Base Instincts Read Free Page A

hit the closed door in a crunch of spine, and damn that hurt. Pain radiated across his back and through his rib cage with such force that even taking a breath stung. Lightning flashed as the werewolf came at him again, but Raze ducked and spun, barely avoiding a blow that would have broken a lot of bones in his face.
    Son of a bitch. This fucker needed to be put down like the rabid dog he was. Raze had never liked werewolves, but this one was a special kind of stupid, stubborn jackass.
    With a roar, Raze charged the guy, nailing him in the gut with his shoulder. Heath oofed and stumbled backward, but he managed to bring down his fist like a hammer on the back of Raze’s neck. Raze hit the wet pavement in a crack of kneecaps, his ears ringing and his eyes blurring. He thought he heard a high-pitched whine followed by another hefty oof , and when his vision cleared, he caught an eyeful of Heath the Dick, his mouth smashed in a bloody mess, spitting blood, teeth, and . . . a marble?
    Before the guy could recover from the injury that had shattered his grill, Raze readied his power and leaped to his feet. Thunder ripped through the air as he threw a right hook that laid the werewolf out hard, putting him facedown and unmoving on the pavement.
    He shook out his fist, knowing he’d feel that punch in his knuckles later. Then, out of the corner of his eye . . . movement. Slowly, he shifted his body around, and there in the shadows, casually leaning against the brick wall of the building across the alley, was the leather-clad male who’d been eyeing him inside.
    And in his hand, bouncing in his palm, was a small, glowing ball the size of a marble . . . just like the one the werewolf had spit out. Whatever it was, it was one hell of a weapon. But as Raze took in the stranger, whose dark eyes were gleaming with an eerie silver light, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he realized that as dangerous as the little glowing projectile was, its owner was far, far more lethal.

 
    If Slake hadn’t been turned on before, watching the medic take down the werewolf had given him a raging hard-on. Whatever species the medic was, he had a killer power in that right arm, and even now, his tats were glowing, pulsing with residual energy.
    Slake rolled the smooth, ice-cold sinisphere between his fingers before pocketing it and pushing away from the side of the building. “Nice, man. You laid that dude out .”
    The medic gestured at the unconscious werewolf. “Wasn’t me who had him spitting teeth.”
    Slake shrugged. “I have fun toys.”
    The medic muttered something that sounded like, “I’ll bet you do.”
    Slake grinned. He really did have some great playthings, and some of them weren’t even for killing or maiming. “I’m Slake.”
    “Raze.” Raze bent over the werewolf, allowing for a tantalizing view of his ass wrapped like a gift in those perfect-fitting black BDU-style pants. Slake watched as he grabbed the unconscious idiot by the ankles and dragged him toward the Harrowgate Slake had used to get here. The gate, invisible to human eyes, had been set into the brick wall, its archway shimmering in invitation. Raze disappeared inside with the werewolf and then leaped back out as the gate closed.
    “Where’d you send him?”
    “Underworld General. Let them deal with the asshole.”
    Slake snorted. “You’re nicer than I am. I’d have left him here for the vultures.”
    “New York doesn’t have a big vulture population.” Raze dug something out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. “But it does have a big werewolf problem.”
    As far as Slake was concerned, the world had a big werewolf problem. Dumb mutts. They didn’t even get along with members of their own species. “I hear you. We got something in common.”
    There was a subtle stiffening in the set of Raze’s shoulders that lasted only a second before he started moving toward the door of the club. “Didn’t know we were