by T. A. Grey
"Yeah! Now hurry up."
She turned around, but never made it fully, caught by surprise by something else entirely. Or, rather, by someone.
Her brain had barely comprehended the dark, shadowy figure standing behind the door, before she was grabbed in a bruising grip.
Alex froze out in the driveway, too far away to do anything.
It was Xavier Carbon and he was in their house.
Hanna’s blood ran cold. But that was all the time she had to do, because in the next moment, Xavier locked eyes with Alex over her shoulder and plunged a big silver blade into her stomach repeatedly. Too quickly for anything to be done.
Hanna was stunned, her fearful gaze running over Alex's scared, enraged face. One, two, three, four times. So quickly he stabbed. Then Xavier let go of her and it was like all the oxygen, all the nerves in her body-stopped working.
Hanna simply fell to her knees, then her cheek slammed against the ground hard. She no longer had control over her body. She was bleeding out, the pain excruciating. She heard Alex roar with his lykaen, the beast uncaged, but there was nothing she could do, as she lie there dying.
* * * * *
A sight which he'd never be able to get out of his mind. The sight of his mate, his love, bleeding from her abdomen and collapsing to the ground.
Alex took off at a full sprint. His mind switched to autopilot. No longer thinking. Only acting.
Hands clammy, fists of steel formed, ready to kill, his lykaen strength surging to the forefront with the force of adrenaline exploding through his veins.
An almighty roar quavered from his throat, a sound that would travel for miles.
Xavier snarled at him and tried to slam the door closed, but Hanna's body caught the brunt of it, hitting her instead. His anger exploded to a whole different level. Alex slammed his boot into the door crashing it open, wasted no time.
His mate was in danger. He'd seen her blood, could smell its coppery tinge profusely as she bled out. So much of it. His vision blurred red with rage, and hate.
He knew without a doubt that he was going to kill this man.
This trespasser and murderer.
And that's exactly what he set out to do.
The door flew open on his kick. Xavier didn't hesitate, but launched at Alex like a feral tiger. Alex took the brunt of his heavy weight, falling backwards into a table, glass crashing to the ground as objects broke and were knocked off in the shuffle.
A flurry of rapid-fire fists pummeled each other. Jabs and hooks, some missing, others making a fleshy whack as Alex landed a bone-crushing jab to Xavier's face, sending him reeling backwards.
Alex attacked, landing a brutal boot to Xavier's mid-section but the man wouldn't go down, the light wouldn't die in his eye. Xavier flew at him again, catching him and getting him in the clench, wresting him to the ground. They rolled, knees stabbing upward into torsos, elbows trying to crack open skulls.
Xavier rolled on top of Alex and thrust his forehead down and cracked their skulls together with an audible sound like celery snapping. Alex's vision rolled, becoming blurry for a few moments. Long enough for Xavier to pound his fist into his face like he was trying to make hamburger out of it.
It became difficult to breathe through his broken nose and busted lips, through the impact of strikes.
But then Xavier took a swift kick to the face. Stunning both of them, Alex looked to his left to find Hanna leaning heavily against the wall, bleeding from her wounds, yet she still managed to kick Xavier off of him.
Alex didn't waste the opportunity; he lunged and grabbed the knife which had clattered to the floor in their scrum. This man wanted to end the only beautiful thing he had in this life--and he wasn't going to let him. He'd just found it, he wouldn't, no, couldn't, lose her now.
Alex fell into autopilot mode. The only other time he'd felt this sensation, this automatic fighting experience had been once, a long time ago, on the night he'd fought his father and won. The only time he'd beaten him to prove a point. It'd been the most challenging battle of his life...until this moment.
Xavier grabbed him by the collar and slammed him through a wall before he could get the knife. Dust and debris billowed around them in a cloud as the wall caved beneath his weight. Alex saw his opening. The sight of Xavier’s exposed neck, the pulse pounding rapidly at his jugular caught Alex's attention. And he knew what he had to do. Performing an evasive dodge, he surged left as Xavier roared and attacked. He evaded, then deftly ducked behind Xavier and wrapped his arm around his throat.
