Replica(51)

“That’s my decision, Cazador,” I snarled. “Not yours.”

“It was never your decision, mi guerrera. It was made for you.”

“What does that mean?”

But his body had stilled, his muscles tensed. He balanced on the balls of his feet, his fingertips twitching.

“What’s out there?” I whispered, letting my hands relax at my sides as I slowly dipped down. The tips of my fingers brushed the top of the blade in my boot. I didn’t sense anything, but he obviously did, and while I didn’t like this cocky bastard, he had far more experience with the supernatural realm.

He looked me square in the eye, his eyes full of…was that pride? “Werewolves.”

“How many?”

“Six.”

“Can you take them?”

His mouth curved into a sexy grin. “No, mi amor. But we will together.” Then he charged.





CHAPTER 23





LEA



Werewolves were not to be trifled with. Werewolves on leashes held by men I wasn’t entirely sure were human posed a whole other problem. From a low rolling hill, I watched them sweep the area. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who they were after.

Six pairs fanned out across a swathe at least the length of a football field. No matter how clever Antonio thought he was in covering our tracks, there was no way the wolves would miss our scent.

The werewolves were in wolf form, their noses to the ground, muzzles latched over their elongated snouts. The low whimpering in the back of their throats, the way they pulled on the chains; they already had our scent. I had hoped for a little more time.

“Shit.” I rose to a crouch. If Rachel had a transport coming at dawn, we had to wait. Which meant I had no choice. I had to kill the werewolves and their handlers. And I had to do it before—

“The dogs have the scent. Release B3, B7, C9.”

The click of chains being unlatched sounded as loud to my ears a bullet report. Three of the werewolves leapt forward. They tore each other’s muzzles off and then the center one tipped its head back and howled. The sound wasn’t the cry of a normal wolf—it was more of a guttural roar that twisted into a high-pitched scream.

I bolted parallel to the wolves; slow enough so they would see me, fast enough to stay ahead. If I could draw them away, Ivan might be able to handle the remaining three. At least he’d have a chance.

The wind shifted, bringing me the smell of their fur—musky and rank with urine. That was not natural to werewolves—by nature they were clean, almost fastidious in their...I shook my head. Not the time for tangents. The wind shifted again and brought me a scent that snapped my feet to a standstill. “Rachel, what the hell are you doing out here?”

Now that I knew she was outside, it only took me a moment to pinpoint her and Antonio down at the edge of the village. But in that moment of stillness, the first werewolf launched at me. Full of the shepherd’s blood, I was too fast for it. By a fraction of a second. I threw myself to the ground as I spun, driving my boot into the wolf’s ribcage as hard as I could.

Ribs exploded under my boot, shattering like glass, and the beast’s side split open. The scent of decay rolled over me. The werewolf didn’t even whimper. It landed and immediately spun and faced me, its side hanging open, teeth bared, eyes glassy with a death it didn’t know it held.

“Fuck me, zombie werewolves?” I whipped my stake out as a second wolf shot forward, its belly skimming the sand as it lunged toward me. I stabbed the stake down hard and fast right before the wolf reached me, driving it through the creature’s brain until I felt the crunch of sand on the tip. A burst of blood, bits of flesh and a bright green liquid I couldn’t identify spewed out of its mouth, and I gagged on the rancid scent that coated my tongue.

The moment of distraction cost me.

The first werewolf grabbed my leg and jerked me off my feet. I hit the ground on my left side, and it dragged me, shaking me hard enough that the stars above blurred into white streaks. The third wolf bit down on my left shoulder, teeth driving through flesh and cracking the bone. Pain arched my back and a grunt escaped me as I swallowed the scream. No, if I screamed, it would draw them to me.

Away from Rachel and Ivan. I screamed, the sounded echoing into the night. The chorus of wolves that answered was loud enough that I knew it would work.

Now I had to move my ass.

I reached up with my free hand and grabbed hold of the wolf whose teeth were still locked into my shoulder. I dug my fingers into the thick, rotting ruff of fur around its neck, searching for the windpipe. The corded muscle quivered under my fingers and I grabbed hold, ripping it free.

The wolf didn’t let go.