Twisted

by Rebecca Zanetti

  As if on cue, the mounted screen on the wall lit up, and Dage Kayrs came into view. He shoved papers out of the way and cleared his onyx desk. “Sorry about the delay.

  What’s going on?”

  Terrent leaned back. “Three wolves just came for Maggie.”

  “From the island?” Dage frowned.

  Terrent started.

  Jase chuckled.

  “You knew?” Terrent muttered.

  “Of course I knew.” Dage glared, and five hundred miles away, it still burned. “I’m the fucking king.”

  So he wanted to play that game, did he? Terrent leaned forward. “I appreciate your sending little Maggie my way . . .

  such great timing.” Yeah. He knew she was there to uncover the bastard messing with his inoculations. “I can find my own damn traitor.”

  The king flashed sharp teeth in what almost passed for a smile. He’d pulled his black hair back and wore sparring clothing. The silver of his eyes shone with a dark wisdom.

  “Maggie needs to be with wolves, to see if her memories can be shaken loose—especially since her people are now aware that she’s alive. A mission got her there, didn’t it?”

  Jase chuckled again.

  Irritation clawed down Terrent’s spine. Was the damn king trying to matchmake? “I don’t need your help with my personal life, Dage.”

  “The hell you don’t. It’s been ten years.” Dage didn’t blink.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out why the demons are after her . . . or at least, what the Kurjans did to her.” For a decade Terrent had hunted, he’d searched, and he’d failed.

  “I know.” Dage clasped his hands together. “We’re still trying to go through all the files from the last raid against the demons, and from when we, ah . . .” His gaze flicked to Jase.

  Silver morphed to blue in his eyes, and he quickly blinked, bringing back the silver. “When we found Jase in Scotland.”

  When they’d rescued the nearly dead Jase, that is. Jase didn’t move, and his face lost all expression. The eyes of a killer focused out of what had just been a charming face.

  Terrent cleared his throat. “Let me know if you find anything in the files.”

  Dage nodded. “I will. What happened to the wolves who attacked you?”

  “They’re secure, and I’ll interview them tomorrow.”

  The king nodded at the euphemism. “Let me know what you find out.” He focused on his younger brother. “How long are you staying with Terrent?”

  “I’m leaving shortly,” Jase said.

  Dage’s jaw firmed. “If you must. Remember you promised to check in once a month.”

  “I remember,” Jase said.

  The king exhaled. “You have one year to do what you need to do, Jase. At the end of the year, I want you back at Realm headquarters in Oregon.”

  “I’ll take as long as I want.” No emotion sat on Jase’s predatory face.

  Plenty of emotion filtered across the king’s. “As I’ve said, you have one year. Come home, or we’ll come and get you.”

  The screen went black.

  Terrent was suddenly very grateful to have been an only child. “Family.”

  Jase grinned and rubbed his short brown hair, the charm back in place. “No shit.” He stood and strode toward the door. “If you need me, you know how to reach me.”

  The last thing Terrent needed around was a furious, slightly crazy, still-dealing-with-the-hell-he’d-gone-through vampire. “Be safe, Jase.”

  Tension escaped the room along with Jase. Seconds later, the entire cabin relaxed. Terrent lifted his head to double-check and then flicked a button on the desk.

  Dage Kayrs once again took shape. “Is he gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have plans in place?” the king asked.

  “Yes. We have wolves all around the mountain. If he’s in trouble, or if he needs help, we’ll know it.” Terrent leaned back to study the king.

  Lines of worry and anger cut into the sharp angles of Dage’s face. Lines he’d hidden from his brother. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. Maybe you should talk to him instead of having us watch over him as he lives alone for a while.” Shit.

  What did Terrent know? He’d never had family.

  Dage grimaced. “He won’t talk. Not to anybody.” Dage scrubbed both hands down his face. “I should never have let him be captured.”

  “Maybe that’s part of the problem,” Terrent said softly.

  Dage’s dark eyebrows drew down. “Meaning?”

  “All of you Kayrs brothers—you blame yourselves for your younger brother being captured. That’s a lot of responsibility and guilt to carry. For him to carry.” Terrent shifted his weight. No wonder the poor guy had wanted to get away from family and home.

  Dage’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Interesting. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  “I don’t mean to interfere.” Terrent shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to get involved.

  “Actually, I appreciate the insight.” The king leaned back in his chair. “Are you any closer to figuring out who’s messing with the shifter inoculations?”

  “No, but I will be.” The idea of any wolf messing with the inoculations that kept their people safe fired rage in Terrent’s blood. Well, at least the situation should be firing him into a pissed-off state. He sighed. “I can’t figure it out. The saboteur always strikes here at wolf headquarters before the drugs are sent around the world, and so far, we’ve discovered the faulty vials in time to fix the problem.”

  “So no shifter has been given the damaged inoculations?”

  Dage asked.

  “No.” Terrent leaned toward the camera and rested his elbows on his knees. His people had been safe from Virus ever since the vampires had created the inoculation. “Nobody has been harmed by the damaged drugs. It’s as if this is the worst terrorist we’ve ever met, or—”

  “Someone wants you distracted?” Dage rubbed his chin.

  “That’s disconcerting.”

