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We, what? Larkin prodded.
There’s something I gotta deal with, Teague told her as he and Leo joined the rest of the clan in surrounding the trespassers. I’ll speak to you again later.
Is everything okay?
Everything’s fine.
A vibe of wariness touched his mind. You’re lying.
Seriously, all is good. I’ll talk to you soon. Pinning his entire focus on the shadowkin before him, Teague clenched and unclenched his fists. It was easy to sense their panic by the tension in their bodies and the way their gazes couldn’t keep still. Yeah, they knew they were fucked, knew there’d be no escape, knew that death would soon take them.
“It was good of you to join us,” Teague told them. “Not very smart, though.”
One of the humanoids narrowed its eyes, and then an image of Ronin flashed in Teague’s mind.
“You’re merely following orders, I know,” said Teague. “But you’re not mindless puppets. You made a choice to obey Ronin. You came here with the intent to kill me. Go ahead and do it.” He paused, letting his mouth curve. “If you can.”
The humanoid squinted even more, and then it conjured an orb of hellfire. The crackling ball arrowed through the air with a whoosh of sound, heading right for Teague.
He dodged it, hearing it slam into something solid—likely a tree—far behind him. Everyone then sprang into action.
Flashes of amber and red broke up the darkness as orbs of hellfire sailed back and forth. Barks and squawks came from the waiting animals, the sounds almost overriding the hissing of flames, the sizzling of hell-acid, and the grunts and curses and laughs that flew out of the clan.
At first, the shadowkin tried focusing on Teague, apparently deciding to at least complete their mission so that their upcoming deaths wouldn’t be meaningless. And they got a good few hits in—landing balls of hellfire on his ribs, thigh, and shoulder. But the clan bombarded them with so many blows that it forced the humanoids to divide their attention to defend themselves.
The clan made no attempt to kill the intruders, only to wound and weaken them. But that didn’t mean they went easy on the shadowkin. They inflicted maximum pain, and they did it with no mercy.
A tentacle shot out of a humanoid’s side and whipped at Teague and Leo, knocking them both right off their feet. That same tentacle surged toward Teague’s throat only to be caught by Saxon—the male snapped his hand around it and then slammed it with a ball of hellfire.
The shadowkin sharply pulled back the tentacle in what was no doubt excruciating pain—a hit at such close range would be agonizing.
Teague and Leo sprang to their feet, both conjuring—
Hell-acid smashed into Teague’s chest. White-hot agony stole his breath and made the flaming orb in his hand wink out. A hiss escaped through his gritted teeth as the sizzling acid ate at his flesh almost hungrily. His beast puffed out an angry breath, making all sorts of violent plans of retaliation.
Glaring at the offending shadowkin that was now being attacked by Leo, Teague pitched a ball of hellfire through the air. The humanoid saw it coming and weaved, but not fast enough. The orb wacked its jaw, making its head snap back.
Teague grinned, and his demon let out a satisfied nicker. But then an unbearable heat clipped his ear as another of the shadowkin targeted him with hellfire. God, these little fuckers were gonna die hard.
As blisters pebbled his scorching-hot ear, Teague quickly threw one, two, three, four flaming orbs—not aiming for any humanoid in particular, just wanting to pile on the pressure and push them into tucking tail and running.
A few minutes later, he got his wish.
One humanoid fled. Two quickly followed it. The fourth backed away, blindly launching hell-acid orbs at the clan, but then it swiftly pivoted and ran.
Teague’s beast bared its teeth in disgust at their cowardice even though it was pleased they’d fled.
Smirking, Slade cricked his neck and did a languid stretch. “About damn time. Gotta say, I’m gonna enjoy this.” He flicked his hand, making any hellfire flames die away so that the fire wouldn’t spread.
“Let’s give them a five-minute head start,” suggested Tucker, whipping off his tee, getting ready to shift.
Removing his own tee, Teague winced as the burned cloth pulled at his rapidly healing wounds. He whistled at the dogs, who rushed to his side with whines of excitement. He pointed in the direction of the fleeing shadowkin. “Track.”
The hounds let out eager barks, and then they bolted.
Looking up at the ravens circling above him, Teague waved a hand. “Go.”
The flock disappeared in a rush, fast overtaking the dogs.
Naked, Teague took stock of his injuries. Patches of his skin were red-raw and peeling. Other patches sported blisters and scorch marks. They were healing, but not fast enough for his liking.
