The Luna's Vow

Chapter 10. The Lycanthropes (Blake)

Some wolves would have tat-tatted Este for crashing the prone human under her feet, but my Goddess, was my fated mate spectacular in her fury!

Her snow white werewolf form with the dusting of silver, made my tongue glue to the roof of my mouth in awe and disbelief. How's a guy like me, from a family that couldn't boast anything above Gamma for five generations, mated a girl like her? Sure, her father was the worst rogue of all rogues, but a meteoric bloodline was bigger than any black sheep.

Watching Este fight pushed me beyond awe. It was a rapture, a revelation, a feast for my heart. One year is such a short time, but one year as my pack's Luna made Este into someone my soul was growing through like tree roots through Earth. The Goddess had known that Este was the only one for me.

Silver coating on the human's batons couldn't subdue Este, of course. The contact would only pour magical adrenaline into her veins to negate any hurt the bone-crashing impact caused, but my smart cookie dodged most blows. These humans had honed reflexes and must have trained against werewolves to come onto her with this kind of relentless fury and impressive coordination. Their fight wasn't a barroom brawl—the memory of which still flushed my cheeks with heat—this was a dance of martial skill.

"You show them, Este!" A wheezing cough tore through my chest.

Este snarled when she heard me hack my lungs out and landed an angry hit on the man in front of her.

She paid for the lunge with a blow to her calf, but her claws left jagged red tracks on the human's ripped clothing. Dawn feathers floated from the tear and swirled in a vortex around her.

She was spectacular—I must have said this already, but—more coughing shook me. It was like I swallowed a handful of broken glass with every cough.

However, my lungs no longer burned as bad as they did a second ago. I coughed so hard, I almost vomited, purging nano-silver from my system.

Harold's face scrunched in a pained grimace when he caught onto my ploy. Coughing rattled him every other second. At first, he doubled over, nearly losing his footing, but then he caught himself and crouched.

Yes, nano-silver spray wasn't as effective as Tara thought out of doors—

We should use it. I faked more cough, short, commanding pulses of it, like barks.

Harold's head whipped to me, his brows domed in a silent question.

My heart was ready to break out of my chest and rush to Este's aid, but I pointed at Tara and Steinar.

Harold pursed his lips, then his chin bobbed up and down in agreement, and a malevolent grin took over. He hacked, as I counted down from three with my fingers.

On the last count, I issued a tortured moan, made a cut-out gesture.

We surged forth in silence.

He circled to the left; I circled to the right. We closed on Tara's position like pincers.

The werewolf shift still wouldn't come to my silver-damaged body, but I dashed so hard and so stealthily, Tara only started to lift her head, cluing in that we went silent for too long, when I gripped her wrist with the syringe.

She hissed and left-hooked me, but the damn thing fell out of her purple fingers.

Harold crashed into her from the other side, and the two of them rolled through decaying leaves and snow. "Help Este," Harold rasped.

I grabbed Steinar by the breast of his coat. "If you make a sound to betray us—"

He pointedly rubbed his neck where the needle left pink scratches, then, with no warning, the coat was yanked out of my clenched hand. Steinar shifted into his werewolf form, so similar to Este's. "Forgive me while I give my daughter a hand."