Page 42 of Hunted By Her Demon Wolves

TOR THUNDERFOOT SHUTthe door to his rental car with a heavy heart, his breath fogging the frigid night air. The smell of pine and fresh snow made his inner wolf howl to break free and run the beautiful New Mexico forests, but he had pressing work to do. What he was about to do put not only his chiefdom and legacy at risk, but all of the Amaroki. What if they unleashed something they couldn’t contain? How he ended up here, he still had no idea. He was putting the fate of his tribe in the hands of a tricky djinn who’d already cursed a pack of Amaroki wolves, and yet, he couldn’t turn his back on Phoenix. She’d come to be like a blood daughter to him, so here he was, about to knock on Boris Lupescu’s door.

Tucking the lamp in his coat, he walked up the porch steps to their beautiful new home, a craftsman cabin made of pine and stone with a long front porch and two chimneys. He stopped in his tracks at the sound of a babe’s cry. How could he tear Eilea from her babies, knowing they could be separated forever if their rescue mission failed? Yet, how could he not? She was the only one who could save Phoenix.

He stood on the porch, rubbing his hands together for warmth, ignoring Jezebeth’s lamp rattling in his pocket. He wouldn’t interrupt until the infant’s cries died down. The Lupescus had to have scented him outside, yet nobody came to the door. After all had gone silent inside, he finally found the courage to knock, not surprised when the door instantly swung open, Boris Lupescu scowling down at him from the other side.

“Tor Thunderfoot,” the other chieftain rumbled, his features as hard as granite.

The house smelled like cinnamon and pine, warm and inviting, yet no invitation was extended to Tor.

Tor cleared his throat. “I must speak to you—and Eilea.” He looked over Boris’s shoulder, disappointed, but not surprised to see nobody else there.

“Whatever it is can wait until the morning,” he answered gruffly. “My family is all in bed.”

Tor jutted his boot inside the threshold, swearing when Boris slammed the door against his shin. “Wake them up.” He clutched the side of the door, his deep protector rumble rising up from his throat. “This is an urgent matter.”

Boris’s eyes flared silver, white fur sprouting across his face. “Nu.”

Tor fought back the protector begging to break free. He wouldn’t resort to threats. Not yet. “Boris, Phoenix is in danger.”

Boris pushed hard on the door, making Tor’s foot throb. “That’s not our problem.”

“Not your problem?” Tor seethed, jamming his shoulder against the door. “Phoenix is Amaroki!”

“She chose to run off to hell.”

“Boris, as one chieftain to another.” Desperation fueling his strength, he clutched the door like a lifeline. He refused to be shut out. “I’m asking you to please hear us out.”

Boris arched a brow. “Us?”

“I’ve brought Jezebeth.”

A thunderous rumble shook the wooden planks beneath his feet. “That demon bitch is not welcome in my house.”

Tor had no choice but to pop open the top on the lamp. “Ancients forgive me,” he whispered before the djinn exploded with a roar, black, coiled magic shooting out of her fingers like serpents of death.

Boris fell to the floor, clutching his throat as choking black magic held him in its noose.

“Don’t kill him,” Tor warned the djinn.

“Why not?” she sweetly intoned while spinning through the front room like a kite in a windstorm, the tips of her feet still tethered to the lamp. “I am a demon bitch, after all.”

Tor gritted his teeth. This was a bad idea. “For Phoenix,” he reminded her. “If she was angry with you before, she’d never forgive you for this.”

Jezebeth pouted like a child. “You’re never any fun, Tor.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” he grumbled, taking long steps toward the stairs.

She was already ahead of him, her fingers stretched out, those black smoke trails winding through the house. He winced when he heard three more bodies hit the floor, followed by Eilea’s scream. He ran up the stairs three at a time and raced into the open bedroom door.

Eilea was already on the floor, convulsing like a fish out of water. Her three mates were sprawled out beside her, fighting the choking black magic.

“Make this quick, and nobody dies!” Tor reminded the djinn as he crossed to the bassinet on the other side of the room. The baby slept like a cherub, slowly working her pacifier. He was a monster and a disgrace for taking the child’s mother away. Another crib was nearby with a sleeping toddler clutching a stuffed wolf. The other three boys were most likely in a nearby nursery.

Hovering over Eilea, Jezebeth unleashed that vial of tears, mumbling the spell the beast had taught her. Eilea stopped fighting, blinking up at the ceiling like a zombie in a trance.

“Free the others,” Tor hissed.

“They’ll attack us,” Jezebeth squealed.

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