by Celia Kyle
A single, singed finger pressed under her chin. The stench of burning flesh filled her nose while bolts of electricity snapped at her flesh. His magic abraded her skin and it wasn’t long before she smelled blood. Her blood.
It was her blood, but the rank scent of burning skin was all Maxim’s. She didn’t miss the peppering of bruises, either.
“Are you enjoying your handiwork?” The vile promise in his gaze sent a shudder of terror down her spine.
“M-m-mine?”
Maxim traced a slick red swath of skin on his neck. “Yes. I forgot for a moment that Warden Born are uncontrollable and dangerous. That’s why you’ll all die.”
“You were trying to kill me,” she rasped the words, afraid to move more than her lips.
His finger grew hotter with every second, sending shards of pain slicing through her veins. When would she smell her own flesh burn? Based on the evil hatred in his gaze, soon. With his magic snapping and scraping her flesh, Paisley’s power responded in kind, fighting to offset the pain pummeling her.
“Yes, I was trying to kill you. Warden Born taint our kind. You steal our magic and pervert it. We’ve lived without mates for hundreds of years and we can live without them for hundreds more.” Maxim lowered his head, bringing his face level with hers. “All I need is your blood. Blood magic banished you all once, it can do so again. Come along, little human. Be good or everyone in this house will suffer.” He waved his free hand, showing her the crackling sparks that flared from each tip. “You caught me off guard once, but it won’t happen again. Deny me and it will take but a few whispered words to destroy everyone.”
She licked her lips, no choice but to keep her gaze centered on Maxim.
He increased the pressure of his finger beneath her chin and she felt the tip of that digit sinking into her flesh, pushing past her skin. She swallowed her scream, keeping it in her chest. She knew he’d gain satisfaction from her pleas and she was determined to keep quiet.
“Come.” His eyes bled to amber.
Go and die or stay and die? Could he kill everyone in the house with a snap of his fingers? Really? She flicked her attention from the arm nearest to her to the rest of his body. To the gray hue of his skin, the bright red of raw wounds, and the charred flesh that stretched from shoulder to shoulder and disappeared beneath his tattered shirt.
Even now, the sting of his magic lessened whether because hers reacted to the agony or he grew weary, she didn’t know.
She did know if she went with him, she’d die. She’d die without ever feeling the love of Chance and Hawkins, without experiencing their claiming bite or enjoying a life of laughter and fun.
So… so, no. No, she wasn’t gonna go quietly.
“No.” Mouthing the single word had his finger sinking further into her flesh, but she was beyond caring. He tried to take her life once and here he was again. Screw that.
“Excuse me?” His voice was deadly quiet, a living threat in each syllable.
“Fuck. You.” That hurt more than “no” but she decided she’d just go balls to the wall with this one.
“You bitch. You’re going to deny me?” He leaned closer and hissed in her face. “I will end you.”
“Suck,” she winced with the newest pain. Fuck his nails were long, “my yoga-trained dick.” Paisley wondered if his finger would go so deep he’d end up slicing through to her mouth.
Maxim’s anger bled to a confused frown. “Wha—”
“Baby?” Hawkins’ voice reached her a split second before he entered her periphery. “Chance said you guys ordered food. Do you need help with…”
*
Hawkins froze, unable to believe his eyes.
He recognized his white dress shirt. He’d worn it the first day of the Gathering and never bothered to have it laundered. When they’d arrived at the Ruling Alpha compound he’d tossed it aside, intending to ask the staff here to wash it. But he hadn’t remembered and at some point Paisley grabbed it and now… Now it was covered in blood.
Her blood.
He’d tasted her very essence, knew the salty, sweet flavors of her arousal. Now, hints of her innate scent filled the air, parts of her that his wolf recognized. When joined with the coppery tang of blood… he knew it was hers.
And the male causing the steady flow of fluid was… Maxim Clerinell.
His wolf rushed forward, forcing his hands into deadly claws and his human teeth into sharp fangs. His magic wouldn’t be left out of the game. No, the power lunged from the back of his mind and scraped Hawkins’ skin, desperate to be released.
