Beautiful Salvation by Jennifer Blackstream Page B

from Coyote’s face with so very little effort…
     
    Coyote met his eyes, raising his hands to hold Saamal’s fist and pull himself up. He leaned closer, putting his mouth as close to Saamal’s ear as he could. “I will do what I please. Stop me if you can.”
     
    Pain flared in twin white hot lines down Saamal’s stomach. Coyote had shifted his legs into animal form as they’d dangled from his body held in Saamal’s grip, hidden by the pants of his uniform. He dug his hind legs into the wounds he’d created with his sharp claws and used Saamal’s body as a springboard, sending searing paths of agony streaking down Saamal’s flesh. The cloth of his cook’s uniform ripped easily, damaged as it already was by Saamal’s claws, and the trickster landed in full animal form, a sleek caramel-colored coyote.
     
    Coyote’s agility was unequaled, and the entire acrobatic endeavor had taken mere seconds. Slowed by the wounds in his chest, Saamal missed the trickster’s tail as he shot by him. Etienne dove for Coyote, but he was too fast for the towering, half-shifted werewolf. Adonis flicked his cigarette at the fleeing trickster and the smell of burning fur followed Coyote out of the room as he escaped.
     
    Saamal threw back his head and screamed, a high shrieking sound only a cat could make. He brought one of his hands down, dragging his claws through the uniform and tearing it to ribbons as he vented his frustration.
     
    “I’ll kill him,” Saamal promised, putting a hand to his bloody midsection to staunch the flow of blood. “I’ll scatter his bones and make a rug from his hide.”
     
    Etienne faced Adonis, eyes glowing with fury. “Your cigarette? That was your contribution, throwing a cigarette on him?”
     
    “It was a knee-jerk reaction!” Adonis held up his hands and took a step back from the glowering werewolf. He glanced from Etienne to Saamal. “Shifters are so damn touchy.” He cleared his throat and tilted his head. “Speaking of shifters… Saamal?”
     
    Saamal heaved a deep breath, blinking the red haze from his eyes. He paused as Adonis quirked an eyebrow at him expectantly.   Confusion knitted his eyebrows as he noticed Etienne was also eyeing him, suspicion etched into his wolfish features. The werewolf’s nostrils flared and his golden eyes flickered over Saamal’s new form. Saamal realized he was in half-jaguar form—an ability the others hadn’t known he had.
     
    “I am not a shifter,” he corrected Adonis, grunting as his body fought to heal his wounds. Coyote hadn’t been trying to gut him, or else his insides would be bulging out, but the miscreant had done enough damage to leave an impression—one he would pay for as soon as Saamal could get his claws on him. “This is merely a form I can take if I so choose.”
     
    “Can you become a full jaguar?” Etienne asked.
     
    “If I had my full power, yes. But not now.” Saamal gestured at his body, a mirror of Etienne’s own save for his bestial half being jaguar instead of wolf. “This half-beast form is as far as my transformation can go.”
     
    “Well, as long as Etienne isn’t experiencing an overwhelming urge to chase you, I think we’ll be all right,” Adonis joked.
     
    The incubus’ innate humor, which Saamal was usually content to indulge, grated on his nerves like a rusted blade severing a diseased limb. “Coyote has been visiting Aiyana,” he ground out. “I must get to her and see what mischief he has caused. There is no time for jokes.”
     
    “I’m sorry—”
     
    Saamal left the room, ignoring Adonis’ apology. His skin sizzled with a discomforting sensation, as though fire ants were marching all over him, a trembling inside him driving him to break into a run to Aiyana’s room.
     
    Fool! he cursed himself. Coyote was here! You were too reliant on mortal animals, too comfortable in the security of the briars. You let him in here, near Aiyana. Gruesome images filled Saamal’s mind,