Rebecca Zanetti - Hunted

Shots rang out. He fell. More shots cascaded in quick succession. He struggled to his feet, staggering closer, and closer.

“Fire!” Trevan yelled into the phone.

A rapid volley of bullets fired through the air from high in the tree line. Conn’s body jerked with each one. Moira gasped at every impact, her body clenching. So much damage. He dropped to his knees. Pivoting, he turned and fired into the trees. A bellow echoed when someone crashed down.

More flashes of fire lit the tops of the trees. There were too many shooters for Conn to get them all.

“Stop them, Trevan. Please.” She wasn’t a woman who begged. But this time, she would.

“Not a chance, Seventh.” Smug satisfaction coated Trevan’s smooth voice.

Rage burned so fast through Moira her tears heated. “I don’t know when. I don’t know how. But someday, I’m going to rip your heart out of your body.” She said it as a threat, felt it as a vow.

He turned slowly, his eyes darkening, his face paling. “Well then. Let’s hope the Kurjans arrive before I decide you’re an actual danger to me.”

Oh, he understood the threat. “I’m the Seventh, Trevan. Don’t you ever forget it.” As if she could protect Conn with her eyesight alone, she searched for him through the falling snow. Spotlights lit the area, keeping him visible.

He stumbled to his feet, leaving a river of red on the ground.

God. He’d lost too much blood.

Flashes of fire cascaded from the trees. More bullets impacted him. His body shuddered. Yet he stepped forward.

So brave. Her mate. Love was too pale an idea to describe what flew through her. Power, destiny, fate commingled in an inferno that had her head snapping back. Gathering her strength, pretending she had more than she felt, she sent every ounce of her power careening through the air. Sent all the power of the Seventh, all the power of a mate, to help him. For one second, she believed she was stronger than phanakite. Stronger than her enemies. More powerful than death.

Conn shot to his feet. His chest expanded. His shoulders snapped back, his head up, his chin down—ready to charge.

A light pierced down from high above. A dark form swimming among the clouds. A helicopter.

Oh God. Trevan’s backup.

Trevan puffed out his chest. “Apparently our ride has arrived, ladies.” He pivoted to watch the scene outside where Conn had stopped to stare up at the circling beast. “Well, I guess we could wait for a couple moments as they blow your mate to miniature particles, Moira.” His exhale scattered fog across the window. “Even you won’t be able to reassemble him.”

Pain and fear rippled through her so fast her knees buckled. She’d sent everything she had to Conn, and it wasn’t enough.

The rapid smattering of gunfire filled the night, flashes of orange coming from the nearly silent helicopter. The spray careened into the tree line, igniting the tops of the fir trees into a billowing mass of fire. Into the tree line! A spotlight captured the beast, illuminating Jase as he leaned out, firing into the forest.

Almost in slow motion, Moira turned her head toward the hill. Conn came running at them full bore, his chin down, his gaze on her.

Trevan jumped back, yanking a gun from his waistband. He levered, aiming for her mate.

With a flash of speed and the shattering of glass, Connlan Kayrs leaped through the window.

Conn landed hard, glass shattering under his thick boots. Rage destroyed the strategic training he’d developed over centuries. Raw fury shoved temperance out of his heart. And fear, fear for the woman he loved, well now. That sent any humanity he may have owned straight to hell.

His hand clenched around Trevan’s throat before the man could get off one more shot. A careless swipe of his arm had the witch’s gun skittering across the floor.

Bleeding, nearly destroyed, working with half a demolished heart, Conn lifted his enemy with one hand, slamming the bastard down on the ground with all the force the universe contained.

Demidov’s skull exploded like a melon.

The animal Conn had become let loose with a growl. He squeezed harder, ripping the head right off the already dead body. Then he flung it out the window.

Rising, his fangs elongated, blood cascading down his cheeks, Conn searched for his mate. She leaned weakly against the wall, her hands shackled, her eyes huge pools of green in an entirely too pale face.

His legs grew heavy as he stumbled toward her, the blood deserting his body, his veins going dry. The last thing in this world he’d do was free her. Enamel flew when he gritted his teeth and reached for the shackles.

“Conn.” Her pretty eyes filled with tears. “Take off the collar. Please take off the collar.” Her voice came out breathy. Weak.

He frowned, wrapping his hand around the small lock until it crumbled into pieces. His fingers shook as he undid the binding, sliding the black leather off her neck. Sparkles lined it. Quartz?

She released more of a sigh than a breath. Her lashes fluttered while he unclasped the cuffs around her wrists. Two seconds later she reached for Brenna’s collar.

Conn growled. He hadn’t seen Brenna. She’d been right there, and yet, he’d only seen Moira. His mate. He reached for Brenna’s restraints, releasing her wrists as Moira threw the collar across the room. Brenna sagged to a crouch, deep gasps of air coming from her, her hand trembling as she pushed back her hair.

The room swayed. Or maybe that was him. A roaring filled his ears. Moira reached for him, her hands on his biceps.

Wood dented when his knees hit the floor.

The outside door splintered open, and he half turned to shield his mate.

Jase jumped inside, already ripping his wrist open with sharp fangs. “Here.” He shoved the wound toward Conn’s mouth.

The scent of blood filled Conn’s nostrils. Animalistic need filled his growl. He lunged for Jase’s arm, sinking his fangs deep. Drinking. Power shot into his mouth, into his veins. Straight to his heart, which most needed to heal. He released his hold, trying to force his canines out.

Jase shoved his vein in harder. “Take more. I don’t need it.”

Dage leaped through the door, his gaze taking in the entire scene. With two quick strides, he lifted Brenna off the floor, tearing the tape off her ankles. “Trevan’s reinforcements are coming. Get to the helicopter.”

Moira staggered forward, grabbing one of Conn’s arms as Jase latched on to the other, hefting him up. Together, they assisted the half-conscious soldier outside. The helicopter’s blades threw snow and pinecones at them like small missiles. Pain smashed into her face, her heart beating too fast against her ribs.

Even after drinking from Jase, Conn left a wide trail of blood through the snow. Yet he put each foot in front of the other, his head down, most of his weight leaning toward his brother.

Where did he get such strength? As his mate, she could feel the pounding pain ripping like tendrils of death through his tissues, through his organs. And yet, he moved—with a pure force of will.

“Not leaving you alone in this world,” he growled out, low and soft. Too soft.

“I love you.” The words came from nowhere near her brain. Maybe not even her heart. From somewhere deeper. Not exactly the wine and roses moment.

“I know. Get in the helicopter.” He released her to sag against Jase, waiting until she was safely inside before pulling his large body in next to her. Jase flanked him, facing outside, his gun aimed into the darkness.

Dage placed Brenna in the copilot’s seat, jumped into his own, and snapped buttons on the ceiling to life. “Hold on, everybody. Jase, get ready.”