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Authors: Marissa Farrar
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question was, where did that leave her?
BLAKE SHOOK HIS fur and bounded toward the action. Though the lioness was big, in wolf form, he dwarfed her. Several of the protestors saw him coming, their eyes widening in horror before they turned and ran. Those caught up in the bloodlust were too intent on hurting the female lion, and it wasn’t until he was upon them that they even noticed his presence. The iron tang of blood filled his nostrils, the scent of the human’s violence like a bitter flood down the back of his throat. In the distance, his sharp ears picked up the wail of sirens heading toward them. He was surprised the cops had taken this long to get here.
His teeth closed around the arm of the man who had initiated the violence, snapping him around so the man spun away and fell to the ground. Though he wanted to, Blake refused to kill any of these people. All he wanted was to get the lioness shifter away from danger. Using his brute strength, he pushed the other men and women away, snarling at them, snapping, causing more noise and threats than anything else.
Pain crashed through his hind quarters as someone brought the flat side of their placard down upon his lower back. He spun around snarling, and brought his paw down on the protestors sign, pinning it to the ground. The man holding the other end tried to tug it away, once, twice, his eyes wide and locked with Blake’s. Blake lifted his upper lip, revealing his huge canines. The man dropped the end of the post and took a couple of staggered steps backward, turned and ran.
The approaching sirens grew louder. The protesters dispersed, leaving the lioness bloodied on the road. She lifted her head and mewled in pain. Anger burst through him. What had she done to deserve this?
Unable to get the police cars through the gridlocked traffic, they’d had to pull up at the end of the street. He heard the combination of heavily booted feet smacking against the sidewalk, together with shouts to “Get back.”
He had to get the shifter out of there.
The owl took off into the air—an easy escape. People shaded their eyes to watch the bird go. Blake locked his jaws around the back of the lion’s neck, catching the scruff in his teeth and, hoping he wasn’t hurting her any more than he had to, dragged her away from the main street.
The crowds had fled at the sight of the huge wolf dragging the injured lion. No one made any attempt to follow them as he dragged the big cat into an alley and deposited her behind the side of some large dumpsters, big enough to hide most of their bodies from the view of anyone who might have passed by on the main street.
Her body shuddered, the fur rippling in a wave, dissolving into the skin as it did so.
She might know something about Chogan. He wanted to question her, if she was in any state to answer his questions, but he couldn’t do so in wolf form.
Following the woman’s lead, Blake concentrated and willed the wolf’s spirit from his body. He felt the disconnection like a change in pressure, lightening somehow. His consciousness split in two as once again he was aware of both his own senses and those of his spirit guide. Agonizing pain ripped through his body and he struggled to hold in the yell of anguish threatening to burst from his lungs, not wanting to attract any attention to their hiding place. His body changed shape, his hind legs becoming human once more so he was crouched on the ground. His muzzle shrank and flattened, his teeth rounding. Front paws elongated to fingers, thick fur vanished to reveal skin.
Blake rose to standing.
The woman beside him had also shifted back, and now crouched on the ground, her arms wrapped around her body to hide her nakedness. She was in her mid-thirties, with honey-colored curls and green eyes. But though she was both pretty and naked, that wasn’t what caught his attention. Her creamy skin was mottled in bruises, already turning a rainbow shade of blues, greens, and
BLAKE SHOOK HIS fur and bounded toward the action. Though the lioness was big, in wolf form, he dwarfed her. Several of the protestors saw him coming, their eyes widening in horror before they turned and ran. Those caught up in the bloodlust were too intent on hurting the female lion, and it wasn’t until he was upon them that they even noticed his presence. The iron tang of blood filled his nostrils, the scent of the human’s violence like a bitter flood down the back of his throat. In the distance, his sharp ears picked up the wail of sirens heading toward them. He was surprised the cops had taken this long to get here.
His teeth closed around the arm of the man who had initiated the violence, snapping him around so the man spun away and fell to the ground. Though he wanted to, Blake refused to kill any of these people. All he wanted was to get the lioness shifter away from danger. Using his brute strength, he pushed the other men and women away, snarling at them, snapping, causing more noise and threats than anything else.
Pain crashed through his hind quarters as someone brought the flat side of their placard down upon his lower back. He spun around snarling, and brought his paw down on the protestors sign, pinning it to the ground. The man holding the other end tried to tug it away, once, twice, his eyes wide and locked with Blake’s. Blake lifted his upper lip, revealing his huge canines. The man dropped the end of the post and took a couple of staggered steps backward, turned and ran.
The approaching sirens grew louder. The protesters dispersed, leaving the lioness bloodied on the road. She lifted her head and mewled in pain. Anger burst through him. What had she done to deserve this?
Unable to get the police cars through the gridlocked traffic, they’d had to pull up at the end of the street. He heard the combination of heavily booted feet smacking against the sidewalk, together with shouts to “Get back.”
He had to get the shifter out of there.
The owl took off into the air—an easy escape. People shaded their eyes to watch the bird go. Blake locked his jaws around the back of the lion’s neck, catching the scruff in his teeth and, hoping he wasn’t hurting her any more than he had to, dragged her away from the main street.
The crowds had fled at the sight of the huge wolf dragging the injured lion. No one made any attempt to follow them as he dragged the big cat into an alley and deposited her behind the side of some large dumpsters, big enough to hide most of their bodies from the view of anyone who might have passed by on the main street.
Her body shuddered, the fur rippling in a wave, dissolving into the skin as it did so.
She might know something about Chogan. He wanted to question her, if she was in any state to answer his questions, but he couldn’t do so in wolf form.
Following the woman’s lead, Blake concentrated and willed the wolf’s spirit from his body. He felt the disconnection like a change in pressure, lightening somehow. His consciousness split in two as once again he was aware of both his own senses and those of his spirit guide. Agonizing pain ripped through his body and he struggled to hold in the yell of anguish threatening to burst from his lungs, not wanting to attract any attention to their hiding place. His body changed shape, his hind legs becoming human once more so he was crouched on the ground. His muzzle shrank and flattened, his teeth rounding. Front paws elongated to fingers, thick fur vanished to reveal skin.
Blake rose to standing.
The woman beside him had also shifted back, and now crouched on the ground, her arms wrapped around her body to hide her nakedness. She was in her mid-thirties, with honey-colored curls and green eyes. But though she was both pretty and naked, that wasn’t what caught his attention. Her creamy skin was mottled in bruises, already turning a rainbow shade of blues, greens, and
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