Out foxed, p.19
Out Foxed, page 19
“Because,”—she bit her lip and squeezed him, but not in a manner that came off as rough—“I like being on top.”
He pulled away from her then, and she heard his laugh.
“Is that so, foxy? Well then, be my guest.”
She slowly circled around on all fours to face him, and noted that he was already lying on the ground, waiting for her.
The grin on his face told him all she needed to know.
‘He is just like all males,’ her fox cooed excitedly. ‘You know what to do now.’
And she did.
It felt wrong, in all the ways a thing could feel wrong, as she sauntered towards him. It was difficult to feign attraction for someone she knew wanted to hurt her, but if she had any hope of getting out of this relatively unscathed, she had to keep the act up a little longer.
“I’ve never been with a wolf before,” she admitted in a sultry voice.
It made her innards twist with disgust, having to act this way. It wasn’t her, and this wasn’t the recipient she would give such a performance to, either.
But again, she reminded herself this was how it had to play out if her fox’s brilliant plan was going to work.
“I told ya you’re going to like it,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her appreciatively. “Why don’t you take that top off? Let me see all of you, foxy.”
“Good things come to those who wait.”
Those words made her feel nauseous all over again, and it took everything in her to keep going.
She slid her hands up his thighs carefully; it made her skin crawl in the worst of ways, but as his eyes slid closed, she knew she had him right where she wanted him—needed him to be.
“Come on, foxy,” he growled, his eyes remaining shut. “Let’s get on with it.”
Her hips pressed down against his, and she had to envision Rane beneath her just to keep going.
This wasn’t her forte. She knew nothing about seduction, and was only beginning to learn.
I want to learn with Rane.
“Patience,” she said in a sing-song voice.
He groaned and rested a hand against her hip.
“Don’t need that much patience, girl. I know you’ve been with another before, and not long ago—I can smell it on ya.”
A nervous lump formed in her throat then, and she wiggled against him in an effort to keep him from talking.
It worked.
“Calic, foxy,”—he released a shuddered breath and lifted his hips to meet hers—“Yer gonna drive me mad.”
“I’m going to do many things to you,” she promised through clenched teeth.
It was now or never.
As he lay beneath her blissfully unaware, having allowed his sexual desire to cloud his better judgment, her claws extended at lightning fast speed.
In two swift movements, they found his eyes.
She’d never heard such noises before in her life, nor had she seen so much blood.
He shoved her off and began flopping about like a fish; his hands covered the gaping holes where his eyes had once been, and he howled in excruciating pain.
“You feckin’ bitch! My eyes!”
Putting a safe distance between herself and the wounded lycanthrope, she quickly whirled around to stare at the two women currently being held captive.
The blonde woman’s eyes were wide and wild, as if she were enjoying the show.
She made quick work of removing the cloth from around the woman’s mouth, and she sucked in a deep breath.
“Oh, thank Urseth!” She said, running her tongue over her chapped, dry lips. “That was a damn good show. You did good.”
“Well, it’s no telling how long it’ll last,” she said, glancing back at Phelan occasionally. “I’m sure his friends will be here soon.”
“Then we better work fast,” the woman replied. “Help her first,”—she nodded to the younger woman beside her—“She’ll be easiest to free. They haven’t put chains on her yet.”
With trembling hands, she began cutting through the rope that bound the girl’s wrists with her claws. Blood dripped from the tips of them, splashing against the girl’s legs.
“Sorry,” she said, tugging at the rope. “I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can.”
When her hands were free, the girl ripped the cloth away from her mouth and sucked in a deep breath.
“I want to go home,” she said in a timid voice. “Please take me home to my father.”
Henley froze for a moment, and gazed into the girl’s eyes.
How could anyone do such wicked, terrible things to such an innocent person?
“You have to hurry,” the blonde woman said in urgency. “Get her out of here and come back for me.”
“I c-can’t leave you here.”
“Yes, you can. And you will,” the woman spoke, staring at her sternly. “Get that girl out of here. Now.”
“But what about you? I can’t just leave you in here with...with that monster.”
“I’ll be all right. You can come back for me. Please,”—-she motioned to the cave entrance with a hard nod—“Just go!”
She didn’t want to leave her behind, not with him. But he definitely wasn’t going to be going anywhere anytime soon.
“Feckin’ bitches!” Phelan howled. “I’ll kill all of ya! Yer dead!”
She had no doubt he meant every word he said, but he was in no position to do anything to them at the moment.
It was the only moment they were going to have.
The girl stood when prompted, but her legs immediately gave out on her.
“I’ve got you,” she promised, wrapping an arm around her and lifting her back up. “What’s your name?”
“Awinita.” She glanced towards Phelan fearfully. “He’s going to kill us.”
“No, he’s not,” the blonde woman said angrily. “But you have to go now. Both of you.”
“You cannot stay here with him, Caroline,” Awinita half-sobbed. “He will kill you!”
“Then so be it,” Caroline said in a softer tone. “Get home to your father, Awinita. Tell him what’s happening here. Send word to my family for me, will you?”
