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Welcoming the shot of adrenaline that pulsed through his bloodstream, Teague reached out to his clan using their channel. It would seem that Ronin’s here. Fucking finally.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Teague signaled at the growling hounds to remain in place. They heeded him, their leg muscles quivering with the urge to pounce. Similarly, he let out a bird call to warn the ravens to hang back and stay alert.
Within him, his abruptly energized beast swished its tail and restlessly kicked up a hind leg. It was looking forward to the battle to come; was anxious for it to begin.
He telepathically reached out to Larkin. Quick warning, baby: Ronin’s come to visit.
Her psyche touched his, and a low curse drifted into his mind. I’ll be there as soon as I can. No more than twenty minutes.
Tracking the hounds’ gazes, Teague and his clan turned to fully face the section of trees wherein Ronin and whatever backup he’d brought had to be standing. Teague wasn’t worried that anyone would creep up behind them—the ravens would alert him if such a thing were to occur.
When none of the intruders showed themselves after long moments went by, Teague sighed. “We know you’re there.” He exchanged an eye-roll with Slade.
Leaves crinkled as footfalls finally came toward them, slow and easy; steadily increasing in volume. The whole time, adrenaline continued to pump around Teague’s body—sharpening his senses, feeding his anticipation, making his heart start to beat that little bit faster.
His beast was similarly amped up, thrilled the enemy they’d been waiting to confront was finally here. Especially since that enemy was Ronin. For most of its life, the demon had wanted the male’s blood. Wanted his fear and his suffering. The entity intended to get exactly what it had sought for so long.
Hell-born bloodhounds spilled out of the trees first, each unhurried step silent and stealthy. Baring their teeth, they came to a halt at the sound of a sharp whistle that came from the wooded area behind them. There were five bloodhounds in total. Far taller than an average dog, they sported red eyes, powerful jaws, and thick, black, ruffled fur.
Five carrion birds came next, noiselessly gliding into view and then settling onto a branch in a neat line. They eyed the ravens cautiously, their feathers fluffing up in affront as said ravens boldly stared at them.
Teague casually widened his stance as seven men prowled into the clearing, fluid and confident. They took only three steps before coming to a smooth stop, apparently intending to keep plenty of space between them and Teague’s clan.
Seven males. Five hounds. Five birds. Yeah, Ronin had brought his entire unit.
Teague found his gaze slamming on his half-brother. He hadn’t seen him in so long that, honestly, he’d forgotten the guy’s face—its features had been a blur in his mind.
Wide, dark-brown eyes that Ronin inherited from Soren were set into a square face that sported a crooked nose, dimpled chin, and thin lips. His sharp, angular jaw was currently hard and tight as he glared at Teague.
Skimming his gaze along the six men fanned out around Ronin, Teague noticed that two didn’t look particularly comfortable with the situation. But neither did they look on the verge of fleeing. The others stood with their chin up, their shoulders back, their posture cocky.
That wasn’t all. Oh, no.
Ronin had brought yet more company.
Hellish creatures were slowly pouring out of the trees to gather in a long line behind the unit of hellhorses. All stared at Teague and his clan through eyes that were flaming orbs embedded in over-pronounced eye-sockets. Their lips peeled back in a snarl, revealing long fangs that were coated in blood and thick saliva.
Motherfucker, Ronin had brought goddamn chupacabras.
Teague hadn’t seen any since leaving hell. It was rare for one to escape the realm. They resembled overgrown coyotes, though they boasted gray, leathery skin that had only brief patches of coppery fur here and there. Sharp spines protruded from their nape and ran down their back, stopping at the base of their long tail. They gave off a rancid odor similar to that of roasting, dead meat—Teague could smell it from where he stood.
Animals they might be but, like shadowkin, chupacabras were as intelligent as any human. They communicated through telepathy, and packs often offered their services for the right price. Ronin had clearly agreed to pay theirs.
I wasn’t expecting the chupacabras, said Archer, speaking through the clan’s channel.
They were indeed a surprise. Not that they worried Teague or his demon. The more, the merrier. Notice that there’s no shadowkin. I think we can guess what that means.
Yeah, Zagan must have lived up to his word and demoted Ronin’s unit, said Saxon.
It would seem so. If Ronin had still had authority over shadowkin, he wouldn’t have needed or bothered to hire chupacabras.
I’ve got to be honest, began Leo, my beast is looking forward to taking on those mangy little bastards. It’s been a while since my demon last stomped one to death. It likes the crunching sound it makes.
