Blooded

Page 8

When we were fully submerged, I wasted no time wrapping my legs around Sean’s middle and twisting both of us, making sure he was beneath me so I could pop to the surface for a quick breath. The water here was fairly deep, and that worked in my favor. Sean weighed three times more than I did, as wolves were heavy, their body mass much denser than any human of comparable size. So he sank while I was relatively buoyant.
He didn’t stay beneath me for long. I stole a breath as he broke out of my grasp and shot to the surface. He stopped only to grab a fistful of my hair, enough to yank me back under again. Damn hair.
Sean was taller than I was, and I didn’t want to run the risk of him touching bottom and gaining the advantage, so I started swimming with all my strength underwater. He had me by the hair, but I turned my lower body at a sharp angle and used my legs to capture him around the waist again. Then I used my free arms to stroke us both backward, deeper into the lake. I didn’t get very far before his other hand found my neck and gave a good squeeze.
Shit. But before he could figure out the best choke hold, I unclasped my legs from his middle, rushed my feet up to his abdomen, and kicked him fiercely. He flung backward in the water, his grip on my neck and hair releasing as he ripped away from me.
I darted to the surface, not wasting any time to catch a breath. Sean came up ten feet from me and immediately lunged for me again. When Sean’s fist came out of the water as he took a stroke, I saw another flash. That boy had produced a second knife. Unbelievable. This one was much smaller, the kind most guys wore on their belts—we did live in the backwoods—but the compact size didn’t matter; it was still capable of cutting a chunk out of me or slitting my neck.
I noted another important fact as his head came out of the water; his irises were full yellow. If I could keep him angry enough, I might be able to force him to shift. Wolves needed a place to drop and change, and by the looks of it, if Sean didn’t get ahold of himself, he was going to start a shift without his consent. Losing control of a shift was rare, but Sean was a hot-tempered human, so in turn, he was a hot-tempered wolf. I’d never heard of a werewolf drowning, but if he started his change, it would give me time to make it back to shore alive. The key was to keep riling him up.
I thrust myself backward, up and out of the water, with a giant kick and a flap of my arms. I had to stay one step ahead of him now. “Taking the…pansy way out…huh, Sean?” I panted. Kick. “A knife…again? What…? No room for…a gun in…your pocket?” It was hard to taunt and swim at the same time, but I was managing. Kick. “Werewolves…don’t use weapons…remember? You guys are”—stroke—“supposed to be…macho. Weapons are beneath you… They’re too…human.” Arm push. “Everyone’s…going to be talking about you…” Gasp. Stroke. “How you needed a pussy knife…because you couldn’t kick my ass…yourself.”
“Shut up,” he growled, almost within reach. His canines had lengthened enough to jut between his lips. I pushed out once more in a last-ditch attempt to put more space between us. “You’re going to die now. I’m going to see it done.”
“Not if I can help it,” I panted as I swam backward. I kept the banter going while I still could. “All your cronies…are going to be talking about it…Sean. It’ll be the hot topic of conversation. The…only topic. How you had to use…a weapon instead of your strength…to best a…female.”
“Nobody is going to talk, bitch, because I’m going to be the one who finally kills you. I’ll be a hero. Nobody’s going to care in the end how the job was done, only that it’s finished.” He took a big stroke toward me.
“Nope, you won’t be a hero, because you’ll be…dead.” I gasped for air, my arms starting to falter as exhaustion crept into my limbs, my wounds from the previous night aching in earnest. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping me in the game. “Why can’t you boys get that through…your thick skulls? My father…is going to kill…you.”
The knife stabbed down in front of me, a hairbreadth away from my face. Water splashed as I dove under, kicking deep. Once I was down far enough, I twisted my body in a circle, searching for his feet. Once I spotted them, I swam over and yanked hard. Gravity worked in my favor, and he plunged down. I let go and swam backward underwater. Unfortunately, he wasn’t giving up or dying of water inhalation just yet. He turned to face me in the murky green darkness, his yellow, glowing eyes looking creepy underwater. I aligned myself in front of him as he swam forward and brought my body up so I was horizontal, my knees bent. When he got close enough, I shot my feet into his oncoming fists, hoping to dislodge the offensive knife still in his grasp.
I connected, but it didn’t work. The knife stayed.
The momentum of the contact pushed us apart. I was lucky the blade hadn’t stabbed into my leg.
