Chapter 21 - Hanson

Hanson might have happily stayed there forever, holding Elena in his arms, even with all she had just told him, if not for the danger he suddenly sensed in the trees.

"Elena, stay calm and get behind me," he instructed her, gently whispering the words in her ear.

By the way she was already tensing, Elena had clearly sensed them, too. But Hanson cursed silently, realizing they had been too distracted to give themselves time to run.

"You're injured," she protested, but Hanson would not stand for arguments right now. He nudged her behind him, facing down the men who slunk out of the trees before him.

"You're…sensitive," Hanson reminded her, not willing to give away the fact she was with pup to these assholes. They'd tear her apart for the fun of it if they knew.

Elena tried to move to stand at his side, but his strength was rapidly returning, and he easily kept her back.

"Did we interrupt a moment?" one of the men growled.

"Yeah, it looked quite cozy just now," another chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Shame we turned up to spoil the fun."

"Yeah, she looks like bags of fun to me, don't you think boys?" the first said, eyeing Elena up and down even though Hanson tried his best to hide her from view. She wasn't helping much with the way she pushed forward against his barrier of an arm.

"Don't even think about it," Hanson growled low in his throat, narrowing his eyes. Anger blazed inside him. If any one of them so much as laid a finger on Elena, he'd make them regret it for what remained of their very short life.

The man laughed, and with a swift flick of his head, he encouraged more men out of the trees.

Fuck! Hanson thought. Three, maybe even four, he might have stood a chance against if he was quick, but six? Those were nearly impossible odds.

Still, he had been in worse situations before. He held on to that knowledge, praying he could keep Elena out of their clutches.

"Separate them!" the leader of the men howled. "Christopher wants the girl, but I wouldn't mind a go myself!"

The man's disgusting words enraged Hanson further. Adrenaline coursed through his body, and as the men rushed him, he managed to knock one clean out.

Fuck! he cursed again when he realized two more had appeared from the woods.

"Hanson!" Elena cried as she was wrenched away from him. Hands grabbed at his arms. Claws sliced his flesh. The last remnants of silver poisoning still lingered in his system. But still, he managed to lift the shortest man off his feet with one hand wrapped tight around his throat.

"Get your hands off me, you filthy dogs!" Elena snarled at the men who were trying to drag her away. She fought bravely.

She shouldn't be fighting at all! Hanson thought, and a second rush of adrenaline surged through him.

"Don't fight them, Elena!" he ordered her, though he knew from experience that the she-wolf rarely obeyed orders.

If she fought them, they would fight back. Werewolves, especially males, were prideful creatures. They would never allow themselves to be beaten by a she-wolf, especially not one their alpha wanted.

"Get them under control!" the leader ordered. He was the only one who had not joined the fray. Hanson dashed the unconscious body of his friend at his feet.

"Get yourselves under control!" Hanson snarled back at him, and he turned on the others, seeing red.

Elena's fighting snarls had turned to whimpers of pain. The sound caused Hanson to see red. His strength returning swifter and swifter with his anger, Hanson shifted.

He could barely see past the red mist that overwhelmed him, but he didn't need his eyes to take down his enemies. He could hear them well enough, their amused laughter turning to fearful, pounding heartbeats as he turned on them.

Quick as a flash, he took down one, and then another. Neither of them had a chance to shift or defend themselves. He would not give them that luxury.

He snapped their necks like twigs, the metallic taste of blood coating his tongue.

"End him!" the leader yelled, still not joining the attack.

Coward! Hanson snarled, whipping around on him.

There were still two more men at his back, but they weren't his main concern right now. Any wolf who ordered his men into battle without joining the fight himself wasn't worthy of the breath he breathed.

Hanson lunged at the leader, prepared to take him out just as he had the others, but before he could do so, a wolf landed on his back. At least one of them had the good sense to shift.

Hanson rolled, carrying the wolf with him. The air was knocked right out of his opponent, and Hanson carried on rolling, leaving the man in the dust.

