Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,69

chair toward the edge of the stage, struggling to get free from the ties around her hands and legs. It wouldn’t be long now.

The wolf attacking from Drake’s right commanded his attention. It must’ve sensed Drake’s rage and unparalleled strength. It hesitated. A fraction of a second. Long enough for Drake to spring into action. He turned, took a single leap, and bared his fangs, chomping into the wolf’s neck. With a whimper, the wolf dangled in Drake’s teeth, its front legs going limp.

Silas shot off another Taser shot, but Drake’s senses were on full alert. He could hear the rods whizzing through the air and bounded aside. Another miss.

He was running out of time.

Taking the kill shot while he had it, Drake snapped his jaws together, severing the wolf’s carotid artery.

Sensing the death of its packmate, the second wolf roared and rushed behind Drake, hungry for vengeance. Drake spun, dropping the first wolf from his jaws, but didn’t move quickly enough. The roaring wolf bit into Drake’s side. Drake howled, arching, squirming to get the wolf’s razor-sharp teeth out of his fur. With a violent shake, the wolf’s canines dislodged from Drake’s flesh.

Adrenaline sparking through his veins, Drake crouched and spun, trying to get a lead on the wolf’s weakness. The wolf matched Drake step for step, pounce for pounce.

Out of the corner of his eye, Drake saw Silas shift. He bulked up, rippling with layers of thick, corded muscle.

Damn it, it was now or never.

Drake reared up on his hind legs, slicing his paw across the wolf’s muzzle. The wolf howled, blood trickling down its snout. Drake swiped his paw again, this time catching the wolf in the eye. Temporarily blinded, the wolf snapped for Drake and missed, leaving his neck vulnerable to attack. Drake took full advantage, bit through fur and flesh, and dropped the lifeless wolf to the hardwood.

As Drake spun around and met Silas’s coal-black wolf eyes, he snarled, pulling back his lips to reveal his fangs. They hummed, tingling his gums. His back hunched. Silas snarled back, his snout dripping with saliva, his mangy black hair rising on end.

This was it. The moment Drake had dreaded since their father died. Deep down he had known it would come to this. Silas was greedy and spoiled sour to the core. Silas had simply been biding his time, waiting for this moment when he could challenge Drake for everything without the members of his pack viewing the action as disgraceful.

As Silas stalked around the table separating them, Drake backed away slowly, drawing him farther away from Emelia and closer to the center of the bar. Taking the upper hand, Drake lunged, propelling his body into Silas’s. They hit with the force of giants, colliding into tables behind them and skidding over the floor. They tumbled and rolled, a mess of fur and teeth, biting and clawing their way to top position.

Silas had gotten stronger since Drake fought him last. He was quicker, too. More prepared for Drake’s moves. He’d been practicing. Readying himself for this fight.

But Drake had some moves up his sleeve, too.

As they slammed into the wall, Drake managed to pin Silas beneath him with his back legs. Drake kicked and clawed with his forelegs, tearing through Silas’s abdomen, and came away with gobs of bloody fur in his paws. Early pangs of victory hit Drake’s system, but he didn’t celebrate. Not yet. Drake’s strikes were brutal. Lethal. But the angrier Drake seemed to get, the more Silas seemed to enjoy the fight. He batted away the heavy-pounding strikes of Drake’s paws. Snapped at Drake’s legs. Snorted when Drake missed a mark and rebounded with potentially fatal bites from his own snarling jaws.

It was all or nothing.

Drake went for the kill. With hundreds of years of repressed anger bubbling up inside him, Drake towered over Silas and dropped his muzzle like a hammer onto his neck. But Silas anticipated Drake’s move. Before Drake could sink his fangs into Silas’s flesh, Silas squirmed beneath him, knocking Drake off-kilter.

With a guttural groan, Silas snapped a meaty chunk out of Drake’s neck.

Warm rushes of blood leached the strength from Drake’s muscles.

Out of instinct alone, Drake darted away from Silas to assess his injuries. His breathing was ragged, his heavy heartbeats pounding against his rib cage like war drums. Blood oozed down Drake’s neck, dripped down his chest, and flooded onto to the floor. If he didn’t change back into human form soon, so his injuries could heal