Free Blood Bond by Heather Hildenbrand Page A

blood heated. Adrenaline pumped through
me. My breath came faster, shorter. My fingertips and toes tingled.
I imagined them stretching, reshaping into something else. My mind
formed the image, almost as if it was instructing my body:
paws.
    I squeezed my eyes shut. No. I was not going
there.
    A yelp, loud and sharp, startled me. The
burning eased. The tingling receded. I caught a glimpse of vanilla
fur being shoved to the ground and then a russet wolf waded in,
snapping its teeth, catching a yellow-eyed wolf in its jaws.
    I focused on the two in front of me. They
were closer. I could smell their breath. They exchanged a look,
full of confidence and the intent to kill. Then they leaped.
    I managed to get one in the stomach with my
branch but had to pull it free and leap aside to avoid the second.
They were already on me again when I turned. I shoved the branch
out for another flesh wound before retreating safely away from
their teeth.
    They came again.
    I lost track of the
minutes, completely engrossed in the fight and glad the threat of
shifting had passed. I was me: a Hunter, a human. But I needed an
advantage, some sort of foothold. These things didn’t get tired, they just
drooled more profusely. They didn’t even seem winded yet, and still
they came. I spun and twisted to stay away from their open mouths.
I grunted with the effort of another stab, knowing it was only a
flesh wound.
    Movement caught my eye, and I jumped toward
it, branch raised.
    “Whoa, whoa, it’s me.” The familiar tone
took a moment to register. I looked into the wolf’s eyes and saw
they were deep brown instead of yellow.
    “Derek,” I said, chest heaving.
    I’d barely spoken when my twin killers
lunged again. I stretched and twisted away. I didn’t bother
bringing the branch up. It wouldn’t have done any good for all the
distance I had to keep. But then one of the wolves froze in midair
and was yanked suddenly back. It yelped and went down.
    Derek’s teeth released their hold on the
wolf’s back leg and found new purchase around its throat.
    One down.
    With my attention on the one still coming, I
repositioned my body, suddenly grateful for Professor Flaherty and
her unceasing instruction in defensive maneuvers. I brought the
branch up, keeping my body clear of the teeth aimed at my rib cage.
In a move I never could’ve done without Wood Point, I rolled the
defensive block right into an offensive swing. My left-handed hook
collided with the wolf’s face just as the branch in my right hand
pierced flesh. I leaned into it, shoving harder as the wolf fell
away from me toward the ground. The branch slid easily for several
inches and then met resistance. I pushed once more and then
stopped. The wolf rolled its head side to side in silent agony
before letting loose in a howl-turned-wail.
    The sound of it echoed through the
trees.
    The wolf writhed only a moment more.
    I pulled the branch free and straightened,
ready to move toward Derek in case he needed my help. His prey sat
at his feet, unmoving.
    “Not bad, Godfrey,” he said.
    I shrugged, trying to pretend I wasn’t
affected by his praise.
    A snarl sounded from behind us, where we’d
left the rest of the group. Derek jumped up and took off at a
run.
    The sight of his furry form springing
through the underbrush stirred something within. From here, I could
see flashes of fur, gnashing teeth, action. Heat and adrenaline
coursed through me. I doubled over, my vision blurring again.
    “Tara?” I looked up at the sound of Wes’s
voice. He’d broken away from the fighting and stood only a few
yards away, his head cocked to one side. I met his eyes and then
quickly looked away. I had no doubt what he’d see. He could
probably smell it on me. I could smell it on me. “It’s happening,
isn’t it?” he said in a low voice.
    “I’ve got it,” I said between gasps. Even
with the lack of oxygen, it was all I could do to keep from
dropping my branch and rushing forward into the