Blood Runs Cold

Chapter Seven

Stiles screamed in pain as sharp teeth cut into the thin skin of his throat. This is how I'm going to die , was all he could think. He was utterly paralyzed, scared that a single movement would result in his blood painting the tile floor crimson just like the bedroom.

The sound of gunfire and a loud snarl brought him out of his paralyzed state and back to his body. The crushing pressure was released from his throat and he saw a mass of black fur slam against the alpha.

Peter had fully shifted.

He was massive, bigger than any wolf Stiles had ever seen before. If he had stood up on two legs he probably would have been as tall as the monstrous alpha he was matched in a snarling battle with. Stark white teeth were bared as Peter growled low in his throat, hackles raised.

With the caster distracted by Peter, Stiles took a shaky step backwards, then another, and another until he was at the very edge of the room. His throat felt cold and tacky with blood and his shirt was wet with blood. He ran a hand along his throat and winced as he felt the deep indents of teeth. It didn't hurt but he knew that was the shock and adrenaline speaking.

The loud crack of a gun firing made Stiles whip his head towards Chris. The unicorn was baring down on him, shrugging off bullets like they were airsoft pellets. It really was too big for the room, it had little room to maneuver. That seemed to be the only advantage Chris had.

"I am going to fucking murder you after this, Peter," Chris screamed over the snarling roars of the wolves, the whinnies of the corrupted unicorn, and his own gunfire. Stiles was inclined to agree with him.

The last bullet in Chris's pistol's magazine pinged off of the unicorn's horn, breaking through its horn and shattering off a few inches of its length. Stiles made a small whoop in celebration while Chris tossed the gun away, replacing it with his AR-15.

The rounds he fired off seemed slightly more effective than the pistol rounds, but it still seemed hopeless as the unicorn reared up and lashed out with its sharp hooves. They hit the drywall and sent clouds of plaster dust into the air.

Their only hope was Peter winning the fight with the alpha.

Stiles tore his eyes away from Chris and focused on Peter. It was odd watching him and the caster circle each other. It wasn't like the usual fights he had seen between werewolves. It was slower, more cautious like they were testing each other before making a move. The pace of their fight was completely different from Chris's frantic battle with the unicorn.

The caster lunged at Peter, snapping massive jaws a fraction of an inch away from the thick fur on the back of his neck. He must have misjudged the distance between him and Peter, unused to fighting with an enemy on four legs instead of two, Stiles supposed.

Peter rammed the alpha's stomach with his massive head and took a bite out of the meat of his leg. The caster roared in pain and swiped at Peter, sending him flying across the room.

Peter let out a snarl as he stood up on shaky legs and the caster matched it, massive teeth bared. His eyes flickered between Peter and Stiles, the color of which were more icy than Peter's or Derek's were, it should have been something that Stiles had noticed. But hell, even if he had noticed it before the caster had attacked him, there was no way he would have been able to react in time.

The caster bolted forward, ignoring Peter and going straight for Stiles. Stiles held up the baton, letting the electricity crackle through it at full power, but he felt despair course through him. It wasn't like he could beat a deranged spellcasting alpha werewolf.

Just as Stiles was about to screw his eyes shut, Peter slammed into the caster's side. Blood gushed through the slashes in his side but Peter seemed to ignore it as he locked his jaws around the caster's upper arm and shook his head.