Xavier choked, the sound getting cut off. Alex had him in a rear-choke and he began apply swift pressure, squeezing and flexing his bicep harder and harder, the muscle biting into Xavier's throat and cutting off the air. Air which Xavier swiftly tried to suck in, but the faster he breathed the quicker he went out like a light slowly dying.
Gurgling sounds, blood and foam spewed from Xavier’s mouth as he raged against the chokehold. Gargling, twitching, Xavier backed up and crashed Alex into the living room couch sending it slamming against the wall.
Alex slipped and lost his footing, but kept his choke on Xavier. The man’s face grew severely red. Alex's own heart raced as it never had before.
And then Xavier slumped. He could feel it, the fight fading from Xavier, his energy dying away. Choke a person long enough and you put them to sleep, choke them even longer and you’d kill them.
Xavier slumped with sleep, but Alex kept the pressure on longer, bloody murder in his mind. The sight of his mate's bloody torso strong in his mind. From out in the hallway he heard a thump--Hanna? But he didn’t know what it was, couldn’t see her from his position.
Xavier deflated completely—asleep.
Cold and brutal Alex went and got the knife, stepping over his mate's unmoving body as he did so. His movements were robotic as he stepped back over Hanna and went to the living room where Xavier awaited him.
He heard trucks coming, spewing gravel as their brakes squealed to a stop outside. Finally, they had help. Finally, someone had come. But it was too late.
He had to make sure of that.
He could thank his dad for teaching him such violence, he thought. Then he knelt and with the silver blade and slit a deep, garish line across Xavier's throat. The man gurgled in sleep, blood pouring from the wound, eyelids fluttering and twitching, until he moved no more and breathed nevermore.
The knife clattered to the ground. Alex went to the hallway to Hanna where she lay on the ground in the most unnatural of positions. Her leg was contorted, arm bent at an awkward angle, that pretty white dress showing every knife cut, every ounce of blood in her abdomen.
Tears were in his eyes as he lifted her up into his lap touching her neck to feel for a pulse.
Gavin appeared in the doorway, shadowing the moonlight.
"What the hell happened here?"
The question could not be answered. At least not by Alex right now. Not with the heavy weight on his heart that kept him from being able to look way from Hanna.
God dammit. He'd just found her, just had her...and he couldn't protect her. Had failed at his most sacred job.
Gavin roared upon seeing his sister.
Others came in as well. Hart and several pack guards. Orders were issued, Xavier's body was checked and confirmed dead. They were much slower to kneel to Hanna as if afraid of what they'd learn.
"I think she's alive," Alex said, voice unlike his own. A frightened voice, a sound which he'd never made before.
Gavin and Hart knelt by their sister, lifting her dress to see the wounds.
"Get the healer here now!" Hart screamed, his face red. Distress the likes of which Alex had never seen on the stoic detective’s face. He was scared and flustered.
"She has pulse," Alex said. "But it's not strong. It's not strong."
Fuck. He was crying. Silent tears that slipped from his eyes which he could do nothing about.
Hanna baby, he thought, please don't leave me.
He'd have to go with her if that was the case. No way could he survive without her now. No way. It was impossible. She was everything; she made his life worth living.
They opened her eyelids but here pupils stared fixed up at the ceiling, unresponsive. Her chest rose and fell in shorter and shorter waves. The breaths leaving her dying body.
Her dying body.
Just thinking it sent Alex into a furious rage.
No, this couldn’t be. He wouldn't allow it.
The healer arrived what felt like hours later. Too long. It took too long. Her color was fading. Face turning pale like a corpse, chest barely moving at all. The blood covered nearly her entire dress, bright and ugly.
In her ear, Alex whispered things only she could hear--if she even could hear at all. Words of love and affection of need, selfish, selfish need.
Don’t leave me baby. I just found you. What about that vacation you wanted? I'll take you, just please don't leave me. Please…
He'd beg. He'd scream and cry. He'd do whatever was necessary for her not to die like this. In his own house under that man's despicable, tainted hands. That filth. With renewed rage, he barely refrained from going back into the living room to stab the man again.
The healer finally rushed in, a petite, gray-haired old woman, she had a black bag with her. She asked rapid-fire questions.
