Jackson’s weight pressed against my chest, holding me down to the ground on one steady knee. His hot, foul breath filled my face and I fought the bile rising in my gorge as it overwhelmed my nose. Using the grip he had on my throat, he pounded my head into the ground, once, twice, and a third time before he chuckled in a ferocious, pleased tone that rang in my ears. Pissed me off. Swift blurs of bodies moved in my peripheral vision but my eyes glazed over as the ringing in my ears grew louder and my blood thundered against my skull.
“Stay back!” Amelia thundered from what sounded like miles away.
I tried to focus, my world narrowing down to Jackson and the gold shine of his wolf behind his eyes. They were the only things I could focus on as the world around me disappeared and the quiet in my head took over.
“I’ll kill ‘em all once you’re gone,” he whispered in my ear, drool dripping down into my hair.
A tremble ran through me as his words sank in. I squirmed to breathe, to fight. All of them flashed before my eyes; Jade, Kurt, Nova, Alex, Dean, and Patrick. He wouldn’t be able to get to them all, I was sure of it. But he’d kill as many as he could until someone stopped him, killed him. I had to end him now.
I angled my pelvis up to meet his. His grotesquely excited cock pushed against me, putting unnecessary and unwanted pressure on my pelvis. His eyes narrowed on me in confusion as I pressed my pelvis into his, grinding my lower half into him. Then I shoved his body up off the ground and finally off of me. I forced him up far enough to get my legs out from under him. I wrapped my legs around his ribs as far up as I could get them, just about mid lung. Clamping my ankles together at his back, I squeezed his midsection between my thighs, to get my grip right. He chuckled at first, as if he thought he was swatting away a gnat.
I clenched my thighs around him and squeezed tighter, locking my knees together. I was in the wrong position to really hurt him but I could cut off his air just like he’d cut off mine.
His eyes rounded wide to the size of dinner plates as he realized what I was doing. He released my throat and reached for my knees at his back. Air rushed in to my lungs as he shifted above me and I could breathe for the first time in what felt like hours.
His hand moved to my thighs and tried to pry them apart, nudging frantically at my firm muscles. If he wanted to pry my legs apart he could but he’d need both hands to do it. He wasn’t willing to let go of my knife hand, not yet anyway.
I rolled to my left, resting on my side. It was an awkward angle but it put me in better position. I released him a bit, giving him just enough maneuverability to hang himself. He rolled, falling to his back flat against the inside of my thighs. When he was flat on the ground, right where I wanted him, I clamped down again, hard. His eyes bulged at my grip around his rib cage, and I squeezed again.
Jackson’s free hand frantically pushed at my thigh across his chest but my ankles remained locked around his middle. I seized the cornrows at the back of his head with my free hand and slammed his head back into the ground.
Sweat dripped down my forehead, burning my eyes. I put everything I had into squeezing his ribs, focusing all my remaining energy to my thighs. I felt one of his ribs pop beneath my leg and grinned with satisfaction as he gasped in pain, trying not to cry out. Another quick pop and a third of his ribs cracked and broke beneath my thighs. He centered all of his strength on prying my legs apart as desperation filled his expression.
I let go of the knife. It was a risky move but I had to take the chance he’d let go of my wrist.
His eyes turned wide with panic as he met my gaze. There was a small part of me that enjoyed what I was doing. There was another part of me that knew Jackson was a man, with a life and a future. I shut that part of me down as I squeezed. It wouldn’t do me any good anyway. A fourth and fifth rib broke. Jackson stared at me with the first signs of uncertainty. He didn’t know if he was going to win anymore. He was scared, and I liked it, could taste it like candy on my tongue.
His breathing came in fits and starts as I collapsed his rib cage into his thoracic cavity, puncturing his lung with the broken bones. Blood bubbled on his lips as he gasped, trying to fill his lungs with oxygen instead of blood.
