I stared, dumbfounded, from the headless bodies to the man swinging the sword that had decapitated them. He spun and sliced the air, taking another head, and through the barrage of rain and the whirlwind of action, I caught sight of a face, pale as the moon, hair as silver as its rays. His eyes flashed, so frosty blue they were almost white.
The other monsters screeched, their faces smoothing out into blank canvases, bodies losing their stolen forms. The world slowed, the edges of the landscape blurring. Every graceful twist and arch of my savior’s body was emphasized as he spun and sliced, circling me until all the mimics were dead.
Someone screamed in the distance, forcing the world back into regular motion. The ground trembled as more figures rushed past us—men and women in black combat gear carrying silver swords.
Hunters.
The icy prick of rain ebbed as if cowed by their arrival.
I was going to be okay. Relief left me weak and cold. Thank goodness I was already on the ground. Otherwise, I was sure my legs would have buckled.
The Hunters ran at the mud men, who had finally caught up with us.
But the mammoth, earthen monsters exploded into smaller creatures, swarming the Hunters.
Several howls cut the night, and the silver-haired guy’s jaw tensed. “Get up,” he said to me. “Now.” His tone was as cold and sharp as his blade.
I stood slowly on trembling limbs. “Thank you.”
His eyes flinched, and his gaze darted over my features, leaving a scathing trail across my face and a block of ice in my belly. What was his problem?
He turned away, seemingly unconcerned by the fight going on several feet away from us. I followed his gaze to find three large beasts of fur and claw bounding toward us on all fours.
Seriously? Another attack?
I backed up, ready to run, but silver-hair grabbed my arm, his grip so tight the blood around it pulsed.
“Hey!” I tried to shake him off, but he held me tighter.
“We have it under control, Drayven!” he called out. “Take your mutts and leave.”
The beasts came to a halt a few feet away, and the largest of the trio, a beast that looked like it crawled out from the pits of hell to stalk nightmares, spoke.
“Our sector,” he growled, the sound like a precursor to an attack.
Drayven had to be a Therianthrope. A shifter. I hadn’t met many of his kind, but I’d come across a few.
“Fine,” the silver-haired guy said. “You want the kills, then you can have them, along with this.” He pinched my arm harder, shaking me slightly before shoving me toward the beasts with enough force to send me falling to my knees in the mud before them.
“What the fuck?” A red wave of rage bubbled up my throat. “What is your fucking problem?” I scrambled up to face him, but his attention was fixed on the Hunters and the mud men. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
My scalp tightened.
“You’re hurt,” the beast behind me said. His voice was gravelly and abrasive, yet somehow managed to be soft at the same time. “Your head.”
Shit, I’d forgotten about that. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Hot breath kissed my nape sending a shiver down my spine. “It’s still bleeding.”
I reached up to touch the wet bandages. “Shit.” I turned to him. “How bad is…” Moss-green eyes flecked with gold stole my words and my breath.
He lowered his massive head and studied my head wound. “You will need stitches.”
“Uh-huh…” What the fuck was wrong with me? “I mean, yes. We should do that.”
He chuffed, and a warm, sweet mist coated my skin.
“Get her out of here,” silver-hair snapped. “She’s caused enough chaos.”
