Never Cry Wolf (Night Watch #4)(30)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Not really a choice.

She grabbed the lamp, and when the two beasts broke apart, she threw it at the coyote’s head. It shattered, but didn’t seem to hurt Hayden at all. Then those brown eyes locked on her. Fury and hate blazed in his gaze.

Hayden lunged for her.

Sarah jumped away, narrowly missing a swipe of those claws.

Jordan leapt onto the back of the coyote. The two spun, slamming around the room, crashing into furniture, breaking the bed, knocking over the bookshelf. Howls and snarls filled the room. And as they fought, the scent of blood grew thicker.

Hayden tossed Jordan off him. The coyote stood in front of the windows, his lips stained red with blood. The fur on his back was up, his eyes glinting as he prepared for another charge.

Jordan, take that bastard out!

The wolf leapt forward, colliding hard with the coyote, but the wolf was stronger—and he pushed the coyote back, back—

And glass exploded as they both tumbled through the window.

Oh, shit. She jumped to her feet and ran forward. “Jordan!” If that wolf had been killed defending her . . . Lucas would go crazy.

She didn’t touch the jagged glass as she bent forward and peered below. The wolf had landed on top of the coyote. Neither were moving, and she could see the dark circles of blood blooming beneath their bodies.

“Jordan,” whispered now.

More growls sounded then. Big gray and tan coyotes crept from the edge of the house and circled the fallen shifters. As Sarah watched, the fur began to melt from Jordan’s body. If he was still alive, he’d be helpless in human form. Easy prey for the coyotes.

She couldn’t let that happen. My fault. “Up here!” She screamed and the three coyotes turned their bright eyes on her. “I’m the one you want!” So come and get me, ass**les.

Then they spun around and raced back to the house. Back to her.

Sarah grabbed a chunk of broken glass and went to meet them.

Lucas knew something was wrong even before he smelled the blood drifting in the air. The shifters were quiet in the SUV. No one speaking, all too aware of what the heavy smell meant.

Death.

“Drive f**king faster,” he snarled as his hands clamped around the console. His claws burst out and ripped through the leather. A trick. They’d gone after the coyotes, found nothing but a slaughter, and someone had gone to his house while it was undefended.

My fault. Should have left more men.

But he’d thought he was eliminating the threat against Sarah.

Should have f**king known better.

The fury had just been riding him too hard.

Clawmarks on pale white skin.

Sarah.

The SUV’s motor growled with him, a long, horrible snarl as it raced forward. If Sarah had been hurt . . .

He saw the broken window first, because his eyes went instantly to her room. Saw the broken window, the jagged glass—then his eyes fell below as he sprang from the vehicle.

Nothing.

A stain of blood. No bodies.

“Coyote,” Piers muttered, sniffing. “Fucking everywhere.”

He knew that, he also knew . . . “Jordan.” He’d never forget the scent of his brother’s blood. For months, he’d only had that scent to track as he fought to rescue Jordan from the vamp bastards who’d taken him, the bastards who’d planned to use his brother as food for a Born Master, a damn all-powerful vampire ass**le.

But even all-powerful vamps can burn.

So where the hell was his brother? And where was Sarah?

The windows on the first floor had also been shattered, the glass knocked inward, not outward, and the alarm blared constantly, a shrill buzz that drove him insane as he raced toward the house.

“Get the hell back!” Sarah’s scream. Fear and fury burned in her voice.

He ran faster, shoving open the door and hurrying into the den—

Three bleeding coyotes circled Sarah. She had a bloody chunk of glass in her hand and she had that weapon up, ready to strike again, but then all three coyotes lunged at her, attacking at once.

Hell, no.

Lucas roared and jumped forward. His claws buried into the side of one coyote as he ripped the bastard back. Sarah swiped out at another, cutting deep and hard near his eye. The third bastard drove into her, slamming her back against the wall.

Lucas grabbed him, held tight when the coyote snapped back his head and bit him. Bastard. He’d shift and take the ass**le out, he’d—

A gunshot thundered.

One. Two. Three.

The coyotes fell to the floor. The fur began to melt from their bodies.

Sarah’s gaze widened as she looked first at the fallen men, then at—

Lucas spun around, putting his body in front of hers.

Jordan.

His brother stood in the doorway, naked, blood covering his body, his hand still aiming the gun he held. Piers and Caleb crowded in behind him, their faces tense.

“Couldn’t . . . shift . . . went to help her . . .” Jordan’s eyes narrowed on the coyote shifters. “Took . . . longer than I—”

Caleb grabbed him under the arms when Jordan started to slip. Piers snatched the gun away.

His brother was a damn fine shot, but then, Lucas had taught him to be. Lucas’s gaze dropped to the shifters. One head shot, one heart shot . . . and one lucky-ass survivor who was groaning and twitching as the blood pumped out of his chest.

“Piers, get this bastard contained!” He grabbed Sarah’s hand and pulled her forward. So much blood. “Jordan?”

His brother’s eyes lifted. “Need to . . . shift . . .”

Because shifting sped up their healing process.

“He went through the window,” Sarah whispered. “He took out Hayden—they both crashed through and hit the ground.”

Hayden. That coyote bastard had been there?

“Hell, boy, you’re playin’ hard these days,” Caleb muttered. “Just like your brother.”

Piers brushed by them, going for the surviving coyote.

“I thought—I thought Jordan was dead,” Sarah said softly.

Lucas reached for his brother. Jordan’s body was jerking, twisting, but the shift wasn’t coming. Too weak. “He may be,” he growled and the fury ate his heart. “Fucking shift, Jordan.”

But Jordan’s eyes didn’t glow. His face stayed human. “C-can’t . . .”

He grabbed his brother’s hand. Held tight. The past flashed before him. Another blood-soaked day. Another shifter who couldn’t change.

His father had died the same way. Was he just supposed to sit and watch Jordan slip away, too?