Delta Salvation (Phantom Force, Book 1) (27 page)

The man held the door open like a gentlemen, nodding as they passed. Lyric had to tilt her head way back to look up at him. The arms holding her captive didn’t allow her to do any more than get a quick glimpse of black eyes. She tried to memorize his features, breathing deep to take his scent in before she was shoved outside and the door was shut behind them.

“Beck, I don’t think this is the best place for us to take care of business.”

She stumbled when the man named Beck released her, shoving the one who’d just spoken against the wall. “Are you questioning my leadership, Raul?”

Claws erupted from Raul’s fingers. “Get the fuck off me, Beck. I’m pointing out the fact we should just take the bitch back to the hotel and have some fun with her.”

“I agree with jackass, for once. Let’s just simmer down. We can take the chew toy and play with her for a while.”

Beck released Raul. “Kristof, go get the van and take Raul with you while Dean and I get acquainted with our toy. Call Marcus and have him get word to her brother. I want him to sweat knowing his baby sister is with us, and there’s nothing he can do.” He turned his cold gaze back to Lyric, licking his lips. “I was just going to kill you and leave you for Xan to find, but plans have changed.”

“Over my dead fucking body, asshole,” Lyric snarled, unsheathing her claws.

The door to the bar opened and slammed shut. “I don’t think the lady wants to go with you.”

“Be a smart man and go back inside where it’s safe. I won’t give you another chance.” Beck turned his back on Lyric.

Seeing her opportunity, Lyric nailed Dean in the nuts with her knee and swiped him across the throat with her claws. The wound would be deep enough to immobilize him, but not kill, she hoped. She wasn’t sure how long before Raul and the other would be returning with the van, but since the parking lot wasn’t huge, she assumed minutes at the most.

Beck turned at the sound of Dean’s gasp. “You stupid cunt.” The animalistic growl he emitted scared her worse than the thought of what her brother would say if she exposed what they were to humans.

“I’ve already called 911. I suggest you pick your buddy up and go.” The man from the hallway started walking toward them, cell phone in hand, bringing Beck’s attention back to him.

“Run,” Lyric yelled.

The sound of an approaching vehicle had Lyric sprinting away from the downed wolf and the open drive, putting her closer to Beck. An enraged werewolf was unpredictable, but she couldn’t allow him to hurt a human. Xan and Kellen had made sure she and Syn had trained with their best fighters, and while she knew she didn’t have the strength to take on a group of shifters, she prayed she was able to hold her own against one.

Beck had his back to her, but she could see he, too, had done a partial shift and was facing the gorgeous human. The thought of him harming the man was not something she was willing to allow. Using his distraction, she went low and took out his feet with a swift kick. Man, and wolf, tended to underestimate her because she was small and acted docile. Beck was no exception.

“Aw, fuck,” the human rumbled.

At the same time she felt the air stir. Their window of opportunity had passed, and the other wolves had returned.

“Go back inside and find Syn Styles. Have the DJ call for her. Tell her what’s happened. Go. Now.” Lyric rocked on the balls of her feet, pushing him toward the door with her back to his front.

He snorted. “Sure thing, gorgeous. Just as soon as unicorns fly by.”

His big hand came around her, trying to switch their positions. Lyric wanted to snuggle into him. She also wanted to shove him through the door and into safety. As Beck got back to his feet, and the others helped the downed wolf to the van, she thought they were going to leave.

Beck sprang at them with all the speed and strength of a full-grown werewolf on a rampage. She placed herself in front of the human, knowing she could regenerate faster than he could. His hand came around her, trying again to place her behind him. She watched in horror as Beck brought his paw up, claws extended, and hit her with the full force of his strength on the side of her head. Lyric flew across the pavement, head slamming into the concrete wall, making stars appear before her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t to see her guy ready to take on a shifter.
Whoa, slow your roll.
She didn’t even know his name. The hit to her head must have done something to her brain.

Seeing the other two men coming back from their vehicle, Lyric picked herself up. Her main goal was to help the man and hope they got out alive.

