Once Bitten (An Anya Maynard Novel)

Chapter Twenty Three

I was horribly conflicted inside, my mind swirling with emotions, not knowing which to feel first; overjoyed because Connor was alive, saddened because Natasha was dead. Sickened because I knew it was Connor who killed her, disbelief that Brad couldn’t tell the difference between his own mother and brother. Livid because it was Brad who set this horrible set of events in action.

And the strongest emotion of all, determination to see Brad pay for what he had done.

Let me have him, my wolf snarled.

I considered it, letting go of everything that could be considered human rationale and letting her have complete control. Because she didn’t need to think, or to feel, she just needed her instincts. And her instincts called for Brad’s death. And in that we were in agreement, but this wasn’t just her fight, not anymore.

No, I thought heatedly, we do this together.

She didn’t argue with me, instead she gave me her strength, all of it. It was as if this…wave of warmth flowed over me. My muscles tightened, flexed, grew stronger if not larger. Everything became keener, my sight, my hearing, even my sense of smell that brought with it the scent of blood. Brad’s blood. This made the both of us grin.

For the first time in my life I felt what it was to be one of the strong, the confident, one of the brazen warriors on this earth. I felt what it was like to be wolf.

We dove for Brad’s other arm, wrenching it away from Connor’s head as Brad tried to pry his other hand from his jaws. We caught him by surprise, much as the wolf tearing at his flesh had. His face registered his shock for just a moment before it twisted into that cocky smile of his, “you haven’t won yet,” he grinned, “get them!” he shouted over his shoulder.

I looked behind him to the pack of wolves running towards us, to my friends, no, my family that stood just beyond them. They looked back to me, their anxious faces waiting…waiting for me to tell them what to do…

Yet was definitely the key word in that sentence.

All it took was a nod and they too leapt into action, the mountainside filling with the sounds of a shot gun and a deep orange glow.

I looked down - but just barely- to the wolf at my side, to my mate. “We’ve got him,” I said calmly, “go, help them, we can’t bear to lose anyone else.”

The wolf that was Connor nodded its massive head, Brad’s arm still in his mouth, then shot his fiery gaze to Brad. With a deep growl of warning he let go, running to take on the dozen other wolves head on.

This freed Brad’s other arm and he swung to hit me with the butt of his rifle he had somehow managed to keep a grip on. But I snapped my free hand around his throat before he could make contact. He faltered and his mangled hand couldn’t hold the gun and it fell to the ground beside him. I looked down to it, then back to Brad with my own smug smile before I stomped my foot on it, breaking the barrel in two.

“Now what?” I sneered, “Not so confident when the fight is fair are you?”

He grinned back, “who said it was fair?”

With that he yanked his good arm from mine and reached around his back, pulling out a hunting knife and slicing it across the arm that held his throat before I had a chance to realize what was happening.

“Now it’s fair,” he laughed as I shrunk back and grabbed my bleeding forearm, “at least…even, because a fight between you and I will never be fair, mutt.”

I glared at him, “you will pay for that.” I said through my teeth as I began circling him, “for everyone you’ve hurt.”

“And who’s going to dole out the punishment, you?” he asked mockingly as he mimicked my movements, sidestepping every time I did, “you’ll never be as fast, or as strong as I am Anya, no matter how in sync you and your wolf become.”