A roar of surprised pain burst from McCoy and he flung Peter away, eyes molten pits of rage.“You fucking bastard!”
Peter stumbled to a halt against the wall, desperate to stay on his feet.The top of his head felt like it had been torn off.He gave McCoy a wide grin, shoving the revolver into the waistband of his jeans with a deliberate show of contempt.“O’Connell told me I wouldn’t need a weapon to beat you.Looks like he was right.”
McCoy’s face warped with red rage.“Why you insolent fucking bastard!”He charged forward, body shifting mid-stride.Transforming into a colossal, terrifying wolf.
The surreal thought—not again—whipped through Peter’s head once more before he dropped to the floor and rolled aside.
McCoy, or rather, the slathering, snarling creature he’d become, landed on its muscled hind legs, its clawed feet shattering the marble in the exact spot Peter had stood but a second earlier.It spun, red stare locking on him.With a roar so loud the chandelier rattled, it threw itself at him, claws sinking into his shoulders.Flipping him onto his back, the creature snapped at him.
Peter twisted his head to the side, hideous agony tearing through his cheek as McCoy’s teeth ripped a chunk from his face.He smashed his arms upward, palm heels punching into the creature’s neck.It recoiled, eyes bulging, a choked gurgle sounding in its throat.
Blood streaming down Peter’s cheek, his head, body and face a screaming world of pain, he shoved his feet into McCoy’s gut and kicked out.“Get off me!”
The creature staggered backward, shallow breaths rasping from its throat.Its body shuddered and, as Peter scrambled to his feet and pulled the revolver from his waistband, its muscles bulged and contorted, molten red eyes locked on him, teeth lengthening into horrific fangs.
Peter’s heart froze.Oh, fuck.
“STOP!”Yolanda’s scream cut the air.
She moved—a black and blonde blur—and threw herself at McCoy’s arched back.The creature lashed out and Yolanda went flying through the air, smacking against the far wall with a crunch.
“Yolanda!”Peter shouted, watching his partner slump to the floor in a limp heap.
The creature turned back to him, a deep hideous sound rumbling in its chest.
Peter glared at it, fury boiling his blood.“You fucker!You’re laughing!”
He raised the revolver.Aimed it at the werewolf’s heart…and it charged him.With a savage swing of its arm, it swiped his gun from his hand, dislocating his shoulder in a bone-cracking snap and sinking its claws into his neck before he could squeeze the trigger.
It rammed him to the wall.Again.Again.Showers of plaster and concrete dust rained down upon him, choking him as surely as McCoy’s claws strangled him.Right arm dangling free by his side, sickeningly unattached, he flailed with his left at the hand closing down on his neck.Struck out at the creature’s face, its bunched shoulders.
Another one of those hideous chortles sounded in its throat, and it squeezed its fingers harder.
Peter stared at it, the world growing faint.“Laugh at this,” he muttered through a thickening grey fog, and rammed his shin straight up into its groin.
A howl rent the hallway.McCoy reeled backward, grabbing at its fur-covered genitalia.
Sucking in lungful after lungful of air, Peter searched for the revolver.There.Near the swords.
He lurched forward, vision blurred with pain, blood still deprived of oxygen.Five steps, Thomas.Just five steps.
An ear-shattering snarl filled the hallway and Peter’s throat clamped shut.He spun around.In time to see McCoy launch himself into the air, teeth bared, claws extended…
“NO!”Yolanda yelled.And threw herself at Peter.
It happened in the space of a heartbeat.
Yolanda crashed into him, her long-fingered hands—the very hands only hours earlier she’d danced over his thigh—flattening against his chest, sending him sprawling to his ass.He skidded along the marble floor, back smacking against the wall, stare fixed on the horrific sight of his partner landing on her feet.Turning into McCoy’s attack, blue eyes wide.Furious.Sad.
Unable to look away, incapable of doing anything but, he watched as McCoy’s jaws closed around Yolanda’s smooth, creamy neck and tore it open.
“Yolanda!”he screamed.
He lurched to his feet.Stared in horror as the massive creature thrashed its head from side to side, ripping Yolanda’s throat apart, blood and saliva coating its muzzle, the walls, Yolanda, in glistening red splatters.
Blue eyes bulging, body wracked in spasms, Yolanda hung in McCoy’s grip, growing more limp with each violent shake of his jaw.She reached out a hand to Peter, fingers spread.
Heart squeezing, breath rapid, Peter spun around.Fuck!The revolver was too far away.His frantic searched fell on…
