Primal Bonds
Page 73
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Andrea knew she fought a losing battle as the three Felines circled her. She’d give the fight all she had, would possibly even wound the Felines along the way, but in the end, she’d lose.
The Felines’ sparking Collars didn’t slow them down at all. How they’d managed that, Andrea had no idea. Her fake Collar had expanded and stretched when she’d shifted, almost like the real thing. Liam had prepared well. But being unhampered by a Collar was no advantage at the moment, because these Felines were busy being happy they got to kill her.
They attacked. Andrea fought—snapping, clawing, feinting, striking. Claws ripped through her skin, teeth tore her fur. The pain made Andrea fight back with savagery she never knew she had, but in the long run, it wouldn’t be enough.
A roar of rage cut through the grove, and the ground shook as though a tank battered its way through the trees. A huge bear barreled through the knots of fighting Felines, scattering them left and right, the ruff on his neck expanding with his anger. He flung a wildcat foolish enough to attack him through the air, rose to his full Kodiak bear height, and roared his power. The air vibrated with fury, and the Felines attacking Andrea fled.
Thank the Goddess he’s on my side.
Andrea ran to Ronan, thinking that she’d give him as many of Sean’s pancakes as he wanted. The nearby Felines hesitated, fear radiating from them, but beneath their fear was hard determination. They wanted to win.
They were smart enough to realize that attacking Ronan directly would be pointless. So the Felines used their cat swiftness to dive at Andrea, forcing Ronan into a defensive position. Of course, Ronan outweighed the three Felines collectively by about fifty pounds, and his razor-claws were at least eight inches long. He lifted one Feline that had closed teeth into Andrea’s fur and threw him aside with ease.
Andrea realized a slight disadvantage as they fought on, however. Ronan wouldn’t go for the kill. In spite of his massive size and strength, Ronan was a kindhearted male who didn’t like to hurt anyone. Frighten them, yes, give them a good thumping, any day. Kill, no. That was why he’d jumped in front of bullets but hadn’t dragged the human shooters out of the car to break their necks.
The Felines caught on and attacked with renewed viciousness. They had no problem with going for the kill.
Ronan was happy to rough them up plenty, though. His arms moved like sledgehammers, paws throwing bodies left and right. His ears were flat against his skull, his teeth bared for all to see, and his roars filled the clearing. Andrea leapt and snarled and snapped beside him.
The Felines were bleeding, breathing hard, Collars sparking, though the look in their white blue eyes told Andrea they weren’t finished by a long shot. But they were slowing a little. Ronan’s growls sounded more like laughter now as he fell to all fours and charged, scattering the cats like fallen leaves.
But just when Andrea thought the Felines would abandon their attack and run back to the main fight, light rent the air, and she smelled the sharp scent of Faerie.
Fionn? She wasn’t ready for him to bring her back the sword, not until the risk that Callum’s Felines could snatch it was gone.
She noticed that the Felines didn’t look too worried, and then she saw that the tear happened not in the grove where she usually spoke to Fionn, but farther along the ley line, closer to the end of the block.
She remembered what Fionn had said about his enemies and Callum, and her blood froze. “Dylan!” she screamed.
One of Callum’s Felines stood by the opening, and he pulled through five Fae warriors. They were tall and nastylooking, armed with bows, and silver swords glittered on their backs.
A Fae spotted Andrea where she stood gaping, raised his bow, and fired. Andrea threw herself flat on the ground, but it was Ronan leaping in front of her who took the arrow. It drove deep, but Ronan was up again in an instant, his bear hide thick, and he ran for the Fae.
When Ronan faltered after he’d taken only a few strides, Andrea realized that the arrow must have been poisoned. Elf-shot, Shifters called it—spelled poison that paralyzed a Fae’s enemies until the Fae could make the kill. They didn’t always make the kill right away, she’d heard. Fae liked to play with their victims.
The faces of the tall Fae were ghost white, eyes burning black, mouths set with hatred and determination. But as fearsome as they were, the Fae couldn’t come far into this world without weakening, which gave Andrea a spark of hope. Iron sapped their strength and would send them fleeing back to Faerie. That didn’t help this instant, while the Shifters fought in animal form, without weapons, no iron in sight. But Andrea could change that.
Andrea forced herself into her human form. Her wolf wanted to stay wolf and fight, and she had to battle her own instincts to complete the shift.
“Back to the house!” she shouted at Ronan soon as she could form words. “There’s iron and steel there. We’ll hold them off.”
Ronan roared at her and didn’t obey. Andrea couldn’t speak Ursine, but she understood the gist—good-natured Ronan had finally found beings he wanted to kill.
“You’ve been elf-shot,” Andrea called. “We’ve got to get rid of them so I can help you.”
Ronan’s dark eyes lit with fire. He knew he’d been poisoned, but he was determined to take the Fae out with him as he went. He completely ignored Andrea and charged the Fae warriors.
Andrea said foul words while she forced herself back to wolf. It took too long—by the time Andrea made it to fur and fangs, Ronan had engaged the Fae.
The Fae warriors ran out of arrows and attacked with swords. Andrea darted around Ronan and sank her teeth into the sword arm of the tallest Fae. The Fae shook her off but dropped his sword, bleeding from her bite.
Ronan staggered and fell. The Fae moved in, horrible joy in their eyes.
Andrea shoved one aside, grabbed the back of another’s mail coat, and started dragging him toward the grove of trees behind Glory’s house. The warrior fought but couldn’t reach around to jab her with his sword. When he drew a silver knife, Andrea let him go and bounded into the grove. She didn’t have time to shift and scream for her father, but she could throw her head back and howl.
It was a full wolf howl, one made to echo from hilltop to hilltop across wide plains. It filled the clearing and bounced up and down the human-made houses, proclaiming that for all their domestication, Lupines were still wild, still powerful, still deadly.