He released my other hand, frantic to push my thighs apart. It was his only choice. He was strong but I was quicker. I reached for him, clutching his head in my hands. His fear-filled eyes met mine, cold and empty for a quick second, before I twisted his neck. Crack, crack, crack. His vertebrae snapped underneath my fingers and his body went limp across me.
Jackson was dead.
A rush of relief flowed through me and I collapsed back to the ground with my arms sprawled out at either side of me. Jackson was still cradled between my legs, which was the last place I wanted him. Lying my head back on the cool earth, I kicked his dead body away from me, rolling him unceremoniously away.
Closing my eyes, I waited for guilt to fill me. It didn’t. I felt nothing. Nothing but exhaustion, the burn of my lungs, and the sweet high of adrenaline making all the bumps and bruises a shadow in my mind. I waited for something. Some sound to let me know I was still alive, cheers, boos, growls, anything. Nothing.
I opened my eyes. Dean stood over me, hovering, staring, and smiling. He nodded toward the group. I turned my head.
The entire Pack was on one knee with a fist over their hearts and their heads bowed to the ground. I closed my eyes again, relishing the quiet as I allowed my body to relax.
Dean held out his hand to me and I took it to get up off the ground. My white tank top was drenched in my sweat, Jackson’s blood, and dirt. I stood on my own two feet and only wavered once, I swear.
My head swam from the probable concussion and my prolonged lack of oxygen. I turned and threw up, not caring who saw me. Kurt ran to my side, hunching over me. His gentle hands held my head and swept my hair back. Wiping my mouth and clearing my head from the wave of nausea threatening to make me vomit again, I stood on my own. Yep, concussion. Awesome!
Kurt stared dead in my eyes, making sure everything was all right. He pressed his thumb against my eyelid and opened my eyes further for his inspection. He focused on my eyes and made me follow his eyes with my own. I felt better now that I’d thrown up but my head was pounding in my skull, I was dizzy, and a nap sounded really good.
“I think he gave her a concussion. She won’t be driving herself home, that’s for sure,” Kurt said, smiling down at me, full of pride.
“I’ll take her,” Dean boomed behind me. His voice thundered through my chest.
Something had changed again. I’d never felt his voice like this. His tone was debilitating and erotic in a way I hadn’t expected. My knees collapsed under me and my groin flamed with need. Kurt caught me in his arms and clamped me securely against him. Sharp growls emanated behind me as the Pack shifted to their wolves.
“Gaoh, the hunt?” Kurt questioned in soft tones, a husky rumble vibrating in his chest.
“I said, I’ll take her,” Dean growled.
I tried to free myself from Kurt’s tight grasp and stand on my own. Hearing the order in Dean’s voice, I stumbled as the world spun again. I fell into Dean and he swept me up into his arms, quickly and effortlessly. I rested my head on his shoulder as he carried me from the clearing. The sound of snapping jaws and rough growls echoed in the dark and I stretched to see over Dean’s shoulder.
A wash of nausea hit me and I closed my eyes to keep it at bay. “What’s going on?”
“Jackson lost. He’s food for the Pack,” Dean whispered against my hair.
“Are they eating him?” I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
“Uh huh,” he gruffed.
I turned my face into his chest, not wanting to think about the people I knew gnawing on Jackson’s flesh.
“If you need to throw up, say so,” he said. “The concu
ssion’ll heal fast enough.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his neck. His scent, a mixture of rich musk and the forest on a summer night, filled my senses, calming everything inside me that was still jittery.
Home, she whispered through the fog of my mind.
My stomach soothed and my head stopped spinning. Kurt followed us. I felt his warm, familiar power around me and I heard his cautious footsteps a few steps behind. I raised my head, looking up at Dean’s robust features and beautiful pale blue eyes. His jaw was tight and the pulse in his neck throbbed thick through the vein in his neck. Peering down at me, his full lips twisted up at the corners.
