by Fel Fern
Promise me, Sam.
Damn her.
“Wait a fucking moment,” his father began. Sweat broke out over his forehead. “That wasn’t the deal.”
“You don’t make the rules here, human. You’re on Ashfall Mountain now, and here, we’re the kings,” Cyrus said with a sneer.
His father bumped into him and whispered fiercely in his ear, “Guns in the backseat. Get them.”
His father slipped something in the pocket of his coat just as Cyrus said, “They’re all yours, kitties. Have fun.”
The first panther shifter ran towards them, speed breathtakingly fast. Sam didn’t stop and watch. He ran back to the truck, only to hear a thud close to him. Another shifter? Sam didn’t have time to think. He yanked opened the door, found the guns his dad told him about. One rifle and a revolver.
He remembered these. Before his mom died and when his dad used to care about being a father, he took Sam hunting. These were the same guns his father brought with him. Sam grabbed them both. He hadn’t fired one in ages. God. He hoped he wouldn’t screw this up.
“Sam, you fucking idiot. You’ve got the keys. Run!” His father let out a shriek.
Sam turned, heart pounding. His father had a change of heart? Now of all times? A shifter pounced on his father, pounding him into the forest ground. It raked his claws down his father’s chest, ripping cloth, drawing blood. His father let out a scream.
Sam tucked the revolver in his belt and raised the rifle. From the corner of his eye, another panther shifter ran at him. He took the safety off and got a lucky shot. A tiny hole blazed in the middle of the panther shifter’s skull. He heard a growl, but there wasn’t time to look around.
He pointed the rifle towards the shifter mauling his dad. Sam pulled the trigger without hesitation. The gun kicked, but he held on to it. The shifter got off his dad and hissed at him. His shot completely missed. He slowly edged towards his dad.
“Stay back,” he yelled at Cyrus and the shifters next to him. He silently counted them in his head. Five of them. They were outnumbered.
“You killed Donny,” Cyrus said. The cat Alpha no longer looked amused when Sam pointed the gun at him. Thank God his hands remained steady.
“Well, it’s killed or be killed, right?” Sam knew he had to keep talking, to distract Cyrus. He silently made an assessment of his dad. Blood soaked his father’s chest completely. He was slowly bleeding out. Sam needed to get him back to the car, drive to the nearest hospital.
“I underestimated you,” Cyrus said. “But I guess your father got one thing right. You’ll be fun to play with.”
“Just get back. There are silver bullets in here. See what I did to your dead friend over there?” Sam lied through his teeth.
In the action movies Sam loved to watch, the hero always got the bad guys. Sam was no action hero. This was real life and Sam was outnumbered. The chances of him and his dad getting out of his messy situation were dwindling to zero. He had the guns, sure, but it would be easy for a shifter to disarm him. Why hadn’t they?
“You dare threaten me, you puny little human?” Cyrus demanded. The Alpha werepanther’s features twisted, giving him a feral appearance.
“This puny human just killed one of your cats. Here’s how it’s going to go down. You’re going to let me take my dad. We’ll forget this ever happened.” Sam kept the gun on Cyrus and held out a hand towards his dad. He lowered his voice. “Come on, Dad. You’ve got to help me here. I can’t point the gun at them and haul you back to the truck on my own.”
“There are no silver bullets,” Cyrus said. He sounded amused again. What a psycho. “You really didn’t think you had the upper hand, did you?”
Shut up.
Sam knew Cyrus was taunting him on purpose. He knelt by his dad, still holding on to the rifle with both hands. Two of Cyrus’s panthers padded towards him, movements slow and deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world. He’s playing with me, Sam thought to himself, toying with his prey.
Of course. Why did he think his dad’s guns could make a difference? Maybe Cyrus wanted to see how this particular game played out, what Sam would do next. Screw Cyrus and his mind games. Sam’s number one priority was to get his dad and himself off of this cursed mountain. They’d talk about his father’s stupid betrayal later, once his dad was in a hospital and getting the care he needed.
