door opened and a slender figure in
black leaped inside. Before he could react defensively, a fist connected with
Hart’s jaw. He tasted blood and the SUV swerved, but he managed to get it back
on track. He was driving parallel to the river, and the traffic before and
behind prevented him from stopping.
“So that’s how it is, eh?” He gripped the man by the arm, but
his clothing was slick, like Gore-Tex, so his hold slid instead of gripping.
“You have a death wish, bloke?”
The man kicked, landing the heel of what looked a narrow and
feminine boot on the steering wheel. Hart fought to control the vehicle while
trying to grab the pistol from under his left arm. His fingers wrapped about the
handle, and as he swerved into the line of traffic, he pressed the gun barrel to
the man’s face where more Gore-Tex fashioned a skull-fitting mask.
With a grunt, the man elbowed Hart’s wrist. The pistol went
flying and knocked him on the temple. As he shook his head to clear the stinging
pain, he noted the three words tattooed on the man’s wrist—thought the wrist was
bloody thin—then groaned.
“Oh, hell no!” Was it a female? Had to be with such a delicate
wrist. But what breed? And to have the audacity to take him on? “Listen, duck,
if you’ve a bone to pick with Remy, I suggest you take it up with him. I’m not
trained for relationship rescue.”
A heel to his right thigh brought a wolfish growl from between
his tight jaws. He grabbed the woman’s throat. Before him, a car slowed and he
bumped the tail with the front of the vehicle. Adjusting his speed, he yelped
when he felt teeth sink into his hand and tear away.
As Hart shook his bleeding hand, the attacker ripped off the
black face mask to reveal a shock of candied red hair and bright blue eyes. Gorgeous , was his first thought. What the bloody hell , was his second.
She lunged toward him, one hand grabbing the steering wheel and
jerking the SUV sharply to the right, toward the river. Then Hart felt the
searing, icy pain of fangs sink in at his neck.
No, no, no, no! Not a bloody vampire. And not biting him. The
last thing he needed was...this problem.
Dropping the steering wheel, Hart gripped her by the head and
yanked. Her fangs tore his muscle and flesh and he yowled and swore. She lunged
for him again, attaching her mouth to his bleeding neck like a leech.
“Bloody longtooth!”
He managed to elbow her in the kidney, which detached her just
in time for him to feel the impact of the SUV hitting the river guardrail and
soar into the air. But he couldn’t process the fact that he was airborne and in
worse danger than from a mere vampire bite, because the horror of having been
bitten flashed red and angry in his brain.
When Hart got brassed off, his werewolf took over.
Instinctively, he began to shift. His T-shirt tore at biceps and across the
chest. Fingers lengthened, and he kicked off his shoes to make room for his
changing feet. His spine cracked and shifted.
The SUV’s nose hit the water’s surface, jarring them and
sending the vampiress flying into the backseat where iron piping left over from
a plumbing project at the pack compound clattered. The werewolf he’d become
gripped her leg as his hands shifted and talons curled into her flesh. Icy water
poured through the open windows, and Hart howled a long and rangy cry that was
drowned by the dirty river water.
Now in half-man, half-wolf shape, his brain switched to
survival. Trapped within a murky metal box, his limbs shivering from the cold
water bath, he slashed a taloned paw outward. The glass windshield cracked as
the light from the surface was completely snuffed, save for the small red and
blue LEDs glowing on the vehicle dashboard.
Twisting his body, the werewolf pounded again toward the glass
and this time the clear sheet sucked inward and the vehicle dropped swiftly. He
caught the crackled sheet of glass against his paws and, with a heave, forced it
out through the metal frame.
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