S. Yule - Lycan Vengeance

He had killed for her without a second thought. He’d put his life in danger for her. Oh my God. It finally dawned on her that she’d fallen in love with him. Somehow, no matter how hard she’d fought the attraction she had for him, no matter how hard she’d resisted seeing him as a man instead of a monster, she’d fallen for him. Deep down she knew she’d probably loved him from the moment he’d tackled her in the woods, but she’d refused to listen to her heart. She hadn’t wanted to like, let alone love, the thing that she’d hated all of her life. But that wasn’t true, was it?

She had never hated Knox, never really hated lycans, if she was being perfectly honest with herself.

She’d hated the destruction and the pain they’d caused just as she hated when her own fellow man caused such chaos in the world, and she’d never hated all humans because some of them were cold and heartless, had she? Knox was the best man she’d ever met, aside from her father. He’d shown compassion where she might have none. He’d shown loyalty to what he believed in, and he’d kept his word to her when he said he’d never hurt her and would protect her.

And now, even though killing the rogues had been necessary, his eyes held a hint of pain for what he’d had no choice but to do. He was a man of great strength both mentally and physically, and she respected and admired him.

Knox held his hand out, but when she went to take it, a flurry of motion stopped her. She saw him tense, and he spun around at the same time another wolf jumped through the window. The giant lycan’s claws caught

Knox across the neck and ripped his flesh. Blood sprayed over her face, and terror and anger tore through her in a maelstrom of waves. Knox’s claws sprang from his fingers, and he swiped at the wolf when it came for him again.

There was so much blood, and she was worried Knox had received a fatal injury. He needed to fully change to heal. He slashed at the side of the wolf and ripped through fur, skin, and muscle. The lycan yelped, fell to the floor, and blood spilled from the gaping wound on the body. The lycan’s sides heaved, and Knox staggered before the wolf leaped again. This time, Knox caught the wolf around the neck and sank his fangs through the top of its skull, crushing it with a loud crunch.

The wolf fell to the floor, dead, and Knox turned back to Rose. He reached up to the wound at his throat and clamped his hand over the injury, but blood leaked through the spaces between his fingers. Rose ran to him.

“No! Change. Change now so you can heal.”

“Can’t. Don’t want you to hate me.” His whispered words slid over her skin like a longing caress.

“I won’t hate you! I swear. Please, Knox!” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Rose.”

He spoke so quietly she could barely hear him, and put her ear close to his mouth.

“It’s iron. Our weakness is iron, not silver. If more come, use the iron. S-Sorry, baby.”

“Pleassse, change!”

“Too weak.”

“No! Do it. I don’t want to lose you.”

But it was too late. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he sank to the floor at her feet.

She had to act fast, or he’d die. Taking him to the hospital was out of the question. For one, she didn’t think he’d make it to the hospital, and secondly, if he did and they got a sample of his blood, all hell would break loose. Besides, he’d never want her to risk taking him to the hospital even if she thought they could save him. As hard as he’d fought to help the survival of his race, letting his blood fall into the wrong hands would put all the lycans in jeopardy. He’d never forgive her if she allowed such a thing to happen. She ran to the bathroom and grabbed as many towels as she could, went back to Knox, knelt by him, and pushed one hard against his neck.

His skin was pale with a tinge of gray to it, no hint of its usual golden hue evident. Lycans healed fast, but he was in danger of bleeding out if he didn’t change. She had to staunch the blood flow until he regained consciousness and could shift. She sat on the floor, rested her back against the end of the bed, and struggled to pull his head onto her lap. He was a big man, and his dead weight was hard to maneuver. She held the towel tightly to his neck and brushed her fingers through his hair.

She had a medical aid box in her truck with a suture kit in it, but she didn’t dare leave him quite yet to get it. She had to get the flow of blood slowed before leaving him for any amount of time. Once she thought it was somewhat under control, she’d get the kit, stitch him up, and hope her efforts weren’t too little too late.

She bent and kissed him on the forehead and whispered, “Please, Knox. Don’t go. I need you.”

She traced her fingers over the scars on his face. He was strong. He’d make it. But an hour later, when he was still lying unconscious across her lap, and his breaths were shallow, with too much time in between each one, she was afraid he was dying. Tears stung her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. There had to be a way to save him. If she could make him hear her somehow, she was sure she could hold him to her until he awoke.

If she could get through to him somehow, convince him to fight and stay with her, she’d grab on to him and refuse to let him die. She sobbed as she changed the towel out for a fresh one. The bleeding had nearly stopped, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or if it meant he didn’t have enough blood left to bleed. It was the first time the blood hadn’t started flowing the minute she’d stopped the pressure, and she knew now would be the best time to get the sutures from the truck.

She didn’t want to leave him, not even for a second, but she had to get his wound closed up to keep the bleeding from starting again. She eased his head down to the floor, got up, and sprinted to the truck. She nearly tripped several times, as her legs had fallen asleep from sitting for so long, but she’d gotten the kit and was back with Knox in no time, his head propped across her lap once again. She had never stitched a wound, but she was decent at sewing and hoped that skill would help her with this matter.

