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them shift to help him see in the dark. It killed him not to
acknowledge his mate s frightened whimper, but he couldn t give
away that he was awake, not until he d surveyed the room, sized up
his attacker, and planned his attack. The small shift satiated the beast
inside him a little, but the knowledge that his mate was in danger
brought a snarl to his lips and a growl to his throat that he could only
silence for so long. He d wait though, just a few bare seconds until he
could be certain how best to strike.
He wanted to surprise the bastard when he tore his throat out.
The bastards, he corrected himself when his wolfen eyes saw
clearly. There was Jacob, standing in the center of the room, naked as
he d been when he fell asleep earlier that night, and there was his
Jacob at the Break of Dawn 149
captor, a man almost as large as Alex, grasping Jacob s thin, bare
arms in his hands. Alex could scent he was a shifter, and it would be
enough of a struggle to take him down, but he didn t make a move to
do it. Instead, he lay paralyzed, his mind racing, fear surging through
his body almost as sharply as it rose inside his mate s. There was
nothing he could do to help him.
Standing ahead of the man that held Jacob, forming a snarling,
growling protective wall around the bed where Alex lay, were a half a
dozen wolves. For that many of them to be hiding in Borderland
undetected was impossible. They must have come across the
planesgate, Alex determined, but hell if he knew how. There were no
planeswalkers anywhere. Adrianna had shared with her family the
secret of getting across without them, but Alex doubted these huge,
hulking monsters, poised for attack, could have possibly figured that
out on their own. They didn t seem willing to make themselves
vulnerable to anything. In fact, quite the opposite. They looked
dominant and deadly and murderous.
That jarring realization brought Alex s musings to a halt. All the
thinking and planning in the world wouldn t gain Alex an edge in this
fight. He was just plain fucked.
All he could do was fling himself, bloodthirsty and suicidal, into
the fray and hope to God his mate got out alive.
He didn t wait another instant. Alex let himself melt into a
murderous beast as he gave himself over to his animal instincts to roar
and rage and protect. Leaping off the bed, he snapped his jaw open a
second before it contacted the furry scruff of the animal ahead of him,
and he sank into the warm skin underneath it, vicious as he could. For
a human, it would be impossible to kill a werewolf without a silver
blade or bullet, but as another supernatural, Alex knew he could if he
struck hard and fast enough. Small cuts and scratches would heal, but
his strong jaws could rip out a jugular or snap a spine. He could land a
fatal wound if he was quick enough.
It was going to be damn difficult, though.
150 Ellen Ginsberg
Sharp claws scratched down his back, and he bucked backward to
thwart his attacker as he continued to struggle against the first wolf.
His victim was flailing and whimpering now, but his attacker had
redoubled his efforts, and Alex had to turn to him to fight him off. As
soon as he did, he was faced with another wolf. And another.
He was surrounded.
Fear sank into his body, pushing into him, trying to overwhelm his
body and penetrate his mind, but he fought to keep it out. Jacob had
racked his mind and body and spirit and reached his inner sanctum,
but he needed to be his old self now, needed the emptiness and single-
minded, cold-blooded purpose he once felt, back when the only
welcome surge of feeling he allowed was the rush of adrenaline as his
body broke free of the limits that tried to bind it. One involuntary
tense of a muscle, one pang of remorse, one whimper of his mate s
voice in his head and his focus would snap. Six wolves would
descend on one, and he d never stand a chance of even reaching his
mate.
Further and further he retreated, into that place inside where, void
of emotion, he could snap and bite and claw his way out. His body
was a machine primed for survival, and his every instinct pushed him
through that fighting wall of fur. He felt his body scratched and
clawed, hurt and healed, feeling muscles and ligatures tear and
reform, blood flow and tissues broken, testing the very limits of what
he could renew, restore, recover, and still continue to fight.
He made it out alive. Better than alive, he d won. Panting, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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