Unknotted

The dominant paused, surprise splashing across his face. Then his brows lowered into angry slants and his stance widened.

I couldn’t stop it; a low warning growl escaped. I had tried fleeing peacefully, but this jerk wouldn’t quit.

In response, his fingers curled as if they were claws. I didn’t know what his beasts form was, but I could sense it was strong.

I wanted to smack myself. I was making this worse. But what else was I going to do? Take him home with me? Pragmora knot potions were usually slipped into a drink or rubbed into the skin so a hybrid could score a compliant mate for the night. Thankfully, I had barely touched him, certainly not long enough for lasting effects. If what Peth had told me about such potions was true, it should be wearing off any minute.

Except it wasn’t. The connection was gaining power, wrapping about us like a vortex that only we could feel. I would kill Peth for the bad information.

He was only a step away, and not the courteous, keeping-space-between-stranger distance anymore.

“Back off,” I growled.

He froze again, further surprised. I took the opening, daring to turn my back to him, and sprinted for the driver’s side door. If he came for me again, fur would fly, and blood would gush.

Strong fingers gripped my arm and whipped me back around. “I said we need to talk—”

I pulled the magic—not the evil stuff currently trying to chain me to this fool, but pure magic from the air. Most hybrids pulled their magic from the earth through their coavani bond. I wasn’t bonded to this land and wasn’t willing to risk forming another knot by using the territory’s magic. Rely too much on the land, and it made you pay by demanding your loyalty. The only loyalty I was interested in was to myself and the causes I pursued.

The magic flowed through my limbs, wrapping around my bones, sinking into my muscles. My bones cracked, grew, reformed. Muscles stretched and tightened. Bruce’s keys slipped from my hand as it transformed into a massive paw. Fur sprouted over my body as it turned feline and deadly. Wings covered in black and white speckled feathers sprang from my back. The change from hybrid to winged lioness the size of a bull elephant took less than a heartbeat’s time.

I twisted and snapped my fangs, catching nothing but air as the dominant skittered away. Finally, he gave me the room I had asked for. Wings held aloft, a snarl showing him my nine-inch-long fangs, I swiped at him with claws, forcing him back further.

Instead of condemning this jerk for being pushy, the onlookers, as unhelpful as ever, whispered excitedly about the challenge I had extended.

Challenges ended in one of three ways. Option one: with a submission. This was my preferred option. If he would just drop to his belly and beg for forgiveness, we could put this whole nonsense behind us. Option two: a fight resulting in a plea for mercy or an escape. Final option, and the least favorable, ended in death. I really didn’t want him to pick option three. Killing wasn’t exactly my preferred hobby these days.

Even so, the dominant in me was bristling to the surface, eager to test our strength in a way we hadn’t done in years. A roar tore from my chest.

The jerk didn’t have the decency to even flinch. That rarely— Scratch that. That never happened. Instead of backing off and dropping his gaze, he studied me a long moment, like he couldn’t believe the beast that stood before him. An understandable reaction, considering the number of hybrids I knew capable of flight was zilch.

I snarled again. One last warning.

The dominant glared at me. I swore the earth rumbled beneath my paws. Then he did the dumbest thing he could have—he stepped forward.

Challenge accepted.