“Ya did good,” he said in a way that made me tingle right down to my toes. “I’m going to set you down so I can open my truck.”
I nodded and he set me down on my own two feet. The sudden movements made my stomach churn. I managed not to throw up as my feet hit the ground. That was definitely a bonus.
“Gaoh,” Kurt said, pleading. “Dahlia will need to stay awake. She’ll need someone to watch her.” He paused. “She’s not in her right mind. She’s filled with the adrenaline of the kill. I can smell it.”
“What are you saying?” Dean snapped his head around to Kurt behind us. His quick movement jarred me and forced me over the edge. I turned and threw up again.
“Solidifying the Mate bond might be better suited to another night,” Kurt whispered, falling to his knee, head bowed and hands loose at his sides.
“Tre? What’s he talking about?” I asked, my voice hoarse as my throat recovered from Jackson’s grip and the harsh sting of bile. I was so tired. I just wanted to curl up and sleep, after I washed the blood, dirt, and sweat from me.
Dean turned, meeting my eyes. Tracing the line of my jaw with the back of his fingers, Dean caressed my hot, dirty skin. Tingling fire raced through me, pooling low in my body making my limbs ache with the need to touch him. I wanted to be closer to him and to have him touch me.
“What’s wrong with me?” he hissed. His voice was strained and held an edge of fear that sent shivers up my spine.
“Nothing, Gaoh. It has been a very long time since someone has been worthy,” Kurt said.
“You’re right,” Dean said with a quivering breath. He turned to Kurt who stood tall behind him. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Gaoh.”
“You’ll make a good Beta,” Dean offered with relief, handing me to Kurt. “I’ll need a kill.”
“Lead the hunt. Jade and I will watch her tonight,” Kurt said. “You won’t need to worry about Dahlia.” He swung an arm around my waist and draped my arm around his neck. “She’ll be fine.”
Dean grabbed my hand and stared down at me, pain etched across his face. Yearning lit his Caribbean blue eyes.
“Tre?” I breathed.
“No, Kurt’s right. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” He let go of my hand and turned from me. Stripping his clothes and flinging them aside, he sprinted back to the clearing and morphed mid-stride into his wolf.
The first hot tear slid down my dirt-coated, sweaty face. I didn’t want Dean to leave. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to take me in his arms and never let me go. My head throbbed as the tears grew heavier and my body ached as the adrenaline wore off.
Kurt loaded me into Dean’s truck without a word and drove me home.
When we got to the front door, Jade and Amblan giggled through the door. I caught a glimpse of them through the front picture window sitting on the couch, watching more Disney.
“Damn, I forgot about Amblan,” he swore. Kurt never swore.
“Ssshhit!” I slurred.
“Well here goes,” he said as he opened the door.
Amblan took one look at me and jumped up, running to Kurt and me.
“What the hell happened?” she screeched in a shrill tone that rang in my ears.
“She was in a car accident,” Kurt said, kicking the door behind us closed with his booted foot.
“Is she okay? She’s bleeding.” Amblan’s voice hitched as she examined me then glared at Kurt.
“This isn’t her blood but she does have a concussion,” Kurt soothed.
“I need a bath,” I slurred again. My slurring was much better than before we’d left the Manit. I promise.
“Jackson didn’t make it,” Kurt murmured to Jade.
Her answering sigh was filled with relief.
Amblan helped me upstairs, shouldering most of my weight as we took each step in a slow, practiced pace. I hurt all over. The adrenaline had worn off somewhere before we hit 315 South and my muscles ached, my throat burned, and my head was pounding.
Amblan got me into the bath and turned on the hot water. She threw the jeans and tank top away, not even bothering to put them in the wash. I’d left my gun and knife in the clearing. I hoped Dean or Kurt had picked them up. I was, for the first time since I was in college, free of all my weapons. I didn’t like being without them. I felt naked . . . vulnerable.
“So, are you really okay?” Amblan asked, washing my hair for the third time, still finding dirt and blood.
