Page 37 of Bad Moon Rising (Dark-Hunter 17)
"This one has fight," a female said as she made her way toward him. "He'll be worth more sustenance than the other."
Vane kicked her legs out from under her before she could grab him. He used her bobbing body as a springboard out of the water. Like any good wolf, his legs were strong enough to propel him from the water to one of the cypress knees nearby.
His dark wet hair hung in his face while his body throbbed from the fight and from the beating his pack had given him. Moonlight glinted off his wet, muscled body as he crouched with one hand on the old wooden knee that was silhouetted against the backdrop of swamp. Dark Spanish moss hung from the trees and wood that jutted out as the full moon, draped in clouds, reflected eerily in the black velvet waves of the water.
Like the animal he was, Vane watched his enemies closing rank around him. He wasn't about to surrender himself or Fang to these bastards. He might not be dead, but he was every bit as damned as they were and even more pissed off at fate.
Lifting his hands to his mouth, Vane used his teeth to bite through the cord around his wrists and free his hands.
"You'll pay for that," a male Daimon said as he moved toward him.
His hands free, Vane backflipped from the stump into the water. He dove deep into the murky depths until he could break a piece of wood from a fallen tree that was buried there. He kicked his way back toward the area where Fang was being held down.
He came out of the water just beside his brother to find ten different Daimons feeding from Fang's blood.
He kicked one back, seized another by the neck, and plunged his makeshift stake into the Daimon's heart. The creature disintegrated immediately.
The others turned on him.
"Take a number," Vane snarled at them. "There's plenty of this to go around."
The Daimon nearest him laughed. "Your powers are bound."
"Tell it to the undertaker," Vane said as he lunged for him. The Daimon jumped back, but not far enough. Used to fighting humans, the Daimon didn't take into account that Vane was physically able to leap ten times as far.
Vane didn't need his psychic powers. His animal strength was enough to finish this. He stabbed the Daimon and turned to face the others as the Daimon evaporated.
They rushed him at once, but it didn't work. Half of a Daimon's power was the ability to strike without warning and to cause their victim to panic.
That would work if, as a cousin to the Daimons, Vane hadn't been taught that strategy from the cradle. There was nothing about them that made him panic.
All their tactic did was make him dispassionate and determined.
And in the end, that would make him victorious.
Vane ripped through two more with his stake while Fang remained unmoving in the water. His panic started to swell, but he forced it down.
Staying calm was the only way to win a fight.
One of the Daimons caught him with a blast that sent him spiraling through the water. Vane collided with a stump and groaned at the pain that exploded down his back.
Out of habit, he lashed back with his own powers only to feel the collar tighten and shock him. He cursed at the new pain, then ignored it.
Getting up, he charged at the two males who were heading for his brother.
"Give up already," one of the Daimons snarled.
"Why don't you?"
The Daimon lunged. Vane ducked under the water and pulled the Daimon's feet out from under him. They fought in the water until Vane caught him in the chest with his stake.
The rest ran off.
Vane stood in the darkness, listening to them splashing away from him. His heart pounded in his ears as he allowed his rage to consume him. Throwing his head back, he let out his wolf's howl that echoed eerily through the misty bayou.
Inhuman and baleful, it was the kind of sound that would send even the voodoo mavens scurrying for cover.
Now certain the Daimons were gone, Vane raked his wet hair from his eyes as he made his way to Fang, who still hadn't moved.
Vane choked on his grief as he stumbled blindly through the water with only one thought in his mind . . . don't be dead.
Over and over in his mind, he saw his sister's lifeless body. Felt her coldness against his skin. He couldn't lose them both. He couldn't.
It would kill him.
For the first time in his life, he wanted to hear one of Fang's stupid-ass comments.
Anything.
Images flashed through his mind as he remembered his sister's death. Unimaginable pain tore through him. Fang had to be alive. He had to.
"Please, gods, please," he breathed as he closed the distance between them. He couldn't lose his brother.
Not like this . . .
Fang's eyes were open, staring unseeingly up at the full moon that would have allowed them to time-jump out of this swamp had they not both been wearing the collars.
There were open bite wounds all over him.
A deep, profound grief tore through Vane, splintering his heart into pieces.
"C'mon, Fang, don't be dead," he said, his voice breaking as he forced himself not to cry. Instead, he snarled out, "Don't you die on me, you asshole."
He pulled his brother to him and discovered that Fang wasn't dead. He was still breathing and shaking uncontrollably. Shallow and raspy, the hollow sound of Fang's breaths was a symphony to Vane's ears.
His tears broke as relief pierced him. He cradled Fang gently in his arms.
"C'mon, Fang," he said in the stillness. "Say something stupid for me."
But Fang didn't speak. He just lay there in complete shock as he shook in Vane's arms.
At least he was alive.
For the moment.
Vane ground his teeth as anger consumed him. He had to get his brother out of here. Had to find someplace safe for both of them.
If there was such a place.
With his rage unleashed, he did the impossible, he tore Fang's collar from his throat with his bare hands. Fang turned instantly into a wolf.
Still, Fang didn't come around. He didn't blink or speak.
Vane swallowed the painful lump in his throat and fought the tears that stung his eyes.
"It's okay, little brother," he whispered to Fang as he picked him up from the foul water. The weight of the brown wolf was excruciating, but Vane didn't care. He paid no attention to his body that protested carrying Fang.
So long as he had breath in his body, no one would ever hurt anyone Vane cared for again.
And he would bring death to anyone who ever tried.
