SIXTY-TWO

Billie

THE IMAGES HE sent in the link were dark and wooded, so I run away from the house and away from the fire. Little Fox rises to the surface like a friggin' tsunami of fury, promising seismic waves of death and annihilation to whoever has our mate. I gulp down mouthfuls of air. Little Fox filters everything out except the scent of pure raw cinnamon, and we head in the direction of the dense tree line.

I couldn't stay in the mind link. I couldn't hear him slur and scream. I couldn't see the world through his drugged vision, hear her tell him she was me. Emotionally, I couldn't take it. I also couldn't risk the split in focus while running through the woods.

I hear a howl to the left and behind me, a howl I know. Soon Wolf-E is at my side, snarling and drooling with a savage desire to rip apart our enemy. Little Fox pushes me to run faster. My upper lip tugs up, revealing my teeth as a low menacing growl thunders through my chest, rippling the air around us. We're taking her down. Jax and Blondie are our true-mates, and we're supposed to protect them.

I run with my eyes glowing, toward them. With my fox's eyes, I can see more, and luckily Jax is in all white. Having Little Fox at the surface means her anger is there too. We need to step up. We need to protect our mates. If I can't protect them and protect our love, than why are we mated?

Wolf-E lets out another harrowing howl, and we're close enough now to see Amber in my new O'Sullivan's hoodie, straddling my mate. Oh God, Jax. I'm coming. We're almost there, and with Little Fox's hearing, I can hear Amber.

"There we go, baby. You're getting thicker, and you're going to feel so good inside me," Amber purrs. "Oh, honey! Honey, my gums are swelling! I knew it. Are yours?" She excitedly pants, her hand working him with more vigor, trying to get him hard enough to rape. But what the fuck does she mean by her gums are swelling ? "We need to hurry, honey. Your mother said it won't last long, that we need to bond right away."

She will not take my mate.

Jaxson

I'm crying, but I'm not crying.

I'm screaming and yelling, but I'm not screaming and yelling.

My wolf is snarling, biting, and howling, and yet he's not.

We are stuck in the paralyzed prison of my body, which is being touched and used by someone else. Whatever drugs Amber injected in me have created tension in my muscles, but I can't control them.

Then the second injection.

My stomach drops. My heart breaks. My wolf howls. Blondie is going ballistic trying to fight it off. He's spinning in circles, biting and snapping at whatever energy he senses that's accessing him through my blood. Even with his fight, I feel my heart race and my cock starting to thicken in her unwanted grasp. And... my gums. Fuck no. Please no. Why do they keep swelling? Why am I producing mating saliva? It has nothing to do with her scent, her arousal—the smell does nothing for me. And yet the pressure in my balls and my gums continues to build.

We can hear Amber's purrs and moans as she uses my body with more control and power than I have. Being a wolf-shifter and an athlete, I've always taken pride in my ability to use my body; from pushing the limits of my endurance to the skill of which I can dribble a soccer ball, I take pride in the strength of my muscles and precision of my coordination. Now I lay here, and the body that's always listened to me, that I've had such confidence in, is unresponsive like a plank of wood, not moving.

I know Ethan and Wolf-E are with us mentally, and I know my pack-mates are coming for us, but there's a desire to slip into unconsciousness and wake up when I can do something.

Stay awake and fight, Jax!

Blondie roars at me as he keeps resisting the energy that's winding around his body and streaming into his nostrils and ears. He shakes his head and puffs out snotty breaths, trying to stop it from entering. We snap, howl, and scream, even if only those in our shared mind can hear us. I hear a howl in the night. Wolf-E. He's howling out our pain. He's vocalizing the hurt we can't.

Tears would be streaming down my face if I could cry.

Keep fighting.

Billie

"Get the fuck off my mate, Amber!" I howl, coming upon them with Wolf-E at my side. She's straddling him, my playmate, and his entire body is motionless like it's made of iron, unable to move or bend.