The Felines’ sparking Collars didn’t slow them down at all. How they’d managed that, Andrea had no idea. Her fake Collar had expanded and stretched when she’d shifted, almost like the real thing. Liam had prepared well. But being unhampered by a Collar was no advantage at the moment, because these Felines were busy being happy they got to kill her.
They attacked. Andrea fought—snapping, clawing, feinting, striking. Claws ripped through her skin, teeth tore her fur. The pain made Andrea fight back with savagery she never knew she had, but in the long run, it wouldn’t be enough.
A roar of rage cut through the grove, and the ground shook as though a tank battered its way through the trees. A huge bear barreled through the knots of fighting Felines, scattering them left and right, the ruff on his neck expanding with his anger. He flung a wildcat foolish enough to attack him through the air, rose to his full Kodiak bear height, and roared his power. The air vibrated with fury, and the Felines attacking Andrea fled.
Thank the Goddess he’s on my side.
Andrea ran to Ronan, thinking that she’d give him as many of Sean’s pancakes as he wanted. The nearby Felines hesitated, fear radiating from them, but beneath their fear was hard determination. They wanted to win.
They were smart enough to realize that attacking Ronan directly would be pointless. So the Felines used their cat swiftness to dive at Andrea, forcing Ronan into a defensive position. Of course, Ronan outweighed the three Felines collectively by about fifty pounds, and his razor-claws were at least eight inches long. He lifted one Feline that had closed teeth into Andrea’s fur and threw him aside with ease.
Andrea realized a slight disadvantage as they fought on, however. Ronan wouldn’t go for the kill. In spite of his massive size and strength, Ronan was a kindhearted male who didn’t like to hurt anyone. Frighten them, yes, give them a good thumping, any day. Kill, no. That was why he’d jumped in front of bullets but hadn’t dragged the human shooters out of the car to break their necks.
The Felines caught on and attacked with renewed viciousness. They had no problem with going for the kill.
Ronan was happy to rough them up plenty, though. His arms moved like sledgehammers, paws throwing bodies left and right. His ears were flat against his skull, his teeth bared for all to see, and his roars filled the clearing. Andrea leapt and snarled and snapped beside him.
The Felines were bleeding, breathing hard, Collars sparking, though the look in their white blue eyes told Andrea they weren’t finished by a long shot. But they were slowing a little. Ronan’s growls sounded more like laughter now as he fell to all fours and charged, scattering the cats like fallen leaves.
But just when Andrea thought the Felines would abandon their attack and run back to the main fight, light rent the air, and she smelled the sharp scent of Faerie.
Fionn? She wasn’t ready for him to bring her back the sword, not until the risk that Callum’s Felines could snatch it was gone.
She noticed that the Felines didn’t look too worried, and then she saw that the tear happened not in the grove where she usually spoke to Fionn, but farther along the ley line, closer to the end of the block.
She remembered what Fionn had said about his enemies and Callum, and her blood froze. “Dylan!” she screamed.
One of Callum’s Felines stood by the opening, and he pulled through five Fae warriors. They were tall and nastylooking, armed with bows, and silver swords glittered on their backs.
A Fae spotted Andrea where she stood gaping, raised his bow, and fired. Andrea threw herself flat on the ground, but it was Ronan leaping in front of her who took the arrow. It drove deep, but Ronan was up again in an instant, his bear hide thick, and he ran for the Fae.
When Ronan faltered after he’d taken only a few strides, Andrea realized that the arrow must have been poisoned. Elf-shot, Shifters called it—spelled poison that paralyzed a Fae’s enemies until the Fae could make the kill. They didn’t always make the kill right away, she’d heard. Fae liked to play with their victims.
The faces of the tall Fae were ghost white, eyes burning black, mouths set with hatred and determination. But as fearsome as they were, the Fae couldn’t come far into this world without weakening, which gave Andrea a spark of hope. Iron sapped their strength and would send them fleeing back to Faerie. That didn’t help this instant, while the Shifters fought in animal form, without weapons, no iron in sight. But Andrea could change that.
Andrea forced herself into her human form. Her wolf wanted to stay wolf and fight, and she had to battle her own instincts to complete the shift.
“Back to the house!” she shouted at Ronan soon as she could form words. “There’s iron and steel there. We’ll hold them off.”
Ronan roared at her and didn’t obey. Andrea couldn’t speak Ursine, but she understood the gist—good-natured Ronan had finally found beings he wanted to kill.
“You’ve been elf-shot,” Andrea called. “We’ve got to get rid of them so I can help you.”
Ronan’s dark eyes lit with fire. He knew he’d been poisoned, but he was determined to take the Fae out with him as he went. He completely ignored Andrea and charged the Fae warriors.
Andrea said foul words while she forced herself back to wolf. It took too long—by the time Andrea made it to fur and fangs, Ronan had engaged the Fae.
The Fae warriors ran out of arrows and attacked with swords. Andrea darted around Ronan and sank her teeth into the sword arm of the tallest Fae. The Fae shook her off but dropped his sword, bleeding from her bite.
Ronan staggered and fell. The Fae moved in, horrible joy in their eyes.
Andrea shoved one aside, grabbed the back of another’s mail coat, and started dragging him toward the grove of trees behind Glory’s house. The warrior fought but couldn’t reach around to jab her with his sword. When he drew a silver knife, Andrea let him go and bounded into the grove. She didn’t have time to shift and scream for her father, but she could throw her head back and howl.
It was a full wolf howl, one made to echo from hilltop to hilltop across wide plains. It filled the clearing and bounced up and down the human-made houses, proclaiming that for all their domestication, Lupines were still wild, still powerful, still deadly.
