The first man materialized from the woods as smoothly and soundlessly as a ghost. Except he reeked of wolf. He skin was almond brown and streaked with a brackish green mud. The same mud caked his hair into a makeshift mohawk. At some point, probably years ago, his pants had been jeans, but now they resembled a denim grass skirt that barely concealed his privates. The shredded jeans were the only clothing he wore.
Down the shoreline another man appeared, his hair caked into dreadlocks by the same muddy goop. He was wearing a loincloth fashioned from a pair of LSU sweatpants. Dark patterns were smeared across his chest in a display that looked like it had been drawn by a five-year-old.
Another two men appeared behind the one with dreadlocks. If I hadn’t been able to smell the wolf scent coming off them, the yellow glow in the eyes of the newcomers would have been a pretty obvious tip-off as to what they were.
Four-on-two was nothing. I didn’t care how tough these guys looked. I had a vampire sentry with me and I probably could have handled these guys on my own. There were on the sickly side of skinny.
I was still more concerned about the alligators in the water and how Holden and I were going to get back to the mainland. That was until another six men emerged behind the guy with the mohawk. This new development skewed the odds a little.
“Arnie brought us a present,” the one with dreadlocks said. “And dinner.”
All ten moved forwards as one.
“Get back, you mange-infested freaks,” I said, and snarled at them.
This gave them pause. “She smells like wolf,” Dreadlocks announced.
“Keen nose, doggy. You guys smell like shit.”
Mohawk smiled and stepped closer. Holden and I had nowhere to go unless we wanted to take a moonlight swim with some hungry reptiles. I was thankful for the cover of Holden’s body. It meant the mutts couldn’t see me un-holster my gun.
“You’re a long way from the pack,” Mohawk said, and laughed. “You’re with the Loups-Garous now.”
“I don’t care who you are. Let us leave and no one gets hurt.”
They laughed in unison. If they didn’t smell lupine, I would have guessed hyena from the mad chuckling they were doing. I slid around Holden and put my loaded gun in the open laughing mouth of Mohawk.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think you took me seriously the first time I said it. You will let us go.” My tone was pure threat.
One of the wolfs let out a short yip, and I made the mistake of believing it was a sound of concern until more rustling from the woods broke my concentration and another dozen wolves—all men in various states of undress—joined their brothers on the beach.
The Loups-Garous now outnumbered us on a level that put Holden and me in a position where we couldn’t win. I could blow off Mohawk’s head right now, but the clip didn’t hold twenty-two bullets, and I couldn’t reload and achieve perfect aim fast enough to take down the ones closest to me before someone took me out.
I pulled the gun out of Mohawk’s mouth and returned to Holden.
The new arrivals all had eyes that gleamed yellow, barely concealing the beasts within. They looked hungry, but the kind of hunger varied depending on whether they were focusing on Holden or on me. I held my gun ready even though I doubted I’d get a chance to use it.
“Now would be a good time to start humming the Deliverance theme.”
Holden’s arm snaked around my waist, and he pulled me close, showing possession. I don’t think these guys cared if he called dibs.
“What’s the plan?” he whispered.
“Don’t die.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
One day, provided I lived long enough, I was going to make a list of the top-ten worst experiences of my life. Being dragged by my hair through the mucky, disgusting swamp underbrush while listening to a pack of feral werewolves talk about who would rape me first was a sure contender for the number-six spot on that list.
Number five if they let the one who kept talking about giving it to me up the ass got first crack.
Considering a vampire sadist had once gotten his jollies by sticking a finger in my open neck wound, it took a lot to break into the top five. Not to mention, if any of these Mad Maxian savages so much as pulled out their dick in my presence, they wouldn’t get it back.
They could kill me—or they could try—but I would make the Loups-Garous a pack of eunuchs before I let them go balls deep.
“She’s scrappy,” Dreadlocks said.
“She’s trouble. We’re leaving her for