Maxim was hurting their mate, threatening the woman who belonged to them.
A bright glow encircled him, tense and waiting to be released. It would bolt across the distance and slam into Maxim’s chest.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
The dangerous wolf forced Paisley to tilt her head back farther, extending her neck and sending more blood cascading down her throat. Her low whimper reached him and it stabbed his heart. She was hurt, pain thumping through her body, and Hawkins… felt it all.
Her agony was his. Her aches were his. Her fear… was his.
But, how? There was no mating bond.
He could worry about how, later. His magic gathered, a concentrated ball of power forming before him and he raised his hands, ready to mold the energy into any shape he desired.
But Maxim grabbed Paisley’s shoulder and spun her until Paisley’s back rested against Maxim’s chest. And that blackened lethal finger once again rested against her vulnerable flesh.
Maxim tsk’ed. “No attacks, Hawkins. You wouldn’t want to hurt your pretty pet, would you?”
Indecision struck him. He didn’t want any harm to come to her, but if he could kill Maxim and she only received bumps, bruises, and maybe a burn or two… it might be worth it.
He rolled the circle of light, winding it around his hands and spinning it until the massive energy shrunk and folded in on itself. Still powerful, simply smaller and more focused. It’d only take one strike, one bolt and Maxim would be gone. He could do this, he could…
Maxim changed his position, his grip on Paisley altering until the male’s other hand rested just below her ribcage. “It’ll take one push, Hawkins. Do you know how close her heart is? I’ll slit her throat and tear out her heart. See if your precious healers can fix that damage.”
Hawkins froze. The magic still bubbled between his paws, ready to race forward, but even it urged him to remain motionless until help came.
What help?
The only person close enough was Chance and he had no doubt that if he called out to his partner, Maxim would end Paisley’s life. So, they were stuck in this position, frozen until Maxim made his intentions clear.
The wolf would make demands and Hawkins would give anything to keep Paisley safe. Including sacrificing himself. Nothing was more important than their mate. Nothing. He would happily forfeit it all for her happiness and safety.
Those words, that thought, had him remembering Micah and their last moments.
Micah knew he was dying and released Hawkins. For his happiness. Selfless Micah.
And Hawkins had spent years being selfish, hadn’t he?
He remained in position, a rolling ball of magic clutched in his hands while he sought Chance. Not with words, he didn’t scream his partner’s name. No, he stretched for the wolf with his mind.
Chance.
Chance!
Chance, you asshole! Listen!
Surprise hit him first, the emotion slapping Hawkins’ vulnerable mind. It’d been too long since he had another’s thoughts inside his head.
Hawkins? The word was hardly a whisper and it was his own fault. If they’d been communicating this way for years…
But Chance answered. Thank God. Yes.
Wha—
Maxim is here. He has Paisley. They’re standing in the front doorway.
Rage overwhelmed him, the added emotion burning Hawkins’ veins. Chill the fuck out bef
ore you burst a blood vessel in my head.
What do we do?
Hawkins let his mind wander through the possibilities, allowing Chance to monitor each one. All of them ended with one of their trio dead. Unless they were lucky.
Very, very lucky.
Do you think we can do it? Unease wasn’t something he was used to from Chance.
Yes. Get in position.
The conversation lasted seconds, but it seemed like hours had passed. “What do you want, Maxim?”
“Your pet. Dead.”
Hawkins fought his beast and magic under control. They stretched and attacked their bindings, battling to get free and destroy the other male. His human mind agreed with their plan, but he and Chance had their own ideas.
In the hallway. Forty feet. Chance’s voice was strong and sure.
Let me get him talking. I’ll count for you when I’m ready.
Hawkins licked his dry lips, nervous energy causing him to tremble. He just had to wait. Distract and wait.
“What do you need her for? Warden Born are out now, Maxim. There’s no putting the genie back in the bottle. Every wolf knows.”
