On a human, such a blow would have broken his jaw, but this man was not human, and we were bred tougher. He spat out some bloody teeth and grabbed me one-handed, rolling me around so that he was on top.
"Let go of the gun, my pretty," he said, his breath like dead meat, "or I'll be forced to break something else."
"Try it, and I'll break you."
He chuckled and raised his fist. I bucked my body, lifting him off me far enough to get one leg underneath him. Before he could release his weapon, he came down, balls first, onto my knee. Air exploded from his lungs and he went an odd shade of puce.
I ripped the gun from his grasp, smashed the butt of it over his head to knock him out, then dumped him off me.
Only to hear another set of footsteps coming up the stairs.
Crap.
I jumped to my feet, grabbed the shifter's arms, and dragged him into the nearest bedroom. I dumped him near the bed then threw off the mattress, hoping like hell the squeaking I'd heard earlier was an indication that these beds had those cheap metal springs. And for once, fate gave me a break.
I grabbed the nearest spring, ripped enough wire free to give me a decent length of metal, then shoved the shifter on his side. After hauling his arms around his back, I tied them together with the wire, wrapping it around and around his limbs, right up to his shoulders. Of course, it wouldn't hold him if he shifted shape, so for good measure, I smashed the gun butt down onto his elbow. The crack of breaking bone made me wince, but a shifter free and unable to fly was better than nothing. I tied the rest of the wire off the best I could, then stepped over him and headed for the door.
The footsteps on the stairs had stopped. I flared my nostrils, searching for the scent of the wolf. He was close, but not close enough. And he was more than likely as aware of my presence here as I was of his.
I had two choices: Wait him out, or go down after him.
I was leaning toward the first option when the gunshots and the screaming started again. Not just any screams, but ones that transformed into wet, gurgling sounds, only to be silenced by another gunshot.
He was shooting to maim before he killed them. Trying to lure me out with the pain of the women.
It worked.
I took a deep breath, then ran as fast as I could for the stairs. I grabbed the banister one-handed and flung myself over it, dropping down the stairwell onto the second to last step and landing half crouched. I saw the wolf immediately. Saw the gun pointed straight at my head. I threw myself sideways, smashing several balusters as I tumbled out into the third-floor hallway. The bullet meant for my head thudded into my shoulder, and pain erupted.
The bastard was using silver.
I'd been shot far too many times by the wretched stuff, and my flesh reacted instantly. Fierce, aching fire flared down my arm, stealing sensation, stealing strength, before I could even blink.
If I didn't take him down soon, I wouldn't be able to.
But the minute I moved, he'd shoot me again. And with the silver already in my shoulder, I just didn't have the speed behind me anymore. Not even my vampire blood could save me from the effects of it.
So instead of moving, I remained where I was, shuddering and shaking and sweating. It wasn't an act. The pain was intense, and growing sharper. But my fingers - the ones on my right hand, the hand I could still feel - were wrapped around a sturdy piece of broken baluster. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it didn't need to be when you had the strength of a vampire behind you.
Although if he didn't move soon, the silver might snatch that from me, as well.
For several seconds, nothing happened. He remained where he was, motionless and silent, except for the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. But I could feel his tension, could smell his readiness to act should I even twitch.
Finally, he stepped forward. One step, then two. Soon the sharp aroma of male wolf filled every breath, and it was all I could do not to twist and plunge the stake into his flesh. He wasn't anywhere near close enough for that.