His dad grasped his jeans. Sam took his gaze off the panther shifters to look at his old man. His dad breathed hard. Sam could see the regret in his eyes, the guilt.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” his father whispered, then reached for the revolver tucked in his belt. “I’ll only slow you down.”
Realizing what his old man was about to do, Sam cried out, dropping his own rifle to snatch at the revolver. Too late. His father shoved the barrel into his mouth and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
Sam fell backwards, on his ass, still staring at the bloody mess that was once his father’s head. He screamed.
“Isn’t this a hell of a show? Give me more entertainment, human,” Cyrus said.
He glared at Cyrus, at the panther shifters sniffing around his father’s corpse. He heard hissing air behind him and swallowed. He had an idea what just happened. One of Cyrus’ panthers must’ve flattened the truck’s tires with his claws while he was busy trying to get his dad. That just effectively eliminated any chance of escape.
Sam was only human. He’d never escape these shifters. His father might’ve thought he was buying Sam time, but he got away easy.
Sam gripped the rifle. He could fire at them, but he knew deep down that he only managed to kill that one shifter thanks to sheer dumb luck.
If he stuck around, he’d only become minced meat, and he didn’t think Cyrus and his cats would grant him a swift death either. Sam got to his feet. No more playing hero. He turned tail and ran.
Hearing swift movement through the trees, Sam pushed himself harder. He panted, started to work up a real sweat. Hearing movement behind him, he looked over his shoulder. Seeing the sleek panther closing on his heels made him gasp. He pointed the rifle at the incoming enemy and pulled the trigger with sweaty fingers.
A miss. A snarl came from above him. Sam looked up, pointing his gun to the trees, but the panther shifter coming at him knocked the gun from his hands and drove him to the ground. Sam groaned, his back hitting roots and small rocks. He tried to get up, reach for his fallen gun again, only for the shifter to sink its deadly claws into his chest.
Pain rippled through his entire body. A scream tore from his throat as the massive cat ripped through fabric, then skin with its long claws. Damn but it hurt so much. Sam tried to push it off, but it was too heavy.
Another panther appeared, hissing at the one above him. The cat with its claws still buried in his chest paused. Sam tried to focus, to think past the haze of pain that paralyzed his entire body. The weight above him disappeared. Snarls emerged. It took him a second to realize the panther shifters were fighting. Over him.
Moving hurt, but he forced himself to crawl. Breaths coming fast, Sam fumbled for his fallen rifle, only for a foot to push it further away. Cyrus loomed above him. The panther Alpha flashed him a creepy smile that seemed wrong on his face.
“I’ve changed my mind, Sam. You’re going to bleed out and die at this point, but I think I want to keep you around.” Cyrus knelt in front of him. It didn’t escape Sam that Cyrus was mirroring the way he’d bent over his hurt dad. He cringed when Cyrus ran his fingers through his hair and gave it a painful jerk. His eyes watered.
Keep him around? It took Sam several seconds to process what Cyrus was trying to tell him. Dread filled his insides, his entire body, as he finally understood.
“No,” he whispered. “No.”
“That’s right, Sam. I’m going to make you one of us so I can play with you forever.” Cyrus hauled him through his torn shirt and held him close, like a lover, except the Alpha’s touch felt repulsive. Cyrus showed him a mouthful of sh
arp teeth. Sam screamed as Cyrus plunged his fangs down the side of this neck. Blinding, white-hot pain filled his head, his entire body.
Chapter 3
A heart-wrenching scream pulled Kris from his grim train of thoughts. He halted, turned to the direction of the sound, and started for it. He didn’t know why he ran like his life depended on it. Kris treaded close to Black Claws territory, too close, but he didn’t care.
Not like Talon would give a damn. His Alpha picked fights all the time and didn’t care about the consequences of his actions. Dom would have his head, but he didn’t think the Beta would ignore someone’s plea for help.
His nose soon picked up the smell of freshly spilled blood as he entered Black Claws land. Kris camouflaged himself in the bushes, reeled in his aggressive aura because what he needed was stealth. As much as he’d like to draw blood from an old enemy, he was outnumbered here.
There it was again. The scream. Kris spotted two panther shifters circling the corpse of an old man in the clearing up ahead. Disgust, then bile rose up at the sight of the cats suddenly feasting on the dead flesh.
