Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(110)

It appeared his time as a law enforcement officer was at an end.

*

The little cat had gone down. Fear was a cold ball in Owen’s gut. As Gawain prowled in a circle around them, Owen shifted and dropped to his knees beside Darcy. A hand on her ribs let him know she still breathed. “She’s alive,” he whispered, knowing Gawain would hear. Alive, alive, alive.

In cougar form, Alec loped over.

Having seen him and Vicki wipe out two guards coming from the rear, Owen gave him a grateful nod.

Alec looked at Darcy, and his ears tipped forward in a query.

“She’ll be all right.” She had to be. Owen pointed in the direction of the garage. “Get the group moving. We’ll catch up.”

The cougar nodded and gathered his charges. Now out in the open with nowhere to hide, the females seemed willing to follow with the cougars.

Owen turned his attention back to Darcy. Where was she hurt? In the dark night and against her olive skin, blood seemed to be smeared everywhere. He made a sound of frustration…and her eyes opened.

Thank the Mother. His heart had almost failed when he saw her struck by bullets, saw her go down.

“Owen,” she whispered.

He couldn’t keep from snatching her into his arms and breathing in her morning-after-a-rain-shower fragrance. “I thought you were dead.” His arms tightened until she squeaked.

A second later, Gawain trawsfurred and wrapped his arms around both of them. “By the Hunter and the Mother, you two almost gave me heart failure. Don’t do that again.”

The tiny chuckle from the half-smothered female was the sweetest sound in the universe. “Nice knife-work, blademage,” she whispered.

Damned if it hadn’t been. Owen smacked his brother on the arm. “Damn right.”

“I’m going to have nightmares about missing that throw for months,” Gawain muttered.

Owen pulled in a breath. Fuck, what was he doing, letting down his guard? “Gawain, tend her wounds while I keep watch.”

“On it,” Gawain said in a rough voice. “Where are you hurt, catling? Darcy?” After a second, he said, “She’s out cold.”

Owen’s gut clenched. He forced himself to stay on guard in human form in case he needed to speak.

“Three wounds. Neck’s just a thin slice. Thigh and arm. Nothing life-threatening, brawd,” Gawain whispered.

Owen closed his eyes for a second…and kept circling.

He recognized Zeb and Shay’s scents a second before the two wolves trotted by. They paused, ears up.

“We’re good. Keep going,” Owen said softly.

As they disappeared, Owen spotted the first flames shooting up in the house where the shifters had been captive. Wells should be moving the human hostages out of the other house. Very soon, the grounds would hold only burning buildings and the dead.

At a hint of a sound, he spun.

A wolf stalking the shadows was about to jump Gawain.

Snarling, Owen sprang first, shifted to cougar midair, and landed in front of the damn dog.

The wolf froze.

Trawsfurring back, Owen planted his feet, badger-furious. “For fuck’s sake, you sprite-brained fool, we’ve got shifters in human form. Sniff before you leap.” Had battle fever taken the idiot?

He spotted another wolf, deeper in the shadows.

Owen scowled at that one and folded his arms over his chest.

The first wolf shifted and walked forward cautiously. Sniffed. And relaxed. “Sorry, you were downwind.”

Not in a mood to be forgiving, Owen glared. “That is my littermate you were about to attack.”

“Ah.” The male moved to one side to be able to watch Darcy and Gawain. “Apologies. But that’s my sister.” His sentence ended in a growl.

Owen blinked. Well. He kept his voice low. “Are you Patrin or Fell?”

“Fell. You know Darcy?”

Not the time, not the place. “Talk, later, wolf. She’s hurt, unconscious, and I need to get her to the transport before cleanup starts.”

The male’s face turned dangerous. “We’ll take her. She’s—”

A voice came from the shadows, probably Patrin’s. “That scar on his face means you’re a cahir, right?”

Owen nodded.

Fell took a step back. “Guard her well, then, cahir.”

The other male’s voice was low. “We’ll be nearby, clearing your trail.”

As the two shifted and darted away, Owen frowned. They’d been adolescent shifters indoctrinated into senseless human savagery. Would they be able to adjust to Daonain ways?

A small groan sounded, high and sweet, and Owen turned.

Darcy’s eyelids fluttered, and she looked around. Yes.

Unable to keep from smiling, Owen asked, “Gawain, if you’re done, can you carry her?”

“I can think of nothing I’d like more.”

The tiny snort of laughter was Darcy’s.

By the God, he loved her.





Chapter Twenty-Five





?


Someone’s voice had wakened her. Darcy blinked, trying to remember where she was and why she was wrapped in a blanket and lying on the floor. Other females were sitting or lying nearby. Her villagers.

The room held brown and green upholstered couch and armchairs, long drapes, and a television. This was what Wells called a “safe house”.