Vampires are tough. Hybrids like me are tougher. I rip the heart straight from his chest and watch in satisfaction as the rest of his body shrivels into a husk. Dumping both his heart and his corpse in the dirt, I pause to growl at the body of the second vampire Silas has just dispatched before continuing our run.
We don’t get far.
A lycan rips out of the undergrowth in front of us, moving from four legs to two as she prepares to fight. Her long muzzle opens on a howl, announcing our location to the rest of her pack, and I growl back in challenge.
Female lycans are just as ugly as males in their shifted form, except they’re slightly smaller. I don’t make the mistake of thinking her size makes her less dangerous. Her grey skin is covered in a layer of wiry, coarse fur and is as tough as nails. Each finger is tipped in a razor sharp claw, ready to rip into my brother. Silas roars at her, his fangs already glistening with blood from our earlier kills.
She stands her ground, a move that seems almost suicidal when faced with the two of us.
But the female isn’t alone, just faster.
My ears flatten back against my skull, fangs lengthening even more, as we stare down the numbers gathering in front of us.
Half a dozen against two. Not bad odds. We’ve certainly had worse.
The female lunges at me, teeth sinking into my shoulder. My claws shoot out in response, raking across her abdomen as I force her back. She takes a chunk of my flesh with her, but I follow, ripping at her throat with my own fangs. The vampire half of me gulps down the blood, and the wound on my shoulder closes over in response.
The female goes down, but she’s not out of the fight just yet. Her claws rake into my leg, scrambling to disable me in time for her pack to take me out.
They try. With so many wolves suddenly scrambling for me at once, it’s impossible to dodge them all. I roar as one of them severs the tendon in the back of my knee, but I manage to get my fangs into another—draining him—and the pain fades. How many times did I once curse vampire healing? Now I use it shamelessly against our enemies.
The irony isn’t lost on me as I snap the neck of the lycan I’ve just fed from and use his corpse to catch another blow from the female. She’s getting troublesome, and I’m growing tired of it. With a heave, I throw the dead body of her packmate at her, forcing her to dodge straight into my path. My fist squeezes her nape even as her clawed feet rake against the rest of me, scrabbling to push me away from her.
With a lunge, I lean forward and finish the job I started, ripping her head from her shoulders before discarding both halves of her. Silas finishes off his last opponent at the same time, and I give him a quick once over, evaluating his injuries to make sure they’re not serious before we start running once more.
I might be a hybrid, but he can still be just as deadly as I am when he wants to be. Good thing too, because they keep coming. Wave after wave of pursuers, following our trail of blood and death.
Better us than Evie, I think as we dodge attack after attack. We have to keep moving; if we don’t we’re easy prey.
It’s easier said than done. Both of us are wounded, our bodies flagging. Silas is worse than I am; one of the lycans managed to get their jaws around his thigh, and he’s bleeding profusely and limping. I hang back, trying to draw the worst of our attackers away from my brother.
Not that he lets me, stubborn ass.
The problem with us both being betas is that we’re equally protective of each other. Neither of us is willing to leave the other behind, or accept their protection to help ourselves. We’re bred to give our last breath for the people we care about, yet at times like this, the only way we can keep each other alive is to keep ourselves moving.
The sound of rushing water is music to my ears, and I veer toward it just as more vampires burst out of the treeline.
Only, this time, it’s not just more of Cain’s minions.
This time, Morwenna is at their head.
“A lycan and the hybrid.” She rolls her eyes, clearly bored. “You’re outnumbered and surrounded. Surrender now, yadda yadda yadda.”
The two of us back up, but there’s nowhere to go. The cliff edge that separates us from the river below is lined by more soldiers—both vampires and lycans.
“We’d rather die,” Silas retorts.
Morwenna just laughs. “Oh, I do love it when people say things like that. Trust me, lycan, the last thing you’ll be doing is dying today. Death is tooeasyfor enemies of my sire.”
My gut clenches, because I know it’s not an empty threat. Frost once confided in me that Draven was an optimistic jokester—not unlike Silas—before he fell into Cain’s clutches. The man who came out of Callista’s dungeon is nothing like who he once was, and I’d lose it if I saw that same change in my brother.
More of her soldiers arrive, and I snarl at them, but it only makes Morwenna grin. She’s an elder and first generation—turned by Cain himself. As a hybrid, I’m stronger than both races, but am I a match for her? Would it even be a fair fight when she has this much backup?
Cain’s crazed daughter doesn’t carry a sword like the rest of them. Instead, she’s clasping a long, black shotgun in one hand. As if noticing us looking at it, she grins again and takes aim at Silas’s torso.
Too late, I remember that Morwenna doesn’t know the definition of a fair fight. She is what she is because she’s ruthless and unpredictable.
My mind seems to work at super-speed for a second. Silas is fast, but he’s not that fast—not with his leg as it is. He won’t be able to dodge, and I’m almost certain Morwenna will shoot him even if we surrender in the next three seconds. He might not die, but at this range, that gun could easily take off a limb. Regrowing one for me will hurt like a bitch, but I can manage it with enough blood, thanks to my fucking vampire side. It’ll take him much longer, and he’ll struggle without it.
