Wayland’s brow furrowed. “Why exactly do you sound delighted by that?”
“Because then Camden won’t have to watch me die. Oh, he’ll feel it. But he’ll be spared having to see it. And he’ll be so enraged by my death that, no matter what the breaking of the bond does to him physically or emotionally, he’ll hang on long enough to avenge me. And then you’ll be dead. Yay.” She beamed. “You yourself know how vengeance can serve as fuel. You know it can keep a person going through the darkest times.”
“You figure his uncle has fucked up my plan? No. I’m not letting that happen.” Wayland jumped to his feet and took a few steps toward the door. “Up.”
Aspen tilted her head. “Why?”
“We’re leaving.”
She felt her nose wrinkle. “Yeah, I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“I don’t care.”
“So kill me.”
He blinked. “Oh, you think you can push me into killing you to ‘spare’ Camden some pain.”
“I’d certainly prefer it over whatever your plan C happens to be. And everyone knows you should never let a killer get you to a secondary location. Seriously unwise.”
“I don’t need to kill you. I can just riddle you with bullets right now and put you through a shitload of agony.”
“Which would make me even less likely to go with you, and it means you’d probably have to help me walk and stuff.” She gave him a smile that was all mock sympathy. “Regretting that you killed Grant? You could have used him to make me cooperate.” She puffed out a breath. “I guess you could sneak out of here and come back another day. No one would notice, if you’re lucky.”
“You think I’m not aware that this entire complex is probably surrounded by pallas cats right now?” He bared his teeth. “Fuck.” He leaned over the coffee table, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and yanked her to her feet with a snarl.
She hissed long and loud. “You son of a bitch.”
And then she struck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Aspen knocked the gun out of his hand and pitilessly slammed her fist into his Adam’s apple. His head jerked back slightly as he sucked in a sharp breath. She flipped up the table, ramming it into his body. A curse exploded out of him, but he barely stumbled.
The gun. Where was the fucking—there. She rushed toward it just as he made a dive for it. Aspen reached it first, but not with enough time to lean down and grab it. Dammit. She kicked the weapon under the sofa instead.
He peeled back his lips. “I don’t need a gun to force you out of here. You’re leaving with me, conscious or not.” His eyes glowing with bloodthirst, he rushed at her.
Aspen flew into action, hitting him with one devastating strike after another. Adrenaline pumped through her system, boosting her speed and strength; dulling the pain. The latter was good, because fuck he hit hard. Real hard. Nowhere was spared—not her jaw, not her face, not her kidneys, not even her boobs. And the solid blow to her solar plexus hurt like a mother and knocked the breath right out of her.
She didn’t ease back, though. No, she fought like a fucking animal, always moving; never slowing.
Although he certainly had a harder punch than her, he didn’t strike with disabling blows—he was more focused on hurting her, too confident he had the upper hand. That was his mistake.
She’d imagined the many ways in which she’d make this bastard suffer. Sadly, she couldn’t afford to take her time; couldn’t afford to give him time to overpower her. She needed him dazed. Bleeding. Overwhelmed. She needed to neutralize the threat. That meant inflicting maximum damage, and doing it damn fucking fast.
Luckily, she was fast. Far faster than him. She used it well as they both punched, blocked, kicked, ducked, slashed, deflected.
Several times she distantly heard her phone ring. The cell had been on the table she’d earlier knocked over, so she had no idea where it now was. Not that she could have answered it.
She knew the caller had to be Camden; she could feel his panic. He was coming for her. He had to be. But she didn’t let herself rejoice. She needed to focus on the male in front of her. Needed to keep her head in the fight.
The coppery taste of blood in her mouth—thanks to a vicious blow to the face from Wayland—only drove her to keep moving, affecting both her and her bearcat on an elemental level. The animal was practically feral in her fury and need to end this fucker.
Aspen didn’t dare shift, because he’d do the same. Her bearcat was an awesome scrapper, but she was likely to be overpowered by a polar bear.
He smashed his meaty fist into Aspen’s head. Her vision darkened around the edges, and she blinked rapidly. Before she had a chance to retaliate, he followed it up with a blow to the jaw that almost made her teeth rattle.