After
All hell had broken loose.
Dan howled, weaving in between attackers in the darkness. He could hear his pack growling, tearing at the intruders. The humans were armed and trained, had sneaked in - but were taken by surprise and had poor night vision.
Shots rang out - short bursts, peppering, loud, sharp through the thick woods.
He flung himself at a man, ripping into his arm, sending his assault rifle spinning, seeing a flash of Darren's dark fur from the corner of his eye before his brother ripped the intruder's throat out in a spray of blood.
One of their shots would be enough to kill or maim him - there was enough firepower in their hands to tear him and his pack apart.
Dan growled, tasting sweet blood, hackles rising. He was the Beta. These were his family lands.
And they would all pay for threatening his pack.
Fierce disgust and longing rushed through Kit, rivaling each other in their intensity. He had to hold himself still to avoid rushing at Devlin - whether to kiss him or stab him he didn't know.
"How fitting - meeting a devil in a town built on a crossroads." He meant to spit it but it came out breathless, tremulous.
"Yes, I'd say it's almost...perfect," Devlin purred, moving towards him even as Kit shrank back, gait flowing and feline and predatory.
He smiled slowly, white fangs flashing.
"I'd find you at the ends of the earth, Kitty," he said, hissing on the last syllable as his hands shot out, lightning fast, grabbing for him.
I have to get away.
Kit yelped, flinching back, but Devlin was faster. He caught his wrist and the wolf twisted it, trying to break his grip where the vampire's thumb met his fingers, turning to run.
Devlin shifted his grip and pulled Kit flush against his chest, lifting him up by the wrist and shoving him against the wallpaper.
Suddenly his whole front was pressed up against Devlin, their faces inches apart, his dried-blood, expensive cologne, gun-oil scent flooding Kit's nostrils.
The voice he'd heard in his head so any times - the cool hands he'd imagined on his skin again and again, sending shudders of revulsion and satisfaction though his body. Instead of fighting he felt his body go pliant, a soft gasp spilling from his lips.
Do I want this, after all? Did I...miss him?
A thin, long, razor-sharp knife pressed into his neck just below Kit's jaw .
It cut him just a little bit, stinging over his jugular and windpipe, where one movement could sever them both. He could see the tip of it glinting - brighter than any steel. Burning him.
A silver blade.
The scent of blood was so thick in the air even Dan could smell some of it, feel it coating the inside of his snout.
There were more of them than he had thought, and they moved in pairs, neither breaking nor panicking even though they must be down to a third of their number, fighting impossibly huge wolves in the dead of night.
Dan looked around and his blood froze.
Justin - on the ground - his flank streaked with blood and Morgan in his human form crouched over him, Ronan in front of them, fighting two armed pairs, moving like a blur.
Howling, he launched at them, jaws crunching shut, crushing one of the men's ribs and tearing a hole in his side while he screamed, blood spraying from his mouth. Dan whipped around and came up under another attacker's guard, tearing out his throat.
Then he shifted, morphing into his human form and picking up a dropped rifle, checking it.
The intruders had broken through their defences out onto Main Street. Luckily, Dan thought, most people in Rivers Crossing had their homes in the woods and the scattering of businesses here were closed at this time of night... Only one place still had it's lights on.
Marvin's Bar & Grill.
Charlie.
If something happened to him... Dan couldn't bear to finish the thought. He should never have left him alone. Never have brought him back here.
The one I love.
Who would probably never forgive him for duct-taping him and forcibly bringing him back to face whatever these people were. Who was alone and hurt and unguarded.
Dan realized there and then that it didn't matter to him what Kit had done - Dan was hurt and angry, but he loved him anyway. Loved him no matter what.
Howling again to catch his pack's attention, he ran.
"Look at what your bullet did to me, Kitty," Devlin said, unbuttoning his dark shirt with the hand gripping the knife.
He dragged it to the side to reveal an ugly, red scar spread out like a spiderweb over his pale chest.
"Silver. You tried to kill me. And still I love you. Still I forgive you. Still I came to find you. Aren't I magnanimous? Aren't I kind? You will come with me, Kitty."
"Just leave, Devil. Just go! Leave me alone..."
