“N-no,” Nat said from behind some crates. “But Wanda—”
“Wanda’s safe,” Duke said.
“I’ll teach you a lesson,” Turkeyson growled, turning to give Nat a scornful look. “I’ll pin you and make you beg for mercy—”
Duke grabbed him by the throat and drove his fist into Turkeyson’s gut. “This is for hurting Nat.” He punched Turkeyson again. “This is for his fingers.” Another punch. “For his scars.”
Turkeyson grunted. Before Duke could land a fourth punch, the alpha shifted, his throat shrinking so he slipped out of Duke’s grasp.
Duke tensed, waiting for something dangerous to shoot out of Turkeyson’s loose clothing.
Something fluttered out of the fabric.
It was a round, giant turkey, with a wrinkled red neck and a fan of tail feathers.
Duke stared incredulously.
The turkey shrieked and turned, lifting his back end.
Strings of noxious white liquid jetted out at Duke. He leaped back in disgust.
“It’s poop,” Nat cried. “He’s full of shit!”
The turkey launched himself at Duke, trying to peck him with his razor beak.
“Duke!” Nat yelled, dashing forward.
“Stay away,” Duke snapped.
Except the turkey lunged at Nat.
Duke grabbed him by his tail feathers and summoned Hellfire to his fist. Then he punched through Turkeyson’s bones, pushing more and more heat into his knuckles until Turkeyson’s shriek cut off abruptly.
Duke kept his burning fist buried in Turkeyson to make sure he was well and truly dead. Only to stare in disbelief as Turkeyson began to roast from the inside, his feathers falling off in clumps.
The turkey’s skin turned a crisp golden brown.
Nat inched his way forward, covering his nose with his shirt. “I don’t think you’re supposed to roast turkeys when they’re still full of poop.”
Duke’s stomach turned. “Don’t remind me. I don’t think we’re ever eating turkey again.”
“Yeah, no.” Nat shuddered.
They crouched side by side, watching as Turkeyson roasted. Finally, Duke pulled out his fist with a wet squelch, shaking off the drippings. “Are you really okay, sweetheart? Should I take you to the hospital?”
“Nothing broke,” Nat said carefully. “And I got a few scratches, but there’s no lasting damage. I know our baby is still fine.”
“That still means he hurt you.” Duke looked closely, spotting the bruises forming on Nat’s face. When he reached up to touch Nat’s cheek, he remembered that his hand was covered in turkey guts.
He wiped it off on his clothes as best as he could. Then he cradled Nat’s face, leaning in close.
Nat’s breath hitched; his gaze dropped to Duke’s lips.
“I was so worried about you,” Duke whispered. “I thought... I worried that he might have hurt you beyond repair.”
Nat shook his head. “I know how to keep myself safe. I lived with him, remember? I know how to avoid getting hurt. Too badly, anyway.”
“He was going to impale you witha fucking chair,” Duke hissed. “If I had arrived later, if Crush hadn’t tracked you down...”