What happened? How long has she been out? On and on it went.
Then she deftly removed a syringe, large enough to be alarming.
"Pure adrenaline," she said. "If this doesn't pump her up, then I don't know what will. The wounds might self-heal, but she'll need plenty of time. That is unless she’s already bled out too much."
"That's not an option," Gavin growled.
"Staunch the wounds as best you can." They used towels, their hands, whatever else they could to put pressure on the stomach wounds. Hanna winced through it all, eyes still not opening. She likely had no clue what they were doing to her body.
The healer uncapped the syringe and without hesitation, stabbed Hanna straight in the heart. It looked excruciatingly painful, yet Hanna didn’t move at all.
Moments passed. The needle was removed. Pure adrenaline pumped into Hanna's heart.
They all waited.
Time stood still.
No one dared breathe or even move, all eyes locked on Hanna.
And then, like great tidal wave, her lungs expanded and her eyes shot open, red-rimmed and bloodshot and she screamed, yet no sound came. Blood in her mouth and spilling out and she kept screaming and screaming as her body convulsed and trembled, her body shaking violently.
The healer threw an arm over her shoulders. "Hold her down! She seizing up!"
The men held down her shaking body, a difficult task with the power in her.
And then she sucked in a great wheezing breath. The sound a corpse might make if it had been brought back to life. She blinked and it was the greatest feeling of relief Alex had ever felt in his whole damn life.
Another blink, eyelids fluttering, pupils swaying left then right before moving up to him her family, then back to him. Her fingers twitched, hands moved to cover her stomach.
"Whoa there," the healer said. "It looks like she'll survive this one, boys. Better get her upstairs. I need to get these wounds sewn up quick before she bleeds out anymore. We'll need a blood transfusion too. What's her blood type?"
Gavin and Hart answered, but it was Alex who gently picked her up and carried her to the bedroom and laid her upon the mattress.
Hanna's beautiful blue eyes were on his, locked together.
He saw it in her eyes and his reaction was immediate. Alex bent low and brushed the hair back from her forehead and placed a kiss upon her.
"I love you too."
And then she gave him a gentle smile and he knew that maybe, just maybe, they’d be okay.
It would be three full days before Hanna could speak fully or even sit up on her own, but Alex was there for her to help her, to feed her, to read to her, and to listen to her bicker, as she grew irritated at being bed bound. He didn't care.
He wouldn’t take back a second of it. Not a single second. Because he loved her more than anything, a fact which he reminded her of until she was rolling her eyes at him laughing.
On day four, she could get out of bed on her own.
On day five, she jogged a mile around the pack for the first time since sustaining her near-death injuries.
On day six, he got on bended knee and asked her, alone, once more, if she'd be his mate. And she said yes. A beautiful, single word that made him the happiest man in the world. Yes.
On day seven, they shared their vows at a mating ceremony that took place in front of the entire MacKellen pack. Tom Bower was not invited; in fact he was banned from showing his face that day. Hanna managed to refrain from crying, and Alex didn't stop smiling the whole day, feeling more proud and joyful that he had any right to be.
Their mating tether, a signature of their bond, was combined from locks of their hair and from cloth they wore. Hanna used white material from the dress she'd nearly died in and Alex used cloth from his shirt in which he'd ended Xavier's life--both containing significant meaning to them. And as the tether was looped around their joined hands and the priest spoke the mating ritual's sacred vows, Alex pledged himself to her. To his woman, to his mate. And he knew it was the smartest decision he'd ever made in his life.
On day eight, they boarded a flight for Hawaii. They were both ready for a real vacation. Someplace where they didn’t have to listen to any French. Hanna said she was looking forward to wearing a bikini, and Alex looked forward to seeing it.
They would live happily ever after.
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About the Author
T. A. Grey lives in Missouri where she lets her imagination explore uncharted worlds, probabilities, and creatures that don’t really exist. With a passion for books, especially ones with feisty women and an occasionally heroic man of action, T.A. writes erotic romance novels that test her limits of creativity.
When she’s not writing, she’s thinking about writing, and planning her next book. On the side, she enjoys watching horror movies and stand-up comedians. She is married with five cats, but she’s not married to the cats.
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