Page 24 of Lone Wolf’s Claim (The Kincaid Werewolves #1)

H eather knew Brock's arms were around her, but she couldn't feel them. She was too numb with fear.

They were coming.

"Heather…Sunshine…what is it? What do you see?" Brock's voice came at her as if from a long distance away.

She tried to answer him. Her mouth opened, but her throat was closed tight.

They were coming. The bad ones. They were here. And they were coming for her.

"Heather, please talk to me!" Brock pulled back, gripping her by the chin and tilting her face up his. His eyes were wide and scared, his nostrils flaring as if he could smell her fear. "What is happening?"

"They're coming," she managed to whisper.

"Who's coming?"

Her throat worked as she tried to speak. He gave her a gentle shake.

"Who is coming?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw figures emerge from the mist to stand just inside the trees to their left. Adrenaline suddenly rushed through her body. "The bad ones. And they're here." Staying within the circle of his arms, she turned to face the Fae creatures.

Brock followed her gaze. "I don't see anything. Heather! I don’t see anything!"

Stepping in front of him, she took up a protective stance. "They're here, trust me."

"What do they want?"

She didn't know how she knew. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was the way their hollowed, orange eyes kept moving back and forth from her to him, becoming distinctly hostile when they landed on her werewolf. "They want me. And they want to kill you."

Brock swung his eyes around, searching for this new threat. "Why can't I see them?"

She shook her head slightly. "I don't know. But I can. Just stay behind me."

A low growl rumbled behind her. "I will no' cower behind my female and leave her tae defend me."

"It doesn't look like you've got much of a choice, big guy.

" She could see them all now: Six males, all smaller than Brock, but no less lethal.

They were dressed in human clothes, jeans or other casual pants, boots and long-sleeved, fitted tees.

But their sunken eyes, thin, twitchy bodies, and shaved, tattooed heads ended the resemblance there.

They looked like they all suffered from a severe case of meth addiction and hadn’t had their fix in a long time. Which, she supposed, was kinda true.

She faced off against them, doing her best to ignore Brock and focus on the things in front of her.

Her fingers tingled and she shook out her hands, trying to get the blood circulating.

Although the way her heart was pounding, she didn't know how any part of her body wasn’t receiving its fair share of her blood supply.

She was utterly terrified, but was trying hard not to show it. She didn't know how to fight! Especially not against a mystical being.

The one in front with the tattoo that dropped down into a V onto his forehead, suddenly appeared mere inches from her. Grabbing a handful of her thick hair, he pulled back, forcing her into an awkward half backbend. Holding her that way with one leanly muscled arm, he leaned down and smelled her.

"You stink like heather," he spit out. His breath smelled like decayed meat.

She reached up with both hands and tried to dislodge his hand from her hair, but his grip was like an iron band. Brock had his hands on her waist and shoulders, trying to pull her upright as he let out a stream of curse words, but he was only hurting her more. "Brock, let go! You're hurting me!"

He immediately dropped his hands, only to start pacing back and forth helplessly next to them. He never took his glowing eyes from her.

"V" gave her hair a good yank, and she winced. "I said, you stink like heather."

"So I've been told," she squeaked.

"Who are you talking tae? Where are they?" Brock roared.

Her eyes went to the Fae male of their own accord and Brock immediately took a swing in that direction. The male ducked just in time, almost dropping Heather to the ground.

"Control your dog, or we will kill him slowly and painfully while you watch." Blotchy colors radiated from his irises, the dark circles under his eyes making them stand out like strobe lights.

"Fuck you," Heather told him quite succinctly.

Smiling and showing off rotten teeth, he swung his arm backward, tossing her across the crevice in the ground to land hard in front of his posse.

Brock threw his head back and howled. Heather heard the crack of breaking bones and the moist, slushy sound of muscle tissue ripping and covered her ears and closed her eyes.

Curling herself into a ball, she stayed like that until another howl rent the air, followed by loud snarls and the snap of his teeth.

She opened her eyes just in time to see boots clear her prone body as the remaining five Fae jumped over and around her to help their friend. Reaching up, she snagged one of them by the ankle. "Oh no, you don't, asshole."

He fell flat on his face, and she wasted no time getting to her feet. She was ready when he got up. Ripping off her sling and ignoring the deep throbbing in her leg, she sank into a low fighting stance and waited for him to make the first move.

Running his crazy eyes over her, he assessed the threat as he wiped the dirt off of his mouth.

Heather heard grunts of pain coming from Brock. She wanted to check on him, but didn't dare take her eyes from her opponent. He cocked his head at her.

"Really? A fist fight? This is what you're doing?" Leaning forward, he said in a stage whisper, "I can suck the soul from your body before you get in a single punch."

So she kicked him with a basic front kick. Hard. Right in the balls.

Both of his hands cupped his nether regions to protect them, too late, and Heather took advantage of his position to land an uppercut right in the jaw.

His head whipped back and she danced out of the way as he roared with rage at her.

Stuttering, weak blue lights shot from his fingers in her general direction, but came short of actually hitting her.

She felt strangely calm as he screamed at her.

When she got tired of hearing it, she nailed him with a left hook and followed it up with a spinning kick to the kidney.

Hopping on top of him, she followed him to the ground as he fell.

Placing both hands on either side of his head, she felt that same electricity flow through her fingers.

The volts burst through his skull and into his head, killing him instantly.

Heather stared down at him as she slowly removed her hands, quite unable to believe what she had just done.

A loud crack and the sound of a tree falling pulled her out of her trance, and she glanced up to see Brock's prone body lying on the ground underneath the broken top half of a fallen pine tree.

V and his cohorts were circling around the wolf.