What. The. Fuck.
He knew Cyrus and his pride were on the crazy train, but this? Only shifters who’ve gone Feral resorted to cannibalism. Kris turned away from them as heard it again. That piercing scream.
Kris ran further down the path, all too aware of his surroundings. Out here in Black Claws territory, the dense forest was the panthers’ playground. He looked above and around him and stopped cold at the sight that lay before him.
He’d recognize Cyrus anywhere. Unsuspecting humans and submissive shifters easily fell for the handsome panther Alpha’s charm only to realize too late that underneath those good looks was nothing but rot.
Cyrus knelt on the ground, and he looked like he was embracing another man. A human. Kris knew better. That gut-wrenching sound came from the human. That human with the peculiar smell. Underneath all that blood, sweat, and smell of earth was something sweet, a scent that lured his wolf and raised all of Kris’s protective instincts.
Cyrus raised his head. His face and lips were smeared with blood, and so were his fangs.
The human closed his eyes and fainted. Kris stared at the large chunk of flesh missing from the human’s neck. Cyrus raised the human’s wrist to his face and tore at his skin. Understanding filled Kris. Cyrus didn’t intend to kill this human but to Change him. Only Alphas could turn a human into a shifter.
This human didn’t look like he wanted to be Changed. White-hot rage filled every inch of him. Kris couldn’t think. The last time he felt this way, he nearly killed Alec. No. It was so much worse. So angry. That emotion had defined him his entire life, but now, it spilled over him and cleansed him of any other emotion. It purified him.
Rational thought ceased to matter. He let the beast take over.
Kris had one thought left in his head. Kill.
Kris growled low in his throat and padded out of his hiding place.
Cyrus stilled, still cradling the human, Kris’s human in his arms. That was wrong. Only Kris should be able to hold his human that way. His. That was right. Every fiber of his being understood that this human was meant to be his. This human was special and this fucking low life had the guts to steal from him. Kris wanted to rip out Cyrus’s arms from their sockets so he’d drop the human.
“Well, well. You’ve strayed far from your territory, dog,” Cyrus said.
Cyrus mouth was moving, but Kris didn’t really understand the words. Kris lunged at Cyrus, who finally dropped the human. Cyrus shifted as Kris came at him. Even with his wolf in command, Kris knew the chances were slim he’d be able to take on another Alpha all on his own.
He’d take every opportunity he’d get to keep the upper hand. Vengeance against Cyrus was outweighed by another, more important task. Saving his human. Kris couldn’t allow this human to die before he learned his name, before Kris found out why he seemed so important to him, to his wolf.
Kris tackled Cyrus on the ground. They clawed, went for each other’s vital points all while the human continued to bleed out. Kris risked a look at his human. Shit. The wounds on the human’s chest looked bad. He’d need medical treatment and fast.
Kris went for Cyrus’s vulnerable neck and missed. Claws sliced across his back, but he barely felt the pain. Kris growled as another set of paws swiped at his side. Blood pooled from his new wounds as he ripped himself off Cyrus. Kris needed to stay alive so he could bring his human to safety.
Kris eyed his new opponents.
Two more cats and Cyrus, who looked far too smug for his liking. Kris was badly outnumbered. He looked at the human, at the prize he’d risk his neck for without hesitation. Kris still didn’t understand the reasons behind his actions. He’d never acted this way, felt overprotective over a man he just met, but he didn’t regret it one bit.
A howl came from behind him. The fur on his back rose, but Kris recognized the sound. He recognized the black, muscled wolf that prowled behind him. Max. A wave of relief filled him. He didn’t always understand Max, but his pack mate must’ve seen him sulking away from the campsite and followed him here.
Max’s yellow eyes met his. The other werewolf nudged at him, pushing him, Kris realized, towards the injured human.
Max was telling him to go? Leave him behind? Max might be strong, but against Cyrus and two panther shifters? He couldn’t be that cocky.
