Page 123 of Evil Hearts

Daring a glance, she saw the vampire’s focus shift from his left to his right and then back again. Something—or, rather, severalsomethings—had interrupted them. Then she heard it: a rustle of leaves there; a snapping twig there. A heavy exhale—bestial and jagged—led into a low, enraged growl, then another—on the other side of the night-bathed trees, forcing Katarina to crane her neck like the vampire—joined in shortly after.

“What is it? Dogs?”

The golden-eyed vampire’s gaze narrowed at Katarina as an unspoken tension rose between them.

Wolves in the highlands…

“Th-they’re… theyarereal?” Katarina fought the cold tremble creeping up her spine in succession with the twin growls on either side of them.

The brush to her left and right parted almost simultaneously, and two sets of glimmering eyes took them in. Though Katarina had never seen a wolf—nothing outside of passing nature documentaries on the TV or half-hearted glances at the pacing captives in a zoo—she couldn’t help but feel they’d be… shorter. The predatory eyes burning into her must have been at least eight feet from the forest floor!

A gasp choked in her throat as realization combatted with her instinct to not make any sudden noises.

Therions!

Thewolvesthat had been spotted weren’t dogs or the insane ramblings of a town drunk, they were fortunate survivors who’d spotted a pair of shapeshifters. Katarina had never met a therion before, though Erik’s rants in the past had led her to believe that they were mindless savages who lived only to eat and rape anything weaker then themselves, which, according to her agent, was just about anything.

Just how much of that was true, though?

There was a beautiful elegance to what she could see of the two; the deadly majesty of a jungle cat or a bear roaming proudly in the wild. These mythos, what had fueled the werewolf legends and just about every other lore of shapeshifters the world over, were more than just wolf-like, though Katarina could certainly see a fair share of canine traits in the jaws and ears.

There was, however, no denying that they looked dangerous.

As if to drive this point further, the therion to her right snapped its jaws and let out a low, guttural snarl while the one to the left peeled back its lips to make a show of its teeth.

The vampires released her and took a cautionary step away from her. The three had speed on their side, but with the two therions flanking them on either side the likelihood that they’d get their claws into at least one of them before they had a chance to vanish was too great. In the hills—with proper numbers and distance—they might’ve stood a fighting chance against the snarling beasts, but here…

Waves of inner conflict crashed within her head as Katarina tried to decide if things had just gotten better or worse. Therions were, like vampires, a species that was notoriously fond of the taste of anaprieks. While the vampires would’ve simply bled her dry, these two would outright devour her! And though herformer pursuers certainly seemed swayed by their arrival, there was still the possibility that they’d set aside their differences and simply split her amongst them; her blood filling the bellies of the vampires while the meat was rationed between the therions.

Her stomach turned at the idea that she might become some sort of inter-species, tribal peace treaty meal.

Mind still racing, she felt her heart stutter and leap into her throat as the first roar was issued. As though a signal had passed between them, the two shot towards them, and a whirlwind of violence erupted around her. Katarina let out a panicked squeak and dropped to her knees, hugging her arms around her torso and trying to make herself small enough to not be dragged into the chaos. A massive, clawed fist whistled over her head, and one of the vampires let out a pained grunt. A moment later the sharp roar of fractured wood echoed and a tree toppled. One of the vampires hissed behind her, only to have the sound cut short; a muffled groan emerging. Snarls echoed around her as the sound of snapping jaws and sharp impacts resonated through Katarina’s core. She’d painted plenty of violent scenes in her career, but the still-life moments depicted did nothing to mirror the scene; the splotches of red pigment on canvas now seeming an unworthy mockery of the gore that splattered the forest floor.

Something grabbed her shoulder, and she let out a cry and clenched her eyes shut and pulled against it. The sound of fabric tearing startled her as whatever was holding her was yanked away, and she toppled into the dirt. Chilled earth bit into her now-exposed skin.

The sounds of the skirmish continued for a moment longer before the vampires’ frantic voices rose to call one another back, and three sets of footsteps started away before vanishing altogether.

Then silence; painful, dreadful silence.

Katarina refused to open her eyes—refused to even move—as her mind worked the possibilities. The vampires wouldn’t have fled without her if they’d killed the therions, and she knew that she’d have heard the towering beasts’ heavy steps through the brush if they’d left. Which left only one possibility:

They were still there!

They’d driven the trespassers to retreat and, in doing so, leave the morsel—her!—right at their feet. She shivered then, realizing that she was left wearing only a red lace bra—the tattered remains of her shirt scattered about around her like confetti.

Like being passed around like an entrée wasn’t bad enough, now she had to be served up in her most racy underwear?

Taking in a nervous breath, she forced herself to look up.

The therions gazes lingered on her, and she shivered under the possessive gleams in their eyes. Despite this, they made no move to take her; they simply stood, staring—their dark, broad torsos rolling with heavy, panting breaths.

Moving so slowly that her muscles ached with each labored inch, she stood. The nearest therion’s lip curled on one side, exposing its teeth to her and drawing a nervous whimper from her suddenly parched throat. Her panicked breathing and cries had taken their toll, and she stifled the urge to cough against the dry husk her throat had become. Turning to the snarling therion, she held up her hands, palms out, hoping that the peaceful gesture would calm it. The muscles of its leg tensed like a coiled rope as it took a step towards her, and the movement drove her to mirror a step back.

A warm grip took hold at her shoulders as she backed into the second, and the ensuing whimper set off the impending coughing fit. Hacking and convulsing against the ever-tightening, vice-like grip, Katarina began to sob, certain that she was about to be ripped to pieces.

But the massive clawed hands only secured her, keeping her upright and steady as the coughing passed.

Confused by this, she bit her lip and turned her head enough to look up into the face of the therion holding her. Shimmering, dog-like eyes took her in, and the therion cocked its head to one side, a soft, concerned whimper sounding as it did. Katarina stared up at him a moment, taken aback by the gentleness of its features, before turning her head back to the therion in front of her, who had crouched down on his haunches—bringing him only a few inches below her standing height—and began to lightly trail a clawed fingertip along a scratch on her hip.

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