“Fucking shoot him,” Fox yells, but instead of gunfire, there are only snarls and screams.
My healing’s kicked in, erasing the after-effects of Fox shocking me, and I’m on my feet in the blink of an eye. I get as far as turning round before he presses that fucking button again and again.
I collapse to the ground, the skin around my throat on fire, as I tear at the collar until my muscles spasm, and I can’t fucking move. Breathing hurts, my heartbeats feel wrong, and through all of it I barely register the knife at my throat.
But Lynx’s warning growl cuts through everything.
The pain stops abruptly once more, but I can’t focus on anything, my brain still buzzing and my body in shock.
“One more fucking step and I’ll gut him like the animal he is.” Fox presses the knife against me, and I feel the skin give, feel the trickle of blood run down my neck to the ground beneath.
And fuck, that burns.
Aconite, I remember.
My head clears enough to know that I’ve only got minutes, maybe seconds before he presses that fucking button again.
Fox isn’t stupid.
“Kill him,” I grit out, hissing when Fox presses harder with his knife. “He’s got hunters here somewhere, and Birch...” I cry out as more electricity floods my body, my back arching before I collapse back on the ground.
“I reckon if I do it enough times,” Fox sneers, “it might just kill him.” He does it again to prove his point.
I black out, I must, because when I open my eyes again, the wolf is gone, replaced by a very naked and very angry Lynx.
Magic coats the air, thick and heavy, and so many other scents that I can’t separate them out.
“Stop,” Lynx grinds out.
“Get on your knees,” Fox orders.
“Don’t.” I never want to see Lynx kneeling for this fucker. But Fox presses his knife in deeper still, and the blood flows that little bit faster.
AndJesus Christ, does it burn.
“Kneel and I might give him the antidote. It’s in his bloodstream now. You can smell it, can’t you?”
“Fuck you,” Lynx snarls, but his eyes are desperate.
No, don’t do it.
He drops to his knees, and Fox laughs.
“Look at him,” he whispers, yanking my head up so that my eyes meet Lynx’s. At this angle, the knife is no longer pressed against my throat, and I see the moment Lynx notices. “You really want to be mated tothat?”
Yes.
It’s like he hears it, because Lynx’s eyes darken, lips curving up into a feral grin, and he whispers, “Shift.”
It happens so fast.
Power slams into me, that tug in my belly exploding outwards, and this time I don’t resist it’s pull. Can’t. White-hot pain steals my breath, bones snapping, my whole body on fire, but it’s over almost before I have chance to register it.
I stumble back, unsteady on my feet—no, fuckingpaws—turning in time to see Fox raise his arm, silver-coated knife in hand.
“No!” Lynx yells.
Fox pivots, quickly switching his aim to Lynx as he charges towards us.
