Page 8 of Protect Me
Shifting means trading our weapons of man for weapons nature gifted our kind. It also means we’re a hundred times more deadly. So, I nod. Not wanting to ruin our clothes, the three of us strip down and place everything inside the Big Top. Then, I glance at the two men who are brothers to me in everything but name and blood, and as one, we let our inner beasts take us over.
My bones crack, snapping and bending to fit my new form as golden fur shoots out through my flesh to cover my body. My head grows, my body morphing until I stand on all fours. Massive paws with sharp claws appear, each one capable of shredding flesh with a single swipe. Instinctively, I shake my head, letting my mane flare. One look at Bracken and Killian and I see that they, too, are in their lion forms.
Our pride was one formed out of survival and circumstance. And, due to that, these two men are the only people in this entire fucked-up world that I trust with my life. Well, and D. But the friendship I share with that asshole is different. These guys are my family now. Even if we weren’t born brothers, we are now.
I extend my enhanced senses, sniffing and listening to the world around me, every sound and smell now magnified, thanks to my beast. Right away, I note the coppery tang of Helen’s blood still hanging in the air and staining the ground near my feet. The mere scent of it drives the animal in me fucking wild with a need I can’t name.
It's not a reaction I’ve ever felt before, but there’s no time to decipher it. I tell myself it’s just rage—a thirst for justice. So, on four massive paws, I race toward the trees, all while seeking out a scent that is not hers.
It doesn’t take me long to find them.
At least a dozen different scents: all of them male, all of them hunting her.
Here, I can trace her steps, so I follow, Bracken and Killian on either side of me. The scents begin to fade the further we get into the woods, which means they either continued going past the circus or took a different route.
Mostof them, anyway.
I catch an unfamiliar stench.Enemy.Just ahead.“Smell that?”I ask the others through our pride bond.
“Smells like rot,”Killian replies.
“Let’s find him,”I order.
We all race through the trees, sprinting as fast as we can until, just ahead, I hear the crunching of branches and leaves beneath heavy bootsteps.
The man is sprinting, and when he realizes we’re onto him, he turns and waves a hand. Magic scents the air. A branch falls in our paths, but we jump over it.Fucking Warlocks.I leap, my paws slamming into his back and knocking the fucker onto his gut.
He grunts, and I shift while Bracken and Killian remain lions. Before the asshole can move, I wrap my hand around his throat and squeeze.
“Any more magic and my brothers will rip your throat out,” I snarl at him.
His eyes widen, and the scent of urine fills the air.
“Why are you in these woods?” I demand.
“Out for a hike.”
“I can see the lie on your fucking face, asshole.”
The man doesn’t respond.
“Don’t want to talk?” I growl, “Not a problem. I have ways of making wormy little warlocks become real fucking chatty.”
* * *
The worm—whosename is apparently Mitchum—wheezes in a breath. The air is cool in the small, empty warehouse. Dusty, too. We haven’t used this place for anything other than storage in a long time. Tonight, we’re storing something other than circus supplies. The chair he’s strapped to creaks as he tries to move, not that he’d get anywhere without it. With three of us and one of him, his odds of escape are pretty much zero. Arms tied behind his back, pants and shoes stripped away, he’s helpless as fuck—and he knows it.
Blood slicks his shredded skin, compliments of Killian and his affinity for causing pain. Before that, Bracken’s knuckles bruised the man’s cheeks and cracked at least a few ribs. Me? I’m more into the psychological warfare of it all.
Can I cause pain? Fuck yes. In fact, my dark history probably makes me an expert in it. But I prefer the satisfaction I get in mentally breaking someone when they deserve it.
And this assholeabsolutelydeserves it.
“Why were you hunting the woman?” I ask.
“I told you,” he wheezes, “I was just out for a hike.”
I lean in closer, bracing myself on the arms of the wooden chair the asshole is strapped into. Chains bind his wrists behind his back, making it impossible for him to use his magic against us. “See, now, how can I trust you when every word out of your mouth is a motherfucking lie?” I keep my tone cool, my voice low.