Amber's eyes glow burnt orange, and she throws her head back, releasing a manic cackle out into the night like she's calling forth the restless souls of unhinged dead ex-girlfriends. "He's mine!" she howls out with a delirious smile. Her frenzied eyes stare into mine as she positions her entrance above his hard cock. She drops down and rears her head back in triumph. When she looks at me again, her mouth is open wide, her teeth are dripping mating saliva, and she bending over him.

No. That's not going to fucking happen. I don't know how it's happening. I don't understand much, but I know I will do whatever I have to do to prevent her from getting those teeth into his flesh. Into my flesh.

There're at least fifteen feet between us, but I remember when I was at Castle Island. I remember how high I jumped with Little Fox's aid, and she's more than aiding me now. I trust in her, in our abilities, in our love, that we will be enough. With my arms outstretched, I press my toes into the ground and fling myself forward, diving for Amber. My body flies through the air, and my shoulder collides with the side of her body.

She's bigger than me, but I have the added weight of rage. Tackling, her I sweep my arms around her waist and rip her off Jax, taking her to the ground. She shrieks in outrage as we roll several times.

When I've got her below me with her legs spread around mine, I waste no time driving my knee into her crotch again and again and again and again.

She wanted something hard between her thighs.

Hope she likes my kneecap.

She hollers out in stunned pain, and I look at her face, at her mouth. Seeing no trace of blood is a small relief but seeing those still swollen gums snaps something inside of me. Climbing up higher with the force of my shifter, I slam my elbow into her upper teeth, visualizing it coming out the back of her head. Once. Twice. Four times. Blood gushes from her mouth, and like the pop of an overfilled water balloon, mating fluid sprays from her gums. Her eyes widen in shocked horror, and screaming cries of agonizing terror rip from her lungs, only to be choked down by the bubbling blood and fluid pouring down her throat. I give her another elbow to the temple. The entire time, a river of nonsensical expletives streams from my mouth.

Her face twists in fury, and her nails scratch across my face close to my right eye. It burns, and she uses the momentary distraction to flip us. There's a knock on the link, but I ignore it, not willing to take my attention off Amber.

She's on top of me now, shrieking, slapping, and clawing. Her blood and saliva spatter over me with every spit of indignation. Bending my knees, I thrust my hips up. It jostles her enough for me to take hold of one of her ears. Feeling that cartilage held in my grasp, knowing what many don't know, knowing this one hold saved me from unthinkable things in the basement of a shelter when I was twelve, a giddy warmth bubbles in my chest. Like kneeing her in the crotch, like eye gouging a wolf, sometimes the small one has to hit below the belt. You fight dirty. You twist .

Amber squeals like an itty-bitty mouse caught in a trap. Wolf my ass. She scratches and claws at my wrist, my face, my chest. Blood drips down my arm, and I twist a little more.

"Eight pounds of pressure, Amber" I cackle with an edge of joyful violence. "That's all I need to apply with the right hold, and POP, you're Van Gogh."

My fox urges me, and I listen. Rocking up to seated, my other hand holds the opposite side of her head firm. This is technique. You've got to know how to do it. With one steadying inhale, I focus. Then on the exhale, I twist her ear in one direction and wrench her head in the opposite.

Hard and fast.

A snap.

A rip.

A pop.

I feel the flesh give way. I hear the disembodiment of her organ. I feel the warm spray of her blood spurting all over my face. I commit it all to memory.

It's glorious.

Amber cries out in utter agony while trying to scramble away. Before she can, something yanks her off me. She's just... gone.

Well, most of her is gone. Her bloody ear is still held between my fingers. Holding it up in front of my face, I marvel at my trophy. Maybe I'll bronze it, wear it on a necklace like Dolph Lundgren in Universal Solider —let all the bitches know what will happen if they go after my mates.

Yes... let's do just that, Little Fox affirms with a sinister cackle, showing off her new golden grill over her upper front teeth.