Wolves' Bane (The Order of the Wolf, #3)(83)

Morgan turned back to Cal, her hands raised for him to stop moving. “Cal,” she warned, her eyes pleading with him to halt.

Cal froze, and she closed her eyes, releasing her held breath as she mouthed the words thank you, then turned to face Lazarus.

“Release her and I will come to you.”

Lazarus eased his hold on Rachel, allowing the woman some air as his lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Remove your weapons, love, and then come to me. I will release your little friend once I can touch you.”

Morgan raised her hands and did a slow circle to show that she had no weapons. Cal held his breath as the glint of her Huntress blade came into view. If his magic held true, no one but Morgan and he would be able to see it.

A heartbeat passed as Morgan finished her circle. “No weapons.”

Lazarus frowned and Cal raised his sword again, ready to launch.

“Very well, my love. Although I find it dreadfully na?ve of you to come without weapons, I am satisfied. You may step a little closer.”

Morgan did as Lazarus bid, moving slowly until she was merely a few feet away from him. Cal gripped his sword tighter, while he shifted his other hand around his back to grasp the sai sheathed at his waist.

“It’s okay, Rach. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I promise,” Morgan cooed as she moved even closer. “Lazarus, I’m here. Let her go.”

With a resigned sigh, Lazarus released his hold on Rachel. “Very well.”

She crumpled to the ground, a sob escaping her lips as she greedily gulped air.

“Rach, honey?” Morgan cooed again. “See those men behind me?” When Rachel nodded, Morgan continued, “They’re with me, and they’re the good guys. They won’t hurt you. I want you to go over to them now, okay?”

Rachel nodded again as she pushed herself up and quickly scrambled toward Lance. Morgan glanced over her shoulder to watch as Lance pulled Rachel into a bear hug and quickly removed her from the scene, ushering her into the back of one of the trucks.

In the time it took Morgan to do that—to glance over her shoulder and back—Lazarus was on her, two long strides bringing his massive, six-and-a-half-foot frame close enough to tower over her. Cal tensed, releasing his hold on his sword to pull the second sai from its sheath, the two weapons gripped in either hand, ready to launch if Morgan needed him. He wouldn’t be able to kill Lazarus, but Cal could wound him, maybe even get him to the ground so that Morgan could finish the bastard off with her blade.

Her body was rigid as she craned her neck up toward him, her eyes seemingly locked with his. When Lazarus reached up a hand to gently stroke her cheek, Cal did everything in his power to stop himself from attacking, even though all of his instincts screamed for him to fight for her.

Mine.

Morgan’s muscles coiled. Without tearing her gaze from Lazarus, she pulled her arm back and slapped his hand away.

Cal’s pride surged. That’s it, Morgan, fight him.

Surprise registered on Lazarus’s features seconds before Morgan drilled him with an uppercut, sweeping her legs to take his out from under him. He bellowed as he fell, a plume of dust rising when his body hit the ground. Morgan was on him in a second, straddling his waist and trapping his arms at his sides as she pulled the hidden blade from its sheath and held it over his chest.

Lazarus sneered as he stared up at her. Thanks to Cal’s magic, he still couldn’t see the blade, but he’d have to be an idiot not to know it was there.

“Hold,” he ordered, his wolves antsy, stalking closer to Cal and the other Hunters. They stopped, fangs bared, growling their displeasure.

Everyone was on edge, waiting, watching as Morgan held the blade, hovering over his chest.

Do it. Cal clenched the sai tighter.

“You tricky little witch. You did have a weapon after all.” The sneer on Lazarus’s face faded into a grin. “A bride with fight in her, I like that.”

“You’re going to like it a lot less when I stick you with it.” Morgan arched the blade up, her confidence clear on her face.

She thought she’d won, and with a sinking feeling of horror, Cal realized her error.

With her arms up, Lazarus wrenched himself free from her legs, rolling her to the side as he drilled a fist into her ribs. The crack of her bones snapping under the pressure echoed through the air. She curled into a ball, defenseless as her body struggled to heal itself.

“Leave her,” Cal bellowed.

Lazarus turned his cold eyes toward Cal as he stood and dusted himself off. With a flick of his finger, his wolves closed in, circling the men and the SUV where Rachel hid. Cal jerked his gaze around, tense and waiting for the attack that was sure to come. The wolves could get Rachel out of the car if they wanted. He hadn’t done anything to protect her in there, no magic etching to keep her safe. Fuck. He was so focused on Morgan that he wasn’t doing the job he vowed to do. Protect the humans.

“I am not pleased with you, bride,” Lazarus growled.

She lay on the ground, her breath coming in short gasps as she glared up at him. Defiant as ever.

“But submission can be learned.” With his voice steady, almost loving, Lazarus pulled his leg back and drilled her in the gut with his foot, her arms doing little to protect against the power of his kick.

She yelped when his foot connected, a groan sliding from her lips as she curled into herself even more.