Wolf's Fall (Alpha Pack #6)(65)

The blow from behind caught him off guard.

Propelled forward, he fell. Tumbled down the stairs until his skull slammed into the sharp edge of a step and the world went dark.

* * *

The pounding wouldn’t stop. The relentless thrumming, the roaring in his ears. Eerie laughter meshed painfully with the noise in his head. God, his head. He tried to reach up, only to find that his hands were tied behind his back. Tugging on the bindings didn’t help.

Nick opened his eyes and attempted to focus, but it was like trying to see through crimson wax paper. Blinking helped a little, but his vision was still blurry. Was that Ivan’s voice? Nick squinted and could just make him out.

The vampire was standing over Calla, laughing. The glint off the massive blade in his hand made Nick’s blood run cold. Nearby was a gun Ivan had obviously laid on the floor where he thought it would be out of reach. Think again, *.

Nick put all of his concentration into sitting up. Pain lanced through the back of his skull as he pushed himself up on his knees. Sickness rose and he fought it down.

“Calla, my dear, your quick tongue is one of the things I’ve always admired about you,” he was saying in amusement. “I’m going to enjoy that tongue, too.”

Nick’s movements caught the vampire’s eye. “Ah, there you are. I suppose it’s time now to get on with business. I was going to send your mate’s brother on his way first, but there hardly seems to be any point now, does there? He’ll die soon enough, and he’s not the one who wronged me anyway.”

“You sonofabitch,” Nick breathed, shaking with fury. Indeed, Tarron hadn’t stirred. If not for his labored breathing, Nick would have thought he was dead. “If you’ve wanted to kill me for so long, why don’t you just do it? Here’s your opportunity, you bastard. There’s no need to hurt anyone else.”

“Nick.” Calla’s broken voice tore at his heart, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

“Savoring killing you is nearly as satisfying as acting upon it will be, I think. First you will watch me kill your mate, as you did mine.”

Above them, the battle still raged. Nick felt helpless, not knowing which way the tide was turning. Anger swamped him, and he pulled on his bindings, trying to rip them with brute strength. They gave some, but Ivan’s reaction was quick.

In an instant, the blade was pressed against Calla’s throat. “Move one muscle, and I’ll slit her lovely neck. Keep still and she’ll live a bit longer.”

The vampire leaned over her. His free hand groped under her sweatshirt until he found a breast and squeezed. She gasped in pain, tears filling her eyes.

Nick’s wrath bubbled up in his chest, hot and roiling. No matter what, he wouldn’t sit by and let Ivan rape her. The sonofabitch would kill them anyway, so he had nothing to lose. But before he could get to his feet, he saw her right hand swing upward. Nick thought she intended to slap him and pushed up quickly. Then her fist, clutching a small pocketknife, connected with Ivan’s face and he leapt away, holding his cheek, blood pouring from between his fingers.

“Bitch!” he screamed. “Goddamn bitch!”

Nick was already closing the distance, his heart in his throat. Ivan lunged for her, thrusting his huge blade outward. Nick barreled into him, blocking the assault with his own body and knocking the vampire to the floor. Nick fell across Calla, panting, pain spreading through his side in rolling waves.

“Give me your wrists! Hurry!” she cried.

Nick sat up and held his hands toward her, his eyes never leaving his enemy. Still clutching the knife, Ivan was getting up now, murder etched on his features. A deep, ugly gash ran the length of his cheek. Calla frantically sliced off the thin nylon bindings. Keeping himself in front of her, Nick grabbed the gun from the floor and pointed it at the other man’s chest. The wicked blade in Ivan’s hand was covered in blood.

The vampire saw the look in Nick’s eyes—the look of a man pushed completely over the edge—and seemed to realize he was carrying a knife to a gunfight.

Self-preservation took over. Ivan turned and dove toward the stairwell as Nick opened fire. The killing shot sailed over his head, slamming against the far wall. He scrambled up the stairs, bullets pinging off the railing. None of them connected with their intended target and Nick swore violently.

“This isn’t over, Westfall,” Ivan shouted. “I’ll see you burn in hell!” Then he vanished.

Nick panted, burning with hatred. If he wasn’t wounded, dammit, his aim would have been true.

“One of our men will catch him, surely,” Calla said in a shaky voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he lied, turning to face her. “Are you all right, baby?”

She started to answer. Then she spotted the wet stain spreading on his naked side and sucked in a breath. “He stabbed you,” she moaned. “I thought it was his blood on the knife.”

“It’s not bad, I promise. Listen, we have to get out of here. He’s gonna set the place on fire. He’s got broken furniture stacked up and soaked with kerosene on the main floor.”

“But we’re chained up! Leave us here and go for help.”

“I’m not leaving the two of you here! Especially when he could double back or send reinforcements while I’m gone. Let me try something. I want you to stand up and hold out your wrist.”