Blood Enchantment (3 page)

Slash

Slash has suffered greatly in battle. He’d been beaten to within an inch of his life and always triumphed in the end.

He's just
that
determined, but this is utterly different.

He spears the ground, using it like a handhold, and drags his upper body along the debris of the forest, making his way to his mate.

Slash's head spins.

Blood loss.

He has so many puncture wounds from talons, he's a Lycan pincushion. But right now, none of that matters.

Adrianna is injured.

Tramack of the Western harmed his precious mate, and for that—he'll suffer.

Finally, Slash gets to within arm's reach of Adrianna and rolls to his side, heaving his unfeeling, broken legs around in a swinging arc with his hands.

Slash resists the urge to weep. Mere crying isn't enough to quantify how grievous the situation is. Adrianna's face is battered; every bit of skin that meets his gaze is abraded by touch, talon, and teeth. Nips from sharp teeth march across her flesh.

But only one holds Slash prisoner—the area around her left areola has been punctured by a single fang, as though marked.

The vision of her beautiful breast marred by another male bottoms out Slash's guts, leaving him shaking in a rage so pure, there's no name for it.

Adrianna's clear hazel eyes open slowly then round with fear and disorientation.

“Shhh,” Slash croaks, his healing throat like sandpaper. “I'm here.”

Adrianna begins to cry, frantically touching herself all over. “Did they? Oh God, Slash, did they touch me?”

He hangs his head, his palms flat on her shoulders. He leans against her temple, lips against her ear. “They did not have the chance.”

Her body shivers against his, and hot tears scald the cheek he holds. Her grief and fear shred Slash on a molecular level.

“Don't cry, Adrianna. I'm here.”

“I know,” she sobs, wrapping her arms around his head and drawing him closer.

Slash tucks her in against his body, wincing at the motion but happy the others didn't get a chance to rape his mate. However bad that mark against the perfection of her skin is, it is only a mark. Slash's blood burns with the thought of what could have happened.

If they had been taking their time and not had the ulterior agenda of the woman, Tessa, Adrianna might have been violated.

Slash hears far-off screaming, shouting, and the sounds of fighting. They're certainly not out of danger yet.

His memory is fuzzy after he killed the first two Were, but he remembers Tramack's nose jerking up as he held a screaming Adrianna down, as though he recognized a scent so important that it blanked the present.

Tramack flicked his eyes over Adrianna, seeming to deliberate, then struck her in the temple with the back of his hand.

The light in Adrianna’s eyes dimmed, and she fell silent—still underneath Tramack.

Slash struggled to break free of the other two Were. Then Tramack snapped a tree in half as he swung the trunk from behind at Slash's unprotected legs.

Numbness swelled then burst over his lower body—hips to toes, and the Were holding him dumped him like garbage. He landed face-first in the muck of the soggy forest floor.

Tramack tossed the twenty-year-old tree like a twig after using it on Slash then stepped over his body. “That's not the lesson I would have given with more time, but there will be time enough later. My intended has just released her scent.”

Tramack lifted his nose to the sky, sighing in contentment while Slash's eyes remained frozen on his face—memorizing it forever.

Slash realized Tramack was crazy. It happens sometimes. Alphas aren't always of the most stable temperaments. Tramack was no exception, though he had spun down into a new low. Beating a female for no other reason except her mouth? Because he could raise his fist?

Slash understands the prejudice against Reds. He's lived that. If Adrianna hadn't been there, they still would have punished Slash for being what he is, for looking imperfect.

Supernaturals aren't known for their compassion. Every supernatural is supposed to be the epitome of perfection of his or her kind. The expectation is due to their powers, strength, and healing ability. The Singers have all that the Were possess and paranormal talents besides.

No Lycan can withstand silver without obtaining a scar. And some species have no compunction against using the alloy in battle. Slash had been in many battles. It'd only been a matter of time before someone had a weapon meant to do worse than kill—but permanently maim. Slash shoves his introspection away as Adrianna begins to quiet, shattering Slash's reflections. He carefully wraps the tatters of her thin T-shirt over her breasts—the brassiere is long gone.

“They'll come back!” Adrianna says, her voice edging along that fine line of hysteria.

Slash shakes his head, rising push-up style over her. He cages her in with his body, dragging his still-uncooperative limbs behind him.

“They're busy,” he huffs between movements.

For the moment.

Adrianna's lip trembles.

He cradles her face, kissing her soft lips, hating that it's the only undamaged spot of her face. “Listen to me, Adrianna.”

She nods, gasping back a sob. “Okay.” Tears roll over the tops of his fingers.

Their eyes lock. What he sees in her gaze makes his heart ache like a rotting tooth. “I need you to be that smart-ass brave girl I know you are.”

A surprised laugh escapes. “What? I—my words are what got us into trouble, right?” Her eyes flick guiltily away from his.

Slash places a gentle fingertip on her jaw and turns her head back to face him. “No. They would have hurt me regardless of your presence.”

“Because you're Red?” She guesses immediately.

“Absolutely. And because of my imperfections.”

Adrianna crosses her arms. “That's bullshit.”

Slash smiles, his scar tissue flattening and reminding him that his face is still healing.

Her skittish gaze flies around the still woods. “We need to get out of here, Slash.”

He nods. “Can you hear that?”

Distant noises reach Slash’s ears. A large engine revving. A female's screams. Low, threatening male voices.

Adrianna stops all movement, seeming to really understand his odd stance above her for the first time. “What is it?”