“I...I will,” the young girl said. “But—”
“Just go. Please,” Caroline pleaded. “You’re running out of time.”
Awinita pulled away from her and bent down to wrap Caroline in an embrace, kissing her cheek as she cried.
“I will not forget what you have done for me,” she said softly, sniffling. “We will get you out of here, Caroline. By the promise of my god and yours, you will be free.”
Caroline smiled weakly, as if she didn’t believe a word of it.
“Go on, sweet girl. Hurry.” She met Henley’s gaze again and her smile became more genuine, though extremely sad. “Thank you.”
“I will be back for you,” she promised, her arm wrapping around Awinita once more. “My friends and I...we’ll get you out of here.”
With that, they turned and fled the cave.
Chapter Eighteen
No matter how prepared they thought they were for the fight ahead, he knew they could have never possibly been prepared for this.
No sooner than entering the werewolf camp, they were met by two of the lycanthropes, whose way of welcoming newcomers involved violence on a scale he’d never experienced.
Decker was already down for the count, clutching his side as blood seeped between his fingers.
Trace, worried for his mate, was somewhat distracted as he battled it out with the one who had attacked him.
“Decker! Talk to me!” He said through gnashing sharp fangs. “Are you okay?”
“I’m...fine.” Decker bit out the words, his own razor sharp teeth clashing together as he winced. “Just...a scratch.”
As much concern as he felt for Henley’s best friend, he was in a bit of a situation himself.
The taller lycanthrope had his eyes on him, presumably due to his size, and as they slowly moved around in a circle, claws at the ready, he was trying to determine the wolf’s next move.
“What a bunch o’ eejits you are for coming here,” the lycanthrope said with a low growl. “But I suppose I should thank ya for that, aye? Gives me something to do while me boss fecks his new toy.”
With those words, the werewolf who sounded as if he’d lost his Lucky Charms, made his way onto Rane’s shit list.
Rage coursed through him as his cat took over, and for the first time in a while, he didn’t fight for control.
The shift happened fast, and with a vengeance.
His bones cracked, fur grew, and whiskers sprouted as he released a piercing squall.
“Ah, so we’re going to play it that way, are we?” The werewolf cackled as his eyes began to glow. “Well, kitty cat, let’s do it, then.”
The massive wolf that appeared in the man’s place may have been intimidating to any number of shifters, but not to a panthrope.
He may have been bigger and definitely scarier-looking, but the lycanthrope had nothing on him when it came to speed and agility.
He used it to his advantage as he leapt at him, faster than a flash of lightning, and swiped a large paw across his muzzle. His claws dug in, spattering blood against the grass as he landed directly behind him.
The werewolf released a whine of pain and turned around to face him.
He chomped his teeth at him, low guttural growls releasing one after the other.
‘We’ve got him,’ his cat said excitedly. ‘Let’s terminate him!’
‘He’s all yours,’ he replied, hissing as his rounded ears twitched outwards. ‘Let’s show him what happens to ‘eejits’ who mess with our vixen.’
They collided, claws digging in where they landed, fangs piercing flesh, and growls sounding from both of them as one tried to take dominance over the other.
He growled as the wolf sank his fangs into his left shoulder, and he retaliated by biting his upper back.
With his jaws locked in place, he didn’t let go as the wolf flung him back and forth, attempting to throw him off.
‘We can’t let him win,’ he told his cat, his heart pounding. ‘We’ve got to get an advantage on him.’
‘I know what I am doing.’
The wolf chomped down again on his shoulder, and as the bones crushed beneath his powerful jaws, white-hot pain seared through his body.
‘Come on!’
Suddenly, the wolf yelped and released him.
As he hit the ground once more, he lifted his eyes to see a flash of orange atop the beast.
It was Decker, and he had ripped one of the lycanthrope’s ears clean off.
The wolf began pawing at him, snapping, trying to grab the fox, but Decker was faster than he’d anticipated.
He seen his window of opportunity then, and he quickly jumped back into the fight.
While the wolf was distracted with trying to get Decker off his back, he dived in and clamped his mouth against his throat.
A howl of distress sounded from the wolf then, and as he bit as hard as he could, listening to the flesh rip from the power of his bite, he knew this was but one small victory.
The wolf fell to the ground and stilled.
Decker hopped off its back and stared at him, blood glistening on his black nose.
‘Good job, Deck,’ he thought, giving a nod of approval.
As if he could actually hear what he was thinking, the fox perked his ears and bounced back and forth on his front paws—a celebratory dance.
He probably would have joined in with him, had he not heard the cry of anguish coming from his brother.
Immediately, he turned and zoned in on the lycanthrope, still in human form, pinning Trace to the ground.
The sun had rose just enough in the sky for its beam to reflect on the metal of a blade—a blade already dripping with blood.
He roared angrily and bounded towards them, claws at the ready.
‘No!’
As the man swung down with all his strength, Rane aimed for his jugular.
He released a cry of surprise; blood spurted from the fresh wounds, and the knife fell from his grasp.
