Her Lone Wolf Read Free Page B

Clayne when necessary, reacted quickly to pop-up targets in his sector, and didn’t hesitate to move under overhead fire. The tactical exercise was still talking a toll on the guy. Tanner’s eyes were a bit too wide, he was sweating a bit too much, and his jaw looked like it was clenched so hard that dental damage was a definite possibility. Worse, his heart was racing a hundred miles an hour. Clayne knew because he could hear it.
    But despite all that, Tanner was keeping it together.
    The end of the live-fire lane—the base of a squat, wooden tower atop the shallow hill where the machine gunner was positioned—was only forty feet away. A couple more sprints and they’d both be there.
    Maybe this would turn out okay after all.
    Suddenly, the ground in front of them exploded.
    Clayne leaped for the next covered position before the pressure wave of the detonating plastic explosives reached him. Tanner didn’t react as fast. The blast hit him right in the face, throwing him back on his ass. The demo charge had been small, probably no more than a quarter pound, and it had been buried several feet off the course for safety, so while the explosion might not technically have been dangerous, there was nothing like having shit blow up right near you to convince you otherwise. Even Clayne’s heart was thumping pretty hard now.
    From his crouched position, he leaned forward to take a quick look around the sandbags and saw four enemy combatants coming his way. Guess Todd had decided it was time for the hand-to-hand portion of the exercise.
    This was one of those training scenarios you didn’t see anywhere but in the most serious special ops organizations, like the SEALs, Special Forces…and the DCO. Because combining live weapons, live explosives, pumping adrenaline, and hand-to-hand fighting was usually a recipe for disaster. People were known to get killed doing this kind of shit.
    As if on cue, Tanner let out a roar. It wasn’t the sound a soldier made as he readied himself for a charge. It wasn’t even the growl a shifter made to intimidate an opponent. It was the sound a hybrid made when he lost his freaking mind.
    Clayne spun around to see Tanner throwing someone—one of Maxwell’s team members, former Navy SEAL Jake Basso—fifteen feet into the woods. In a fraction of a second, Tanner turned and casually blocked a flying kick from another opponent—this time Air Force Pararescue Jumper Ed Vincent—then swatted the man like a cat taking down a humming bird. Ed hit the ground hard and didn’t get up.
    Tanner stood over him, his claws shoved out so far his fingertips were bleeding from the force they’d exerted as they ripped through his skin. His upper canines were extended an inch beyond his other teeth, which had grown as well. His freaking jaw had actually pushed out to accommodate the sudden growth spurt. And his eyes were glowing scarlet.
    Clayne had seen plenty of shifters change, but never like this. Tanner wasn’t a man shifting into a lion. He seemed more like a lion that was trying to claw its way out of a man. And the result was freaking creepy.
    Tanner reached for Ed Vincent, fangs flashing as if he intended to eat the guy.
    Clayne ignored the DCO agent who was supposed to be his enemy in the exercise, and instead launched at Tanner. If he didn’t jump in, somebody was going to get killed—probably more than one somebody. He could have shifted, too, extending his claws and fangs to gain an advantage, but he resisted the urge. Two shifters going at each other was never pretty. The end result would only be bloody. And that’s what he was trying to avoid.
    He hit Tanner as the shifter was about to sink his claws into Ed’s chest. Clayne was the biggest shifter in the DCO next to Declan MacBride, but when he slammed his shoulder into Tanner’s ribs, the hybrid barely noticed. Clayne wrapped his arms around him, hoping to take him down that way, but Tanner only shrugged like he was trying to brush off