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Ryder wondered what his game was, but he didn’t look away from the big bull of a man in front of him. Ryder was the better fighter. No one would doubt that, probably not even McKenzie. But that had been a battering ram of power and dominance.
Use me,Jessie said in his brain.I’ve called the pack.
She what?
But then he realized she was sending him a steady stream of power, for lack of better word, and he linked with her, dominant to dominant. They’d stand as one. Mates. Alpha and Second.Begin as you plan to go on, his mate agreed.
Ryder thought that was a quote and wondered from whom.
He set that aside, and let his wolf rise to the surface. Not to shift, he warned his wolf.
Kill, the wolf said.
Yes, Ryder agreed. Kill.
The wolf was done with a defensive fight. Ryder rushed the old man, punching him in the gut, pushing him back against the tables, stepping over the dead man that Jessie had killed — he didn’t spare him more than a glance. One dead man, throat torn out. Check. So much for no blood on the floor.
Good job,he praised his mate. Jessie’s wolf preened. It made Ryder grin as he pursued his attack on the Alpha. The grin made McKenzie look wary. Probably wondered who is this man grinning like a lunatic?
The table skidded as the Alpha stumbled backward into it, and the men scattered out of the way. He figured they should have seen that coming. He followed the man onto the tables, only for McKenzie to come up swinging. Ryder ducked, then backed away, and lashed out with his foot, catching McKenzie in the belly.
He was no kickboxer like Benny, but even with all the weightlifting he did, a kick was still more powerful than a punch.
McKenzie wheezed a bit, bent over from that kick. Ryder moved in, going for the man’s Adam’s apple.
It was hard to kill a shifter with your bare hands, even for a shifter. Maybe especially for a shifter —if you were fighting another shifter. But cutting off a man’s air supply was a good start. Then Ryder smashed his fist into McKenzie’s face, and felt the satisfying crunch of the man’s nose and cheekbones —more fragile than the jawbones inexperienced fighters went for. He followed in close, then had to dance back again, when McKenzie pulled up a knee trying to hit Ryder in the groin. But he didn’t stay back, like McKenzie seemed to expect.
Ryder closed again, and grabbed the man’s head, and wrenched it around.
There was a satisfying crack as the neck broke.
Ryder didn’t stop. It would take a bit, but a shifter could recover from a broken neck. There were two ways to kill a shifter in human form — you ripped open an important artery or vein and let him bleed out, or you ripped his head off. Mindful of the bartender’s dismay over blood on the floor — this was his favorite bar in town, after all —Ryder ripped the Alpha’s head off.
He lost his grip on it, and it bounced to the ground, and rolled. Well, that was nasty —and there was blood flowing too. He usually fought outside —blood wasn’t so obvious there. He hoped there was a team of cleaners in the pack somewhere.
Ryder dropped the body. “Well?” he growled. “Anyone going to challenge me? No better time.”
He stood in the center of the room, shoulders hunched, chest heaving, as he struggled both for air and control. His wolf liked to fight, liked to kill. The problem wasn’t fighting. It was stopping. There was an urge to go after the next man, and the next, until no one was left standing against him.
Ryder surveyed the men. They weren’t meeting his eyes, except for the man who had been sitting at the Alpha’s left hand.His son, Jessie supplied.
“You?” Ryder growled. “You want your father’s pack?”
“Nope,” the man said. “Not going to get a challenge from me.” He paused, and then added, “Alpha.”
“Smart man,” Ryder approved. “You must take after your mother.”
The men in the bar snickered. Ryder scowled at them.
“No offense intended,” the Alpha’s son explained hastily. “But my father has thrown that as an insult in my face every time I failed to live up to his expectations for a hundred years.”
Ryder grinned at him, and the humor made him slowly gain control over the urge to fight on. “Well, your new Alpha likes smart men,” he said. He looked around. Spotted the bartender. “Beer for the house. It’s on me.”
“You got a card to back that up?”
Ryder fished around in his wallet and came up with one of the debit cards Cujo had given him. They’d see if it was good, he guessed. Benny choked when he saw it and was trying not laugh. Ryder rolled his eyes and handed the card over to the bartender.
“Keep them coming out,” Ryder said softly. He could feel the pack bonds snapping into place, and he staggered a bit. He took a healthy slug of the nearest beer, and grimaced. Bud Light? It wouldn’t do anything to a pack of shifters.
