Wild Warrior (The Weavers Circle 2)

Twisting around to glance over his shoulder, Baer swore under his breath to find a male and female pestilent standing in front of the door. Humans wouldn’t notice anything different about them, but Weavers could. The air wavered around them as if they radiated heat. And, of course, there was the godawful stench. Pestilents were not meant for this world, and their bodies started rotting from the moment they arrived. Their time in this place was limited, but what time they had was spent trying to kill the Weavers.

The pestilent woman wore a pair of ragged jeans, and her brown hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, making her angular features seem that much sharper. A feral grin pulled across her thin lips when she spotted him. She lifted the shotgun in her hands to her shoulder and pointed it straight at his chest.

Baer sucked in a breath. Was she really going to open fire in a small building crowded with people? Everyone was going to be killed or injured. Not only one fucking Weaver.

Pivoting on the balls of his feet, Baer wrapped an arm around Blondie’s slender waist and dove over the closest table. A shocked yelp left the man’s lips, but he didn’t fight Baer as they tumbled to the floor. With his free hand, Baer grabbed the edge of the table, pulling it onto its side. They landed with the surprisingly thick wooden barrier at their backs just as the shotgun exploded in the room, slamming into the far side of the table and a scattering of chairs. Thank God the owners had sprung for the more expensive wood tables rather than shitty thin pressboard.

“Holy shit!” the man cried, hunkering against Baer as people screamed and chaos broke out around them.

“Stay right here.”

“Oh, my fucking God! I never should have listened to that crazy old lady.”

Baer had been about to launch himself at the pestilents, but Blondie’s muttered words stopped him cold. Crazy old lady? He knew three of them, and they were very good about putting the Weavers in the right place to meet up with their missing brothers. They were still anxiously awaiting the arrival of the last three.

Was Blondie a Weaver?

It would explain that strange feeling that hit him when their eyes locked. It hadn’t been quite the same, but then Baer hadn’t been looking to meet a lost Weaver today. Yet, it would explain why Jo had been so adamant that one of them had to make a doughnut run this morning.

“An old woman told you to come to this bakery today?”

“Yeah,” Blondie said and winced when the shotgun exploded again. The shot went over their heads and hit the far wall.

“And you had to come early in the morning?”

“Yes. Why?”

Baer grinned at him. “Because we were supposed to meet! You’re a Weaver!” Baer grabbed the legs of one of the overturned chairs and chucked it over his shoulder in the direction of the pestilents, buying him a few extra seconds. There was a scream and a crash behind him.

Joy swept through Baer as he stared at Blondie’s confused expression. He’d get to see this guy again. Yes, he’d have to find a way to tame his attraction for his newest brother, because now it just seemed wrong and awkward, but that was okay. There was just something about his adorable smile, cute accent, and charming manner that had Baer believing he’d fit right in with the rest of them.

Of course, that was assuming that they got out of this mess alive in the first place.

“What are you talking about?” Blondie demanded. He looked as if he were going to start edging away from Baer and his crazy talk, but that was only going to put him in the line of fire.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain on the way home. Let me take care of these guys, and then we can get out of here.” Baer flashed the man a reassuring smile, but it didn’t help to remove the look of confusion from his face. “Stay here and keep your head down.”

Blondie continued to stare at him like he’d lost his fucking mind, and there was a part of Baer that still believed that was true. Naturally, he’d lost his mind. Who would believe stories of an alien race trying to destroy the earth while six immortal men were tasked by goddesses to use magic to stop them? It was utter nonsense.

And now it was his life.

Baer turned to look around the table they were using as cover, but a hand dug into his shoulder, pulling him close. “What the hell are you doing? Are you a cop? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“No, but I’ve got it. There are only two of them. Easy enough.” He winked at the blond before scanning his surroundings. The pestilents were picking themselves up off the floor after dodging the flying chair. None of the customers were looking their way. Everyone was hunkered behind whatever cover they could find. The ceiling wasn’t particularly high, and the walls were close. If he chose something with wings, it would have to be really small, or he’d never get up in the air.