Page 47 of The Alpha Dire Wolf (Bloodlines & Bloodbonds #1)

Sylvie

I stared out the window at the flames in the distance.

Lincoln’s wolf emerged below me, the slate gray fur appearing far darker in the shadows than it was in the light.

He paused long enough to toss his head back and howl.

The sound was loud, penetrating the cabin walls with surprising ease and making me wince.

Elsewhere, more wolves took up the cry. I clenched my teeth, hoping they were in time.

There were a lot of flames visible, and as I watched in frozen fear, more appeared still.

The den was burning, and I couldn’t shake the sensation that it was all my fault.

That I had led them here, to this beautiful place.

I needed to do something.

Stay in the house. At least they can fight back. Would you be anything more than a liability?

The silence was deafening. I was alone, and arguing in my head, but the embarrassment of being useless still burned my cheeks.

That was the worst part of watching the den burn as the wolves fought to protect it.

I was a witness. Nothing more. Locked inside Lincoln’s house, forced to do nothing but observe as the proud wolves fought—and likely died—to protect their home.

I didn’t live there, but someone I cared for did, and I wanted to help.

Spinning away from the upstairs window, I searched the room for something movable. The empty vase on the dresser would do just fine.

“I’m a witch. Right?” I said, shaking my hands and pointing them at the spun-glass tube. “Then I should be able to do witch stuff. Magic. Come on!”

The vase didn’t so much as shed a mote of dust.

“Stupid. You know better. Leave this to Lincoln. He can handle it.” I stomped a foot on the floor. It didn’t make me feel better, nor did it dampen the knots forming in my stomach.

He was out there, leading his people. Doing exactly what a leader should do. Fighting for them, from the front lines. Which was an excellent place to get hurt. Or worse.

I clamped down on that line of thought, cutting off brain-function supply to it until it withered. It would never die, but that was good enough. Spending time worry about Lincoln just then was pointless. He was an excellent fighter. I’d seen it multiple times.

Especially if he didn’t pick on something bigger than him. And if he did, he had his entire pack to help him out this time. He wasn’t alone.

But I was.

“Ala-ka-zam!” I cried, pointing a crooked finger at a picture frame.

Nothing. I frowned, looking closer. The frame still had the stock photo in it, judging by the blonde little girl being hauled around by her parents. It was a guest room, but that was still weird.

“Okay, Grandma. Now’s the time for you to come through. Speak to me, some sort of ghostly projection. Tell me how to use this power that we supposedly have. They need my help.”

There was no response. Not that I’d expected one.

“Fire!” I spat, thrusting a fist at the photo frame and opening my hand at the last second.

No stream of eye-searing flame burst from my wrist, but I did get a reaction to my command. Millions of tiny needles drove their pinpricks deep into nerve endings in unison as my spine locked up.

Danger.

I bolted for the door as the window imploded inward in a shower of glass, giving way to the last thing I ever wanted to see again.

Bloodbound.

“No!” I screamed as a bony finger reached for my arm, coming up just short thanks to the early warning of my intuition. “Get away from me!”

The house cracked and gave way as the evil ebony-wood tree-thing tore its way into Lincoln’s house piece by piece, ripping a hole through the wall. I backed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me. Then I booked it for the stairs.

Wood splintered as the tree-thing body-checked the door from its hinges and emerged into the upstairs hallway.

My intuition power was off the charts, screaming at me like fire klaxons, the noise both distracting and incredibly painful. My skull could only take so much before I was sure it would split in half.

The tree-thing reached me before I made it to the stairs, grabbing me and spinning me around.

My ankle caught on something, and I tumbled through the doorway into Lincoln’s room, hitting the floor.

The monster meanwhile had been moving too fast to stop, and it smacked hard against the wall when it reached the landing halfway down the stairs.

The entire house shook on its foundations from the impact.

Bloodbound.

“Get out of my head!” I howled, scratching at my temples as the voice repeated with its rhythmic drumbeat consistency.

My spine arched and flexed with a constant stream of danger warnings, the pressure beyond incredible. I knew I was in danger. Could it not just shut up for a moment? I needed to think, to try to come up with a—

The tree-thing came through the doorway, smashing the flimsy drywall and framing aside. Bits of dust and debris scattered everywhere as it stalked toward me, eyeless and silent, made of darkened wood that looked constantly slick with wetness.

I couldn’t back up fast enough. It grabbed hold of my ankle as I tried to crawl backward. Icy-cold burned my skin, and I screamed in pain, lashing out with my other foot at its head. The move must have caught it by surprise because it let go. I was up and diving over the bed in a flash.

Bloodbound.

The tree-thing was fast. One incredibly strong arm reached under the bed and flipped it up on end before I had cleared it.

Screaming, I flew through the window, glass shredding my skin in places. I hit the roof outside, rolling down it and then out into nothingness.

I hit the grass flat on my back.

Pain lanced up my entire spine, and I sat up straight, my eyes wide as I tried to breathe. My lungs weren’t working. They weren’t working! No air was coming into them, I was going to suffocate.

I’m going to die. This is it. It’s over.