She jerks up, and Slash follows the motion, rolling to his elbow. She's now above him and looking intensely into his face. A leaf is embedded in her matted hair. The sun slants through the thick canopy above where they just made love, setting one of her eyes on mossy green fire, mimicking the needle-strewn floor they lay on.

“What the
fuck
, Slash?” A fat tear slides out of her swollen eye as it skims his body, the unnatural stance of his lower limbs. “What'd they do to you?”

She kneels beside him, and he gathers her close, so tightly she's hard-pressed to breathe. “They've hurt me beyond what I can heal quickly and without a shift—or food.
My
situation
makes us vulnerable. I need you to leave me for a while, Adrianna.”

Adrianna struggles against his hold, but Slash gives a low growl and sets his teeth at her shoulder. She stills beneath him, her wolf submitting to his. Her eyes roll to meet his. “Don't make me, Slash. I just found you.” She touches his face. “We just found each other. Don't make me go,
please
.”

Slash's eyes close against her pleas. If he has to die because he's indefensible, he won't take his mate with him.

Slash releases his hold. “Adrianna.”

Her head tips back, and he catches her fragile skull. Her eyelids hood, languid over her submission to his wolf. It's a wonderful interaction during sex, but not so much in the present, when Slash can hear the sound of a small battle happening too closely for his comfort. And Tramack’s vague threat about returning hangs over him.

“It's the only way I can protect you until I heal this injury.”

Tramack had performed the maneuver to paralyze an opponent before. He was far too practiced to have not. The move against him made Slash wonder how deplorable the Western pack had become.

He shakes the thoughts away. They can't afford the time of his speculations. “I'm paralyzed,” he says in a bald tone.

Deliver the facts. No more, no less.

Adrianna bites her lip, trying for brave, not that she needs to try. She
is
brave. She clutches his shredded shirt. “No,” she says with quiet intensity.

“Not forever, but right now, I must—my wolf must—keep my mate safe.”

Adrianna clings to him. “I won't leave you!”

I was afraid of that.

A huge sound booms where the voices have escalated to shouts. The report of gunfire echoes.

He shoves Adrianna away from him, growling. His eyes become razors, and he pushes every bit of Alpha Red to the surface of his skin.

“Do not kill me by staying,” he delivers in low command.

Adrianna's head rocks back as though she’s been slapped. “What?” she whispers. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Slash hates what he must do. But she is a young Alpha female who thinks with her emotions. Newly mated, she's vulnerable, and her feelings are right below the surface. She'll get them both killed without meaning to.

Slash has to think for the both of them.

“Get the fuck out of here. It was fun, but I don't need you like an anchor around my neck.”

Tears pour down her healing face like an undamed river, and she scoots away from his slack hold on her.

“Bastard!” she screams, angrily swiping at her tears. “Did you fucking see what that douche did to me? He
marked
me!” Her hand moves to the breast Slash covered with a makeshift bra.

Slash holds his flinch. It's one of the hardest reactions he's ever had to suppress. Somehow, he manages. “Yes. Do you want him to again, female?” Slash grinds out coldly.

She shakes her head. “No, you
asshole
.” Adrianna stands, begins to stomp off, then whirls to face him.

Slash hates being on the ground, unable to stand on his own two feet.

“I would have
stayed
with you.” Her voice goes low. “Fought for you. Protected you.”

Like all Were, Slash has excellent sight. His eyes home in on the standing water in hers.

Their eyes lock. Finally, he breaks the heavy silence. “That's not your role. Now go, female.”

Adrianna nods quickly. “I'll go, you jerk. I can't believe you mated me and care so little. I thought—” Her hands rub at the tears brimming and streaking her bruised face. “The hell with what I thought. At least one of those bastards is a testi shy.”

She turns, striding away. Then she runs.

A tight breath of relief slides out of Slash. He allows himself to fall backward, the leaves and needles cushioning the short slump. Slash lies there, looking up toward the sky, his chest tight.

Hopefully, Adrianna will be so pissed off, she'll just keep going. His nose will find her later. It's more important that she's safe—and far from this place. He knows Adrianna will avoid the conflict. And most certainly, the conflict involves Tramack.

Slash can explain his reasoning to her later. She
would
have stayed. He understands the kind of female Adrianna is.

He also understands the male that Tramack is. He'll return, regardless of whether or not a female that is supposedly his intended has been located in Region One.

He'll come back because he’s a follow-through type of Were, the worst kind, made even more by his insanity.

As Slash scans his surroundings, a reluctant grim smile pulls at his lips. The two dead Were languish a few yards away from his position.

At least there's that.
Now how do I get somewhere isolated that I can shift to wolfen and hunt to revitalize this body?

A stealthy movement hits Slash's radar, and he tenses, feeling his toes for the first time in an hour. That's not going to do a damn bit of good if what he hears is round two with Tramack. His fingertips itch to burst to talons, his emotions inciting the change like a lit match.

Slash resists. He's exposed.

Truman moves from behind a tree, looking around at the mess and the Were corpses. “What the
fuck
?” he asks, and Slash grins. His relief is so intense, his normally stoic personality momentarily leaves him.

“Yes, that's exactly it.”

“It's that Alpha Zeke and I scented, right?” A shadow crosses his face, and Slash sits up straighter, hiking his ass so he can be upright. It's not standing, but it's not lying on his back, either.

Feeling swarms to Slash's ankles. Hope flares.

Karl Truman—a former Homer, AK cop, and now the oldest living change on record—stares at Slash's legs. His eyes slide back to Slash's. “That prick do that to your legs?”