The Bonded Read Online Free PDF Page B

middle and protect him… no matter the cost.”
    Eyes dart back and forth at this new revelation. Stillness was the answer as his words were a verbal stun gun that momentarily disrupts all of our ability to use logic. Just as someone begins to question the orders, Cassius cocks his head to the side like he has water in his ear, with hushed concentration. What the hell is going… Then I hear it.
    It starts with a lethargic, distant note that swells in volume. Another joins in harmony, then another, and another. Moments later, there are a dozen parts to this frightening song as I realize it is the howling of their enemies. It is a cacophony of haunting sounds that terrify the mind and paralyze the body. It’s the predecessor to psychological warfare. I’ve experienced wolves before; they’re intelligent and crafty animals that communicate well in a pack, especially while on a hunt.
    The cowardly wind disappears into the night and my preternatural hearing informs me they are only yards away from the edge of the woods and we are surrounded. This just keeps getting better. The odor is moldy, like clothes left damp for days mixed with a distinct aroma of fresh dirt. The stink of sweat and body odor fills my nostrils and I want to cough out the pungent air. Our silence is intense as we issue an alert to all of our senses.
    Hanz interrupts the moment with an almost inaudible whisper. “There, ten feet in. They watch us and measure our numbers.”
    I’ve always hated suspense movies. Why can’t they just get to the fight? The anticipation has nearly reached climax when I see the shadows of large predators escape from the forest’s mouth. The first one was incredibly large at around six foot nine, yet he walks delicately with absolutely no sound as his 350-pound frame crushes the pliant ground beneath him. He stops thirty feet from Cassius and the eight others follow suit.
    The wind must have been ashamed for running away because it returns with a sudden harsh gust, blowing their long and unkempt hair from right to left, stealing attention from his yellow eyes, which are the color of the sun. They all have short ZZ Top beards that defiantly resist the wind, but relent when the gusts were strong enough. These guys strike an amazing resemblance to the bootlegging mountain men of Tennessee with their hairy chests and backs. Gnarly hair pushing their T-shirts away from their skin. Men indeed, but I’ve never seen one hairier. With today’s men shaving chests, backs, and whatever else I can only imagine, these guys would never be popular with the ladies. I almost feel sorry for them as he parts his lips for a snarl, and a mouth filled with four sharp incisors drips fresh blood. I look a little closer and see their jaws are slightly bulging, surely to accommodate those flesh-ripping teeth. I wonder if the tribe feels a little emasculated with only two teeth that are tiny in comparison.
    The waer up front begins the conversation. “Cassius, it’s been too long.” His raspy, deep voice irritably emphasizes the latter half.
    Cassius has his poker face on and replies, “You know the rules, Quilici. You and I authored the truce between the waers and vampires (wait, vampires?) that has given us peace for centuries. Yet, you have the audacity to kill two of my tribe without provocation and come to my home? This is an outrage and an act of war!”
    A long thoughtful moment passes; then Quilici counters, “No, Cassius, he is an act of war!!” I feel the heat of his accusation because his finger is pointed directly at me. I’m dismayed and not alone. As the tribe mumbles in confusion, I scan for Percy and discover her eyeing me with concern and the violent protectiveness a mother gives a child.
    One of the tribe speaks out. “What is the meaning of this, Cassius?”
    Cassius retorts in chilling anger. “Silence!” Even the waers obey. He must be a powerful opponent if these guys give him that kind of respect. He intentionally draws