Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The element of surprise could work as one hell of a preemptive strike.
As Kane stepped free of the hunting cabin, he didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. He dematerialized directly onto the guard who’d just gotten out of the passenger seat, and he bit the bastard on the side of the face.
The instant he struck, the male screamed, and as Kane jerked back, he took the skin and meat of the cheek with him. Spitting everything out, he shoved the guard to the ground and jumped up onto the roof of the vehicle—just as the driver emerged from the interior.
A gun swung up and sent a bullet Kane’s way, but as he somersaulted over the other male’s head, he was a target missed. He landed hard in his borrowed boots, grabbed the guard’s head from behind, and yanked back. As balance was lost, more gunshots went off toward the sky, and Kane caught the wrist that controlled the weapon. With a vicious snap, he broke the forearm bones, and when the screaming started, he took that gun.
Pointed it at the male’s face.
And pulled the trigger.
The bullet went right through the forehead, and the body jerked, arms and legs flopping, mouth falling open, eyes wide and instantly sightless. He let the guard fall to the ground and jumped over the hood. For a split second, he couldn’t go any farther. The male he’d bitten had half a face, the bone structure eaten away under where his fangs had penetrated, the roots of the teeth exposed, the nose nothing but a pair of black holes. One eye was gone entirely, and the disintegration was spreading.
Kane turned back to the cabin and thought of the wolven.
“I won’t be gone long,” he called out to Nadya. “Stay where you are!”
“Kane?” There was a pause. “Kane!”
“No time, stay where you are!”
Jumping behind the wheel, he remembered what he’d seen the others do. He planted his foot on something down on the floor—the engine roared. That wasn’t right. He punched his foot into the other pedal. There was nothing. Locating the shifting rod, which was in the center between the seats, he found it frozen in place—until he punched at the pedals again. As the gear wand became freed, he wrenched it all the way back.
The car went forward.
Not what he wanted, but he made it work. Yanking the wheel around until it was tight to the left, he herky-jerked the car in a circle, heaving, ho’ing. Punching at the pedals. Lurching.
When he had a clear shot out the lane to the road, he ran over the driver as he shoved his boot into what made the car go. Skidding, slipping, drifting from side to side, he mostly kept on the twin paths that had been worn into the ground, and when he got to the paved double lanes they’d been on, he made a turn that was as close to ninety degrees as he could make it.
The glow in the east was gathering real momentum now, and he had to hold his arm up over his face to keep his eyes even partially open. As another vehicle came toward him, a horn sounded, loud as the kind that he remembered being on steam trains. His instinct was to wrench the wheel to the right, but he knew that he’d end up deep in the bushes and the trees—and he was still too close to the hunter’s cabin to ditch the vehicle. He held on tight and kept straight, inching over to make room, catching a quick glance at the furious human as they passed.
Glancing up to the little mirror mounted on the front window, he saw the other vehicle’s red lights keep going, that blaring noise getting cut off.
He kept going, too.
The burn of the sun’s first rays on his face and upper body made him remember being in the clinic’s bed, and the memories of Nadya made him focus through the pain. As he continued to surmount the road, as miles went beneath the wheels, he controlled things better, managing the speed and the steering with greater competence. Signs appeared off to the side, but he couldn’t read them because his bloodline had thought that the languages of humans were beneath his kind. They’d always had doggen for English translations.
As the sun’s rise grew even more relentless, his eyes began watering such that he could barely see, and wiping them repeatedly didn’t help. The only good news was that the guards would be under the same conditions he was.
And then he simply couldn’t go any farther.
Looking to either side of the road, he saw nothing but tree line, no glowing lights, no drives into the forested acreage. He extended his right foot as far as it could go, and the engine responded as he demanded, his speed increasing. As he rounded a bend and came to a straightaway, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath—