Once Bitten (An Anya Maynard Novel)

Chapter Twenty Three

He was right, the gash in my forearm was proof of that, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t smarter. I may not be able to become a wolf, but I was still better in tune with her then he was with his. Not once have I ever seen his eyes so much as waver from they’re hazy blue. It meant he suppressed him, just as I used to mine, and that meant his senses weren’t as sharp as mine, that he wasn’t aware as he should be.

As aware as I was.

There was another blast of orange light and a dark grey wolf landed beside Brad, it was exactly what I needed. Had he listened to his wolf, to his instincts, he would never have looked away from me. And in the half a second his eyes flickered to the wolf I lunged, taking advantage of his stifled intuition.

Again my hands found his throat and I took him to the ground, the blade flying far out of his reach across the frozen ground. He began swinging, his fists connecting time and time again with my sides. But I didn’t flinch.

I returned the favor.

I pulled my bleeding arm from around his throat and reared back, hitting him with everything my wolf had given me in the stomach.

I heard something crack.

“And that wasn’t even with my good arm,” I sneered as he choked for breath, the air in his lungs having been forced out. I leaned in, my lips only a hair from his ear, “and who’s the weaker wolf?” I asked in the same mocking tone he had used on me.

Well finally, a real response from Brad.

He growled.

I pulled away in triumph, but my own arrogance was my downfall. Brad bucked, flipping me off of him on my back. He grabbed my hands quickly, pinning them to the ground beside me.

“I will not let a bitch best me,” he snarled, his eyes beginning to waver between blue and gold, “especially not a half breed stray like you.”

“This stray learned a thing or two on the streets,” I said as I stared defiantly at Brad. Then I pulled my leg up sharply, nailing him between the legs.

Again he struggled for breath, and again I grabbed his mangled arm. I cranked it behind him as I flipped him over, grasping him behind his neck and pressing his face into the snow. He tried to push himself up but I pushed back, putting more and more pressure on the back of his neck.

“Enough of this,” I snarled angrily, “I’m done with your games Brad, done with you!”

Just a little more pressure and this would be all over-

“No wait,” Brad said desperately, holding up his free hand in surrender, “you can’t…you…you have to give me the chance to atone. You can’t send me to the afterlife without giving me the chance to repent,” he said quickly, “You’d know this if you were raised as a wolf…”

I didn’t want to believe him but…but something inside me knew he was telling the truth, that if I didn’t give him the chance to ask forgiveness then I was no better than him.

“Quickly,” I growled and loosened the grip I had on his neck just ever so much, “but do not expect amnesty from me.”

“I…I don’t, not after what I’ve done to you…to our family…” Brad said regretfully.

“You are not my family!” I said sharply, “Now get on with it.”

He nodded in a jerky movement, “okay...”

He lifted his head as far as my hand would allow and looked in front of him, towards the melee that was the battle between…between family and pack. I wondered if he could see the distinct difference. Though his wolves outnumbered my family, they’re numbers were dwindling, they didn’t fight the way mine did. But that was to be expected. My family had something worth fighting for.