hear something now, under the growing rumble of gathering thunder. Another sound, getting louder. Coming closer.
A long, rising, furious howl.
“Oh look.” Uncegila curved his mouth in a feral smile. “How sweet. Your sister has come to die at your side.”
No, he thought, in astonished wonder, as a small, four-legged shape burst out from the trees, racing up the mountain toward him. She hasn’t.
Chapter 44
It was so easy. Darcy still couldn’t believe how easy it had been.
The flex of her muscles, the wind through her fur, even the fire burning in her throat; it was all so natural, so right. It was like this had been the true shape of her soul all along.
Her hellhound snarled in triumphant agreement, its bright satisfaction echoing in her head. Not a foreign presence like she’d once feared; just a part of herself finally released, finally given form.
She let out another howl, in the sheer delight of not having to hold back. Of finally having physical strength to match her determination; sharp teeth to defend what was hers. She gave voice to all her protective rage, her righteous anger.
*MINE!* she howled, in mind and body, as she leaped for him. *MY MATE!*
Fenrir’s eyes widened, Uncegila abruptly realizing her mistake—but it was too late.
Darcy was small for a hellhound, but she still far outmatched a mere man, even one as big as Fenrir. She crashed into his chest, knocking him clean off his feet. The tranquilizer rifle flew out of his hand, landing in the snow.
*Get out!* she snarled, inches from his face, glaring at the demon behind his eyes. *Get out of my mate!*
Fenrir’s mouth twisted in a sneer. With impossible strength, he flung her off. Darcy yelped, scrabbling to her paws, but by the time she’d regained her footing he was standing again, a knife in his clenched fist.
“Tiresome mortal.” Uncegila’s voice hissed out of Fenrir’s mouth, coldly furious. “You still think you can save him, without even a mate bond to unite your souls? You think you can drive me out? You?”
*No.* Darcy showed all her teeth, grinning in triumph. *Not just me.*
Wingbeats.
Hoofbeats.
Another long howl, pitched differently to her own, but filled with the same fury.
They all came. All of them, pouring into her soul through the pack bond, even as they raced to her side.
Rory’s golden strength. Edith’s uncompromising, rock-hard courage. Wystan’s silver power. Joe, glittering like a waterfall, and Seren, silent and deadly. Callum, flame-bright, with his mind as swift as a falcon in flight. Buck, an odd, barely perceptible presence, like the electric tang in the air before a storm; faint, but there.
And there were others, too. Further away, but distance meant nothing to pack.
Candice, blazing with relentless compassion. Diana, crowned with lightning. Blaise, on darkened wings, hiding a heart of fire. Even Beth was there, little Beth, a bright, innocent spark.
And finally, there was Lupa. A dark shadow, not linked to the others, but part of her pack nonetheless. Fenrir’s sister, and her sister now too.
Darcy’s shoulder still throbbed with the imprint of Lupa’s teeth. With that one small bite, Lupa had turned her, into who she had always been meant to be.
They were all with her. They all had her back, adding their strength to hers. Joining with her whole-heartedly, to save one of their own.
*PACK IS PACK!* Darcy cried, as she gathered up all that brightness, all that fierce loyalty and brilliant love. *AND HE IS OURS!*
Their mate bond was only half formed, but that didn’t matter. She knew Fenrir, in all his contradictions; his body, his mind, his deep humanity and his wolf’s heart. She only needed the faintest path to find his soul.
The link between them roared like a river bursting its banks. She poured it all into him, her love, his friends’ love, chasing away the darkness.
Fenrir cried out, doubling over. Smoke curled from the back of his neck, and Darcy tasted the bitter scent of burning fabric. He clawed at his t-shirt, scorched material shredding away. Demonic red light blazed from his back, haloing him in fire.
And then it went out.
Darcy shifted to human form, wobbling for a moment as she got used to only having two feet again. “Fenrir!”
He’d collapsed to his knees, shoulders heaving, long hair shadowing his face. She went to him, flinging her arms around him, holding him tight.
“Darcy,” he said, voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his eyes, and they were his own again, copper-flecked, filled with wonder. “She’s gone.”
“I know.” Under her palms, his back was smooth,