I'll kill every last one of you if I have to! Hanson thought, realizing Elena had grown silent. This was bad, horrendously bad.

He lunged on the wolf he had floored and wasted no time in sinking his teeth into the back of his neck, breaking his spinal cord with a swift jerking motion of his head.

When he turned on the leader once more, blood dripped from his maw. He bared his teeth, already able to imagine what it would be like to sink his fangs into him.

Usually, he didn't condone killing. But under these circumstances, it was necessary.

Just as he imagined, the leader was a coward. If Christopher's men were all like him, it was no wonder he felt the need to make so many new wolves.

The leader turned and ran. Hanson considered giving chase. Then he thought better of it. He had killed enough today. Besides, the few remaining wolves were clearly regretting their decision to attack.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hanson saw them backing away from Elena, ready to bolt. With a deep warning growl, Hanson let them go.

He was more concerned with Elena and the way she lay naked as the day she was born but still as death.

No! I can't lose you! Hanson howled mourningly as he rushed to her side and nuzzled her cheek with his large, wet nose.

Only the fluttering he felt again his cheek told him she was breathing.

She was battered and bloody. Clearly, she had put up one hell of a fight.

I won't lose you! Hanson declared, nudging her over his head and onto his back. I won't lose either of you!

In that moment, nothing else mattered. All he could think about was getting Elena to safety, back to Nightstar.

There were healers there, and by the sounds of her ragged breathing, she needed one. The scent of blood made Hanson feel sick, not because it revolted him, but because of what it meant.

Elena's words revolved in his mind. She had miscarried once. He had promised her that wouldn't happen again.

Hold on, Elena, he thought, praying she felt his strength, wishing he could lend it to her now. I've got you!

He raced harder than he ever had before, not caring for a second who might see him as he charged through the woods in wolf form, a naked woman on his back, heading for the main square of town.

Ordinarily, werewolves stayed well clear of witches, but today Hanson would make an exception. A witch might well be her only hope now.

Luckily for him, the humans in Nightstar didn't much seem to like staying out late at night, and the few he did meet along the way were stinking of alcohol. By the time morning came around, they'd likely blame the wolf and naked woman they had seen on being drunk or high. And if worst came to the worst, the pack would find a way to handle it.

What mattered now was Elena. And as he made it to the steps of the local healer's shop, the door opened up. A woman dressed in deep purple, a pentagram necklace hanging low in her cleavage, stepped out of the doorway and gestured him inside. "Bring her in, wolf."

Hanson did not question how she knew of their arrival. He knew better than to question sorceresses at all.

Instead, he rushed inside and gently eased Elena off his back onto the floor.

The witch crouched beside them immediately, her raven hair falling like curtains around her pale face until she swept it back behind her ear.

"What happened, wolf?"

Shaking off his wolf form, Hanson hovered over Elena, stroking her cheek.

"She was attacked by a rival pack," Hanson said. "You must help her."

The witch raised a brow. "Must?" she grumbled. "If nature allows, I shall."

Hanson cringed. He hated witches and their determination to believe that nature and fate were entwined, that nothing could be changed unless it was the will of their beloved nature Gods and Goddesses.

Yet, he was stunned into silence when the witch placed her hand on Elena's stomach.

What is she doing? Hanson thought, a warning growl erupting in his throat.

"Fear not, wolf. I have no quarrel with this pup," the witch announced, stroking Elena's stomach gently. Hanson watched in astonishment as her fingertips began to glow, her eyes closing in concentration.

"P…pup?" he stammered. That was as much confirmation as he needed. "Is…is it…okay?"

The woman opened one eye and smirked at him. "Strong."

She didn't speak again as she added a second hand over Elena's stomach. She started to move them up and down, all over Elena's body.

Then, finally, the glowing in her fingertips stopped. She opened both eyes and ordered, "Help me get her onto the bed in the back room."