Air abruptly rushed into my lungs. I clutched at them in relief and immediately let go as fresh agony hit my brain.

My right hand came away wet and warm. I looked down.

There was a giant rip in my shirt just below my clavicle.

I was bleeding profusely. The wetness was blood soaking my shirt and hand.

Bloodbound.

“Enough!” I screamed, struggling to my feet as the tree-thing smashed open another hole in the wall of the house and leaped clear down to the grass in one motion. “Just stay out of my head already.”

I backed away, wondering how long the adrenaline would keep me going. I should not be on my feet so soon after falling out of a window. At some point it was going to catch up with me and I would be toast.

Bloodbound.

The pressure in my head was growing worse. My spine was constantly trying to lock itself up. My danger sense was not leaving. Not going away. It was only getting worse, a pressure trying to explode.

The tree-thing darted forward and snatched me up, lifting me off my feet. Extra limbs sprouted from it, wrapping around my feet and holding them tightly together. Then it plunged one thick “fingertip” into my open wound.

I shrieked as a pain unlike anything I’d ever known before filled my body. It was like every blood cell had lit on fire at the same time. I was burning from the inside out. Arching forcefully, I stared at the creature, watching it torture me by digging its appendage in deeper.

Thundering pressure tightened and twisted my spine. Agony injected itself direct into my brain. The world was covered in black dots. My throat was raw from screaming.

Lincoln had to hear me. Someone had to hear me, and come stop it. Come save me.

But nobody was coming.

The tree-thing lifted me higher and plunged its entire hand into my open wound. Blood poured down my side, and I slumped, sure I would lose consciousness. I didn’t. The blood ran down my neck and into my eyes as my body bent in half the wrong way.

I shouted and tried to swat at the tree-thing.

Which is when blackness started to flow out of me, like a creeping vine inching its way up over the tree-thing’s fingers, wrapping them in a coat of bloodied-paint. My muscles were locked tight. Unmoving.

The back of my head was thundering with pressure as my danger sense tried to warn me that this wasn’t good. Something bad was happening. It was a cacophony of sensations. Too much for one brain to handle.

Bloodbound.

Where was Lincoln? Was he not going to save me? Was I all alone?

Bloodbound.

The pain and the pressure intensified. I couldn’t do it anymore. I was going to black out. Whatever it was doing to me, it was going to succeed, and I was going to die. All because I couldn’t fight back. Couldn’t do anything . I was too weak. Too useless. Too—

The thundering pressure of my intuition suddenly erupted like a volcano. My spine popped as I flexed backward, and then my core tightened, and I curled up into a violent scream.

A wave of sonic thunder poured from my mouth, battering at the tree-thing. Its skin cracked and peeled like a cheese grater had been run over it repeatedly. Bits and pieces ripped free and were blown away.

The scream intensified as it dug its fingers in deeper, and the power behind it slammed into the tree-thing and flung it back against the house.

Without it holding me aloft, I hit the ground, wrenching my knee in the process.

The impact slammed my teeth together, and blood flowed fresh from my tongue.

What the fuck was that?

Peeling itself from the side of Lincoln’s cabin like a banana, the tree-thing righted itself. I got to my feet unsteadily. Power of some sort circled around me, lifting my hair, and filling the air with static energy.

The tree-thing approached warily. Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed at my wound. In the wave of pain that followed, I screamed again. The air around my mouth warped as yet more sonic thunder thrashed out at the tree-thing. It tried to brace itself, digging roots into the ground.

I screamed harder, pouring my pain into the noise as I dug fingers deep into the open wound on my shoulder. Sound-force snatched the tree-thing up and tossed it clear through Lincoln’s house.

That was the last I could see. My eyes rolled up into my head and I fell forward limply, the ground coming up fast.

I never made it.

Strong hands scooped me up. “Gotcha,” Lincoln said, easing me into his arms and down.

“Lincoln!” I struggled in his grip, awakened by his touch.

“Hey, hush,” he murmured. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay now. It’s gone. You drove it off. Somehow.”

Pushing his hands away, I got myself to my feet, the world spinning wildly around me. Gritting my teeth, I tried to nail the corners of it in place.

“Sylvie, lie down,” he growled commandingly, standing up and taking me by the shoulders. “You’re badly hurt. But it’s over now. It’s done.”

“No,” I whispered, grabbing at his hands and holding on to them for dear life. “No, it’s not over. Not yet. We have to stop it, Lincoln.”

“You tossed it through my house,” he pointed out. “You stopped it.”

I clutched at him, my eyes wide. “No, you don’t understand. It took something. From inside me. I-I don’t understand, but Lincoln, if it reaches the river …” I shook my head. “You have to stop it from crossing that river.”

“How do you know this?”

“I don’t know!” I shrieked. “But I just used my voice to toss it through your house. Maybe you could trust me on this? I can feel it. Whatever it took … I need it back. The Chained can’t be allowed to have it.”

Lincoln listened and nodded. “You’re right. I should trust you. Let’s go.”

His face and arms sprouted fur and he changed right in front of me, assuming the form of his giant wolf. Tossing his snout behind him, he stared me down. The intent was clear.

Get on.

I leaped for his back.