Star Blessed

Wounded

RAFF

All clear. Raff sent the message across the bond he shared with Lincoln. Shaking the blood from his claws, he stepped over the ripped body of a Starless wolf who'd refused to surrender. He'd been prepared to be met with fierce resistance, the remaining members of the pack were zealots, but he hadn't expected to feel every death so deeply. Like he was killing one of his own.

A snarl slipped past his lips. Mac would pay dearly for this. He would make sure the rebel Alpha experienced the pain of every single death before his own was delivered. A glass door to his left shattered, the thud of a black wolf joining the tinkling shards hitting the ground. The animal whimpered, his lifeblood spreading through the debris. Nichols.

Through the broken pieces of door, Raff spied the victor- a large gray wolf, blood smeared across his snout. His black eyes widened and fear mingled with the blood. The Starless pack wolf recognized the man before him and had to know his end was nigh. But bloodlust and hatred poisoned their minds.

The Orion pack Alpha charged, shifting into his beast form at the last second. His sharp teeth sank into the throat of the surprised wolf and blood burst onto his tongue before trickling down his throat. The taste was rancid, but Raff held tight, snapping the other man's neck with a sharp jerk and twist of his own head.

Letting his victim drop, Raff returned to his human form. He much preferred searching every room as a man. He needed the clarity of mind his human half afforded him. As a wolf, he was constantly at war with the animal's need to rush on and find more prey. On four legs, he didn't care to search for evidence- he wanted to fight.

Bare feet crunching on glass, he crouched beside Nichols. The man was alive, his breathing deep enough that Raff was not worried. Within a few moments, he'd be conscious and able to join the fight again. The wounds responsible for the pool of blood had knitted themselves closed.

Torn between moving forwards and making sure the enemy didn't stumble upon his packmate while he was vulnerable, Raff chose to examine the room Nichols had been tossed from. He'd be close enough to help if the need arose, but at least he'd be doing something worthwhile with his time.

The space was large, which was necessary given the owner's taste in oversized, dark furniture. The fragrance of stale cigars and unwashed bodies permeated the room, making Raff wish his nose was less sensitive- if for just a minute. How a werewolf could live with such odors was beyond him, but as he inspected the papers on the desk, he realized whose office he'd stumbled across.

I'm in Mac's office, but he isn't here. Any sign of him?

Lincoln didn't respond immediately, but when he did, he sounded hurried. No, not a single sign. Damn these bastards are everywhere. How did we not know that their numbers had grown so much?

They've been reproducing for years, while we haven't.

The thought weighed heavy on him. All the lives lost to feed one man's twisted dreams. If he'd stepped in sooner, perhaps he could've saved some of those women.

The click of nails on concrete alerted him to the werewolf before he saw him, but not soon enough to escape the snapping teeth. Pain seared across his chest where the wolf's claws burrowed into skin and muscle, and he fell to his back, his hands wrapping around his assailant's throat before he lost his nose.

Saliva splattered on his face as he wrestled with the beast, its hot breath, foul breath washing over him. Talons piercing his neck didn't slow his assault, but it gave Raff the leverage he needed to throw him off his body. He didn't have to look to know that the maneuver had been costly, the wolf's claws ripping him open upon removal.