Free Savage by Nancy Holder Page A

secret,” Katelyn pressed.
    “What secret?” the woman asked. The gun barrel wobbled slightly more.
    “I can’t be killed by bullets.” Katelyn let herself fall, straight down, sliding through the woman’s grasp. She threw herself back, slamming into the woman’s knees and the woman tumbled with a gasp. The gun discharged harmlessly in the air, then hit the ground and Katelyn kicked at it, sending it skidding away. Miraculously her own gun was still clamped in her hand. She twisted around and pointed it at the woman’s head, but something was wrong. She was having a hard time holding it, as if her fingers were too short. She tried to wrap her index finger around the trigger but it was also thickening.
    She brought her other hand up to keep hold of the gun when she got a good look at it — it was turning into a paw tipped with razor-sharp claws.
    The woman was terrified. “You-you shouldn’t be able to change!”
    Katelyn opened her mouth to say that there were a lot of things she shouldn’t be able to do, but all that came out was a hideous growl.
    The gun fell from Katelyn’s fingers. Her bones snapped, reformed. Before her eyes the older woman began to shift in response.
    With a roar Katelyn leaped on top of her, trying to keep her pinned to the ground. Pain seared through her body and instead of screams, howls tore loose.
    She was changing, all the way this time. She waited for the inevitable, where her humanity slipped away from her and only the wolf was left.
    Save your life , she told herself as the pressure in her head mounted and her thoughts squeezed together into a tighter and tighter ball. Survive .
    And then . . . the squeezing stopped . . . and she was still herself. Or rather, she was still aware of her human self, even as the wolf switched into high gear. She exulted, alive, vibrant, stronger than ever before.
    It felt like . . .
    . . . freedom.
    She stared in fascinated horror as the other woman finished her own change. Katelyn snapped at her, teeth grazing her cheek. It was a warning: stay down .
    But the other wolf wasn’t heeding it. Instead, she wriggled below Katelyn and champed her fangs down on Katelyn’s left front paw.
    The yip of pain was ripped from Katelyn’s lungs even as hatred surged through her.
    Must kill.
    The other wolf kicked out with its back legs, catching her in the stomach and lifting her up and off. She contorted in midair and landed on her feet, snarling, even as the older wolf struggled to her feet.
    They circled each other, snapping, feinting, looking for an opening.
    The throat could be torn out and that would be a kill, Katelyn knew, understood on a deep level. The same was true with the soft belly.
    Brown eyes glared at her. Brown. Not the wolf who had bitten her.
    The attacker lunged forward and Katelyn leaped to the side, spinning and slashing at the other wolf’s flanks as it overshot her. The smell of blood filled the air and it stirred a hunger deep inside. Time to kill. Time to eat.
    Her foe yelped, a cry of injury, and more, of fear. Yes. It was afraid. It reeked of it. Katelyn would teach it to fear. She would make it sorry it had ever set eyes on her.
    The other wolf attacked again and Katelyn vaulted over her, but then tucked her head and bit into the other wolf’s back, fangs puncturing skin and cracking bone.
    More blood, more yelping, as Katelyn landed safely on the other side. She turned and looked back at the other wolf, daring her to take it one step farther, daring her to attack again.
    And Katelyn’s challenger stood, whining, uncertain.
    Its mistake.
    Katelyn leaped forward. She was going to rip out her enemy’s throat. She could do it, she had closed on her, and the stupid wolf was holding her head too high, leaving her throat exposed.
    She was foolish and she would die.
    No!
    Katelyn turned her head at the last and sunk her fangs into the other wolf’s shoulder, slicing through muscles and tendons. Katelyn shook her head hard