Frustration made his fangs ache, and he grimaced. “I did what I could under the circumstances.” A bolt of green light sizzled through the dead male’s wing and whizzed past Verakko’s ear. The acrid scent of burnt feather, mixed with the pools of blood at their feet, invaded his nostrils. “What’s your plan, General?”
Kadion finished strapping the glove on and shot Verakko a lopsided, dimpled grin. “My plan is to shoot stuff.”
How elegant. Verakko rolled his eyes and readied to toss the winged male aside. “Just get them close, and I’ll do the rest.”
In a moment, the boyish grin on Kadion’s face vanished and was replaced by the hard, cold indifference the male was known for in battle. The swift and abrupt change in demeanor even had Verakko itching to scoot away.
Kadion crouched, and rivulets of blood ran down his upturned face from a nasty headwound. “We’re aiming to incapacitate, not kill, so keep those bites to yourself unless we’re about to die.”
“Understood.”
At Kadion’s quick nod, Verakko used all of his considerable strength to launch the Strigi corpse into the air, giving their attackers a moment of shock that would last long enough for the Yulo glove to do some damage.
These males were smarter than the others, however. They kept to the air rather than fighting on the ground, as their deceased counterparts had done. Verakko searched the area, seeking any means to attack or delay. If he could give the females enough time to escape by preventing any of these Strigi from getting to the control center inside the cabin, at least this night wouldn’t have been for nothing.
A furious growling hiss tore from his throat. There was nothing that could be used as a weapon and no way to reach the airborne assailants unless he climbed a tree and leapt. There were many reasons why that idea would never work, though. What he wouldn’t give for a shade spear right now.
The males dove away from each other suddenly. Verakko kept his gaze trained on the Strigi hovering above him. When the male opened fire, he vaulted into the shadow of a nearby copse of trees. He felt the slice of a Yulo beam tear through his hip and stifled a shout. He crawled across the dark ground, allowing his skin tone to deepen even more and camouflage him as it was designed to do.
The shots ceased, and he peered out into the clearing. To his horror, a third male, who’d been lurking in the woods, was now silently sneaking up behind Kadion, long blade in hand. Had he not joined the fight before because he didn’t have a Yulo glove?
The male gripped the handle, and rage roared through Verakko at the dishonorable position. The lingering venom in his fangs ached to be released. Chancing a quick glance above him, he saw the Strigi had sped toward Kadion, an attempt to distract him.
Verakko dashed toward the attacker at Kadion’s back, making sure to keep his footfalls light. Just as he came within a few feet, the large Strigi turned and clumsily jabbed with his sword before trying to sweep Verakko’s legs with his wing.
Verakko ducked and rolled, then sprung up and trapped the male’s left wing between his forearm and ribcage. He used his other hand to grip the thick but hollow bone that ran from his shoulder to the apex of his wing and wrenched it downward, cracking the bone in half.
The male screamed and swung his blade wildly in Verakko’s direction. He jumped out of reach and squared off with the Strigi. Verakko hissed a laugh between his teeth. “You can’t fly away now, can you?”
The Strigi male was larger than most and had the furious and slightly vacant glare of an overeager warrior. One who rushed into battle with little regard for honor or loyalty. Only looking to kill and prove themselves powerful. The male’s eyes flashed to Verakko’s side, where blood still poured from the open wound at his hip. If they didn’t win this fight soon and he kept exerting himself like this, he knew he’d succumb to blood loss. Verakko studied the male and let his limbs relax. He shifted his weight left to right in a fluid motion, drawing the male’s confused gaze. “Your wing is broken, but you could still get a lucky shot in if you rushed me right now.”
Verakko could see the sway take hold. The male’s eyes glossed and narrowed. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, as though he’d had a grand idea about how to dispose of Verakko.
The poor idiot had no idea what he was in for. Verakko clutched at his wound weakly to aid the sway, and as he expected, the male let out a loud howl and rushed toward him. When he was within a foot and confidence was etched into his features, Verakko dodged, grabbing the male’s sword arm as he went. Before the Strigi could right himself, Verakko had sunk his fangs into the flesh just below his elbow and released a few small drops of venom.
He stood back as the massive male shuddered and dropped to his knees, eyes wide with terror. Verakko crouched before him, put a single finger on his chest, and watched as he tipped and then sprawled on the ground. “You were going to stab him in the back like a coward. Now you’ll die like a coward.”
The male made a gurgling sound in his throat, and his eyes glossed over. Verakko clenched his jaw. Fuck. He deserved to die, but unlike some of his people, Verakko didn’t revel in the suffering his victims experienced.
A stray tear leaked from the male’s eye. His limbs shook as though he were trying with everything he had to lift them. Verakko couldn’t stand the sight anymore.
Leaning forward a fraction, he whispered, “Sleep
