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Wild, green eyes batted. The creature whimpered. Vann twisted his blade, and kicked the creature off it.

The other was back at it.

A cluster of shadows blocked the sun. Fuck. Five more.

How many of these bastards were there?

Outnumbered now, the team struggled to maintain formation.

Some cuts and bruises. A few limped. Some of the deeper wounds slowed them down.

Desperation drew Bodie out of human form. He shifted to the wolf and launched at a limping wyvern. Faster and more agile, he fought more confidently as the wolf.

Strength wasn’t enough in this fight.

Adair stayed out of reach, fetching thrown blades and firing them back again, aiming for the wyverns in the air that the rest couldn’t reach. Always on the move.

Bennett bashed his shield into one, then another, in rapid succession. Stunning them for the others to finish.

Forged in the demon realm, Ryan’s sword was built for quick, lethal damage.

Wyverns didn’t stay on the ground, but they kept close to the fight.

Archer gave up his sword, either dropped or knocked from his grip. He scooped his hands together and rocketed Lana into the air.

Axe swinging as she soared, Lana went for ranged attacks as only she could. Archer jumped to catch low-flying wyverns, and dragged them down before bashing his fists into their eyes, bellies, and ripping at the weaker joints in their wings.

Vann kept his six as clear as he could, but the wyverns were tough. Cleverer than the ones he’d fought before. Bigger.

Searing, burning pain oozed as blood seeped from his back. Clever bastards went for the thinnest areas of skin they could reach.

Against a team of hunters who had studied their prey. A team that had planned their defenses, their attacks. The fight was still uphill, but the team was tipping toward victory.

Vann swung around and notched his blade into the wyvern’s neck.

Another came up behind and crunched a bite into his outer thigh.

He smacked an elbow backward into its skull.

The air shattered with a mind-splitting screech.

Vann looked up to find the source. Not a wyvern.

The demon?

Another scream.

A sword sliced across his back.

He turned and drove his blade into his attacker.

Shock froze his veins.

A winged woman grasped at the impaling blade. Eyes welling, chin quivering, she was pale as a ghost. Feathered black wings lowered like a wounded bird.

Shock rattled him to the bone. Aside from wings, blades, and powerful attacks, these looked like normal people.

The air cracked. One of his pauldrons snapped off. Broken in an instant by a sword sliced through the strap.