Desert Heart (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 4) (16 page)

He shoved her—really shoved, and it hurt just to think he had to do that to her. But if he didn’t, she would die.

“Get to the car,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Lock yourself in.”

The beast growled and advanced one carefully measured step.

That’s right, you mangy mutt.
Rick weighed the two-by-four in his hands.
Come right this way.

The hellhound’s snarls hit a dangerously low pitch as it advanced, step by step.

“Rick, don’t!” Tina tried.

He shook his head. “Get to the—”

The rest was garbled, because the hound leaped, hurtling right at his throat, lightning fast.

Good thing he was faster. Rick swung that two-by-four with every muscle in his body, putting his hips into the rotation, plus his shoulders and elbows and everything else, and swung like he’d never swung before. There was a resounding crack and a surprised yelp as the wood connected and the beast crashed into the ground.

Rick had exactly one half-second to feel the triumph before the beast rolled and turned those twin fireballs on him.

You die.

Rick’s lungs tightened just a little bit, making his next breath shaky, but he stood his ground. Brought the two-by-four to his shoulder with a taunting little shake that would have rattled the most seasoned pitcher in the league.

The beast roared and jumped again.

He swung, and this time, the crack was louder.

The beast rolled and batted away the broken half of two-by-four that had splintered in Rick’s hands.

Shit.

Tina lunged to his side and started pulling him away. With an ear-splitting bellow, the beast sprung. Not at Rick. At Tina, as if the creature knew how to get him where it counted most.

Something roared in Rick’s ears—maybe even his own voice—as he dove and pushed her out of the way. He came to a slamming halt against a rock, and his vision blurred and split into two. He saw two Tinas, scrambling to her feet. Two hellhounds, baring a hell of lot of teeth. Four blazing eyes that promised a painful death. Red-stained muzzles still dripping Dale’s blood.

It leaped at him, and he threw an arm up in defense. The beast took the target in its jaws and clamped down.

Fireworks rocketed through his body in a flash of pain. One startlingly calm part of his brain calculated that the beast would rip that arm right out of its socket if he didn’t do something fast. It’d rip his arm off, then tear out his throat, then go for Tina.

Not happening,
he told himself. Just not happening.

A sliver of saliva dropped from the beast’s gums, searing his skin like acid. Telling him to give up and give in.

Never giving in.

With a mighty heave, he flipped the hound away and rolled free. Grabbed another piece of wood with his good hand, because the arm bitten by the hellhound hung limp and useless at his hip.

The hound’s jaws parted.
You see? I said you will die.

He growled right back. Yes, he’d die. But not before he knew Tina was safe.

“Get to the car!” he muttered to Tina, and damn it, he meant it this time.

He raised the wood, ready at bat, and smiled a crazy smile at the nails sticking out of the end. Yeah, that would hurt the mutt when it connected.

The hellhound showed its teeth and jumped. The weight of the beast sent Rick flying.

Everything melted together: the sights, the smells, the sounds. The patchy black fur of the beast, the glow of its eyes. The molten lava breath. The roar of the beast from two inches away. Tina’s shrill scream…

For an awful, piercing minute, he thought the beast had gotten to her, because her voice went from a scream to a grumble, then built back to a roar. It went from high-pitched and feminine to gritty and mean. But Tina had to be safe, because the hellhound was on top of him, not her, and he’d wrestle the thing straight into tomorrow if it meant she could get away.

Still, something was happening where Tina stood. But he didn’t dare glance her way, because the beast had his injured arm again. Rick worked his good arm up and clamped his fingers around the beast’s throat, watching with satisfaction as the animal’s eyes widened, registering the pain. He might die at the jaws of this beast, but a least he’d have the satisfaction of not backing down.

The hound’s claws raked his chest, drawing blood. A lot of blood—he could feel it seep into his shirt, all sticky and warm. The eyes glowed brighter, like the beast knew he was going to win, and the jaws closed in on his neck.

Inevitable,
the beast’s eyes said.
I said I would win.