"What's that, Kitty? You want me to go - just like that - after everything we've been through?" he purred, slamming him against the wall again, grip so tight the bones in Kit's wrist cracked.
"After everything I have done to you? Don't you wish for revenge?"
"I don't give a shit about that! I just want to forget and start over, so let me go!"
Devlin scoffed quietly, blowing air into Kit's ear. "Really? Even though you went to such lengths to avenge your uncle..."
"That was different," Kit snapped, fingers curling around the blade at his throat, not caring that it dug into the flesh there, ignoring the sharp sting and sticky wetness.
"Do what the fuck you want to me - I can let it go. But hurt my family and I'll hunt you to the ends of the fucking earth. So don't make that mistake, Devlin Novak."
"Think you are in a position to threaten me, Kit?" he whispered, pressing the knife to his jugular.
"Yeah...I do."
With a crack, Darren burst though the back door just as Dan flung the front doors open, his Glock 19 raised and steady.
Dan assessed the situation with one look. His senses were sharp with adrenaline - his eyes focused, mind still and clear and free from emotion.
He saw Kit pressed against a wall with a knife at his throat, by a -
Vampire.
A snarl ripped out of him and he could hear Darren's answering one.
The vampire spun Kit around and placed his small body between himself and the the two furious werewolves. He was grinning - a lunatic's smile.
Locking eyes with Dan, he dragged the tip of the knife down Kit's chest from collarbone to belly button, slicing through skin and leaving a wet, open, glistening cut that immediately welled with crimson blood.
When the blade cut him Kit cried out - he tried to suppress it by biting his lip, trembling.
Another snarl tore free of Dan's throat. The vampire looked up, his gloating expression shifting to surprise.
"Oh - is this your latest conquest, Kitty?"
"Dan -" Kit choked. "Shoot me..."
That was when Ronan, Morgan, and Justin burst in through the door behind Dan.
Devlin had always been careful. Old and clever and cunning - except where Kit was concerned. He had lost his head and gotten drunk in New Mexico, and now he had charged into this restaurant with barely any back-up the minute he got news of Kit.
He really is in love with me...
Maybe it could be his downfall once more.
"Shoot me," Kit croaked out, hanging limp from Devlin's arms, his blood flowing freely from the cut and showing no sign of healing.
If Dan shot Kit - somewhere non-lethal - and the vampire dropped him, they would have free range to shoot Devlin too. The pack only had ordinary copper bullets - but if they could wound the mobster enough...
C'mon Dan, shoot me.
"Just come quietly, and no-one else needs to get hurt..." Devlin murmured into his hair.
"I will never go back to you."
"You will. I could take your blood and make you drink mine - you will swear to me again, even if I have to take you by force," he hissed, gripping the back of Kit's hair and yanking his head back.
"I'd rather die!"
Devlin dragged him around and kissed him roughly, forcing his tongue into his mouth and clutching Kit tight, lifting him off the ground. Then he raised the silver knife, cutting his back open this time. Once. Twice. Slowly, teasingly. Showing it to the pack.
Kit shuddered - the pain was affecting him, threatening to spill over into pleasure.
He couldn't resist his body reacting, pheromones slipping out to fill the restaurant. When he tried to hold in his moans, Devlin thrust his fingers into Kit's mouth and spun him outward to give the pack a better view.
"Show your new friends what you really are," he hissed.
He bit down on his neck, plunging his thick, razor-sharp fangs down into the old sunken indentations in Kit's shoulder, pulling back and letting the dark red blood trickle down.
Kit's feet dangled in the air and his body felt sluggish, his usual fight draining away.
"Can you even heal this? What a pathetic werewolf you are... Being hurt and being done, that's all you're really good for, isn't it?"
He pressed the silver knife - burning like nothing he had ever felt before - against Kit's neck, under his jaw, poised to cut his throat, pulse pounding, blood trickling down his collarbone.
Kit was helpless to do anything but watch the horrified expressions on his pack's faces.
"Kill me," he hissed, matching Devlin's venomous tone. "I'll never be yours, you bastard."
Then he felt Devlin shift his grip on him, setting him back on his feet and drawing his gun, lightning-fast. But he wasn't pointing it at Kit.
