Blooded

“I haven’t needed a fucking Band-Aid in my life.” Mitch swiped a forearm under his dripping nose, smearing a long bloody streak across his right cheek. I’d landed a few good kicks before he’d had a chance to wreck my face with his fists.

 

“That’s not what I heard.” I stepped out into the ring. “I heard Doc Jace had to rebreak a few bones for you not so long ago. I’m sure he needed plenty of Band-Aids for that.” Holding a wolf down so their bones didn’t align as they healed was considered bad fighting form, but was incredibly useful when you were trying to teach someone a lesson—which was exactly what my brother had been trying to do. “Isn’t that right? Something to do with a squabble you lost to Tyler? And by lost I mean…lost.” My twin brother was fierce and carried incredible status for his young age. Tyler had stepped in on my behalf when Mitch had started needling me a few months ago, and tried to pound some much-needed sense into him.

 

It clearly hadn’t worked.

 

“I’m going to wipe that smile off your face for good.” Mitch seethed, the hair on his arms morphing, growing thicker, triggered by his intense emotion, which was a glaring, telltale sign I was getting to him.

 

I grinned, loving the knowledge I’d pissed him off, that I’d weaseled under his skin like a bad rash. “So you keep saying,” I said. “But I’m still up, and you’re still an asshole.”

 

He came at me faster than I could track. I hit the floor and rolled.

 

I was too slow. Sharp claws raked my back, shredding my flimsy tank top, gouging deep, bloody furrows into my skin. Breath left my body.

 

If I lost my focus now I was dead.

 

Mitch pressed in behind me. I swung my elbow up before he completely overpowered me, connecting with his jaw. He swore, but didn’t move. Instead, his hand wound around my neck and he mashed my face into the mat like he was putting out a cigarette. “How does that feel?” he growled. “Looks like you’re down now.”

 

With every ounce of strength I had, I forced my head up, arching my neck and shoulders. I managed to gain a little space between me and the mat. His hand was like iron, unforgiving and hard, but I was leaking fluids. I used the slipperiness to my advantage, and in the small space I’d won, I twisted my body to the side in his grasp, but just barely. I brought my leg up and pressed it into his shoulder, and with gargantuan effort, pushed him back less than an inch.

 

It was all I needed.

 

“You’re not getting away,” Mitch snarled. “I’ve waited to do this for too many years. I’m not letting you bring our race down, Daughter of Cain. It’s time for you to go back to your Maker.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair, which had come loose from its bindings, and yanked. My head wrenched to the side at an impossible angle—vanity payback for keeping my hair long when I should’ve cut it “No help is coming for you now, Jessica, so it looks like I win.”

 

“And,” I gurgled out of my distorted throat, “it looks like you have…my heel”—I smashed the back of my perfectly positioned foot into his face as hard as I could—“in your fucking eye.”

 

A satisfying crack sounded and Mitch sprang back, staggering away from me, cupping the wound, blood flowing freely between his fingers. “Goddammit!”

 

I gulped in a few breaths, compensating for the lost oxygen. Sticky blood streamed down my back in hot rivulets, but I couldn’t let it distract me. I had to find a way to erase it from my mind—and taunting Mitch sounded like the best place to start. “What’s the matter? Did that hurt?”

 

Mitch snarled fiercely.

 

I scuttled back out of his reach. Even though I’d likely shattered both his frontal and maxillary bones, it would take him only a few moments to recover. Stupid werewolf healing. And even though he was a wolf, he still felt pain, which always worked in my favor.

 

After a moment, Mitch dropped his hand, fury roiling across his features in churning waves of hate. Blood coated his face, red leaking slowly out of the still-healing wound, dripping onto his formerly white T-shirt, making it look like a horror-soaked tie-dye. As I watched, the fractured bones began to set themselves in real time. It was completely unnerving, even though I’d seen live-action healing many times before. It was straight out of a sci-fi movie on the FX Channel—only this was the real thing. Mitchy was going to be good as new in less than a minute.