Moaning, her mind whirling, Maggie grabbed the gun from her boot and shot him in the armpit.
He released her, and she levered away, mouth bruised and wanting. Rage rippled through his eyes. A menacing growl hissed from his chest. His eyes fluttered closed and his body went lax.
Holy crap. She scrambled off him, falling into her seat. A quick glance at Charlie showed the kid still concentrating on flying. Thank God.
She pressed a trembling hand to her lips. Her other hand held the dart gun pointed at the wolf. He’d be awake again soon. With a sigh, she yanked open the backpack and tugged out restraints. Imprisoning a wolf in a moving helicopter held so much risk her head began to spin. If he became angry enough, he could rip the entire machine apart.
Still, she secured his legs to metal hooks in each side, and then his arms. The locks she used were new ... and strong.
The wolf was probably stronger.
Minutes turned into an hour. Then another hour. The moon began to climb bright, beckoning her to jump from the helicopter and race through the woods. The wolf remained secured on the floor. Maybe the combination of darts had finally put him to sleep for the duration.
A third hour passed. His eyelids shot open. No fluttering, no confusion. Alert and ready, he took in the restraints, his head moving only slightly. “You’re taking your life into your hands here, little wolf.”
Hoarse, his voice wandered down her spine as if he licked her. A shiver vibrated her shoulders. “Stay still, and we all live.”
“I wasn’t talking about right this moment.” Half-lidded, the dark eyes promised retribution.
“Oh.” Well, yeah. The scary threat was made all the more frightening by the absolute promise behind the words. She struggled to keep her face stoic. “You’re mad, and that’s understandable. But you’d do the same thing for a friend.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Maybe.” She could reason with him. She had to reason with him. “Aren’t you a little glad you don’t have to kill Jordan?”
“No.” Fire burned hot and bright, turning Terrent’s eyes a blazing black. “If Jordan turns, he’s going to try to kill Katie. How exactly do you think he’d feel knowing I did nothing to protect his mate and their cub?”
“Katie can take care of herself.” Maggie fought the fear and doubt suddenly slamming into her gut.
“Against Jordan? The lion she’s loved since she was four?” Terrent’s head thunked onto hard metal as he shook it.
“Sometimes you need faith,” Maggie whispered.
“Have faith in this”—Terrent levered up, his gaze capturing hers—“you will pay for this. I promise.” Powerful muscles bunched in his shoulder as his left wrist tugged against the restraint.
Imaginary needles pricked through her arms. Oh God, not now. The inside of the helicopter began to tilt. She sucked in air, forcing oxygen into her lungs, making her chest expand. A panic attack right now would ruin everything.
Sweat danced on her palm. The dart gun began to slip. Putting both hands around the weapon, she tried to steady her aim. The gun wavered.
With a roar, Terrent yanked one leg free.
The craft rocked, air whizzing by outside.
Charlie shouted, quickly righting the beast. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it. We’re above mountains and there’s nowhere to land.”
Maggie fired. The dart went wide, pinging against the metal side and falling harmlessly to the floor.
Chain links blew apart with Terrent’s next pull, freeing his other leg. Faster than imaginable, he shot his feet around her, yanking her toward him.
She fell on his hard chest, dots flashing across her vision. The air swished from her lungs. Like a guppy, she opened her mouth, fighting for oxygen. Panic buzzed in her ears. Full-on attack coming.
His hands remained shackled to the sides.
Levering up, she tried to get off him. His thighs clapped hard against her rib cage, trapping her. Pressing the air out of her.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked to clear them. Her startled gaze met the furious one of the man below her.
He tightened his hold. “Drop the gun.”
Pain lanced into her ribs. If he pushed any harder, they might break. After ten years of training, she still hadn’t realized how thighs could be a weapon. A very effective weapon. Struggling to breathe, struggling to keep calm, she allowed the gun to drop from her hand. The gun hit the floor and bounced.
His hold loosened just enough to allow her to take a shallow breath.
Keeping her gaze, holding her hostage, he yanked one hand free. Chain links zinged around the helicopter, and she ducked to avoid getting smacked in the head. A quick glance to the left relieved her somewhat in that he’d torn the shackle apart, but not the side of the craft.
Her relief died a quick death.
The other wrist shackle gave way without even a protest.
Man, he was strong.
The anxiety attack hit full bore. Her vision wavered. Pinpricks nailed her from every direction, her skin protesting. She began to pant, unable to breathe. A low moan spilled from her chest.
Her eyes opened wide, but she couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. Her shoulders began to convulse.
“What’s wrong?” Terrent asked.
She shook her head, her mouth opening and closing. Bile rippled up her throat. A soft moan escaped her.
Strong hands manacled around her biceps. Without warning, the world tilted and she found herself facing away from him, sitting between his dangerous thighs, her butt on the floor of the craft. He palmed the back of her head, lowering her face between her knees. She shut her eyes.
“Breathe.” Low, soothing, no hint of anger remained in the wolf’s voice. His scorching hot palm rested against her upper back, her entire upper back. Slowly, he slid down to her tailbone and back up. “Deep breaths.” He growled low. “Keep flying, kid. I’ll deal with you in a minute.” He continued the soft caress. “Keep breathing, little wolf. It’ll be okay.”
For several moments she stayed in place, allowing him to comfort her. The pain in her skin receded. Her lungs relaxed. Finally, she could breathe.
Still trembling a little, her shoulders straightened. Her eyes opened to see the bottom of the craft. “I’m sorry.”
His hand stopped the gentle movements. “For what?”
Well, for the panic attack. She always apologized for some crazy reason. “Um, for kidnapping you?” It was the right answer. Probably.
His hands on her hips flipped her around to face him. Still inside his legs, she felt trapped. Well, and kind of safe. Protected in a totally weird way that made no sense, especially since the anger he’d kept from his voice was stamped all over his strong face.
She tried to move back, and his hands clenched.
“No moving.” Turning his head, he focused toward the front. “Turn around and head back to Realm Headquarters. Now.”
Charlie glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide.
Maggie swallowed. Then she gave a quick nod. The flight would take another three hours to get back. The fight would be over ... and either Jordan would be a werewolf, or he wouldn’t.
She focused on the wolf. “You would’ve done the same thing.”
He slowly shook his head. “No. You’re lucky I have to return to headquarters.”
Yeah, so he could maybe kill Jordan. Maggie lifted her chin. “Why is that?”
His eyebrow rose. Anger still swirled in his dark eyes. “Because I’d be taking you to my people, otherwise.”
She forced a smile, not quite brave enough to break his hold. “I’ll consider myself lucky, then.”
His smile almost caused another panic attack. “Oh, this is just a short reprieve, little wolf. We’re nowhere near done.”