The two panther shifters came for them. They each took one as Cyrus completed his shift. Cyrus wasn’t touching the human, Kris realized. That meant whoever this human was, he seemed important to Cyrus. Taking him would only further piss Cyrus off. Good. There was unfinished business between their pack and the Black Claws anyway.
The werepanther he fought against didn’t give him an inch. Damn it. This human was going to die if Kris didn’t do something. He slashed his claws at the cat’s eyes. The shifter hissed and backed off only for Cyrus to come at him, fully shifted this time.
Something red, big, and fast ran past him and tackled Cyrus before he could reach Kris. Kris could hardly believe his eyes. The badly scarred monstrous wolf with the blood-red fur howled in fury as he went for Cyrus’s throat.
Talon?
Kris hadn’t seen their Alpha for days. Did Max call him here?
His questions could wait for later. Kris had a job to do. Max had taken care of one cat shifter, and moved on to the one initially attacking Kris. Kris had to move. Lingering here any longer would have dire consequences for all of them. Cyrus let out a piteous-sounding growl.
Kris could hear them. The rustling of trees. Movement. Hisses. He spotted pairs of yellow eyes in the distance. Flashes of sandy-colored fur. The other werepanthers had answered their Alpha’s calls.
He walked over to his human and changed forms. Kris knew he was vulnerable like this, but he had no choice. He wouldn’t be able to pick up the injured human otherwise. He gently hefted his prize in his arms. No response. Kris was getting worried, but he needed to focus on their escape first.
Kris ran, trusting Max to have his back. Who knew what Talon was thinking? He had a feeling their Alpha ceased to be able to tell right from wrong, enemies from friends, a long time ago.
Running this in his form felt awkward and slow, but Kris made do. He needed to get the hell out of Black Claws land. That was his number one priority. Rocks cut through the soles of his feet, but Kris ignored the pain. It seemed to take forever, but somehow, he managed to return to Wild Manes territory. Never before had Kris been so glad to see the familiar sight of their cabins, all lumped together in a row.
Teddy came running out of the cabin he shared with Dom.
“Kris, who’s that? What happened?”
“He’s hurt,” Kris blurted.
Dom soon followed after Teddy. Teddy reached them as he looked from his injured human and back to Kris again.
“We don’t have a healer. We got to take him to the hospital,” Teddy blurted. Thank God for Teddy’s quick think
ing, because Kris didn’t know what to do at this point. This was so unlike him, worrying over a human he just met.
“Kris, you smell of cats,” Dom said, his gaze searching his.
“Dom, quiz him later. This guy’s bleeding out,” Teddy said. “Come on, let’s put him in the back of our truck.”
Kris followed Teddy to the truck. Teddy opened the door to the back seat for him, and Kris gently placed his prize down.
“Kris, go change. You can’t go inside a hospital looking like that, but hurry,” Teddy told him.
He nodded. Kris ran back to his cabin, put on a fresh pair of jeans, a shirt, and boots. He remembered to grab a blanket. Kris returned to the driveway to see Teddy had started the car. Dom was leaning over the window, speaking to Teddy.
Dom spotted him and nodded. “Update me. I’ll be here.”
Kris spied his human. He opened the door and took the seat next to Teddy. Kris draped the blanket over the human in the backseat. Seeing the rise and fall of his chest gave Kris a measure of relief. Then he remembered something vital. He rolled down his car window and called out to Dom.
He gave Dom a quick summary of what happened.
“Do you think Max and Talon got out fine?” he asked. Kris felt like a selfish dick for running away with his human, even if Max had given him the go-ahead.
“Yeah. We’d all feel it if Talon or Max was dead,” Dom said. “Don’t worry about it, Kris. They’re tough sons-of-bitches. Drive safe, baby.”
“I will,” Teddy told his mate. The submissive shifter started the engine. They were off. Kris kept sneaking glances at his human just to make sure he was still breathing.
“He’ll pull through, Kris. Stop worrying. We’ll be in town in no time at all,” Teddy said.
“You don’t know that,” he snapped. Kris shook his head. “Sorry. Bad day.”
“Tell me about it. I’m the one who patched Alec up. Ryder had to butt in, and he started sticking Band-Aids randomly on Alec. Those two got into another fight.”
