Lycan Legacy - Paladin: Tales of Luna White - Werewolf by Veronica Singer (funny books to read TXT) 📕

“They’ve only held their fire because there were US personnel in the line of fire,” I said.

“They’ll be out of the way any second now,” said Manny.

I took a deep breath and extended my canines. From a distance, it might have looked like a smile.

I held my hand up and made a vertical cutting gesture, dividing those arrayed against us into two sides.

“Okay, I’ll kill everyone on this side, and you two kill all the ones over there.”

A grim chuckle from Mike. “That’s the most alpha thing you’ve ever said.”

I stepped five paces to my left, moving slowly. Mike and Manny duplicated my movement in the opposite direction. That would draw fire away from Alisha and Logan in the SUV.

I tensed up and extruded claws, bringing my werewolf side to the fore. My T-shirt grew tight as my muscles expanded with the shift to hybrid, my most deadly form. With no magic left, I would have to rely on savagery.

Then, from the right, came the sounds of disorder and curses in Arabic, followed by the thumps of bodies hitting the ground.

A gleaming black vehicle rolled up silently. On the hood was a Roll-Royce emblem, and a Union Jack flag flew from a tiny pole on the fender.

The car drifted past me and glided to a halt, its rear window directly in front of me. I didn’t know Rolls-Royce made a stretch limousine.

The window—which was over three inches thick—rolled down halfway to reveal the passenger. She was a slim woman in her mid-thirties with piercing blue eyes, her elegant face framed by a silken hijab.

“Princess Luna, I presume?” she asked, with the impeccable pronunciation of upper-class Brits. The slight emphasis on “Princess” indicated disbelief.

“Sometimes they call me that.”

“Her Majesty would like to offer you sanctuary,” she said.

I leaned in, all slashing teeth in a wolf muzzle, pointed ears, and bad attitude. The lady seemed unconcerned at my nearness, which was a point in her favor.

A deep sniff told me what I had suspected from the eyes. She was a magician, as was her driver.

She waited with patience while I shifted my muzzle back to human shape to speak.

“Was that a singular ‘you’ or a plural one?” I asked, matching her mode of speech.

“I spoke in the singular.”

“In that case”—I waved at the army and my friends— “please give Her Majesty my regrets. I’m in the middle of something with my mates. You know how it is with previous engagements.”

Her mouth pursed in anger. I ignored her and crouched down beside the car.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting for you to drive away. Then I’m going to use your bulletproof piece of junk as a shield until I can flank that army. Then I’m going to kill as many of them as possible before dying.”

“Really?”

“Really. If it would not impose, try not to drive away too swiftly. Thank you.”

The window rolled up. I nodded my thanks and got down in a sprinter’s crouch, ready to unleash death and destruction.

The Rolls stayed stubbornly in place. Then the window rolled down again.

“Very well. Plural.”

“Then we gratefully accept Her Majesty’s invitation. If you would be so kind as to back up to where my companions await, I would be forever in your debt.”

The Rolls backed up slowly. A ripple of unrest stirred the troops as we arrived back at Manny’s SUV.

“Hey, guys,” I called. “Hurry up. Our ride is here.”

The forward rear door clicked and opened an inviting inch. I grabbed Logan in my arms and threw him over my left shoulder.

“Alisha, you should come with us. It’s not safe here.”

“Prince Abdul will take care of me.” She was fumbling with the zip ties that still bound her legs together.

“He’s not here and these soldiers seem to be the ‘shoot first’ type. I really think you should come with us.”

She shook her head violently and pushed away.

I hesitated, but Logan would never forgive me if I left her here.

“I should have never removed your hood,” I said. I reached in, grabbed a handful of her abaya, and carried her kicking and screaming like a toddler to the limo. At least her legs were still tied up.

Logan and Alisha were an unwieldy bundle, but as I approached the limo, Mike took Logan from me. Manny held the door open. In a few seconds, we were all seated. Logan, Mike, and I took the rear-facing seat, and Manny sat to the right of our host. I dumped Alisha on the floorboards.

The doors thunked shut and the locks clicked as the Rolls moved away from the would-be battleground.

“Thanks for calling the Uber,” said Manny. “I thought we’d be stuck there forever.”

“I beg your pardon?” said our host in the coldest voice imaginable.

Manny—covered in dust, dirt, and sweat, stinking of explosives, and at least twenty years older than her—smiled and asked, “So, you’re some kind of princess?” as if he was chatting up a girl in a dive bar.

Mike and I shared a look. Mike leaned in and said, “I told you he reminded me of Logan. He’s always like that after a mission.”

“I’m not a princess,” our rescuer said. “I’m Lady Birdsong of Her Majesty’s government.”

“Nice to meet you, Songbird. I’m Manny.” He leaned in close to her. “What do you do for fun when you’re not picking up handsome men in this Uber?”

Her face grew cold and hard, her lips thinned, and the stink of ozone and magic gathered.

“Manny,” I snapped.

He instantly sat back but, almost too low to hear, he murmured to Lady Birdsong, “I’ll look you up later.”

I spoke in Fae, using the mode reserved for strangers unfamiliar with each other’s status. “Birdsong is a Fae name. Do you speak Fae?”

Her eyes brightened and she said, “A bit. Grandfather would have learnt me some phrases.”

Wrong tense, wrong mode, and spoken with a terrible accent. Speaking like that in Fae would either cause laughter or a challenge.

I shifted back to English. “Splendid! But I suppose we should speak English out of consideration for our