Keeping Secret (Secret McQueen) - By Sierra Dean Page 0,57

get out of brights.

“If you’re just going to stand there and talk at me all night, I’m going to think you’ve got a pussy under there. What’s the matter, Carn. Got your monthlies? Aunt Flo in town? I know…cramps can be such a bit—”

Carn weighed about two hundred and eighty pounds. That was the best estimate I could give when he threw all of his weight into me at a run and sent me flying across the circle and into the woods.

The wolves howled their approval. My ribs groaned in protest as I staggered to my feet, thanking me for what was likely a hairline fracture. Bones healed. My ribs would have to suck it up. Rotating my shoulders to keep the pain from making me stiff, I walked back into the circle. The wolves stopped howling. Guess they’d thought I was down for the count.

“Was that the best you’ve got, big boy?” I danced from foot to foot, prepared for the next attack. “My grandmother throws harder hits than you.”

This time I saw him coming. He ran at me with his arms extended outward like a battering ram, bent at the elbows so they wouldn’t lock when he collided with his target. I’d give him credit, the man knew how to fight.

I leaped up when he was within range, landing on his rigid arms as if they were a springboard. Before he had a chance to drop me, I pulled my foot back and kicked him square in the face. I tucked in a low crouch while he swung blindly for me, blood spraying from his broken nose.

While he stomped around like a misguided Godzilla, trying to crush me under his massive feet, I swept my leg into his knees and brought him crashing into the dirt. I was feeling cocky now, but not stupid. I wanted to hop on his chest and declare the fight over, but I knew he wouldn’t give up that easily.

Sure enough, he clambered to his feet with a roar and lashed out with a hard left hook, feinting halfway through the swing when I dodged, and slamming his right fist into me with an uppercut that sent me flying.

I got up, wiping blood off my busted lip. “That’s more like it.”

“I am going to enjoy crushing your spirit, little girl.”

I cracked my neck, and the tendons sighed with relief from the flood of endorphins. If I had my knife, this would all be over. Even a mammoth like him would stay down if I severed his Achilles. I stretched out my fingers and assessed the distance between myself and his bare feet. I was strong, but my nails were trimmed short, and I didn’t know if I could claw through the skin before he yanked me off and threw me into the next parish.

So his heel was out, and I wasn’t going to best him with a facial beating.

There was one obvious way to bring this son of a bitch to his knees and have him screaming uncle. It felt weak, like a cheat, but I didn’t have time to trade jabs with him all night. I had a teenaged werewolf to find and a fucking wedding to get back on schedule.

I ran straight for him with breakneck speed. He reached out to snatch me mid-run, but within inches of his eager fingers I hit the ground like a ballplayer desperate for home plate and slid beneath his open hands and in between his legs.

He hadn’t been full of shit when he said he was packing huge equipment in his briefs, because his balls were so big they didn’t fit in the palm of my hand. Oh well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. That saying had never been truer than when I had an Alpha werewolf by the nuts and was squeezing them so hard I could feel the sensitive tissues rupturing more and more with each moment.

Carn howled, and there was nothing triumphant about it. He whimpered and crashed to the earth, but I still didn’t release my hold.

“My friend and I go free,” I said, crushing a little harder for emphasis.

He wailed, a high-pitched, pitiful sound.

“Your word.” When he didn’t reply immediately, I screamed, “Give me your fucking word.”

“My word. Go.” Tears were streaming down his red cheeks, and he was curling in on himself like a sleepy baby.

I let him go, and it took all my respect for the rules of a fair fight to not kick