“No,” Maxim spat. “It’s not done. I can undo this farce. I have the Grimoire…”
The wolf got going on a nice hate-filled rant, spittle flying from his mouth as he roared about Warden Born and how they’d be the end of the werewolf race.
Chance? Ready?
This’ll work? Chance was uneasy and there was nothing Hawk could do about it now.
I felt her fear. This will work. On three. One… two…
The magic he’d held in wait, the pure ball of power that roiled between his palms, disappeared into his chest. No, disappeared was the wrong word. He shoved it back into himself in a blinding rush of energy. He’d gathered everything he had and shoved it back into his internal well. He shoved it down and then… out. He traced the small connection he shared with Paisley and he felt Chance do the same. They were bypassing nature and forcing this upon her, but they had no choice.
His mind sought Chance’s and they wound together, both hunting Paisley’s consciousness. It was a small glimmer in the darkness, the glow wavering with the fear she felt and that caused Hawkins’ rage to grow.
Paisley.
The fear had her mind lashing out, swinging and batting at whatever it could find.
Hush, sweetheart. It’s me and Hawkins. Hush. Chance’s soothing voice slid through the air.
Chance? Hawkins?
Hawkins was quick to answer her. That’s right, baby. We’ll apologize for doing this later. Right now, you need to listen.
Okay. She whimpered and Hawkins realized he needed to keep track of what was happening before him as well as reassure Paisley.
Because Maxim tugged on her, pulling her nearer to the hallway. Another two steps and Maxim would be able to see Chance waiting to pounce.
Paisley, I need you to listen. This is gonna hurt and I promise we’ll have you healed as soon as we can, but you have to follow directions.
Paisley whimpered, the soft sound cutting through Maxim’s continued rants, and it delved into Hawk’s heart. Fuck.
Chance?
Ready. His partner’s response was immediate.
Paisley, on three I want you to rush forward okay, I want you to throw your weight against Maxim’s hold.
But…
Do it. They didn’t have time for hesitation.
Okay, the word drifted to him and he steeled himself for what was to come.
Hawkins began the count. One… Two… Three…
It happened in a blur, bodies twisting and shoving, yanking and tugging. Paisley did as they’d asked, throwing her weight forward. The pain was written across her features, the aches quickly becoming pure agony as Maxim’s claws sunk into her flesh. Her chin and neck were torn open and his nails dug into her abdomen. The only thing that kept her from being gored was that Chance was there, heaving the dangerous male into the hallway.
Hawkins grabbed Paisley before she hit the ground, catching her and then gently lowering her to the carpet. Her flesh was bared to him, blood pumping from the wounds, and he called on his magic for assistance once again. He wasn’t a healer, but he could hold onto her…
Snarls and shouts reached him, deep growling warring with the occasional whimper. He could trust Chance. He could. The male was younger than Maxim, but Maxim wasn’t empowered by his family’s Grimoire.
Hawkins went to work, his trickle of magic sinking into her body, winding its way through her veins and tugging cells back into place.
Blood coated her lips and he didn’t want to think of what that meant or remember Micah or what happened the last time he tried to heal someone…
“Hawkins,” she whispered. “Go help Chance.”
“No,” he snapped. “I’ll heal you first.”
“Hawkins…”
“I will not lose you.” He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
“You won’t, but I can’t lose either of you. I haven’t used any of my magic, Hawkins. Help me reach Emmett and Levy.”
Hawk shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. You don’t have a connection to them. You can’t speak to them that way. You might be able to reach…” Her heart pumped more blood from her body, sending it trailing down her skin and soaking into the carpet.
“Reach?”
“One of your sisters.” He grasped her neck, encouraging his magic to knit the tissues.
“How?” Paisley grasped his wrist, stilling his movements. “Tell me how. Now before it’s too late. Chance is hurt, Hawkins.”
Hawk finally realized it wasn’t just Paisley’s pain that assaulted him. It was Chance’s as well. Fuck.
Her wounds no longer bled and spurted with the beat of her heart. “Paisley…”
“How?”