She ripped the sterile plastic apart and threaded the black suture line through the needle. After removing the towel from Knox’s throat, she heaved a sigh when she saw the wound was starting to crust over as if it was trying to heal. She opened some sterile wipes from their sealed packages and cleaned the injury. It was deep, and she gasped as the seriousness of the wound was exposed. Her stomach churned, but she fought down the sick feeling, placed the needle against his neck, and took a deep breath. You can do this. You have to do this if you want to save him. She pierced the skin and put all thoughts from her mind except the task at hand.

Ten minutes later, she had the wound sutured and was happy with her work. The stitches were neat and even, and she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. After getting rid of the needle, she placed a thick bandage over her handiwork and secured it with some tape. She wiped her hands with a wipe and brushed the hair from Knox’s forehead.

“You’re all patched up now. You won’t lose any more blood. Heal and come back to me.”

“Isn’t that touching?”

The voice that came from the doorway immediately sent a sliver of dread down her spine. When she looked up, she was shocked and felt the world careen and tilt under her. Russell. He was alive. But how had he survived? This couldn’t be real. She had to be imagining things.

“I’ve been looking for you for a very long time, babe.”

Fear clawed at her, but was quickly replaced by anger. “Get away from me, you bastard. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Tsk, tsk. Yes, you almost did me in, but as you can see, I survived.” He opened his arms wide and slowly spun as if to show her that he was perfectly healthy.

She looked around the room and saw her salvation only a foot from her. But could she get to it before

Russell got to her?

“Got a new boyfriend, do you? Seems like a weakling to me. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of him for you. Then, I’ll take care of you. We’ve got some business to settle—you and I—and I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.”

Russell leaped at her, and she dove for the arrow lying to her right. But just as her fingers closed around it, she was slammed to the ground face-first and pinned to the floor by his big body, unable to move.

She was going to die. She could almost come to terms with that, but for one thing. Knox would die too, and she couldn’t allow that to happen because of her.

* * *

His neck hurt, and his throat was so raw he could barely swallow, but Rose was in danger, and Knox had to save her. He fought his way to consciousness to find his mate pinned to the ground by another rogue. He thought all of them had been taken care of, but there had obviously been a stray who had lagged behind.

His body felt like lead as he tried to push himself from the floor, but fear and anger gave him the strength to stumble to his feet. Thankfully, the rogue was too preoccupied with Rose to notice his approach—he’d never understand how rogues survived at all with their careless disregard for their surroundings—but Rose’s eyes locked with his a split second before he reached for the lycan. He yanked the man back by his hair, and

Rose flipped over as quick as lightning and stabbed one of her arrows, iron-end first, through the bastard’s chest.

The rogue gasped, and Knox fell weakly to the floor. He’d lost too much blood, and he’d just used up the last reserves of his strength to help her. As he slipped once again into unconsciousness, he hoped Rose would find happiness in her life.

* * *

“This time, you die for good, you bastard.” Rose stared in horror as Knox slid to the floor once again before looking back at Russell.

He reached toward her, but she twisted the iron shaft and pushed it further into his heart. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she had last time she thought she’d killed him. This time, she’d be one hundred percent positive Russell was dead. She gave the shaft one last push, and blood began pooling underneath his body.

Within moments, he gasped for air, then stopped breathing altogether. She checked his pulse—none. And his skin was turning a sickly gray. Russell would stay dead this time.

She scooted over to Knox, pulled his head onto her lap once again, and sagged against the bed, where she wept until exhaustion overtook her.

* * *

“Knox?”

The soft voice floated through the air, barely penetrating the fog enshrouding his brain. The ef ort it took to lift his heavy eyelids was too much, but he had no choice other than to answer the cal of his mate. Everything inside him strained toward her, every cell, every fiber that made him who he was, even as his body fought the movement.

A piece of him wanted to stay in the blissful, peaceful limbo he’d been lingering in. No fighting, no rogues to deal with, no pain, no . . . Rose. Rose! His Rose. But she wasn’t his, was she? He loved her, needed her. She was his mate, the other half of his soul, but she would never accept him for who he was, and could he bear it if she walked away from him? Could he let her walk away from him?

No. And for that, she would hate him more. Maybe it was best to stay in limbo, sweet oblivion, where he was numb and pain no longer touched him.

“Knox! Answer me, please. I need you.”

His heart thumped hard in response to her distressed pleas. Was she in danger? Even limbo couldn’t keep his wolf from the innate need to protect his mate. He sat up and blinked his eyes several times, trying to get rid of the gritty feel.

“Knoxxxx?”

The vibrations of anguish in her voice cut through him like a knife, tearing at his heart, eating away at his soul. He had to go to her, had to answer her, had to protect her. He sat up and winced. Why was he so lethargic? Why did every movement he make take more effort than he felt he could give?

“Rose? Where are you?” His throat was dry and hurt. Each word scratched like sandpaper.

“Knox? Talk to me so I can find you.”

“I’m over here, baby.” He tried to stand, but his legs were like jel y, and he plopped hard back on his ass.

“Oh my God! It is you!”