Well, the fucker hadn’t won yet. Rick shoved with everything he had left, and the beast tumbled over his shoulder, leaving him to blink at the sky. The endless blue sky of Arizona, pale and shimmery and oh so beautiful, now that he was looking at it for the last time. He flopped his head right, hoping to see Tina jumping into the car, ready to make her escape. Surely, he’d bought her enough time. Surely, she’d get away. Or maybe her family would swoop in like the cavalry right about now, armed to the teeth with a dozen shotguns to blast the hellhound into a thousand tiny bits.

He looked at Tina, then let his eyes slide shut to refocus, because something was wrong. He was all mixed up, because he was seeing a coyote where Tina should have been. No, bigger than a coyote—a wolf. A trim, black-brown wolf.

Goddamn eyesight, playing tricks on him again.

He blinked, willing his eyes to work, but the wolf was still there. Where was Tina? He searched behind the wolf. No Tina. Rolled his head farther. Still no Tina. Maybe she was crouched in the car, out of sight. A good thing, too, because he was lying in the dirt, slowly dying in the no man’s land between two very angry beasts. The hellhound and its friend.

Except the newcomer wasn’t the hellhound’s buddy. Rick figured that out the second it started growling—not at him, but over his chest, toward the beast. Flashing white fangs and pink gums, growling like it meant business. She clawed the ground like she couldn’t wait to charge and—

Wait a second. She?

Imminent death must screw with a man’s mind, because not only did he have the newcomer pegged as a she-wolf, she looked strangely familiar, too. Something about the eyes. Deep, dark eyes. Beautiful eyes. Like the rest of her, all silky and shiny and purely feminine despite the fur, the fangs, the angry face.

The she-wolf stuck her nose toward him and whimpered. Then her eyes darkened and lifted to the hellhound, snuffling somewhere over his shoulder. Somewhere not too far, but he wasn’t looking, because he couldn’t drag his eyes off her.

She coiled, growled to high heaven, and jumped. Jumped clear over his body. Rick rolled, following the acrobatics. He winced as the wolf crashed into the hellhound. The air exploded with canine snarls and a blur of motion as they launched into combat. He watched, fascinated and strangely removed, as the two creatures battled.

The similarity between the two canines ended at four feet and a tail. The hellhound looked like a huge dog that had been resurrected and dragged out of a muddy grave, while the wolf was sleek and glossy and somehow pure, as if God had spent a good long time perfecting that project before releasing it into the world to fulfill its purpose.

A purpose which seemed to include saving Rick’s ass, of all things, because the she-wolf wasn’t just fighting the hellhound. She was driving it away. Every razor-toothed attack and parry of lethal claws pushed the hellhound half a step farther from him.

Why? Why would the wolf risk her life for him? He was dying anyway. Couldn’t she tell?

He rolled to his stomach and worked his knees under his body, ignoring the seeping sensation in his gut. Got to his feet and swayed for a second, then focused on the fight. Tightened his fingers around the wood he’d picked up and vowed to hang in long enough to help the wolf finish the beast off.

He advanced, looking for an opening. Easier said than done, because the fighting canines were a whirlwind—a lethal, snarling whirlwind, and the hellhound was winning the upper hand. The wolf snapped and slashed and danced away, barely an inch ahead of those greedy jaws, but the hellhound was bigger—much bigger—and fueled by some unearthly energy. It slashed at the sleek wolf’s shoulder, and she howled in pain, leaping away.

Rick bounded forward and swung his makeshift weapon, catching the hellhound above the eye. He sent it sprawling, giving the she-wolf a chance to get up. She struggled to her feet and faced him with an incredulous look.

Why were those eyes so familiar? What was it about the wolf?

He didn’t have time to consider, because the hellhound bellowed and launched into another attack. Rick went down swinging, because his body couldn’t do it any more. He crashed to the ground as the fight continued beside, around, even over him, until he saw the she-wolf being tossed to one side. Everything slowed down and played out in a horribly slow-motion way. The hellhound turned back to his prone body. The glowing eyes honed in on his, and it nodded.

This time, you really do die.

This time, Rick believed it. There was no way out.

What was he thinking?

