Page 84 of Silver Claw

I had to believe that, or I would have crumbled.

Some of the wolves shifted, but not all of them. In daylight. At ahuman’shouse.

We began to fight.

The sun fought with us, vivid blood-red and yellow splashes of light and blood painting an eerily beautiful and mystical picture in the somewhat dim everyday world of the city.

I got flashes of it, but those flashes were not new. Neither was the pain, acknowledged and then released, because there was no time for pain, no time to wonder if I was up to the task without my magic, and especially without my blade.

The madness came, though, and I was what my birth mother had helped make me.

A killing machine.

More wolves came. So many wolves.

And then, through the thick, furry bodies and the stench of blood and sweat and fear, I saw Rick lying crumpled on the ground, bloody and still.

“Zach,” I screamed, and I didn’t have to tell him what I needed him to do.

He ducked the wolves slashing at him with their wicked, sharp claws and left me alone to go to Rick.

I could take care of myself.

Then Zach was fighting his way back to me, and Rick was safe.

I hoped.

Zach and I fought back-to-back, and I sorely missed Joe. I missed fighting with Sam and Remy, andgod,I missed my alpha.

They didn’t magically appear to help even the odds, but I got someone just as impressive.

Anika Draper.

She was all in. She wanted to end the wolves and find Voss to make up for her mistake in taking all my magic. Maybe she needed to make things right between her and her God. And maybe she just liked to fight.

Sort of like me.

She went at the wolves with a viciousness and hatred that a regular person might have bestowed upon their worst enemy.

And yes, she evened the odds.

She didn’t have magic, except for her amazing blade, but she didn’t need it. She fought like Zach and I did—with fists and rage and blades.

Only Zach’s blades were ordinary blades, but Zach was not an ordinary guy, and he made up for his weapons’ lack of magic. There was power inside Zach.

When there were only three of the enemy left, I grabbed Anika’s bloody arm to stop her when she would have gone to help him. “Watch,” I murmured. “Watch him dance.”

Zach didn’t disappoint. He was the most impressive fighter I’d ever seen in my life. The most impressive with the blades he wielded, the most impressive mover.

His fight was indeed a dance, a bloody, brutal dance that was somehow loose-limbed and lazy as much as it was quick and powerful and full of so much energy that I could feel the wind from his body when he moved. He whirled and jumped and killed with a savage grace that made it impossible to look away.

Even after all the times I’d seen him use his blades, I held my breath, excited and awed and amazed, my heart slamming against my ribs, my fists clenched.

“Good God,” Anika said, when the three men lay scattered on the ground, and Zach looked through his long, bloody hair and smiled at us. “I haven’t had chills in a long fucking time, but he just gave them to me. I want to know that man.”

Before I could say anything or even try to sort out whatever it was I was feeling about Anika Draper, she looked from the approaching Zach to me. “This makes us even.”

I laughed, but it was dry and harsh. “Not even close,” I said. Then I gathered all the rage that still swirled inside me, and I let my psycho take over. I punched her in the face, and as she was on the ground trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, I straddled her and began to almost calmly beat the hell out of her.