Fuck. Hawk had no choice. It was leave Paisley to save Chance or risk losing the only other person who made each day worth living. “Focus on them. I mean, use everything you have and find her and then you scream as loud as you can.” Hawk lowered his face to hers, cupping her cheeks. “I don’t know if it’ll work. But you have a blood tie. You have to fight, Paisley. I know you hurt and I know you’re tired, but you have to fight for us, do you understand?”
Paisley nodded, a wince revealing her pain, but she quickly banished the expression. “I understand. Go.”
Hawkins couldn’t let her go. His hands seemed to be glued to her face and his heart hurt with the idea of leaving her behind.
“Go, Hawkins. Help Chance.”
He finally jerked his head in a quick nod, unable to deny the truth. Chance held a part of his soul just as Paisley did. And he couldn’t afford to lose him. Refusing to hold back what lived in his heart, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, whispering a few words before leaving her.
“I love you.”
Then he was gone, racing over the carpet and bursting through the doorway into… a bloody hell.
*
Fuck. Maxim was strong as hell. Chance hadn’t realized the male was so skilled in battle, but he knew now, didn’t he?
Yes, the gaping wound on his shoulder attested to the man’s ability to duck and dodge then return the strikes. His side burned, a nice set of claw marks that stretched from chest to hip.
Blood didn’t just soak his clothing. No, it soaked the carpet as well, a mixture of his and Maxim’s staining the fibers red. And it still flowed from their exchanged wounds.
Maxim swung his arm in a great arch, the extended claws aimed right for Chance’s face and he idly wondered if this would be the killing blow. It didn’t matter though. Not really. As long as Paisley lived, he could die happily.
Chance saw the end of his life coming nearer, Maxim’s claws seeming to glow with magic and blood. Any moment now…
A hand wrapped around Maxim’s wrist, clenching the burgundy hued arm and yanking, slamming the male into the wall. The drywall cracked, raining white powder onto a prone Maxim
.
It was then that Chance realized he wasn’t dead. No… He turned his head and spied his savior. The male’s chest heaved with each panting breath. Blood covered him as well, but Chance’s nose told him it wasn’t the man’s. No, it was Paisley’s.
And his rescuer was Hawkins.
Hawk? Paisley?
She’s fine and he’s getting to his feet. How bad are you hurt?
Chance looked down his body, cataloging each injury. A slice here, a cut there, a deep assed gouge on his thigh. Not too bad.
Liar.
Chance didn’t dispute Hawkins’ opinion. Good enough.
Good. Hold on. Hawkins snatched his wrist, wrenching the younger male toward him.
A new energy filled Chance. It imbued his pores and called to his wolf and magic. It was… Hawkins. Hawkins tied to him, connected with him and shared power. They worked off each other, taking and giving until Chance could stand upright. Yet Hawkins still didn’t let go. They had enough between them to take Maxim down. They could…
In a second, asshole. We just need to keep him busy.
Wha—
It didn’t matter because while Chance was an idiot and distracted, Maxim came at them. Not as a half-shifted man. No, between one breath and the next, the man transformed into his wolf and leapt at them. Fangs bared, red tinged saliva dripping from his mouth, he attacked Hawkins and Chance.
Chance gathered what magic still lingered inside him, ready to blast the attacking male, but Hawkins didn’t give him the opportunity. One massive shove had him tumbling to the ground, his feet slipping on the soaked carpet.
That left Hawkins unprotected. Unprotected and vulnerable. He watched his friend gather what magic he still held, but Chance knew the truth. Their new connection told him that Hawk was nearly tapped out. They’d both used so much power to break through to Paisley’s mind and then his partner fought to heal their mate while Chance battled Maxim.
It left all three of them battered and near death. If Maxim had his way, they would perish amid their own blood and gore.
Chance could only watch as Maxim knocked Hawkins to the ground. Could only observe the wolf widen his jaw. And he was unable to look away as those dripping fangs lowered toward his partner’s throat.