Wolf at the Door (Wolf Winter #3) - T.A. Moore Page 0,22

cleaned house for Fenrir.”

Gregor spat blood into Lach’s face and pulled himself free when the grip on his throat weakened in surprise. He rolled off Lach and scrambled to his feet.

When he fought Rose in the stagnant pond, the Wild dammed off for the Sannock Dead, he hadn’t cared if he died or not. His wolf was gone, his lover dead—at least as far as he knew—and the Wolf Winter fairy tale of his childhood was tainted. Now Nick was alive, and Gregor tried to judge what he’d lost with his wolf as Lach lurched to his feet.

He wasn’t as strong, and he didn’t heal as quickly—the ache of the bruise around his eye would fade in hours rather than minutes—but he knew that already. With all his shortcomings he’d still beaten Rose. But since he made it back out of the wild, he wondered if he’d lost his edge—the brutally sullen anger that seethed under his skin, the killer instincts of the wolf that put his teeth in an elk’s jugular, everything that had given him an advantage over Jack, with his charm and his wise tongue.

It felt like it was still there. The anger was spackled over the scab where his wolf had been tethered, a poultice of old resentments and disagreements to hold the infection in. And once Lach got up, Gregor would do his damnedest to kill him. That should answer all his questions.

Lach swiped blood out of his eyes and rolled onto his side, elbow dug into the snow as it took his weight. Before he could get up to start the fight again, Gregor caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, clumsy in the knee-deep snow, as Jamie lunged at him with bared teeth.

He let the weight of the wolf take him down again. The snow should have broken his fall, but it didn’t make much difference. Slaver dripped from Jamie’s fangs, thick and sticky, and the stink of his breath made Gregor gag. Sharp teeth snapped in front of his nose as he buried his hands in the thick ruff of Jamie’s fur to hold him back. He could feel the bulk of muscle in Jamie’s neck, and the thick cords of it flexed against his fingers as Jamie fought him.

Gregor felt his arms start to give under the strain. He grimaced and, next time Jamie reared his head back, Gregor let go of his neck and shoved his forearm into the red, gaped maw as it plunged down. Pain ran black and irrelevant down his arm and into his spine, and a jolt of adrenaline spat out in response as Jamie tore his arm open.

It would heal. Eventually. Gregor gritted his teeth against the pain of being minced and reached out with his free hand. His fingers grazed over a stick, the wet tangle of a dead plant, and finally closed on one of the heavy chipped-granite rocks that the Pack’s pups stacked up to rile the monster before they took their swim.

Not much changed in the Old Man’s territory.

Gregor wrapped his fingers around the rock, hauled it out from under the snow, and swung it in a short, brutal arc. The edge bashed against Jamie’s ruined ear, and a muffled yelp of surprised pain squeezed through Jamie’s clamped-closed jaws. Gregor hit him again. His aim was better this time. He caught Jamie right on the temple, where the fur was too thin to cushion the blow. Bone cracked with a brittle, muffled snap.

Again.

On the fourth blow, Jamie’s eyes dulled and his grip on Gregor’s arm relaxed, torn flesh caught between his teeth as he staggered back. Gregor couldn’t feel his fingers—his hand felt like it was overstuffed with wet sand—but his arm worked well enough to get him back to his feet. He wiped the slabber off his face and stepped forward to swing the rock again as Jamie lurched forward. The edge of the rock, ragged and thickened with ice, caught Jamie on the narrow point of his snout. Blood spurted from his black nose and his teeth snapped off like sticks.

That would take time to heal.

Jamie cringed and tried to stagger away, head down and haunches tucked under him. The unmistakable submission should have been enough. It would have been for the wolf.

Apparently without his wolf, he was worse.

He glanced around for Nick and caught the flap of a tooth-tattered coat as Nick dodged and feinted ahead of Ellie. Strips of torn