Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Ahh–you fuck!” Higgs screamed.
Then Brux’s wolf face dipped, his muzzle finding the other male’s throat.
There was a horrible wet, tearing sound and a spray of bright red blood across green—frozen concrete.
Higgs jerked–his big body fishtailing under Brux’s half—animal form. He made one last choking, bubbling noise…then nothing.
The refrigeration units hummed on. The hanging carcasses swung more and more slowly.
Brux stayed bent over Higgs for a long moment, shoulders heaving, red eyes blazing, blood running from the stab wound in his side and from Higgs’ torn throat. He looked like the “werewolf” Iyanna had accused him of being–he looked like vengeance given shape.
Kiera just stared. She was horrified…and yet some deeper part of her–some primitive frightened female part–felt only savage relief.
Brux did it, she thought dazedly. He killed Higgs–he killed him before Higgs could kill me.
Brux lifted his head from the kill. His muzzle and chest were streaked with blood now, his breath steaming in the freezer air. He turned to look at Kiera and for one long terrible moment she saw no recognition in those red eyes at all.
Only Rage…only the beast.
“Brux?” she whispered.
His name came out weak and slurred. Suddenly she felt very, very tired. Too tired to go on.
The fight…the fear…the cold…the blow to her head–all of it had been building and building and now that the immediate terror was over, it was as though her body had decided it had done enough.
The frozen concrete floor under her felt oddly soft–like a feather bed. The freezer lights seemed dim and too far away.
No, she thought. No, don’t do this. Don’t get sleepy. Not now–just look at him–he needs someone to pull him back from the edge!
But she was so sleepy. So very, very sleepy.
Somewhere deep inside, she seemed to hear a little voice say, you’re going into shock.
The wolf—faced Brux took one step toward her…then another and another.
Somewhere in the distance she heard the slow drip of blood and the clink of a swinging hook settling at last to stillness.
This was bad–Brux wasn’t himself. She was in danger.
Kiera tried to keep her eyes open–tried to stay with him. Tried not to slide down into the soft gray drowsiness wrapping itself around her.
Don’t close your eyes, she told herself desperately. Don’t give in. Don’t—
But the freezing air was so cold, and she was so very, very tired.
As the last of the fight’s echoes died away in the deep freeze, Kiera felt herself slipping away, despite every frantic effort not to.
And then the darkness closed over her.
33
BRUX
Brux was struggling to stay sentient.
He could feel it happening–the void was sucking at him again. Allowing the Rage to take over while he fought Higgs had brought the primal side roaring back to the surface, and now it wanted more. More blood. More violence. More mindless surrender.
It clawed at the inside of his skull and dragged at his thoughts, trying to pull them down into that old terrible emptiness where words dissolved and reason became instinct, and nothing mattered except hunger and fear and the need to protect what was his.
Already he could feel the edges of his conscious mind fraying.
Thoughts that ought to have come clearly were breaking apart before he could hold them. His human form still clung to him–mostly–but the wolf’s face remained, and his eyes still burned red with Rage.
His breath came hard and rough through his muzzle. Every scent in the freezing warehouse hit him too strongly—blood and fear and dead meat and the bitter stink of Higgs’ opened throat and, brightest and most important of all, Kiera.
Kiera. His mate.
Brux focused on her, trying to claw back from the edge of nothingness that threatened to suck him down.
She was slumped on the bloody floor where Higgs had thrown her, half—curled on her side, hands still tied in front of her, skin pale and ashy beneath the harsh freezer lights. Frost had gathered in her braids. Her whole body smelled wrong—too cold, too still, too close to danger.
She was freezing to death.
The thought came to him like a blow.
No. No, no, no.
He dropped to his knees beside her. The cold no longer meant anything to him. Neither did the pain from the stab wounds in his side and shoulder and ribs. He was aware of them, distantly—warm blood slipping down his fur and skin—but they didn’t matter. Monstrum healed quickly–those wounds would close.
What mattered was Kiera.
She felt like a statue made of ice when he gathered her into his arms. Brux couldn’t talk but a terrible, broken sound came from deep in his chest.
Too cold–she was much too cold.
Sentient thoughts struggled to the surface of his mind.
Must get warm…must heal…
His thoughts had become that simple now–that rudimentary. The long careful lines of reason he had fought so hard to hold were fraying faster by the second. There was only Kiera in his arms, limp and freezing and precious beyond measure. Only the certainty that if he did not warm her up right now, he would lose her forever.