Ethan lay on the sofa, reading his school notes, when Zyga came running through the house. The front door slammed after him, causing Ethan to jump. The notes on his lap slipped and scattered over the living room rug.
Zyga did not have a stitch of clothing on. His skin glowed with sweat, and the hair was plastered to his scalp like an auburn cap sparingly sprinkled with gray. But the tracker was not his usual calm self today.
"Ethan! Cody! Damien! Cody, get the emergency bag!" Zyga barked. He did not bother covering his stark state.
Zyga went wild, leaping from window to window, scrambling over chairs as he shut the panes and drew the blinds close. His hairy chest rose and fell, and his lips curled back in a snarl that did not hide slightly extended canines.
"Ethan!" the maddened man snapped, catching him wide-eyed. "Quit your gawking and get your father's shotgun. We have a Dhampir in the area".
"Dhampir? Here?" Ethan parroted like a dummy.
In all his life, he had never set eyes on a Dhampir. Well, he had also never gone out of the territory. All he knew was they were savages who killed werewolves for fun and drank human blood. His limbs froze, and his mind ran images of disemboweled wolves and people with their heads torn off.
A quick smack upside the head by Zyga brought him back to his senses, and Ethan scrambled to obey his commands. The boys upstairs came thumping down the stairs in their pajamas, with his little brother lugging a duffel bag behind him. Damien's half-lidded eyes struggled to stay open while a yawn split Cody's face in two.
"Cody, Damien. Go to the basement and bar the door behind you. Don't come out till I tell you to," Zyga instructed.
Like cubs with good pack training, the two nodded and hurried off without question.
The basement door slammed as Ethan climbed on a dining chair, reaching for the shotgun above the upper cabinets. At summer training, they were taught that twenty percent of the gun's efficiency against a Dhampir depended on a good aim and the rest on a whole lot of luck.
Without the advantages of his wolf, a one-in-five chance was better than nothing. If he got a good shot in, that could slow it down long enough for Zyga to deal with it.
Zyga sprang upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. His steps echoed on the hardwood floors as he went from room to room, banging windows shut. Then a high-pitched bark tore through the night air that ended in a short howl. It was the wolf code for alarm.
Every werewolf in the pack who heard the cry would be tuning in to the pack mental channel now. At least, every Lycan who had found their wolf. Ethan could only imagine the updates and commands flying over the link. All his ears got was the alarm howl echoed by others.
Thanks a whole lot for nothing, Luna! He swallowed the bile in his throat as he loaded the gun.
Even during this emergency, when everyone worked together to keep the pack safe, he was isolated from his people. And if the moon deity finally decided to answer his prayers tonight, it might be too late for him to fight off the Dhampir. As it stood right now, he was as helpful as a door guarding a house without a lock.
He double-checked that the safety was on and the bullets were in place, then held the shotgun to his side. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his fingers grew clammy around the wooden barrel, yet Ethan's curiosity led him to peer out through the blinds.
Catching a glimpse of the notorious species wouldn't hurt, would it? Unfortunately, he could not even see beyond the glow of the porch light.
YOU ARE READING
Blooded Mate
Fantasy[[MATURE CONTENT]] Pack, family, mate. Loyalty, respect, honor. These are the words that form the foundation of the wolf society. At six years old, Ethan had to choose between his Alpha title and his survival on the night of his father's death. As a...
