“Damn them,” she breathed. “Where are your weapons?”

“You mean, besides the rifle and shotgun propped next to the door, the six other shotguns and pistols on the wall, and the crossbow in the corner stand?”

She gave him a dry look. “Yes, besides those.”

“I have a chest full of various blades in my bedroom, and in the metal chest downstairs, I have dyn**ite.”

“Seriously?” she asked, and when he grinned, she returned his smile. “Awesome.” He nearly laughed, something he hadn’t done in a long time. But damn, how many females actually lit up like lanterns when you mentioned you had explosives in the house? “I need you to go downstairs and keep quiet. I’ll see if I can get them out of here.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do it,” he barked. “The basement is concealed—they might suspect you’re here, but even if they come in, which they won’t, they wouldn’t be able to find you.”

“Luc, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She eyed the weapons near the door. “I might be pregnant, but I’m not helpless.” “This isn’t because you’re pregnant.” Humans treated pregnant women like they were made of glass, but even before he’d been turned, he’d known they were tougher than that—he’d seen his mother go through three pregnancies, working just as hard on the farm as his father had, right up until she went into labor. And warg mothers were even tougher than that, fighting and hunting until the day they gave birth.

“Then what?” Suddenly she stiffened, and a low, lethal growl rumbled in her chest. “Kar? What is it?”

“Werewolves.” Her eyes flashed, and her lips peeled back from her teeth. “It’s not The Aegis. It’s wargs. I feel them. A lot of them.” A block of ice dropped into the pit of Luc’s stomach. “Exterminators. The teams they send to destroy Feast wargs.” And then he felt it… a wave of violence crashing into him like a tsunami rising up out of hell. His blood thundered in his veins, his skin grew tight, and his joints stretched to the point of pain.

“Luc,” Kar gasped, and he spun to her. She doubled over, clutching her stomach. “I feel… a shift. It’s like I need to… kill.” When too many wargs got together to fight, everyone shifted, no matter the time of month, the time of day. Kar definitely didn’t need to be out there killing with her venomous bite. “Get below!” His voice was distorted, mostly snarl, but she understood and crawled down to the basement. With long, claw-tipped hands, he slammed the hatch shut and rolled the rug over it.

Lurching, he threw open the door even as his body clenched, on the verge of contorting into his beast form. The forest all around had come alive, was teeming with movement. On one side, varcolac, distinguishable from the born wargs by their varied sizes and colors of fur, and on the other side, pricolici, mostly dark, all massive, and ready to charge the others.

“What the hell!” Luc swung his head in the direction of the shout. Six humans—Guardians, if their wealth of weapons was any indication—stood near the river, in the middle of what was about to be tooth-and-claw hell.

Luc stepped outside just as the two warg sides met. The Guardians sprang into action, sending crossbow bolts into the fray. But one wheeled toward Luc, pistol trained.

Luc’s only thought as the bullet tore through his chest was that for years he didn’t care if he lived or died. Now he cared, but it might be too late.

The Harrowgate opened up to snow on the ground, blinding sunlight in the sky, and the clean, crisp crack of gunshots on the wind.

Con plowed through the shin-deep snow at a near run, with Wraith on his heels. Sin, E, Lore, and Shade were close behind. Tayla had gone to UG to round up medics.

Don’t be too late. Don’t be too late… As they got closer, the unmistakable sounds of battle vibrated the air. Screams, bloodcurdling snarls, and the scent of blood guided them. Luc’s cabin was maybe fifty yards ahead when Con’s muscles vapor-locked, and he gasped and tripped over his own feet as he stumbled into a tree. Sin caught him, her strong body bracing against him.

“What’s wrong? Con?”

He couldn’t answer. His throat had closed up so that the only sound he could make was a growl. He was shifting and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He could only lessen the damage, and as quickly as he could, he stripped out of his shirt and pants.

“What’s going on?” Sin’s voice seemed distant, and then Eidolon yanked her away. “The warg battle. He’s shifting. He’ll be fine. We have to go—” The sound of gunfire cut him off, and then wood sprayed in shards next to Sin’s head. “Shit! Slayers.” Slayers who had tried to kill Sin.

They tried to kill my female.

Didn’t matter that the thought was insane. That it wasn’t true. That it could never be true. Something dark reached up and grabbed Con, squeezed rational thought out of his brain, and before he’d even fully shifted, he launched himself at the group of humans engaged in battle with dozens of wargs. The scene was chaos—wargs fighting each other and slayers in snow that had turned to pink, bloody slush.