It took mere seconds for the life to leave his body, and as he slumped upon the ground, silence befell them.
Quickly shifting, he fell to his knees beside Trace. He ignored his own pain; his brother was far more important.
He began examining the damage the wolf had done to the younger panthrope, and so far, it wasn’t looking good.
“He got me,” his brother said, strained. “He was a little quicker than me, Rane—I didn’t think he’d pull a freaking knife out.”
“Werewolves are dirty like that,” he said, his voice quivering.
His eyes landed on the dark liquid quickly soaking Trace’s shirt, just beneath his arm, and his heart stopped.
“You’re hurt pretty badly.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted weakly, giving him a smile. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Trace!”
Decker was by his side in an instant.
Though there was blood seeping from the claw marks on his side, the fox-shifter didn’t seem to be concerned for himself—not even a little bit.
He cradled Trace’s head in his hands, eyes glued to what they both knew to definitely be as bad as it looked.
“Shit...”
“I’m okay,” Trace insisted, struggling to sit up. “It’s just—ahh, shit.”
He fell back against the ground as his chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, and water began to leak from the corners of his eyes.
“It’s bad,” he finally admitted, fisting the grass. “Shit. It’s bad.”
He felt like he was going to vomit as he pulled his brother’s shirt up, trying carefully not to worsen his pain. He had to know what they were dealing with; he had to know...if he could heal.
“I need to you to focus on your breathing, Trace,” he instructed gently as the deep wound came into view. “Just keep breathing.”
His brother nodded, but the look in his eyes said even that was becoming difficult to do.
“I...had him.”
“I know, baby.” Decker wept as he held him, leaning down to press kisses against his forehead. “Stay with me, huh? Don’t fall asleep or anything.”
“Not sleepy,” Trace responded, his voice softer this time. “Just tired.”
‘He is dying,’ his cat whispered solemnly. ‘We cannot help him.’
‘Like hell I can’t.’
“Trace,”—he grabbed him without thinking about it, and lifted him off the ground—“We’re going to fix this.”
“What are we going to do?” Decker asked, panic in his voice evident. “What can be done, Rane?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll figure something out. I’m not letting him die.”
As he carried him towards the water, a familiar sight emerged from behind the waterfall.
It was his vixen.
She was running towards them, her arm around a slender girl—one of the dyadthropes. It must have been the one the old man told him about: his missing daughter.
“Rane!” She called out excitedly, a smile forming on her frightened face. “Rane!”
But that smile quickly disappeared when she saw Trace lying limp in his arms.
“Oh, no! What happened?” The girl was temporarily forgotten as she reached out and grabbed for one of his hands. “Trace? Can you hear me? Is he...?”
“Not yet,”—he shook his head and gazed at her desolately—“but if we don’t figure something out soon, he will be.”
“Trace, stay with me. Please, baby.”
Decker was a mess as he followed alongside him, his trembling fingers touching Trace’s face over and over again, as if his caress would somehow heal him.
“Come on. This isn’t the way it goes, remember? We’re taking that trip next spring, right? We’re going to visit the Niagara Falls.”
Rane gazed at Henley then, unsure of how this interaction would make her feel. But rather than anger, she stared at her best friend with sympathy.
“The Niagara Falls?” Her bottom lip quivered as she reached out to touch his arm lightly. “Oh, Deck...”
Trace’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and he gave the foxes a small smile.
“I guess this one will have to do, huh?” He asked, his voice barely audible. “It’s pretty, at least...”
Rane knelt with him then, and carefully lowered him against the mossy bankside.
“You’ll get to see the Niagara Falls,” he promised, forcing his own emotions aside. “You’re not dying today.”
Trace turned his head with much difficulty to peer up at him. His eyes were so dilated it was impossible to see the blue of his irises.
“He’s going into shock,” Decker stated worriedly. “What do we do now?”
His mind was humming—loudly. Between the rush of the waterfall, Decker’s panicked questions, and Henley’s mournful wails, it was all he could do to form a proper thought.
“Shock,” he mumbled to himself, trying to process what needed to be done. “If someone goes into shock you have to elevate the feet.”—He glanced up at Henley—“Grab his feet and lift them up.”
She did as he asked.
“What is that going to do?” Decker asked tearfully.
“It will send the blood where it needs to be, and he definitely needs all the blood he can get.”
“What’s next?” Henley asked, her wide, fearful eyes meeting his. “What can we do to help him?”
“I don’t know!” He exclaimed, instantly feeling bad for raising his voice at her. Sucking in a deep breath, he tried to calm down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I...”—he swallowed the painful lump in his throat as tears pricked his eyes—“I don’t want to lose him.”
Her expression softened in understanding.
“I know exactly what you mean,” she said, her eyes flittering to Decker.
He was far too busy holding onto his beloved cougar. He had his face buried against his hair, and his shoulders visibly shook as one heartbreaking sob after another escaped him.
“There has to be something we can do,” she said quietly, observing—and undoubtedly feeling—the pain her best friend was in.
For the first time in the longest time, he was out of ideas.