Tina scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain of her wounds. She could have screamed at Rick. This was no time for courage. No time for selflessness. A human had about as much business fighting a hellhound as a lone she-wolf did. It was suicide, and yet there Rick was, charging into battle when he could have shied away.

For her. He did it for her. He’d pushed her toward the car, squared his shoulders, and faced death just to give her a chance.

Even after she’d shifted, he fought on. She’d seen the confusion in his eyes. Seen him search for the woman he knew instead of the wolf she had become. But instead of scrambling to safety when she’d given him the chance, he jumped right back into the fray.

What the hell was he doing?

He’s doing what we’re doing,
her wolf retorted.
Fighting for our lives.

Our lives. Plural. The team aspect was the only thing she liked about this situation, because it was utterly hopeless. She could delay the inevitable, but she could never win. Zack had said as much that day in the council house.

To kill a hellhound, you get every wolf in the county together and attack it from all sides. Hope it doesn’t kill too many of you while you try to kill it.

Try?
Ty had asked.

Try,
Zack had echoed, looking grim.

Well, she was trying, but it wasn’t enough. The hellhound was too big, too powerful. Even a wolf like Ty wouldn’t hold out against this powerful demon for long.

The second before her shift, she’d closed her eyes and concentrated everything on sending an urgent cry to her packmates. But even the fleetest werewolf couldn’t cover the fifteen miles from Twin Moon Ranch to Dead Horse Bluff at the speed she needed them to. They’d get there, all right, but they would be too late. Too late for Rick, too late for her. All she could hope for was victory for her packmates with the least possible loss of life.

She coiled every muscle and jumped at the hellhound, knocking it away from Rick. Each blow she landed was a blow that would weaken the beast, helping the others to finish it off. That’s what she had to concentrate on.

She slammed into it then scrambled away from its deadly claws. Twisted her front paw in the process and earned another angry snarl from the beast. At least she’d gotten him away from Rick, who was fading fast. He’d lost too much blood, been wounded too critically. Her soul howled, knowing he was on his last legs.

The hellhound focused those deadly eyes on her, and the red flared. It advanced slowly, snarling into the ground. Yes, it was the end, all right.

Even Tex, who’d been whimpering in her car the whole time, howled. At least he would survive this horror, locked safely away. If it weren’t for the dog, she’d have never found Rick, because Tex had met her at the gate of Seymour Ranch with a wagging tail and worried eyes and insisted on leading her in the direction of the back road.

Lady! Run away!
poor Tex screamed. He was about as articulate a dog as existed, which wasn’t saying much. But maybe he’d be articulate enough to tell the others how bravely Rick fought. How she’d tried to the bitter end.

An end that faced her now, because there was no mistaking the intent in the hellhound’s eyes.

Die, she-wolf. Die.

She took a step back, wavering for the first time. Rick struggled to get up, but he was too weak now, and she cried inside. Cried for not being able to hold him, to comfort him, one more time.

That was on the inside. On the outside, she unleashed the most brutal snarl she’d ever uttered. A snarl worthy of a warrior who’d never be cowed.

Try me, you monster,
she challenged the hellhound.
Try me.

The red eyes blazed, and the creature leaped so high, smashing into her so hard, she knew that was the end. She crashed to the ground with its jaws at her neck, its body weight pinning her down on her side. Foul breath engulfed her.

You die, she-wolf,
a gravelly inner voice goaded.

She’d pissed the beast off enough to make him drag it out, apparently, because the hellhound lingered there, huffing into her fur. Crushing her ribs. Drooling. Taunting her.

Cry, little she-wolf. Cry while you can.

Her teeth were too far to bite, but she bared them all the same.

Now die, little she-wolf. Die.

The hellhound dipped its head and stretched its jaws wide, honing in on her throat. Tina closed her eyes, trying to transport her thoughts elsewhere. Like Spring Hollow, all those years ago, and her very first kiss. Like the grandfather clock in the Seymour house, and waiting with the other kids for it to bong. Sitting in the sunshine on the veranda, where Rick had fed her a feast. Any of the thousand little memories she had of times with him would do. Anything but this.

The hellhound murmured in greed. It was so close to her ear, the sound echoed in her head. Grew and grew until the ground rumbled and her body shook and—