Saved by the Beast (Kindred Tales)

“Don’t! Don’t do that!” Bard tried to keep the panic from his own voice. The Rage had melted now, replaced by fear for Makenna’s life. Gods, what was he going to do? How could he get her free of that fucking Trollox?

“Biter will do whatever he wants with the girly,” the Trollox snarled, but at least he released his grip a bit, so Makenna could breathe. “Biter bought and paid for her before you stole her away, Kindred!”

“What do you want for her, then?” Bard asked quickly. “Any amount of credit—just ask for it and it’s yours!”

“She’s not for sale.” An evil grin spread over the big Trollox’s mouth, exposing all of his long, yellow tusks. “Biter is going to breed her and put his heir in her belly. And if you try to stop him, Biter will snap her neck like a twig.”

His big hand tightened again and Makenna’s eyes bulged frantically.

“No!” Bard shouted, but what could he do? If he moved forward and tried to stop what was happening, the big Trollox would kill Makenna before he could get anywhere near her! But if he just stood there, Biter would rape her, implanting his parasitic heir.

It was a stand-off and any way Bard looked at it, Makenna’s life was forfeit.

Oh Goddess, he prayed, feeling his heart clench in his chest. Help me now! What do I do? How can I stop this and save the female I love?

Because he did love her—he had from the beginning. He’d been a fool to send her away, he knew that now. But it was too late—Makenna was going to pay for his mistake with her life.

“Bard,” she whispered in a low, choked voice, her eyes wide as she gripped the huge hand around her throat. “Bard, helps…”

“Hang on, baby girl. Gonna get you out of this,” Bard promised hoarsely.

But how?

At his side, Tiny was still quivering with pent up rage and anger. A low growl was building in his shaggy throat but it was clear he understood the situation as well as Bard did, for he didn’t move, though Bard could tell that he wanted desperately to spring on Biter and rip his fucking throat out.

“Hold on, boy,” he murmured to the big Ya’greer. “Just hold on…”

Tiny didn’t move but he did throw up his head, pointing his long, shaggy muzzle at the sky. He let out a high, bone-chilling, ululating howl, as though he was giving voice to the grief and pain and anxiety that both of them felt, seeing the female they had come to love in danger.

Biter winced, twitching as though the sound hurt his ears.

“Stop it!” he roared. “Biter says stop now!”

But Tiny didn’t stop. He howled again and again, his voice carrying through the Deep Blue—an echoing lonely song of grief and fear and pain…

“Biter said stop it!” the Trollox shouted. “He said—”

Suddenly the trees behind him exploded as two huge creatures burst through the net vines and into the small clearing. They leapt on the enormous Trollox, snapping at his neck and back, growling and tearing at his dirty, gray-green flesh. Then another two shapes leapt through the shredded net vines and another three after them. All of them began viciously attacking the enormous Trollox, snapping with long white teeth and snarling in pure fury as they ripped at him.

“Ya’greers!” Bard breathed, looking down at Tiny. “You called the wild Ya’greers to help us!”

Biter was caught completely off guard. He cried out and shot his blaster—but the shot went wild, sparking through the canopy of leaves overhead harmlessly. His other hand loosened its grip on Makenna and she stumbled forward, into Bard’s waiting arms.

“Baby girl!” Bard cradled her to his chest, feeling like he couldn’t get her close enough. “Oh Gods, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Makenna coughed and rubbed her throat.

“Makenna…hurt,” she said in a low, hoarse voice. “Bard heals?”

Bard felt his heart squeeze and he tucked her even closer to his chest.

“Yes, Baby girl—Bard heals,” he promised. “Come, Tiny,” he called to the big Ya’greer, who had joined the wild pack attacking Biter. “Come—we have to get Makenna back home!”

Tiny threw back his head and howled—a blood-curdling sound unlike the call he had given earlier.

The howl sent a shiver through Bard and at the same time it called to him—it was a call to justice, a call to slaughter evil where it stood. He knew that if he hadn’t had a sick female to care for, he would have joined the pack and helped them tear that fucking Trollox to pieces.

Biter was on the ground now, nearly blocked from view by the long, shaggy backs of the wild Ya’greers. He was roaring and flailing, but it was clear he was in a losing battle. The pack was too strong—too many against the single Trollox. Their muzzles were black with his ichor-like blood as they tore him to shreds and ribbons.