Kosera’s deafening squeal nearly burst Ronin’s eardrums.
The blade of the axe dug in deep before Ronin wrenched it free, then bent over his knees and sucked down gulps of air to fight off the debilitating nausea.
Kosera shifted into his humanoid form, pressing a hand against the gushing wound at his throat. “That was a mistake.” He rushed for Ronin, his nose elongating into a horn.
Ronin sliced out with the axe, barely missing Kosera’s stomach as the male jumped backward. Ronin could feel his own broken arm and ribs mending, the bones stitching back together in a process even more excruciating than the breaks themselves. Delirious with pain, he had trouble focusing on Kosera’s moves.
The Greyhorn slammed Ronin into the wall again, hands wringing his throat as he pointed his horn toward Ronin’s left eye.
“Such pretty eyes,” Kosera snarled, pushing in closer.
“Flattered,” Ronin choked out, “but I’m seeing someone.”
Kosera hissed out a gravelly laugh. “I think I’ll pop one out and take it as a trophy. What do you think?”
The tip of the horn dug in, and explosive sparks flared behind Ronin’s eyelid. Enough to call forth a wave of panicked adrenaline. He lifted Bonecleaver and slammed the butt-end of the handle into Kosera’s ear.
Roaring, Kosera backed away and Ronin fell to the floor, rubbing at his blissfully still-intact eye. He gripped the axe with both hands, his left arm throbbing through the repairing bones and muscles.
He arced the weapon down into the meat between Kosera’s neck and shoulder with a crunching squelch.
Kosera dropped to his knees, choking, burbling noises accompanying the red bubbles spewing from his open mouth.
“Fucking bastard,” Ronin screamed as he pulled the axe out. Blinding rage propelled him through the effort as he brought it down again.
And again.
Andagain.
His head rolled halfway down the hallway, Ronin’s wolf piped up.I think you can stop.
Ronin brought the axe blade to the floor, then rested his forehead atop his clasped hands on the handle, chest heaving.
Following the long red smear, Ronin’s gaze landed on the Greyhorn’s severed head, rocking slightly where it had stopped. His fat, purple tongue lolled out of his twisted mouth, his beady black eyes blown wide in death.
A faint hiss crept around the corner, and horror coiled in Ronin’s gut as a long forked tongue slithered across the stone, curled around Kosera’s head, then dragged it back toward the crypt.
Ronin didn’t wait a second longer to see if Nyctima intended to devour the rest of the Greyhorn’s body.
He plucked up Bonecleaver, then fled the gore-streaked hallway.
He needed to get back to his partner.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Ronin burst through the arched doors to the estate, a welcome blast of air cooling his frenzied bloodlust.
Outside, the guests were scattered along the iron fence, most congregating by the towering entrance gate and trying to break through the air between the bars. To no avail. That warded barrier remained intact.
A panicked sweep around the circular driveway revealed Layla crouched over Mireille, prone in the gravel next to the empty fountain with that coiled, striking serpent statue.
Heart in his throat, Ronin hobbled over to the two females, his ribs and arm still aching, and roared at Layla. “Why hasn’t she woken up yet?”
Layla raised her head, revealing two coppery red braids. On the ground before her, Mireille’s bun was a swirl of black and white.
“What the—” Awe stopped his words as Layla’s features sharpened, her espresso eyes turning silver and her lips filling out into a very familiar pout.
At his feet, Mireille transformed into Layla, and her eyes snapped open as she sucked in a shuddering breath before popping upright.