He leaped, mouth watering as he prepared to bite right through a slayer. In midair, a gray mass of fur broadsided him. The warg’s teeth clamped onto his shoulder and his claws dug into Con’s ribs, and crazily enough, it was the damned slayer who brought down a blade and separated the warg’s head from his neck, probably saving Con’s life.

Faintly, he heard Eidolon order his brothers to gather the Guardians without killing them, something about Tay and Ky wanting them alive, and then another pricolici slammed into Con, and nothing mattered but the battle. The crunch of bone between his teeth, the taste of blood on his tongue.

He didn’t know how long the battle had raged when he felt a sting in his flank. Spinning, he rounded on the source… Sin? She stood a few yards away, a crossbow trained on him. Searing agony stole his breath as his body turned inside out, twisting and morphing until he was back in his human form. She’d hit him with an Aegis morph dart, and damn, it hurt to shift with unnatural speed like that. He went to his knees, the icy snow scraping his bare skin. A god-awful snarl sounded behind him, and Sin, moving with catlike grace, launched a morning star at the charging warg while shooting another with the crossbow. The injuries wouldn’t be fatal, but the wargs fell to the ground, incapacitated by her wellplaced strikes.

“You’re… damned good,” he rasped. The cold-induced blush in her cheeks gave her a fresh, playful expression as she tossed him his clothes. “I’m made of awesome.” She offered him a hand. “Sorry about the dart, but Eidolon doesn’t know which of these werewolves is Luc, and he needs your help.” He could be macho and not take her help, but right now, his leg didn’t feel stable, he was sore from a dozen claw and bite wounds, and, really, he’d take the excuse to touch her. “I thought shifting healed you.”

The world tilted and spun a little, and shit, stop the ride, he was ready to get off. “We all heal at different levels depending on our species and type of wounds. Trust me, I healed a lot in that shift.” Not as much as he’d have liked, but at least he wasn’t bleeding. He grunted and came to his feet. All around, the battle raged, and Sin took down another warg with a targeted shoulder shot as he plucked the dart out of his thigh and tossed it to the ground. “Has anyone checked the cabin for Luc?”

“Not that I know of.” She frowned. “Looks like the varcolac are retreating.”

Yeah, they were. The ground was littered with bodies and injured wargs, some of whom were starting to shift as the battle waned. He tugged on his jeans and whipped the shirt over his head. “Come on. Let’s search the cabin.”

Sin shook her head. “I’m going to help out the guys. You go.” Before he could argue, she was off and running. “Sin!” he called after her. “Be careful. You still have assassins after you.”

She flashed him a wave with one hand and took down a warg with another.

Christ. The female was going to give him a heart attack.

Nineteen

Con sprinted to the cabin, his heart pounding at the sight of blood splashed on the snow, the door, and the entryway of the cabin. Luc lay stiffly on the floor, bleeding from an apparent gunshot wound to the chest.

“Hold still, buddy.” Con sank down on his heels and slapped his hand over the bubbling wound. “Eidolon! Shade!” The brothers were still engaged in battle, now mostly defending the varcolac that were trying to flee.

Keeping an eye on the situation outside, because it would suck to get attacked while he was rendering aid, he ripped open Luc’s shirt to expose the bullet hole. Luc moaned as Con performed a rapid exam, gently rolling the heavy-ass warg to check for an exit wound. Sure enough, the bullet had blasted a mangled hole through his shoulder blade.

Finally, the two demons jogged over, leaving Wraith, Sin, and Tayla to clean up. Looked like staff from UG had arrived, too. “What do we have?” E asked. “GSW to the right upper chest. Through and through. He’s got blood in his airway, and his breaths are rapid and shallow.” Not that any of that mattered, since Shade and Eidolon would be able to get inside Luc and use their gifts to heal him quickly and efficiently.

They both palmed Luc’s arms, the symbols on their right hands glowing intensely. Luc groaned, but his eyes were bright as they locked on Con’s. He mumbled something about a car. “Under… the rug.”

“Hey, man, it’s okay—”

He shook his head. “Let her… out. Name’s… Kar.” The Feast female.

“We got Luc,” Shade said. “Go ahead and handle whomever he’s got stashed under the rug.” Shade frowned down at the warg. “Hell’s fires. You think you know someone…”

Eidolon muttered something about Shade’s BDSM cave, but Con ignored them to roll back the thick, knotted rug. There was nothing there but wood planks.