“Silence!” Deron yelled above them. The noise reluctantly died down. “Explain yourself, Gabriel.”
“I found d’female held down by the three members. Her legs were spread, and Cruz knelt between dem, his cock hard and ready. They were going to rape her.”
Cruz spoke up from his right with a nasty growl, “She’s in heat. The pretty cunt begged for what I had to give her. She didn’t want you--”
“Enough, Cruz,” Deron said quietly, cutting Cruz off as effectively as if he’d slapped him. He turned his attention back to Gabriel. “The attack was only in the woman’s defense?”
Gabriel nodded, feeling his tension abate somewhat. Perhaps he would be given fair treatment. “She will attest to that fact if questioned.”
Deron studied him several minutes before finally nodding. “This satisfies.”
The crowd rumbled, but Deron cut them off with a fierce frown. “Do any here challenge my decision?”
No one spoke. “Very well then, my decision on the attack stands. Now, Gabriel, what have you to say to the second charge of taking the female without consent?”
Gabriel met his gaze steadily. “I am guilty. But I will no’ allow her to be taken from me. I issue a challenge here and now, to be settled tonight.” Gabriel straightened his fingers. Claws sprang from his fingertips like ivory knives, dull in the moonlight. “I will fight anyone here who thinks t’claim what is mine,” he said, his accent fading with deadly soft menace.
“In his form, the challenge stands. No shifting. Let it begin,” Deron announced and stepped back from the clearing to watch the games.
No challenge such as this had been issued in decades. The pack rumbled with excitement, the air charged with anticipation.
Gabriel stripped his jeans off and flung them away, out of the clearing lest they trip him in the heat of battle. He waited for the first challenger, his beast rolling inside with expectation of tasting blood this night.
He gave in to it, the swelling power, the quickening of his blood. It roared in his ears like a tempest. Strength bled into his pores, stretched through his every fiber in preparation for the fight. Some called the change the madness, for it was like that, animal instinct blotting out the human half’s rational mind. Even partial shifting was dangerous. He felt it now, felt the call of the moon and the wolf inside burning to be unleashed.
His senses heightened ... smell, sight, hearing. The soft sound of crushed grass drew his attention to the right. He shifted his gaze and watched as the bodies of his brethren parted.
From the shadows, Nardo stepped out. He looked bigger without his clothes, obscenely muscled. Naked as Gabriel, he rolled his neck and shoulders, stretching in a confident move as he strode cockily to the center of the ring.
Gabriel crouched slightly, centering his body as he tensed and awaited Nardo’s attack. Nardo grinned, releasing his claws as he feinted at Gabriel, circling and feinting, circling and feinting.
Gabriel’s nerves tightened, winding taut with each false move. He bided his time, preserving his strength for a long night, keeping wary. He knew Nardo’s style, knew Nardo relied more on brute strength than skill. Even his size hindered him somewhat, though Lycan grace had saved him before.
In a predictable move, Nardo suddenly turned a feint into a full blown lunge. Gabriel caught Nardo as he hurtled toward him, stepping into the move with a sweeping kick that took Nardo’s feet out from under him and sent him crashing into the ground.
The ground ruptured under Nardo’s immense weight, grass and dirt flying out from beneath him. Gabriel was on him before the chunks settled. He straddled his chest, pinning his arms with his knees. He bent low and pierced Nardo’s throat with the barest tip of his middle claw. A drop of blood trickled down Nardo’s neck, pooling in his clavicle.
“I won’ regret killin’ you, mon ami. Do you yield?” Gabriel whispered with a deadly voice.
Nardo’s chest heaved with his breathing, and he tapped the ground with his right hand. Slowly, remaining wary, Gabriel moved off him and helped him to his feet.
Nardo shook the dirt from himself and strode angrily away without a word. Gabriel had humiliated him for taking him out so quickly.
No sooner had Nardo left the clearing then the three youths came on to the field.
Their hatred at being beaten on all fronts was palpable, evident in the tension of their bodies and the black looks they gave him.
Gabriel cast a questioning look at Deron. Deron nodded, giving the go ahead.
They surrounded him, claws extended, moving their hands constantly in a blur of motion to distract him. Their claws cut the air with the sound of wood ripping on a saw. Whipping the air with their own currents, they closed in, blocking him on all sides. Cruz stayed out of reach, the general commanding his troops as John and Michael converged on his flanks in a coinciding rush.
Gabriel ducked beneath their swinging arms, felt the sprinkle of slashed hair fall in tickling strokes onto his back. Air rushed by his head. Talons dug into his exposed back as he twisted.
Fire lanced down his spine. Sweat broke on his skin in an instant wave, salt driving into the wound. Gabriel roared, moving into the roll, continuing on his path. He came up under John, the claws still embedded in his back, deeper. Gabriel’s teeth clenched against the pain, and he drove his hands up, up into the exposed length of John’s belly. John’s face froze, his arms flew back, freeing Gabriel. He tried to catch himself, failed, fell back onto the ground, coughing up blood as he landed. The blood was black in the night, like thick oil, coating everything.
Gabriel had no time for regret, no time for thought beyond that of survival. He turned toward Michael, caught him standing and looking down at John in stunned immobility. A strangled snarl came from Gabriel’s left, capturing his attention. He turned, ducking.
Cruz lunged. His feet left the ground as he leapt over John, driving for Gabriel’s throat. Michael came back to life, took him suddenly from behind, trapped his arms so he couldn’t move.
He was a fool. A god damned fool for not moving quicker, for ignoring Michael in favor of Cruz. Fingers dug into Gabriel’s biceps. Nails sliced his skin, deeply. His body healed itself, but not fast enough to prevent the flow of blood from escaping.
Cruz smiled in triumph, twisted and raised his hands as though going to bat, moving into a death strike.
Gabriel saw it in his eyes, saw that he meant to kill him, that there would be no mercy, no yielding in this game. He would have to kill the stubborn bastard, maybe the others too. He relaxed his weight, heard Michael grunt in surprise right before his grip failed. Gabriel slipped from his hands, dropping to the ground, his flesh in ribbons from the razor-like claws. He landed just as Cruz swung. Claws whistled through the air, unable to stop, unable to do anything but slash above his intended victim.
Above, blood poured like heavy rain, saturating everything in its path down to the ground. Michael groaned, stumbling back, clutching his chest.
Heart pounding with the fury of his beast, Gabriel flattened between Michael’s legs, driving razor tipped fingers up the thick meat of his thighs even as he kicked out and knocked Cruz’s feet out from under him.
They each landed with a crash, bodies tangling in one heap of dirt and blood and torn flesh.
Gabriel could think of nothing but Cruz kneeling between Jessica’s thighs, ready to impale her, beat her, even kill her. It built his fury, drove it to a fever pitch that blinded him to anything but the need for blood on his hands.
Gabriel gained his feet just as Cruz freed himself and faced him. They looked at each other a bare moment, hatred emanating from each.
They circled each other, panting heavily. Michael and John had crawled away, freeing the clearing of everything but the slickness of their blood on the ground.
Gabriel jabbed, puncturing Cruz’s side, his arm, always darting back out of reach before Cruz could connect. His legs and arms ached, his back was on fire, trying to repair the damage. He felt his wounds cease to bleed, felt the flesh knit and heal itself, but it left his skin hot and feverish. Sweat and dirt and blood coated him.
Mosquitoes feasted on his blood, but Gabriel could think of nothing but taking Cruz down. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would keep that bastard from touching Jessica again. She could not go through that again. He wouldn’t allow it.
It sent his blood to pounding, his head swimming hotly. He stumbled on the muddied ground.
Cruz snickered, growing in confidence.