“Yeah, the Paramedic said to stay awake but I’m feeling better.” My head began to defog once we got off the highway and I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up anymore. “I’m so tired, though.”
“Well, if the Paramedic said you shouldn’t sleep then you aren’t going to. We’ll keep you up,” she ordered as she poured hot water over my head. “I could call off work tomorrow and take care of you if you want.”
“It’s not like I’m on my death bed.” I chuckled. A shiver of realization ran through me as I thought about how close I’d actually come to losing everything.
Amblan turned and reached behind her to get a new container of conditioner from the cabinet. She wore a tight razorback tank top that exposed her tattoos, a hint of silver peaked out. She’d gotten giant angel wings tattooed on her back from shoulder blade to the tip of her ass. The wings were white with metallic silver edging outlining each feather. It was the small sliver of silver that caught my eye and made the entire tattoo pop as she turned. It shimmered in the light of the bathroom as if the feathers were real, catching the daylight on her wings as the outlines glittered.
She’d sat in the shop four times to get it completed, falling asleep every time. The day she’d gotten the tattoo finished, she stopped by my house to show me the finished product. I chastised her about the money and the necessity of the tattoo like any overprotective parent.
Dahlia, she’d said with a knowing smile. This is my ticket into heaven. They’ll think I’m already an angel.
I’d hugged her and listened to her soft tears. She’d meant it as a joke but somewhere deep down, she believed it.
She didn’t need the wings. She was getting in. No one who’d suffered as much pain in their lives as she had had to get in. Right? What else was all this for?
“You okay?”
“Just cold,” I whispered.
She ran some hot water and finished rinsing my hair. We spent the rest of the bath in silence.
Amblan fell asleep around one. She had to get up for work in the morning. Jade and Kurt kept an eye on me until about 4 a.m. when I convinced Kurt I’d healed and he let me climb into bed. I didn’t want to hear Kurt’s rehashing of Jackson’s murder to Jade. That’s what it was. No matter how much I sugarcoated it. I had murdered a man because it suited my purposes. I also couldn’t feel bad about it. In my gut, I knew I’d crossed some line. I couldn’t tell the difference between preternatural and human morality anymore.
I wanted to sleep and forget it, to pretend it never happened and that I was fine. I closed my eyes. Thankfully, I was so exhausted I didn’t have time to think about anything before I fell into a coma deep sleep.
&n
bsp; The early morning, mid-July sun beat across my face, forcing my eyes open. I rolled over and tried to ignore the light streaming in. In the light of day, I felt empty, alone, and just worn out. I wanted something to make me feel like I was human again. Replaying the previous night’s events in my mind, never once did I think it was wrong. I should have. Somewhere along the way my ideas of right and wrong had become skewed and I didn’t know how to get back to the woman I had been.
Hungry and wanting a little time to myself, I got up. It wouldn’t be long before my entire house was filled with werewolves dedicated to protecting me. I got dress and left, then drove into Upper Arlington. I parked at the First Watch and entered the restaurant. I sat at the counter, ordering a cup of coffee and some pancakes.
“Is that all for ya, honey?” the waitress asked.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, taking a sip of the strong black coffee that she’d poured, barely noticing her.
“Is there gonna be anyone else?” she asked, eyeing the seat beside me with uncertainty in her dull, dark brown eyes.
“No,” I bit out. The restaurant started to fill. In groups of two, three, and four, the hostess filled the tables with happy, laughing people. I hunched over my cup of coffee and tried to block them all out.
The pop of Jackson’s neck in my hands kept replaying in my mind; the smell of his sweat and blood on the night breeze and the expression of pride in Dean’s eyes. Something had changed. Dean was coming to check up on me later. As much as I wanted to be near him, to touch him, it wasn’t right. He deserved better than the callous murderer I’d become. He and Patrick deserved better than the tangled web of desire and pain I offered.
Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death) Page 23
