Moon Kissed by Aline Hunter

second head snapped at Wolfe’s shoulder along with the third, their sharp teeth sinking into his flesh.
    She went for her Berettas but stopped when a dull pain penetrated her back. Thrown off balance, she threw her weight to the right. Her glasses slid off her nose, slipped from her ears and skittered across the floor. Another pain—this one far worse—almost set her on her ass. Blood splattered as a bullet exited her torso and landed in the wall across from her.
    Wolfe’s bray of fury seemed far away.
    She spun toward the window and aimed.
    Son of a bitch, the Cerberus is a decoy.
    She’d been so caught up in getting Wolfe away that she hadn’t even considered it.
    She got a shot off before another bullet hit her in the chest. She staggered at the impact, dropping to her knees. The rotten odor coming from her wound told her she was good and fucked. She pressed a hand against the area, got her palm coated in the bloody mess and lifted it to her face. Her heart sank when she saw her blood streaked with black.
    Oh no.
    The horrible stench of burning flesh and scorched sulfur made her gag. She shoved her fingers inside the wound, ripping through the torn tissue. The gold round embedded above her left breast wouldn’t kill her, but the demon magic attached to it certainly would. She could feel poison spreading from the wound, the promise of death corroding her system.
    The tips of her fingers butted against the white hot metal and she bit her lip to remain quiet. She watched Wolfe through a thin veil of tears as he worked on the third head of the beast he’d yet to kill. He’d obviously wanted to come to her, more than likely able to smell her blood when she was hit. Gashes marked his hind legs and rear, as though the Cerebus had torn into him when he’d tried to break away.
    He’s fine. Take care of yourself. Get the fucking bullet out!
    The round cracked when she went for it another time, making it impossible to feel the tiny pieces properly. She wanted to scream out the window and call the bastard shooting at a safe distance a coward, but she figured playing dead was even better. If she survived this, she wouldn’t need to let her would-be assailant know he’d gotten the best of her. She’d let the spineless asshole tell his employer he’d gotten the job done and let him sleep easy until she tracked him down and put a hollow-point between his eyes.
    It wouldn’t be the first time.
    She didn’t notice it had become quiet, time folding in on itself. No more snarls filled the room. The booming thumps of her heart were almost deafening in her head. Wolfe appeared and pried her hand from her wound. Lowering his head, he inhaled deeply. His jaw clenched, and she felt the rage pouring off him.
    “It has to come out,” he told her hoarsely, his voice cracking with the strain.
    She nodded. “I can’t get a grip on it.”
    He took another deep breath and instructed, “Close your eyes.”
    She felt the tips of his claws pierce her skin, but she managed to remain silent. He was trying to help her, not hurt her. Revealing the agony she experienced would only make things harder on him. Thankfully he didn’t extend her suffering by being gentle, choosing to be fast instead. When he had a grip of the cursed object, he removed it. She wanted to scream when the bullet eased from her blistered flesh, sending a torrent of blood down her chest.
    “Fuck. It’s already splintered. I can smell the magic.” He sounded terrified, the fingers holding the round trembling. “The poison is already in your system.”
    She wanted to tell him not to worry, that she’d survived worse, but the darkness that surrounded her was too strong. Using the last of her willpower, she pressed a kiss to the area above his heart and sagged in his arms. She understood his panic, aware that the clock was ticking.
    “Trevor,” she mumbled. “Take me to him. He’ll know what to do.”
    He lifted her, saying something she couldn’t make out. She