The Chronicles of Shane-Part Two

Shane walked to his car as he continued to mull the problem of the Scorpion. The biggest question of all was how in hell was he going to kill her? Scorpions were known to be damn wily and this chick was the worst of all.

The corner of his lip lifted into a snarl as he recalled the last time he’d tangled with her. It’d ended with him having a more than a few broken bones. And since Shane still lived with his sadistic guardian at the time, he hadn’t been allowed to shift to heal the wounds. So, that had resulted in a long, painful recovery, of which he spent every second cursing her name—Lily.

What in the hell kind of name was that for a poisonous shifter anyway? The name always made Shane think of a soft, gentle, nice woman. It sure as hell didn’t bring forth an image of a six-foot, toned, dark-haired, she-devil who wouldn’t know a fair fight in it came up and slapped her across her overly made-up face.

Just the thought of having to deal with her made him cranky, so when he caught the slight scent of two Hyenas tracking him, it made him snarl.

Not even bothering to glance back at them, Shane growled, “I am so not in the mood for this bullshit.”

“Too bad, because it’s coming your way,” came the nasally reply.

Shane paused, cocking his head to the side. “Did you really just say that? Come on, not even the worst Western or action flick uses that line anymore.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Besides the fact that it’s so 1980s? I really don’t have time to list all of them.”

“Are you going to turn around and face us?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Shane sighed. “Because, you bore me.”

“What? You think just because you’re the great Shane that we’re beneath you?”

“The Great Shane? Hmm…I may have to get some business cards and shirts printed up with that. It really has a nice ring to it.”

Just as he hoped for, that final taunt finally snapped the Hyenas’ thin thread of self-control. The air filled with the sounds of snarls, then the pounding of footsteps.

Shane flicked his wrists, allowing two blades to slide down his sleeves, the hilts resting firmly into the palms of his hands.

It wasn’t until he could nearly feel their breath on the back of his neck that Shane turned. At the same time, he swung the blades out, both of them connecting and slicing into flesh.

The coppery tang of blood filled his nostrils along with the acrid scent of fear. Unfortunately, or maybe in this case fortunately, neither smell was new to Shane. One could say he’d even been weaned on them.

“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” he spat as he brought the blades back in to position at his sides.

He tensed, ready for another attack and the damn Hyenas didn’t disappoint. While he’d injured them, they still had plenty of fight left. A fact one of the assholes proved when he swiped his claws out.

Shane ducked, but wasn’t fast enough. A soft hiss passed his lips as the claws ripped into the right side of his face. More blood spilled onto the pavement and damned if it wasn’t his this time.

Well, that just wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.

“Now, you’ve gone and really pissed me off,” Shane growled.

He finally got a good eyeful of his attackers, and to say he was unimpressed would have been an understatement.

It wasn’t so much that they were both scrawny and wore dirty clothes. No, it was the fact they both had frigging mullets. While Shane may not be into fashion like his guardian, Dalton, he still knew that was just a no-no.

“I never did like Hyenas,” Shane said, spitting out a mouthful of blood because the claws had gone all the way through his cheek. “Not only are you guys skeezy, but some of you hurt a couple of friends of mine. And I happen to fiercely protect those close to me.”

The Hyenas moved in again, but this time Shane was done playing. He swung the blades around, this time with the intent to seriously maim. While he wasn’t ticked enough to outright kill them, he wanted them to at least limp for the rest of their lives.

Dropping down to his knees, he brought the blades around and cut into the back of the Hyenas’ ankles, slicing into their achillies tendons.

They let out loud shrieks before they both dropped to the ground. One of them still managed to reach out and strike Shane again, this time the claws digging into his chest.

Shane bit back a curse as pain coursed through his body. Shit, that’d been his best shirt, too. Now the damn thing was ruined. Even if he could get the blood out, there was no way he’d ever be able to mend the tears.

He briefly debated taking his gun out and shooting the bastard for the offense, but in the end he let it go. Not only had his coalition leader forbade him from killing unless it was absolutely necessary, but Shane also promised Trevor he’d cut down on the homicide.

Trevor.

Just thinking that name soothed the anger in Shane. All of a sudden, he had an intense longing to hold his mate in his arms. To be able to bury his nose in the nape of Trevor’s neck and drink in the sweet scent of the man.

He got up, completely disregarding the Hyenas, who were rolling around and shrieking in pain. He didn’t even give them a backward glance as he got into his car.

His fingers shook a bit as he turned on the engine, either from the blood loss or the adrenaline crash. The drive home was short, however, so he made it there without further incident.

As he stepped out, he took a moment to glance over the exterior of the old farmhouse that he and his mate now lived in. Shane carefully searched out each shadow and recess for signs of possible threats. Not that he expected any at the moment, but old habits died hard.

Only when he was certain that all was clear and his mate was safe, did Shane relax. He walked onto the porch, stumbling, as his vision began to swim a bit.

Shit, the chest wound must have been deeper than he thought. He put a hand to his shirt, wincing when he realized just how badly he was bleeding.

A normal shifter would have noticed it sooner, but Shane was far from normal. He’d been taught from an early age to ignore such trivial things as pain or blood loss, so it wasn’t until things became really bad that he became concerned.

He opened the door, his hands leaving behind streaks of blood on the white wood. Oops, that was sure to piss Trevor off. He hated it when things were messy. Which never failed to surprise Shane, since he himself was the biggest mess of all, yet Trevor still managed to fall in love with him.

The inside of the home was dark, but Shane didn’t need any lights to guide his way. With his enhanced feline vision, he could see as clear as if it were day.

He went directly to the master bedroom and paused at the entrance to study his mate. Trevor slept on his side, one hand tucked under his cheek. His plump lips were slightly parted, a lock of his dark hair falling over his pale face, the contrast of colors coming off as near perfection.

And yet everybody claimed it was Shane who had the angelic features. How wrong they were. In Shane’s opinion there was only one angel and it was his Panther.

Trevor’s lids blinked open, his green-eyed gaze instantly becoming alert. “Shane? Are you okay?”

Since he knew Trevor no doubt already smelled the blood, Shane didn’t lie. “No, I may have been nicked a bit.”

Even as he said that, a fresh wave of blood surged from his wound, droplets falling to the hardwood floors with a quick succession of splatters. Yeah, there was no doubt about it, Shane was making a real mess.

Well, damn. This isn’t how I planned for my evening to end.