from the moment he’d met the male poured out of him in a barrage of fist and claw.
Pain lanced through his ribs, and Nox felt a rush of warmth dampen his shirt. He struggled to his feet, his breath coming in painful hitches as Maxx rolled away from him, a bloodied dagger in his hand.
Maxx stood and raised the dagger to his mouth. He locked eyes with Nox as he dragged the bloodied blade across his tongue, staining his lips scarlet. “I would have taken care of you.”
“You wanted to change me,” Nox said. “To make me like you, never mind what I wanted. What any of them wanted.”
“You’re a fool, Nox. If you’d stuck with me, we could have ruled the world, together. But you’ve chosen the wrong side. Now when everything has returned to its rightful order, I’ll be at the top of the food chain and you’ll be dead.”
The shooting had started up again from the remaining tower, and Nox new time was running out for the Soldiers below. He had to stop that gunner, and now.
“Give it up, Maxx. I won’t ask you again.”
Maxx had always been quick with the blades, and time had done nothing to slow him down. The dagger left his hand in a silver blur, flying toward Nox at a deathly speed.
But Nox’s training paid off as his gun cleared its holster a split second faster. As he pulled the trigger, the blade found its mark and buried itself in his chest. The force of it slammed him against the stone wall and he watched in detached fascination as Maxx fell to the floor, blood blossoming from the hole in his forehead.
One moment to regain his breath, then Nox turned for the tower to take care of that last gunman.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
K ythryn ran, but not away. When Harrier’s body disappeared beneath a pile of ferals she did the only thing she could. She ran to him.
Maybe the ferals forgot she was there, maybe they were just idiots. Either way, it was the last mistake they would ever make.
Several more bee stings struck her as she ran, but all she could think about was the male—her male—at the mercy of those soulless creatures.
She didn’t remember much of what happened next. She wasn’t sure if it was her human side or the liger who was in control, but by the time she regained her senses, there wasn’t a feral left in her general vicinity. All around her were pieces-parts of what had once been a shitload of orange-eyed monsters.
When the clearing fell quiet, she limped to Harrier’s side. As she collapsed to the ground beside him, her body lit up in an explosion of fiery pain. Based on that, she assumed that some of the blood that now painted her fur was probably her own. No matter. She would heal. Harrier on the other hand…
She nudged his shoulder with her oversized head, licked his face, but he didn’t respond. She screamed her most terrifying roar right in his ear, but nothing. She wanted to shift, to yell at him to get up, stop fucking around, but she didn’t know if it was safe. There was no way “wee Kitty” would be able to protect him if more ferals showed up.
Don’t get dead, she thought, trying to send his words back to him. Please, don’t be dead.
The wind kicked up and a familiar scent drifted by.
I’ll be back, she silently promised, then ran off into the woods to find that Vampire. To find help.
She found him leaning up against a tree, nursing a pretty nasty gash on his forearm. She slid to a stop in front of him and roared, which probably wasn’t the smartest move.
Viper had a dagger in one hand and a .44 in the other before Kythryn could blink.
“She’s with us,” someone muttered. She hadn’t seen the Soldier on the ground a few yards away, but she recognized him from the drop off. “I wouldn’t shoot her if I were you. Harrier’ll be pissed.”
The Soldier’s wounds looked awful, but she guessed he would live. She needed Viper to come with her, and now.
She took a step toward him, but he backed away, his gun still trained on a spot somew
here in the vicinity of her head. Big scary Vampire afraid of a little liger. She so wished she could talk right now, feed him back some of his sarcasm, but Harrier didn’t have that kind of time.
With a mental eye roll, she laid on the ground and offered him her belly. Stupid fucking Vampire. When he finally holstered his weapon, she stood up again, grabbed his wrist in her mouth and pulled. So, she might have bit down a little harder than necessary, but she did grab his uninjured arm, so she should get points for that.
When he finally figured out that she wanted him to follow her, she let him go and led on. It shouldn’t have been that hard. Lassie did it all the time, and everybody knew that Timmy was in the fucking well. Maybe those old timers were a lot smarter than your average tattoo-covered Vampire.
When they reached the clearing, Viper pulled up short.
“Jesus Christ, did you do this? Remind me again why your Overlord thought you needed our protection?”
Kythryn didn’t have time to screw with his epiphanies. She ran back to him and grabbed his arm again, dragging him to where Harrier lay, so silent. So still.
“Shit,” the Vampire said, finally getting the picture. He touched a finger to his ear and said, “Merlin, send the medics to my location, stat. Harrier’s down.”
That was all she needed to hear. Help was on the way.
Kythryn’s legs turned to jelly beneath her, suddenly incapable of holding her up a moment longer, and she fell heavily beside her mate. Her head was spinning, but as she lay there next to Harrier, she could swear she saw his chest rise, and then fall ever so slowly. She blinked her eyes, watching for a repeat of what she feared was a wishful hallucination. Her lids, however, felt like leaden weights were pulling at them, and try as she might, she could not keep them open.