Surely, Syn was looking for her by now? The last thought gave her pause. Her best friend would never have allowed her to be gone for so long unless something had happened to her, too. She let more of her wolf out, hearing seams rip and not caring she was ruining a favorite pair of jeans.

* * * *

R
owan swore when the beautiful woman was thrown against the building. Fear for her safety had sent him outside to check on her; seeing her being manhandled by the obnoxious man who needed a shower, sealed the deal.

He’d come to the bar to get a drink or two and get laid. Looked like he was going to get in a fight, and need more than a few bottles of alcohol to erase the images of what he was seeing. Nine, maybe ten-inch nails extended out of the man’s fingers, and the last time he’d checked humans didn’t have that much hair let alone fur, and the guy didn’t have either on his body earlier. In all his training, the wars he’d fought, not a single foe compared to what he was facing.

“What the fuck are you?” Rowan asked, thinking he should’ve brought his gun from his truck.

Three men advanced on him, looking more like something out of
American Werewolf in London
.

“You should’ve stayed inside like a good boy,” the half-man growled.

Rowan felt the woman step up beside him, easing his fear that she was hurt from being tossed aside. Like all good country boys, he pulled the knife he had strapped to his side. The blade was longer than their claws, which he hoped was enough of an equalizer. She squeezed his free hand, sporting her own set of extra-long nails. Although she was on his side, he hoped.

“Since the lady doesn’t want to go with y’all, why don’t we skip the pissing contest and forget all about this?” Rowan released her hand, watching the body language of the three man-beasts. They were not experienced fighters, which gave him an advantage.

“There’s no reasoning with them. You should’ve run when I told you to.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the men as they fanned out in a semi-circle. “Darlin’, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I was gonna leave you out here to fight off these...whatever they are.”

The sound of gravel shifting beneath the man to his right’s feet, had Rowan kicking his steel-toed boot into his knee, followed by a roundhouse kick to the head. When he looked down into the face of the man, no longer was there any indication he was human. Gone was the shape of a human face, replaced with the muzzle of what appeared to be one of his worst nightmares. Without hesitation, he grabbed the thing by the hair and cut his throat from ear to ear.

“You will pay for that.” One of the beasts’ garbled words cut across the night. Before he could hop off the dead creature, he was hit so hard in the side, Rowan was sure a rib or two was cracked.

In his line of work with the military, he’d suffered a lot worse damage and had learned to suppress the pain. His training served him well as he rolled, keeping a firm hold on his serrated knife. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the woman fighting with amazing skill.

He landed with a thud on his back, momentarily stunned. The large animal on top, snapping at his neck. Rowan grunted in pain from the weight on his ribs, knowing he needed to get the upper hand quickly or he’d be a dead man. What were wolves’ weaknesses? Never had he thought he’d need a silver bullet, or wondered if that was a myth or truth. Either way, he was going to die if he didn’t get out from under the snapping jaws.

Using all his strength, he heaved, bucking until he finally knocked the wolfman off. Claws slashing his chest as they fought. The burn, like acid eating his skin, made it hard to focus.

Rowan waved his knife hand. “Come on, pussy, is that all you got?”

An enraged howl, and then the animal came at him with more force than cunning.

Rowan sidestepped, slashing upward with his knife, slicing through fabric and tissue. He turned, giving a hard kick to the beast while he was doubled over. Erasing the distance between them, he snapped his neck.

A roar shook the ground. Rowan spun to face the leader, watching in horror as he tossed the woman aside. With a quick assessment, he saw her chest rise and fall.

“I understand it’s hard to get laid when you look like you were dropped from the ugly tree, and hit every branch on the way down, but really, there has to be someone out there for you,” Rowan taunted him, needing him to come closer, away from the woman. All of the men had partially shifted into part wolf, part man, a seriously grotesque combination.

The beast growled and lumbered on his jacked-up legs. If he made it out of this alive, Rowan was sure he’d be needing therapy for months, maybe years to come.

His side no longer burned, but had started to turn to more of a
kill me now
ache, the likes of which he’d never experienced. He’d been held prisoner for over three months in a foreign land, had been tortured for days on end, and had never wanted to die. Those days and nights were nothing compared to what was going through his system right now, but he fought the pain back. One more to dispatch then he could fall down.