As she watched, one of them kicked him in the ribs so hard, his limp form lifted a foot off the ground.

Rage filled her; so pure and white that she was standing between them and her wolf before she'd even realized that she moved.

With a scream, she grabbed the kicker's head in her hands and smashed his face into her knee.

Deep blue streams of pulsating electricity flew from her fingers as she threw him to the side and went after the next guy.

Her fist connected with his nose with a satisfying crunch. Spinning around, she kicked out, catching the shorter one flashing up behind her. She hadn't even realized he was there. He fell back with a grunt, landing on top of Brock.

She only watched long enough to see her wolf's jaws clamp down on the male's throat before she turned to finish off the guy whose nose she'd broken. Her eyes widened as her fury receded, and she experienced her first flash of true terror.

While V stood off to the side watching with a satisfied smirk on his face, the bloody one lunged for her. His mouth was open wide and his eyes were crazy, and she froze, paralyzed with fear. Or was it?

She felt the beginning of a pull inside of her, like someone had a hold of her spine and was trying to yank it out through her mouth.

Fighting the sensation, she dropped to the ground just as he reached her.

Planting her feet directly on his chest she rolled backwards, using his own momentum to send him flying over her head.

Twisting around, she came up behind him and slammed both palms onto the sides of his head. He was dead as quickly as his friend.

Kickboxing ruled.

Breathing hard, she jumped to her feet, prepared to take on V. But he was gone. She searched the area all around them, but he'd just disappeared.

A strong gust of wind blew her hair around her face as she made her way over to Brock.

He was still lying on his side where he'd landed, and his jaws were still clamped around the Fae's throat.

Muted eyes widened in fear as she approached, and in spite of the teeth embedded into his neck, he started struggling to free himself.

Brock grunted as the guy landed an elbow into his tender belly, but didn't release his hold.

With a snarl that would make her wolf proud, Heather held her hands out in front of her.

Blue light crackled and hissed at her fingertips as she slowly walked toward him.

A second later, he stopped struggling as she ended him.

Grabbing him by his clothes, Heather rolled him off of her wolf, dragging him as far away as she could.

Brock watched her before letting his head fall back to the ground.

Crawling over to him, she ran her hands over his head and side, searching for injuries.

He whined quietly when she hit a rib that was sore, and again when she felt down his left leg.

"What should I do?" she asked him, but he didn't even crack open an eye.

His breathing had calmed considerably. Heather was beginning to wonder if he had passed out when his body twisted backward. He yelped as it was flung forward again.

Scooting back to give him room, she closed her eyes and covered them with her hands for good measure. Tears ran down her cheeks as she listened to his obvious pain, made worse by his injuries. When he was quiet again except for his heavy breathing, she cracked her fingers open and peeked through.

He lay on his back, gloriously naked. One large hand reached out to her and she took it within her own two hands. Walking on her knees, she got as close to him as she could. His side was already turning a nice purple color.

"What can I do?" she asked him again.

Pulling her hands toward his mouth, he kissed her fingers. "You can grab my clothes over there and help me get dressed."

Looking around, she did indeed find his clothes.

He must have yanked them off before he changed.

She brought them over and helped him sit up, and then stand.

Though she probably wasn’t much help, still limping as she was.

Now that the adrenaline rush was gone, her leg was aching like a bitch. "What about your ribs? And your arm?"

Though his pain and exhaustion showed on his face, he shrugged it off nonchalantly. "I've had worse. I think the arm is just fractured anyway. It’ll be fine in an hour."

"And the ribs?"

"Yeah, probably just bruised."

He kept giving her funny looks as she helped him get dressed, like he couldn’t decide whether to be proud or frightened of her.

She scowled. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s still me.”

“I was quite unaware that my delicate little flower was such a bad ass.” He grinned and bent over to tie his boots. Standing up again, he tossed his hair out of his face. “I will endeavor to never make you angry at me.”

“Well, don’t do anything stupid, and I won’t have to zap you.” She stared at him, dead serious, until he started to fidget. Then she rolled her eyes. “Really, dude? The big, bad wolf is afraid of a little faerie dust?”

Dropping his head, he stared at the ground, then suddenly swooped her up off of her feet and threw her over his shoulder.

“Nah. You don’t scare me, sunshine.” He ignored her screeching and smacked her on the bottom, then gave it a healthy squeeze.

“God, I love your ass.” His palm was so big it covered one entire cheek.

“Brock! Put me down! Right now, you overgrown dog!”

He ignored her ranting and carried her back over to the crack in the earth. Giving her another sharp slap (that if she were to be honest, she kind of liked), he said, “Shhh. Listen.”

Heather used her good arm as leverage and pushed the top half of her body up. Shoving her hair out of her face, she listened.

The wind was moaning through the trees, and it sounded like it was picking up speed. Brock spun in a circle, making her dizzy, and she was about to fuss at him to hold still when she realized that it wasn’t Brock that was moving. It was the world around them.

She felt herself falling and gripped the back of his shirt before realizing that he was lifting her off of his shoulder.

“If I start to change,” He had to yell now over the howling wind. “Just try to stay with me!” Wrapping her in his strong arms, he linked his hands behind her. “Hang on!”

Heather buried her face in his shirt and grabbed a hold of the waistband of his pants. His heart thundered under her ear, mimicking her own frantic heartbeat. She felt herself being pulled backwards.

“Here we go! Hang on, sunshine!” he yelled in her ear.

His arms were like steel bands around her. A force gripped her around the middle and she screamed as she was pulled backwards.

Brock’s roar joined her as he was pulled along with her, the only thing holding her to him being his own force of will. Together, they tumbled into the darkness.