He had levelled it at Dan's face.
"Are you sure, Kitty?" he purred, voice low and dangerous. "Because they do not have silver bullets, do they? And you do not have my present."
Kit's could see his Smith & Wesson with it's red clip lying on the counter behind Dan, uselessly out of reach.
He was helpless. If Devlin shot Dan - or Morgan, or Justin, or Ronan or even Darren - they would die. Die. Die.
White hot rage blazed though Kit.
"They are mine, asshole, so if you hurt them I will fucking kill you!"
He felt the truth of the words as they came over his lips. The Rivers pack - all of them - were his. His to protect. His to die for.
Mine.
"Mine! If you touch my pack I will end you!" Kit snarled.
He gripped the silver knife with his bare hand, twisting it away and screaming as it sliced his fingers to the bone, tearing it from the vampire's grip.
His other hand shoved Devlin's handgun up and back and he pressed his own body into the other man's, shoving him back.
Devlin, quicker and stronger, pushed back and hauled his arm down but Kit was ready - he grabbed his wrist with both hand and twisted, trapping the CZ 75B between their bodies, pressing it against his own chest.
He might not be strong enough take the weapon from Devlin, but he could hold it still, muffled by his own frail body.
"Remember how we met, Devil? I told you before - I'll never love you, not in a million years..." he panted.
"So just pull the fucking trigger."
Devlin's eyes narrowed, pupils contracting, and he hissed -
A shot rang through the air and Kit felt as if a horse had kicked him in the chest, hard and fast and crushing. He blinked.
Devlin's dark eyes opened wide and his mouth fell open.
His hands came up to cradle Kit's face and the gun slipped from his fingers, clattering on the floor.
A tight coldness was spreading though the boy, as if something was constricting his chest... He felt short of breath and his knees buckled.
Devlin let him sink to the floor, following him, arms coming around him, holding him gently now.
The werewolf felt something sharp against the skin of his forearm. His fingers slid over cold, wet tiles and curled around the hilt of the silver knife that he had dropped earlier. Kit looked up into his former master's wide, horrified eyes.
"Kitty..."
"You were so thorough... You really had me bound, caught - you're little werewolf, all yours."
He laughed, bitter. "You only made one mistake, Devil."
Slowly, painfully, he lifted the blade and angled the tip up to point just below the vampire's ribs.
Devlin's eyes flash burgundy. "What...mistake?"
"You fell in love with me."
Kit shoved the knife home.
Charlie slid to the floor in a growing pool of blood and the vampire bent after him. Finally Dan's sight was free.
He fired, his shots ringing out sharp and loud, three in quick succession.
His bullets hit the vampire in the shoulder and chest, making him sway from the recoil, but otherwise he neither moved nor made a sound, eyes still fixed on the small werewolf in his arms.
Dan didn't want to look down but his eyes were drawn as if by some magnetic force - they fixed on the pale, still, very slight figure and couldn't move away.
"Dan," Charlie said, voice faint and frail. "My...gun."
It took him a moment to comprehend the words through his own emotions. But when he did, he grabbed the Smith & Wesson from the counter and pointed it at the vampire.
"Silver bullets, Charlie?" he asked.
The vampire slid down, both hands dark with blood, clutching at the knife hilt sticking out of his abdomen. The silver must be burning him but he was completely silent, not even looking at Dan, completely focused on Kit, who nodded, a jerk of his head.
"Give it, Dan..." he whispered.
Dan thought about all the reasons why he should refuse. Then he pressed the grip into the young man's open palm and took a step back.
The two of them were stretched out side by side like lovers, skin streaked with red, eyes locked together, limbs still entangled.
Kit slowly dragged the sliver-coloured handgun up to his chest and pressed it in under the vampire's chin, flicking back the safety. A shudder wrecked his body.
Dan realised that Kit was crying.
He had never - no matter the circumstances of amount of pain involved - ever, seen him cry. Now the tears slid fat and fast down his cheeks, wetting his eyelashes, leaving trails in the blood on his face.
"Kitty..." the vampire whispered, with something like awe - something like tenderness - in his voice.
The shot was loud and sharp.
But Kit's agonised, broken sobs hurt Dan's ears more.