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“I had nothing to do with this. I fought them the same as you did,” Jace said, coolly.
“Henrik,” Rock growled in warning.
“No,” Henrik said, turning a defiant gaze toward his friend. “I won’t allow you to continue to be cuckolded like this, packmaster.” Without warning, Henrik charged at Jace full speed, hitting him under his arms in an attempt to tackle him. But Jace used Henrik’s own weight against him and sent him stumbling across the club’s floor.
Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he heard Frankie snarl. Like she would come to help defend him. But Amarok stopped her.
“Leave him. If you care for him, let him fight his own battles.”
When Jace regained his balance, Henrik turned and threw his first punch. Jace dodged, but another punch came toward his face immediately. The white wolf was well trained, but in human form he was sloppy. Not as well equipped as he was when he was a wolf.
Unlike Jace.
Jace blocked Henrik’s arm and tried to sweep him to the ground, but Henrik wasn’t having it. He bent under Jace’s weight and dragged Jace down with him. They rolled on the floor, until Henrik pinned Jace to the ground. He punched again, this time aiming for Jace’s jaw. Jace twisted his head in time for Henrik to slam his fist into the platform. The warrior let out a loud yelp.
Grabbing hold of Henrik’s injured wrist, Jace grasped his fingers and twisted them in the opposite direction. The bastard crumpled in on himself, completely under Jace’s control. Jace slipped out from underneath him and pinned the werewolf to the ground, switching their positions.
Henrik bucked against him, trying to throw him off. “Aren’t you man enough to fight?” he said as he strained against Jace. “Or can you only block my moves?”
Jace ground his weight against his opponent, needing to keep Henrik pinned down, and let out a low feral growl. “Don’t push me, asshole.”
“Or what? You’ll finally hit me?”
“Henrik,” Amarok growled again in warning, urging his warrior back.
Jace slammed his palm into the bastard’s throat, then held tight, slowly crushing his windpipe. He could feel Henrik’s veins pulse beneath this hand as the man gasped for air. “Don’t make me do this. Listen to your packmaster.”
Henrik’s face reddened as he fought for air, but he gritted his teeth and shook his head.
“Have it your way, then.” Jace’s hold tightened.
“Don’t! Please!” a woman yelled from the crowd.
Jace looked up, but the voice wasn’t Frankie’s. A petite blonde was running toward the edge of the stage, another white wolf, and that moment of distraction was all it took. Jace glanced back down at Henrik, only to rear back. Fur had sprouted across Henrik’s skin, and his face had lengthened into the snout of a wolf.
Jace scrambled off Henrik just in time for the wolf to flash his fangs.
Shit.
The white wolf rose onto its feet and crouched, ready to spring. Jace backed to the edge of the platform.
“Jace, concentrate.” Frankie’s voice rang in his ears, and a surge of adrenaline shot through him.
The white wolf snarled as it bounded toward him. Jace focused on the anger rising inside him. Henrik hit him square in the chest and knocked him to the ground. They rolled around on the platform in a snarling heap. Henrik scratched his paws across Jace’s face. A sting of pain shot through Jace’s cheek, and a warm trickle cued him in. Henrik had been the first to draw blood. He wouldn’t continue to hold himself back now.
As far as Jace was concerned, it was practically an invitation. He punched the wolf in the jaw. Yelping, the werewolf reared back. A snarl ripped from its throat. Jace howled in pain as the animal sank its canines into the flesh of his shoulder. Blood poured down Jace’s chest.
The white wolf released his shoulder and prepared to strike again, like a venomous snake. Jace shoved against Henrik’s neck and focused all his energy into shifting as he stared into the wolf’s golden eyes.
He felt the beast stir inside him, and a grin spread across his face.
Jace grabbed the wolf by the scruff of his neck and threw him off. Henrik skidded across the stage; his back legs fell off the platform, and he desperately clawed his way back up. But Jace was already on his feet. He crouched into a low stance and focused on the feeling inside him. He felt the beast stir again, and he latched onto the feeling in a desperate attempt to draw it out.
Henrik ran toward him, fangs bared and covered in blood.
All the muscles in Jace’s body strained. He clenched his fists. He could feel it. It was working. He let out a ragged yell. A surge of power pulsed through him as Henrik dove for him.
The energy surged through Jace’s veins. Then everything faded to black.
