Robin Bielman: Veiled Target

Guess he didn’t mean much to her after all.

He heard the scuffing of furniture, registered heavy breathing and grunts from Dane in the near-dark room. Tess had shot him in wolfen form, which meant his superhuman strength and tissue regeneration immediately got to work repairing internal damage. But like the Banoth’s poison, those attributes wouldn’t help him now. This time nothing could help him. He remembered the pain after the Banoth’s poison had infiltrated his system and expected this to be the same.

But this pain was entirely different than final suffering. This pain radiated through his body, but wasn’t unbearable. In fact, he could swear his body fought the intrusion. Recovery sensations swam through his blood, and a jolt of warmth spread out from his chest like he’d been given a shot of epinephrine.

Because, he realized, the pain wasn’t in his chest, it was lower, near his hip. And he’d bet money the bullet hadn’t been tipped with mercury.

Tess had shot him to save him.

She did care.

And he’d fight for her to the bitter end in return.

He opened his eyes and, wavering slightly, got to his feet. It would take a few minutes to regain his full strength, but his determination to get Tess to safety trumped physical limitations. The wolf in him had never been stronger than at that moment. Savagery, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, flooded his body and mind.

His predator instincts took over and uncivilized vengeance erased any hint of humanity inside him. Tess was his mate—different enough, special enough, to tame him—and no one would take her away.

Thankful for the dark filling the room, he took in his surroundings unnoticed. Tess and Dane were in a fistfight. Hugh smelled the blood leaking from her arm, heard the labored beats of her heart. She wouldn’t last much longer. Christian sat at the computer, light from the screen outlining the back of his head. Hugh didn’t know if he was planting information or looking for it, but neither mattered. The man had a gun and needed to be taken care of first.

He snuck behind Christian in a silent second, wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and rendered him unconscious. With a nice easy push, the guy slumped forward onto the keypad. A quick glance at the screen and Hugh noticed that his personal records were uploaded and Tess’s name appeared more than once.

It looked like the asshole had every intention of framing her by connecting her to a Veiler and thereby making her death justifiable. Hugh’s blood boiled at the thought. Christian must have figured out there was no chance in hell she’d go along with the restructuring of P.I.E, which meant the organization that trained her couldn’t trust her to keep her mouth shut. Dane had no doubt used his human-sentient abilities to sense Tess’s skepticism, her doubts about killing him. And once it became clear she wouldn’t eliminate an innocent man, she went from ally to enemy. That had left one option. Kill her too.

A growl escaped his mouth and in less than a second, he stood poised to pull Tess from Dane’s clutches. She was pinned beneath him, her back arched over the side of the couch. Even though she’d been shot, she fought with everything she had.

“Let her go, Dane.”

His words drew Dane’s attention and a startled look spread across his furry face. Tess took advantage, got a knee to Dane’s groin and pushed his chest hard. She threw her legs over her head, doing a back somersault onto the couch and putting distance between the two of them.

“Why the hell did you get up?” she shouted, standing on her knees and taking quick inventory of the room.

“Why the hell didn’t you use mercury?”

Her eyes darted back to him. She didn’t have to answer. His night vision zeroed in on his new favorite color and her eyes told him everything. She loves me.

“Get out of here, Hugh. Let me take care of this.”

Dane body-slammed him before he could tell her he had no intention of going anywhere without her. They hit the carpet hard, Hugh on his back, the landing an unpleasant reminder he still needed to recover from the gunshot.

Hugh forced Dane to the side and readied his claws and fangs for battle. Dammit, Dane. He didn’t want to hurt his pack mate, no matter their differences, but there wasn’t any other way. Dane wouldn’t agree to any sort of truce or just disappear. He had too much pride, too much fight in him, for that.

They staggered to their feet and circled each other. The only way to kill a Night Runner with bare hands was to break his neck. Would it come to that?

A split second later Dane made a move. His aggression was to Hugh’s advantage. Hugh grabbed his arm, turned away and pulled Dane over his shoulder, throwing him to the floor. Dane landed on his back and quickly tried to get up but Hugh nailed him with a right hook that drove him back to the carpet.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why the fuck are you doing this?” Hugh pressed his knee into Dane’s gut to pin him down.

“You and I will never make the same choices,” Dane spat. He reached for Hugh’s thigh and dug in his claws.

Hugh yanked his leg away, the tips of Dane’s claws ripping his jeans and puncturing his skin. Hugh struggled with what to do next. Did he go for the jugular? Or continue wrestling until he tired Dane out? The thought of things ending this way bothered him more than they probably should, but he couldn’t help it.

“Hugh, look out!” Tess shouted from behind him.

Too late. A lamp clobbered him on the side of the head, the electrical cord about to go around his neck. Hugh backpedaled out of reach, stopping when his back hit the side of the coffee table. The blow to the head stung and his vision blurred until he blinked away the pain. He reached behind him, hoisted the table over his head and sent it crashing down on top of Dane. The wood table broke and splintered, but only slowed Dane down for a moment.

In the next second, Dane looked ready to pounce. But not at him.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Tess cried out.

What was she talking about?

He wanted to turn his head to look at her, but didn’t dare take his eyes off Dane. The wolfen growled and dove for a spot on the floor behind him and to the left. Hugh twisted to see what the commotion was about and caught a glimpse of shiny metal as Tess lunged for the same spot.

Her gun.

It wouldn’t do her any good against Dane. She’d slow him down if she pegged a few rounds into him in quick succession, but Dane could do serious damage to Tess.

She got her hand on the weapon first, but Dane clawed her arm. More blood spilled, dripping to the floor. Dane threw his other arm up and grabbed her injured shoulder. She cried out, pain registering in the squint of her eyes, but she didn’t release her hold on the gun.

Without delay, Tess swung her foot out from underneath her. Her heel landed squarely in Dane’s Adams apple. He gagged and tumbled backwards. “Don’t you fucking lay another paw on me again,” she said.

Dane clutched his neck and slowly rose to his feet with a wobble that resembled a drunken sailor. But the gesture didn’t fool Hugh. Dane wanted to buy himself time. Why?

“Don’t move,” came a masculine voice.

That’s why. Hugh looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the man who hadn’t stayed down nearly long enough.

“I’m not,” said Tess, her outstretched arms holding the gun and aiming it at Dane.

“Fool me once—”

“Shut up,” Tess said to Christian while keeping her sights on Dane. “You’ve got no fucking idea what I’m capable of. What I do and don’t do.”

Hugh took a good look at Christian before inching his way closer to the bastard. He heard the even beat of the man’s heart, smelled his expensive cologne, but a tiny bead of sweat dotted his temple. The man wasn’t immune. Wasn’t as cool as he wanted to seem.