Lovely Bastards (BxB) (MxM)

Chapter 35 - And the World Went Red

The boiling water hit his face just as the wolf lunged for his throat and Hunter stumbled back, yelping and flailing.

Charles wrenched the knife from his grip and the larger man shoved him back, hard enough for him to fall backwards, hitting the edge of the countertop, knife slipping from his grip to clatter to the floor.

Hunter grabbed another one from the block, leaving the first blade where it had fallen, and swiping at the snarling wolf. 

Knife wounds could kill you. Sever a major artery and you'd bleed out in minutes. Charles knew that, and he was unarmed, and it didn't matter.

He wrapped his hand around the kitchen knife and felt it slice through his palm as Hunter yanked it back.

Most of his neighbours were young professionals like him, and had to be at work - otherwise, surely someone would have come pounding on the door by now? 

Charles was thrown back, Hunter lashing out and bodily slamming him into the counter again, and he fell like a rag doll, skull cracking against the corner of the marble slab.

He slid to the floor, suddenly weak, and watched the tableau unfolding in front of him, unable to believe what he was seeing.  

The world went red, and Kit lunged.

Still reeling from the change, half-trapped in his undershirt, snarling and in pain, he saw his uncle grab the blade and after missing his throat he went straight for Hunter's crotch, snarling and clamping his jaws shut. 

Their attacker screamed, ripping the knife away from Charlie and bringing the butt down on top of the wolf's head, making him lose his grip, stars exploding in front of his eyes. 

The little werewolf was strong, but he didn't know what to do with that strength, wasn't coordinated, and his opponent still had the advantage of height and weight, and a long sharp weapon.

Hunter shoved the blond away and Kit growled, biting into his leg and tearing, coming away with flesh and blood, mouth burning with the salty pungent taste, canines aching to rip and bury. 

A sharp, hot line cut along his flank, knife scraping over his ribs, and Kit twisted to clamp his jaws around Hunter's forearm, crushing the bone and shaking it like a rubber toy, digging his claws into the floor to drag the attacker - threat, intruder - towards the exit.

"Argh!!!"

Hunter toppled over and they both fell in a writhing mass, Kit still unused to this body and acting on instinct, claws scraping, scrambling for purchase. 

"Fuck - what the - !"

In his nostrils, the scent of blood and fear and fury was so strong that he didn't know where to turn, what was up and down almost - he only knew he wanted to spill more of it, lapp at it, hunt, reach the throat and tear it out - 

The knife dropped, spinning on the floor. 

Howling with pain, Hunter grabbed it with his other hand and drove the blade straight into the writhing werewolf on top of him. 

Kit's growl cut off in a whine and he was distracted enough for Hunter to push him to the side, raise the sharp weapon again - this time squarely over his thin heaving ribs - 

"No!!!" Charles yanked his back, throwing his weight over Hunter's torso and accidentally bracing his knee on the other man's crushed arm, making him scream again, as the wolf-creature scrambled away and up to snap at the larger man's face.