Gabriel crouched slightly, centering his body as he tensed and awaited Nardo’s attack. Nardo grinned, releasing his claws as he feinted at Gabriel, circling and feinting, circling and feinting.
Gabriel’s nerves tightened, winding taut with each false move. He bided his time, preserving his strength for a long night, keeping wary. He knew Nardo’s style, knew Nardo relied more on brute strength than skill. Even his size hindered him somewhat, though Lycan grace had saved him before.
In a predictable move, Nardo suddenly turned a feint into a full blown lunge. Gabriel caught Nardo as he hurtled toward him, stepping into the move with a sweeping kick that took Nardo’s feet out from under him and sent him crashing into the ground.
The ground ruptured under Nardo’s immense weight, grass and dirt flying out from beneath him. Gabriel was on him before the chunks settled. He straddled his chest, pinning his arms with his knees. He bent low and pierced Nardo’s throat with the barest tip of his middle claw. A drop of blood trickled down Nardo’s neck, pooling in his clavicle.
“I won’ regret killin’ you, mon ami. Do you yield?” Gabriel whispered with a deadly voice.
Nardo’s chest heaved with his breathing, and he tapped the ground with his right hand. Slowly, remaining wary, Gabriel moved off him and helped him to his feet.
Nardo shook the dirt from himself and strode angrily away without a word. Gabriel had humiliated him for taking him out so quickly.
No sooner had Nardo left the clearing then the three youths came on to the field.
Their hatred at being beaten on all fronts was palpable, evident in the tension of their bodies and the black looks they gave him.
Gabriel cast a questioning look at Deron. Deron nodded, giving the go ahead.
They surrounded him, claws extended, moving their hands constantly in a blur of motion to distract him. Their claws cut the air with the sound of wood ripping on a saw. Whipping the air with their own currents, they closed in, blocking him on all sides. Cruz stayed out of reach, the general commanding his troops as John and Michael converged on his flanks in a coinciding rush.
Gabriel ducked beneath their swinging arms, felt the sprinkle of slashed hair fall in tickling strokes onto his back. Air rushed by his head. Talons dug into his exposed back as he twisted.
Fire lanced down his spine. Sweat broke on his skin in an instant wave, salt driving into the wound. Gabriel roared, moving into the roll, continuing on his path. He came up under John, the claws still embedded in his back, deeper. Gabriel’s teeth clenched against the pain, and he drove his hands up, up into the exposed length of John’s belly. John’s face froze, his arms flew back, freeing Gabriel. He tried to catch himself, failed, fell back onto the ground, coughing up blood as he landed. The blood was black in the night, like thick oil, coating everything.
Gabriel had no time for regret, no time for thought beyond that of survival. He turned toward Michael, caught him standing and looking down at John in stunned immobility. A strangled snarl came from Gabriel’s left, capturing his attention. He turned, ducking.
Cruz lunged. His feet left the ground as he leapt over John, driving for Gabriel’s throat. Michael came back to life, took him suddenly from behind, trapped his arms so he couldn’t move.
He was a fool. A god damned fool for not moving quicker, for ignoring Michael in favor of Cruz. Fingers dug into Gabriel’s biceps. Nails sliced his skin, deeply. His body healed itself, but not fast enough to prevent the flow of blood from escaping.
Cruz smiled in triumph, twisted and raised his hands as though going to bat, moving into a death strike.
Gabriel saw it in his eyes, saw that he meant to kill him, that there would be no mercy, no yielding in this game. He would have to kill the stubborn bastard, maybe the others too. He relaxed his weight, heard Michael grunt in surprise right before his grip failed. Gabriel slipped from his hands, dropping to the ground, his flesh in ribbons from the razor-like claws. He landed just as Cruz swung. Claws whistled through the air, unable to stop, unable to do anything but slash above his intended victim.
Above, blood poured like heavy rain, saturating everything in its path down to the ground. Michael groaned, stumbling back, clutching his chest.
Heart pounding with the fury of his beast, Gabriel flattened between Michael’s legs, driving razor tipped fingers up the thick meat of his thighs even as he kicked out and knocked Cruz’s feet out from under him.
They each landed with a crash, bodies tangling in one heap of dirt and blood and torn flesh.
Gabriel could think of nothing but Cruz kneeling between Jessica’s thighs, ready to impale her, beat her, even kill her. It built his fury, drove it to a fever pitch that blinded him to anything but the need for blood on his hands.
Gabriel gained his feet just as Cruz freed himself and faced him. They looked at each other a bare moment, hatred emanating from each.
They circled each other, panting heavily. Michael and John had crawled away, freeing the clearing of everything but the slickness of their blood on the ground.
Gabriel jabbed, puncturing Cruz’s side, his arm, always darting back out of reach before Cruz could connect. His legs and arms ached, his back was on fire, trying to repair the damage. He felt his wounds cease to bleed, felt the flesh knit and heal itself, but it left his skin hot and feverish. Sweat and dirt and blood coated him.
Mosquitoes feasted on his blood, but Gabriel could think of nothing but taking Cruz down. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would keep that bastard from touching Jessica again. She could not go through that again. He wouldn’t allow it.
It sent his blood to pounding, his head swimming hotly. He stumbled on the muddied ground.
Cruz snickered, growing in confidence.
Gabriel knew Cruz thought him weakening, thought him an old man. He was, the healing sapped his strength with every passing moment. His steps slowed more and more, his arms grew heavy, his feet leaden. But he was not so weak he couldn’t take out this pup.
Gabriel jabbed at Cruz, moving past him with purpose, falling to one knee with a cry of agony that rippled on the night air. Cruz saw his opening, exposed his vulnerable heart as he swung his arm wide to take off Gabriel’s head. Time seemed to slow.
The wind moved at a snail’s pace against his face, shaking off droplets of perspiration as he twisted from the fall.
His own growl sounded heavy in his ears, deeper than his own voice. It grew in intensity, becoming wild as he drove his hands up Cruz’s chest. He felt the flesh give way, the sudden cessation of movement. Bone crunched, crumbling beneath his claws as he dug deep inside to the rapid beating heart. He sliced it, feeling repelled, sickened at killing one of his own, knowing there was no other choice and hating the need to kill or be killed.
Blood rained, hot and slick, streaming down with the force of a river unleashed.
Gabriel pulled back, looking away from the dead eyes of his enemy. Without support, the body dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.
Gabriel stood over him, a knot in his gut. The fool had needed killing, deserved it with years of menace, but he despised being forced to do the deed. Cruz was a vengeful bastard--one of them would have died eventually, and Gabriel preferred it be Cruz to himself.
Jessica was safe from him now. It would have to satisfy his guilt for this night.
There had never really been any other choice but the path he’d chosen.
Two pack members came and hauled the body off before the next challenger came into the clearing.
Gabriel sighed and wiped the blood from his hands on the grass.
He stretched his kinked muscles before facing his newest attacker. The night promised to be long, and by the line forming, he had little confidence that he would win.