Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Pallas cats were fierce and didn’t go down easy. They’d fight to the bitter end and very rarely surrendered. But Bailey had way more fighting experience than Therese would ever know. She’d battled far tougher opponents. Had beaten said opponents.
With a chuckle of delight, Bailey grabbed the feline by her hair and ragged out a chunk. Therese roared a scream of rage and pain. Bailey’s mamba drank in the sound, wanting more.
Her hair sticking up all over the place, Therese took out the hair tie, wincing as it pulled on what would now surely be a very sensitive scalp. “You duel like a girl,” she sneered. Her eyes beginning to swell and bruise courtesy of her broken nose, she gently dabbed at one of the catty scratches spanning her face.
“Duel?” Bailey let her lips curve. “Sweetie, I’m just playing with you right now.” She sharply elbowed Therese’s throat, making her breath catch, and then slammed several heavy blows into her ribs.
Pain rippling across her face, Therese retaliated fast. But, as sinuous as any snake shifter, Bailey was a master at dodging hits and delivering surprise-blows.
The bitch only managed to land a few punches—one to Bailey’s temple, one to her neck, another to her jaw. The adrenaline pumping through her system dimmed the pain, but Bailey knew she’d feel it later.
Blood, anger, and pain laced the air. The sounds of grunts, curses, snarls, flesh ramming into flesh, and fast and heavy breathing echoed in the space.
A scowl twisting Therese’s face, she seized Bailey’s arm and yanked hard.
Sucking in a pained breath as her shoulder was wrenched out of its joint, Bailey delivered yet another ringing slap to Therese’s face—the side that sported a gaping cut on its cheekbone—and then stepped back. She’d barely righted her dislocated shoulder before a screeching Therese came at her, swinging her balled-up hand.
Bailey blocked the arm and shot out her fist, crashing it into Therese’s split lip. She followed it up fast with another punch to the ribs which made the feline jerk backwards, her breath gusting out of her.
Her bloodshot eyes blazing, Therese sliced out the claws of one hand and slashed at Bailey’s face. Fuck, it was like being scratched with razor-sharp knives.
“Now we’re even,” taunted Therese, gesturing at her cheek. She swiped out her claws again, raking Bailey’s chest, cutting through cloth and grazing skin.
Her inner snake hissed in fury and gave her an encouraging nudge, urging her to kick things up a notch and take this bitch down. But Bailey just wasn’t ready yet. Snarling, she whipped up her leg and caught Therese’s groin.
Coughing out a choked moan, Therese reflexively bent forward even as she staggered backwards. With an enraged cry, she grabbed one of her high-heeled shoes from the floor and hurled it at Bailey’s head.
Narrowly escaping a heel to the eye, Bailey let out a dark chuckle. “You look like a spoilt little kid throwing her toys across the room because things aren’t going her way.”
They went head to head again, vicious and determined, until their knuckles were bloody and swollen. They swore, grunted, gasped, and snarled.
Bailey knew she sported some wicked slashes and puncture wounds, but she gave zero fucks—especially when it was nothing compared to her opponent’s injuries. Ignoring the stings, aches, and throbs, she kept punching and slapping the piss out of her abductor. Again and again, her snake pounced within her, wanting out.
Pausing for a moment, Therese wiped at the blood dripping from her nose and down to her lips. “I don’t think I’ve loathed anyone quite as much as I loathe you right now.” The words came out all weird due to her broken nose.
Bailey felt a cruel smile curve her mouth. “Aw, thanks. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” She snapped out her fist again.
Therese threw up her arm to block the blow. Missed. Grunted as the balled-up hand connected with her jaw.
With a maddened war-cry, the feline tried slicing her claws diagonally across Bailey’s upper body from breast to hip, but Bailey jerked back to avoid the swing.
A gleam of uncertainty in her eyes, Therese licked her lips. It was easy to see that her anger had started to give way to fear. So it was no surprise when she began to ease back, blocking and dodging rather than attacking. Bailey didn’t let up, kept her strikes harsh and swift, relishing each and every cry of pain.
Panting and clearly tired, Therese was soon struggling to land a blow. Struggling to avoid blows that came her way. She kept blinking hard and swaying, seeming lightheaded—likely due to the blood loss and brutal head-punches.
“Dayna’s right, you know,” Therese fairly rasped. “You and Deke won’t fully imprint.” She went to deliver a palm-strike to Bailey’s face.
Easily dodging the clumsy strike, Bailey caught the feline’s wrist and yanked it backwards in a sharp, merciless movement and … crack.