He switched the knife to his left hand, using his right to shield the injured ribs, keeping his eye on his opponent. Basing his decision on the way he hadn’t reacted to Rowan’s words, except to growl and come closer, Rowan moved forward. A mistake, he realized a moment later, when he was within leaping distance and found himself with a two hundred-plus pound enraged beast on his chest. His knife flew from his hand. All the air left his lungs in a big whoosh, and then the large, gaping mouth that could easily enclose his entire skull, was heading straight for his throat. Rowan reached up with both hands, trying to stop the inevitable, but against the supernatural strength, he knew it was useless.

Not willing to give up and turn his neck for the thing, he stabbed his thumbs into the beast’s eyes. Howling, the beast shook him off, but blood ran from the now empty right socket, making Rowan happy he’d at least caused it some damage.

The last thing he saw was razor sharp teeth coming straight for his face. As he grappled with the leader’s head, he turned and felt the hot breath on his neck and then pain so immense he yelled out. Black dots swirled in his vision, and then the heavy weight was knocked off him. Rowan tried to get up, but his body wasn’t listening to his mind. The sound of fighting brought him out of the daze and or darkness trying to swallow him. He saw the woman holding his knife, her back to him in a fighter’s crouch, protecting him. From her posture, he could tell she was ready to kill. His nature wouldn’t allow him to lie there and let a woman fight his battles. With the last of his strength, he rolled to his knees. The fight seemed to have gone on for hours, when it could only have been minutes. The sound of a car coming down the gravel drive had all three of them looking in the direction of the noise.

“Your days are numbered, bitch.” The leader scooped his two fallen buddies up in a fireman’s hold and tossed them into the still running vehicle, speeding away in a spray of gravel.

“We gotta get you outta here.” His angel knelt next to him, her cool hand brushing his hair back. Rowan thought he would just lie back and let the darkness envelop him, but she had other plans. “Come on, big guy, I’m going to need you to help me. You’re way too heavy for me to carry.”

Grunting was his only acknowledgement. What didn’t she understand about him wanting to lie down and rest?

“Lava is running through my veins, darlin’. Find my phone and call 911. Find out why they didn’t send a car out when I called. That’s the only thing that’s gonna help me.” His voice sounded raspy to his own ears, and lacked conviction. He knew he was dying from the injuries he’d sustained and wondered how she was going to explain to the authorities what had happened.

“Shit, you’ve been bitten. Fuck, fuck, shit.” She leaned forward and sniffed his neck, ripping his flannel and T-shirt down the front.

On the verge of dying, Rowan was amazed to feel his dick harden when the woman licked at his wound, easing the pain. In the next instant, he nearly shot off the ground when her teeth sank into his already wounded shoulder. Instead of more pain, ecstasy rolled through him.

Rowan grabbed the woman around the waist, uncaring about his injuries, making her straddle his thighs. The last time he’d dry humped a female was in junior high with a girl three years his senior. Like then, the girl on top of him panted and climaxed right along with him. Only difference was then, he could get up and get a towel to clean himself. Rowan wasn’t sure he could move, let alone get up. Clearly, his dick hadn’t gotten the message they were in danger, the way it still pressed against his zipper.

“You two need to get a room for crying out loud.” A man’s laughing voice jerked him out of his musings.

“Don’t move. Wait until he goes inside so he can’t see the blood on you.”

Rowan didn’t want to tell her he didn’t think he could move even if he’d tried, so gave a brief nod and stared into her beautiful brown eyes. Her golden-blonde hair fanned them like a curtain, shielding them from others. He wondered what she’d look like spread out naked on his bed and had an answering jerk from his cock. Damn, the thing had never perked up quite so fast before.

Jett’s Wild Wolf

Mystic Wolves 3

Prologue

Taryn Cole felt the first skitter of fear slither down her spine as Keith pinned her with his black eyes. The man who claimed her as his daughter, or as one of his possessions, gave her one of his death stares. Others in the great room either dropped to their knees, or showed him their throats, but she did neither, barely resisting the urge.