Twisted

“You’re on the Bane’s Council.” The council of three wolf-shifters scoured the earth to take down werewolves, which were crazy beasts without brains. They lived to kill.

“You hunt werewolves.”

“I hunt. Whatever needs to be hunted.”

His tone shot adrenaline through her veins. He had hunted her? But then they’d become close—and he hadn’t bothered to mention it the last ten years, while she’d been trying to regain her memories? Her heels dug into the thick carpet in case she needed to jump for safety. Reality smacked her in the face. Even though she’d trained with vampires for a decade, no way could she outmaneuver the wolf. She couldn’t take him down without a weapon. “I—”

Glass shattered.

She leaped up, only to have Terrent slam her into the carpet.

Panic filled her yelp. Her shoulders hit first, followed by her legs. Air whooshed from her lungs. He stretched out atop her. She shoved against his chest, and he settled his weight, pinning her. Then he tucked her head into his neck.

The world exploded.

She cried out, clutching his shirt. Her mind fuzzed. Nau-sea swirled into her gut.

Strong arms grabbed her shoulders, hauling her up and through a haze-filled room. She stumbled, her brain mis-firing, tears blurring her vision. Bending at the waist, she allowed him to half-carry and half-drag her into the adjacent dining room. He kicked the door shut behind them.

Men’s shouts filled the afternoon.

Terrent shoved her into a hard-backed chair, pivoted, and yanked a solid-oak china hutch to the floor. The glass doors flipped open, and china spilled out, shattering into pieces.

But it blocked the door.

Someone pounded against the heavy wood. Crystal flew out of the downed hutch.

Terrent growled, whirling toward her. “Are you all right, lass?”

Her head jerked up. That brogue. She heard that brogue in her dreams. “No. You?”

“Yes.” Blood flowed from a cut under his right eye, and he wiped it away with a sweep of his arm.

Dots flashed across her vision. Tingles rippled up her spine. A roaring filled her ears. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. Bile crawled up her throat.

He shoved her head between her knees, rubbing from her neck to her tailbone. “Deep breaths, little wolf. Deep breaths.”

She breathed in and out just like the vampires had taught her. Good air in, bad air out. Several times. Finally, she relaxed and glanced up. “Sorry.”

“Still having the panic attacks, huh?” Terrent dropped to his haunches to meet her gaze.

“Yes.” She swallowed. “Not as often, however.”

“That’s good.” His smile somehow warmed her. “You okay now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Standing, he tugged her from the chair to stand behind him.

The scent of male tickled her senses. Her knees trembled.

She shook her head. “What’s going on?”

He settled his stance. “Flash grenade. Bastards.” He rubbed his chin, gaze on the gauze-covered windows. “They’ll be coming in that way.”

“Who?”

A roar filled the day.

Chills rippled down her spine. “What the hell was that?”

Terrent turned back toward the china hutch, his head cocked and listening. Loud thumps and cries of pain echoed from beyond the door.

“Damn it.” Terrent huffed out a breath and reached for the hutch, lifting it with one hand to shove it out of the way.

“Stay behind me.”

Not a problem. No way did she want to meet whatever had made that sound.

Terrent yanked open the door, angling his body to strike.

Smoke filtered in.

Outside, vampire Jase Kayrs fought back three men who moved too quickly and fought too well to be human. But they didn’t smell like shifters, vampires, or demons. How was it they didn’t smell?

Maggie tilted her head. As a wolf-shifter, she had excellent senses. She should smell them.

Terrent rushed toward the fight.

The scent of wolf suddenly became overpowering. What in the world? Had the panic attack somehow short-circuited her nose?

Jase hissed, pivoting to throw one man against the fireplace. Terrent growled low and tackled one of the men away from his friend. He moved so fast the air popped. They crashed into an antique coffee table, smashing it into pieces.

Terrent punched the man several times in the jaw. The guy’s head battered against the floor, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Jase tossed the final interloper back through the gaping window.

Flipping to his feet, Terrent surveyed the hazy room. Slowly, his muscled back relaxed. A low whistle escaped him even as he angled toward her, partially shielding her.

Maggie rolled her shoulders and rested a shaking palm against her churning stomach.

Jase Kayrs clenched his fists in the center of the room, fangs down, blood coating his hands. His eyes swirled a wild, metallic, vampire green.

Maggie stilled. Poor Jase had made that crazy roar. She crept toward him.

Terrent grabbed her, tugging her to the side. “No. Stay here.”

Jase took a deep breath, and his fangs retracted. His eyes returned to their normal copper color. “We had visitors.”

“Apparently.” Terrent focused on the unconscious man by the fireplace. “He’s still breathing.”

Jase rolled his shoulder, loudly popping it back into alignment. “I’m damaged, not destroyed. No way would I kill him . . . before we could question him.”

Maggie hustled toward Jase and touched his arm. “You’re neither damaged nor destroyed.”

His smile didn’t come close to reaching his stunning eyes. The vampire was over three centuries old, but he looked about twenty-five. Until you looked into his eyes.

They showed the torment he’d faced while being held captive and tortured by demons. “Thank you, Mags.” He prodded an unconscious wolf with his boot. “Are they after Maggie, Terrent?” Jase’s voice dropped to a tone filled with warning.

“I just arrived in Washington State.” Maggie eyed the demolished room. Overturned furniture, scraped wallpaper, and broken lamps littered the floor. “No wolves could be after me.”

“Right.” Jase glanced at Terrent. “You okay?”

Terrent nodded. “Fine.” He frowned down at his now tat-tered shirt. “Though I ruined my one good shirt.”

Maggie started. “That’s your good shirt?”

His eyebrows lifted. “Yes. It was rip-free.”

Maybe he had made an effort before seeing her. Sad, kind-of-pathetic-in-a- male-way effort . . . but an effort none-theless. She smiled at him.

Confusion blanketed his features. Then he turned back toward Jase. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Jase muttered. “Who attacked us?”

Terrent scratched his chin. “I don’t recognize any of them, but they’re definitely wolves.”

Awareness hummed through Maggie’s veins. “How could they be wolves? At first, I was unable to smell them. Then all of a sudden, their scents filled the room.”