Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 135321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Their neighbors gathered around the lawn to get a better view, mindful to give the two animals plenty of space. Tate didn’t move from his spot on the top step of the porch. He didn’t trust himself to get any closer; didn’t trust that he wouldn’t wade in. Whether he liked it or not, this wasn’t his fight.
Bone cracked, and the cat flinched backwards with a yowl. The devil gave her no reprieve. She pitched forward and savagely bit into the cat’s face yet again with another of those high-pitched shrieks.
The animals were matched in size and attitude. But the devil was lightning fast. A growling, shrieking, screaming tornado of sheer viciousness. Those teeth of hers were lethal, ripping through flesh and snapping bones like they were twigs. One of a pallas cat’s biggest defenses was that their hides were very thick, but the devil’s sheering teeth effortlessly chomped through her opponent’s hide.
For the devil, this wasn’t a battle for dominance, Tate realized. It wasn’t even a fight, really. No, it was a beating.
“Your mate’s animal is hardcore,” said Luke, his respect clear in his voice.
Pride welled up inside Tate. He felt his mouth curve, despite the knot in his stomach. Havana had been right that Ashlynn wanted to make his mate look weak before the pride. It wasn’t working, though. All Ashlynn was doing was proving that Havana made a worthy Alpha female.
Everyone gathered around could see that his mate was powerful, fearless, and vicious enough to protect them and help keep the pride strong. Word of the beating would soon travel among the other members. If any of his cats had been debating challenging Havana for leadership, they’d rethink that after this.
“Are my ears bleeding?” asked Farrell. “I feel like they should be bleeding.”
Well there was a fuck of a lot of noise. The cat hissed, snarled, and yowled. The devil barked, growled, and screeched. To add to that, their pride mates—particularly Aspen and Bailey—loudly egged the devil on.
The feline repeatedly tried grabbing her opponent by the throat and grappling her to the ground. But the devil was constantly moving and jerking, making herself a difficult target and coming at the cat from other angles. In sum, she ran rings around the feline.
Although Tate could see that his mate was in no danger of being overpowered by Ashlynn’s cat, he wanted nothing more than to put an end to the whole thing. It went against every protective streak he had to just stand there while she was dueling, bleeding, and injured. His cat was much calmer about it; he respected his mate’s right to defend herself.
Tate flinched as a particularly sharp pain rushed up their bond, courtesy of a harsh bite to the flank from Ashlynn’s feline. “Bitch.”
“It’s almost over,” said Luke. “The cat’s got very little ‘go’ left in her. She’s losing, and she knows it.”
That wasn’t stopping the cat from attacking. Again and again, she and the devil lunged, pounced, and tore strips out of each other. The air was heavy with the cloying scents of blood, pain, and anger.
He could feel that his mate was beginning to tire. To look at her, though, you’d never think it. She seemed hyped-up on sheer rage.
A well-aimed swipe from the devil knocked the cat down. Slow to right herself, the feline backed off, panting heavily … as if needing a moment to orientate herself. She was a fucking mess. Her body was covered in vicious wounds. Many patches of her fur were dark and matted with blood. And her face, fuck, it sported so many grotesque bite wounds that it was hard to look at her.
It was a wonder she could see clearly through the blood all over her face. She had to be in some serious pain. Pride, apparently, wouldn’t let her admit defeat.
The devil had almost as many injuries, and a lot of them were deep and ugly. Blood stained her muzzle and matted her coat, but she stood tall, braced to fight on.
“It’s over, Ashlynn,” said Tate. Her cat wouldn’t understand the words, but Ashlynn would hear them. “Submit,” he advised.
Instead, she weakly bared a fang at him—which earned her a snarl from the devil.
“Ashlynn, the only reason she hasn’t burst open your goddamn skull with those jaws is that she’s too mean to give you a way out. She wants you to have to skulk out of here on your own two feet, embarrassed and defeated. It’s no skin off her nose if you want to keep this up. But you’re not going to win, and she’s not going to kill you. Cut your losses and submit now.”
A low growl came from the cat, but then bones began to snap and pop as she shifted.
The devil let out a put-out sound, apparently disappointed that the battle was now over. She also then shifted.