Sean recovered quickly, gunning himself at me, grinning like a sociopath, scaring both the fish and me in the process. It was safe to say this was the first time I’d fought a wolf in water, and I hoped it was my last. I was tired. I angled myself backward and brought my legs up again. I shot them out, this time connecting with his face as he swam straight for me. His head snapped back with satisfaction, and he howled underwater, bubbles erupting around him. Good. I hope you choke to death, asshole.
It didn’t slow him. I turned to face him right as he swiped the knife down again. He was closer to the surface than I was, above me, suspended in the water. I tried to block, bringing my arm around in what felt like slow motion as the viscosity of the water worked against me. The knife found its mark, plunking soundly into my big, heavy, soggy, bedraggled cast. Thank goodness for the goddamn cast. The small knife lodged in the wet plaster and, using the cast to my advantage, I flung my whole arm backward—meaning I sloshed it through the water—taking the knife with me and away from my attacker.
Then I swam upward.
Sean and I broke the surface at the same time. I ripped the knife out of the plaster with my other hand and threw it as far as I could before Sean could wrest it from me. It was a stupid liability to keep it; Sean could swipe it back from me and slash my throat. A tiny knife blade would do nothing against a wolf, anyway. It was better to get rid of it. “Oops…Sean,” I sputtered. “Looks like you’re…going to have to use your fists now.”
He lunged at me, tagging me around the neck and pulling me into a choke hold against his body. “My fists are stronger than yours,” he snarled in my ear. “Let’s see if you can break free now.”
I clawed at Sean’s arm with my good hand, drawing blood. My cast was in the way, unable to do any real damage—but it started to unravel. Inside, my hand was aching in earnest, but it was easy to ignore since I was in the middle of fighting for my life. I dipped the cast back under the water and started ramming the plaster against Sean’s side, aiming for his kidneys. The cast was either going to do some damage or get the fuck off my arm. I’d take either one. “What,” I sputtered between hits, “are you going to do…once I’m dead…huh…Sean? You’ll be so bored…with no one left to…harass. Wait, I take that back… You’ll be dead…remember? You won’t even get to revel in…your victory.”
Sean sneered in my ear. “When you’re gone, I will be celebrated. I’ll finally have peace, knowing you’re not going to taint our race with your filth and I was the one who stopped it. The wolves will cheer me.”
“You won’t have any peace…you stupid idiot…because, like I’ve said two hundred times already…you’ll be dead.” I gasped for a big breath and bucked myself backward, straining against his grasp. I used my legs in a burst of energy. I was so sick of this shit and everyone’s deluded views about me.
The motion was enough to rock us backward, and we both went under, thrashing against each other fiercely. My cast was almost fully unraveled now. I shook it harder as I moved, and was rewarded as the last of the plaster swirled off into the depths of the lake. With my fingers on that hand free, I went straight for Sean’s eyes. Always a favorite move of mine.
I shoved my nails in, ignoring the pain it caused me, and gouged as deeply as I could. Sean opened his mouth underwater and yelled, releasing me. I kicked upward, surfacing and sucking air before the next round. My lungs were exhausted—along with everything else—and half filled with lake water.
Sean came up next to me, his eye dripping blood, canines down fully, even longer than before. He was on the brink of changing.
Things were looking up.
I hacked and coughed, ejecting water from every available opening. Sean lashed out with his fist, connecting with my face. He tried to say something, but he couldn’t talk because his vocal chords were in process of morphing. He didn’t need any words; his eyes and face told me everything I needed to know.
I was going down.
The blow knocked me under the water again, my head ringing. Sean swam down and grabbed me, clawing his way up my body until he had me around the middle. Underwater had to take the cake for the oddest werewolf-fighting locale of all time. Ultimately, Sean’s goal was to drown me, but he needed to breathe as much as I did. Werewolves were supernatural, but they still had lungs. He wouldn’t die under here, like I would, but he would lose consciousness without oxygen. I rocked my head up, knocking my skull into his chin. He sputtered and kicked us both to the surface, not letting go of me.
He snarled with me in his grasp, “Getting tired yet?” It sounded more like gretting grie ret through his corded neck, already thick with fur.
“Bring it…asshole.” I coughed. “What’s the matter? Can’t control your wolf? You know…there’s a pill for that.”
Sean raged, the vibrations of his hatred running through his body, rippling the water with his malice. He knew he was losing control and there was nothing he could do to stop it.