And it would eventually. That’s how Devil’s Breath worked: Devour the spirit first, then the body, spreading like an infection that required isolation and containment.
Every second was now a countdown to death. Exactly as she intended.
“Be a dear and just combustproperly,” Arabesque sighed. “It would save us both so much time.”
My phone nearly slipped from between my clenched teeth, and I tightened my jaw as I struggled to stand. Escape was still within reach, but a new problem now emerged from the treeline.
Splitter stalked toward, its axes gleaming in the moonlight.
At least it’ll be a cleaner death than hell’s napalm, I smirked to myself.
The construct’s joints hissed and ground as it moved, runes along its spine pulsing red. I’d seen what those axes could do to shifters. Bones and muscle were reduced to meaty pulp in seconds.
The distance between us closed rapidly. I gathered my strength, calculated trajectories, looked for weakness. I knew its blind spot, which would give me a two-second window.
Two seconds to live or die.
Splitter lunged, axes swinging. I launched up and landed on its shoulder plating. My claws screeched across metal, buying precious seconds, and a wild leap carried me past its secondary arms, my belly fur just missing the upward slice of a blade. I landed hard, one paw sinking into the creek water.
Splitter was already turning, runes pulsing faster as it prepared for another assault, Arabesque’s laughter spilling from the wheeling raven, and I wasn’t sure how much I had left in my tank. The Devil’s Breath was draining me out fast…
Crack!
A gunshot rang through the night, and the raven exploded, dusty feathers and mechanical gears raining down.
“Haul ass, Collins!”
The shout came from just ahead of me. A voice I knew well. For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating, the pain causing my mind to play tricks on me.
No fucking way. It can’t be.
Yet there he stood. Red-haired and grinning like a demon. Zane Cimmerian, my savior in a pair of red boxers, knife in one hand and smoking gun in the other.
He showed up. Heactuallyshowed up.
For me.
Then his eyes widened as he took aim at Splitter, hissing and grinding gears behind me.
“MOVE, WOLF!”
Not even questioning it, I barrelled across the creek, water splashing up around my paws.
“Oh, is that his wolf? He’s beautiful!”
The voice, soft, feminine, and achingly gentle, was so out of place in this nightmare landscape that it took me a moment to process.
And thenshestepped out from behind Zane, and my brain short-circuited.
Golden curls. Moon-pale thighs. Pink cheeks. Not a single trace of fear. Just wonder.
What. The fuck.
Out of respect for my boy and genuine shock, I averted my eyes, but I couldn’t do a damn thing about my nose. The scent hit me like a physical blow, all pheromones and satisfaction and lingeringarousal. They smelled like a high-end sex club at closing time, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what they’d been doing when my SOS came through.
“Coo later, baby! Work now!” Zane barked along with the pistol as he made dead-eye shots that wouldn’t penetrate Splitter’s armor, but the silver rounds at least seemed to be slowing it down.
“Here, boy! Come!” Seri stretched her hand out like I was a damn poodle and not a three-hundred-pound alpha wolf.
