Read Online Huntbound (Moonfate Serial Book 2) by Sylvia Frost - Free Book Online
Authors: Sylvia Frost
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field, following the deep skid marks left by the van. I have to do something. I won’t let people suffer because of me anymore. Orion is circling the coyote now, but still the other werebeast doesn’t seem all that concerned.
I squint toward the van. None of its doors move. If Lawrence is in there he’s either tied up or not conscious.
Orion lunges for the coyote, his jaws snapping toward its neck. It barely dodges in time.
Soon I’m close enough that I notice there’s nothing moving beyond the van’s dark windows. The smoke thickens from gray to black, obscuring the interior.
“Lawrence,” I yell-whisper. “Are you th—” My voice catches on the last syllable and I cough again. There’s still too much smoke out here.
I swallow, squeeze the handle of the gun one more time, and start to open the door. It’s heavy, one of those sliding doors, so I have to really put my full weight into it.
Orion howls, and instinctively I turn toward the sound. It’s a vicious, high cry. Is he okay? But no, I realize, as I stare at Orion’s wolf form. He wasn’t howling in pain, but in anger. The werecoyote had stopped teasing him, but it hadn’t decided to fight. Instead, it’s prancing right toward me.
Oh, fuck.
Orion’s following close behind, gaining enough speed that he should be able to catch him, but only if I run away from the van and lose my position, sacrificing Lawrence in the process. I can’t do that. And I can’t risk the coyote following me in, either. I have only one choice.
I pull out my gun.
I’m not a good shot. I’m not any kind of a shot. I’ve never fired it before. And Orion’s almost right up on the coyote now, barking rabidly.
Orion wants me to run. I know it. But I can’t. My finger trembles on the trigger and the butt of the gun wavers. Oh, fuck, I’m going to do this.
“I’m so sorry, Orion.”
Then I fire.
The discharge happens in a second, and whatever kickback I was expecting is nothing compared to the sound. It rips through my eardrums, making me almost drop the gun in shock.
I know immediately that I’ve missed the coyote. It emerges from the haze, tongue lolling out, white teeth glinting. I should go into the car now, but I have to see. Did I hit Orion? God, please let me not have hit Orion. Oh my God. I’m just as bad as them. Worse.
The coyote’s only a few feet away now, close enough that I can see the red bloodshot lines in its eyes.
Then, out of the same smoke, Orion emerges. His eyes blaze with blue fury, but he’s not looking at the coyote.
He’s glaring at me.
He’s alive. Thank God. Relief gushes through me for a moment, making me forget everything else and weakening my knees so much that I have to lean on the van so as not to collapse.
The coyote yips.
Shit.
I yank open the door just as Orion leaps toward the coyote. As I hurtle into the darkness of the van, my knee hits a couple of shards of broken glass. Adrenalin crowds out the pain, and I barely have time to shove the door closed before the body of the coyote is slamming up against it in a single dull thud.
I flick the lock shut. Once, then twice for emphasis. Thump. The werecoyote slams against the door of the van again. I wince. At least he can’t change yet. He has to be in some kind of form able to fend off Orion. Why didn’t I think of that earlier?
I dart back away from the door. Thankfully, because the van landed on its side in a slight gully, the other window is pressed up against grass and dirt.
Unthankfully, that means there’s glass everywhere. Already, I can feel the prickling pain from the broken shards on my palms. Shit.
Thump. I flinch. That was a much bigger sound. Could that have been Orion? Please let it not be Orion. He can’t die. No one else can die.
I close my eyes for a moment trying to even out my breathing, but it’s hard with the smoke. “Lawrence,” I
I squint toward the van. None of its doors move. If Lawrence is in there he’s either tied up or not conscious.
Orion lunges for the coyote, his jaws snapping toward its neck. It barely dodges in time.
Soon I’m close enough that I notice there’s nothing moving beyond the van’s dark windows. The smoke thickens from gray to black, obscuring the interior.
“Lawrence,” I yell-whisper. “Are you th—” My voice catches on the last syllable and I cough again. There’s still too much smoke out here.
I swallow, squeeze the handle of the gun one more time, and start to open the door. It’s heavy, one of those sliding doors, so I have to really put my full weight into it.
Orion howls, and instinctively I turn toward the sound. It’s a vicious, high cry. Is he okay? But no, I realize, as I stare at Orion’s wolf form. He wasn’t howling in pain, but in anger. The werecoyote had stopped teasing him, but it hadn’t decided to fight. Instead, it’s prancing right toward me.
Oh, fuck.
Orion’s following close behind, gaining enough speed that he should be able to catch him, but only if I run away from the van and lose my position, sacrificing Lawrence in the process. I can’t do that. And I can’t risk the coyote following me in, either. I have only one choice.
I pull out my gun.
I’m not a good shot. I’m not any kind of a shot. I’ve never fired it before. And Orion’s almost right up on the coyote now, barking rabidly.
Orion wants me to run. I know it. But I can’t. My finger trembles on the trigger and the butt of the gun wavers. Oh, fuck, I’m going to do this.
“I’m so sorry, Orion.”
Then I fire.
The discharge happens in a second, and whatever kickback I was expecting is nothing compared to the sound. It rips through my eardrums, making me almost drop the gun in shock.
I know immediately that I’ve missed the coyote. It emerges from the haze, tongue lolling out, white teeth glinting. I should go into the car now, but I have to see. Did I hit Orion? God, please let me not have hit Orion. Oh my God. I’m just as bad as them. Worse.
The coyote’s only a few feet away now, close enough that I can see the red bloodshot lines in its eyes.
Then, out of the same smoke, Orion emerges. His eyes blaze with blue fury, but he’s not looking at the coyote.
He’s glaring at me.
He’s alive. Thank God. Relief gushes through me for a moment, making me forget everything else and weakening my knees so much that I have to lean on the van so as not to collapse.
The coyote yips.
Shit.
I yank open the door just as Orion leaps toward the coyote. As I hurtle into the darkness of the van, my knee hits a couple of shards of broken glass. Adrenalin crowds out the pain, and I barely have time to shove the door closed before the body of the coyote is slamming up against it in a single dull thud.
I flick the lock shut. Once, then twice for emphasis. Thump. The werecoyote slams against the door of the van again. I wince. At least he can’t change yet. He has to be in some kind of form able to fend off Orion. Why didn’t I think of that earlier?
I dart back away from the door. Thankfully, because the van landed on its side in a slight gully, the other window is pressed up against grass and dirt.
Unthankfully, that means there’s glass everywhere. Already, I can feel the prickling pain from the broken shards on my palms. Shit.
Thump. I flinch. That was a much bigger sound. Could that have been Orion? Please let it not be Orion. He can’t die. No one else can die.
I close my eyes for a moment trying to even out my breathing, but it’s hard with the smoke. “Lawrence,” I
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