  “I know. If successful, this plan could be quite the terrorist move, considering shifters need three inoculations spaced three years apart to be permanently immune to the virus. We only have two series completed for most people.” Yet, Terrent couldn’t quite get excited about the matter. Nobody had been harmed. “If this is some sort of trap, I haven’t figured out for whom or why.”

  “Need backup?” Dage asked.

  “No.” Terrent worked alone. Even as part of the Bane’s Council, he hunted alone. “I’ve got this.”

  Dage nodded. “Are you ready for, well, Maggie?”

  Talk about a loaded question. “I take it you knew I knew her?”

  “Of course.” The king shrugged. “There isn’t much I don’t know.”

  Terrent sighed. Now he owed his old friend for keeping the secret. “The lass still doesn’t remember me.” The words cut through him with a familiar pain, and he let the damn brogue slip. It’d been years since he’d trained to speak without it. “A decade to heal, and she’s still a blank slate.”

  “She may never remember.” Dage leaned forward. “She loved you once. Maybe she’ll be foolish enough to do so again.” His lips tipped in almost a smile.

  What if she didn’t? What if she’d changed enough they’d lost their chance? “I’m sure my charm will work again.” Terrent forced a grin.

  Dage tapped a communicator in his ear and listened for a moment. “I have to go. Call me if you need me.”

  The screen went dark. For real this time.

  Terrent took a deep breath. He needed to visit Realm headquarters more often. The worry and frustration seemed to be getting to the king, and nothing ever got to the king. A creak outside caught Terrent’s attention. Interesting. Little Maggie had found his favorite spot.

  Smiling, he loped through his two-story cabin to the back porch. The woman sat on his porch swing, bare foot pushing off the wooden planks to stay in motion. She stared at the rippling river
and overgrown grass, lifting her gaze to the sprawling forest on the other side. Curly brown hair cascaded to the middle of her back, wild and free like the woman.

  Pale skin covered delicate features, and her pretty brown eyes had the power to stop him cold. Although she’d trained with vampires for a decade, she was finely toned, but not muscled. The wolf had always been petite and rather delicate.

  Not that she had ever admitted that fact.

  The sight of her in his domain hit him square in the chest.

  He’d fallen for the clever wolf the first time she’d outmaneuvered him during the hunt. Then the months they’d spent together had captured him for all time. The smart-ass owned him . . . body and soul.

  And he was just fine with that.

  As a wolf, as a hunter, he knew how to stalk. How to take his time and win. Ten years was a long enough time to plan and allow her to breathe. It was now over.

  Slowly, so as not to spook her, he strode forward and dropped onto the swing. His hips easily fit, but his shoulders nearly knocked her off. So he stretched an arm along the back, bringing her close.

  Close enough to smell vanilla and woman. Her scent made his mouth water. His cock hardened.

  The night pinpointed in focus until he had identified every sound, every scent, every possible threat out there. Clearly and unequivocally. A male wolf ’s instincts when his female was near.

  She kept her gaze on the moonlit forest. “I like your cabin.”

  “Thank you.” He tried to keep his chest from puffing out.

  Making her happy warmed him.

  Her bare feet stretched against the wood. “I’m surprised you have a permanent home. I mean, with you being the head of the Bane’s Council.”

  He took over the swinging, eyes glued to the hot red pol-ish on her toes. Sexy. Definitely sexy. “I’ve headed the Council for three centuries, always moving, always hunting.

  When you live on the move, you need someplace to call home every once in a while.” Wolf-shifters lived in packs, and the Raze pack led them all. He liked the Raze pack, and he had several friends in the area. More important, Washington State was a safe place to put his mate while he hunted.

  She turned to look at him, her eyes deep pools of chocolate. “You don’t have any family?”

  “Nope.” Except her.

  She nodded. “Me, either.”

  He planned to change that.

  The moon rose higher in the sky. “Would you like to run, little wolf ?” he asked.

  Yearning filled Maggie along with trepidation. Yes, she wanted to run. The moon was high and the forest inviting.

  But she’d never run with another wolf. At least, she didn’t remember running with wolves. What if she was slow? Or clumsy? Or what if she’d forgotten something every wolf knew?

  For so long she’d been only able to shift under the full moon because the Kurjans had infected her with the damn virus. Even after a cure for shifters had been found, she hadn’t bounced back as quickly as other shifters. But now, finally, she could shift on command. Unfortunately, she sometimes had problems keeping the shape. “I, ah, I’m not sure.” There.

  She’d said it.

  He stretched to his feet, uncoiling all that strength in a lazy move. His shirt landed on the swing, and his jeans hit the porch.

  Her mouth dropped open. Nude, lit by the moon, Terrent Vilks was all hard, all muscle, all male.

  He grinned. “Take your time and think about it. I’ll go scout the other side of the river.” Turning, he leaped across the small yard, shifting into a massive brown wolf before touching the ground and hurtling across the water.

  She couldn’t jump that far. Standing, she squinted into the night. A large, flat rock sat in the middle of the river at the perfect distance for her. Terrent was sure a planner. Indecision shuffled her feet.

  Then her shoulders went back, and her spine stiffened.

  She could do this.

  She kicked off her jeans and tossed off her shirt.

  Energy spiraled through her. Her hands elongated, and then her arms stretched wide. Fire rippled down her spine.

  She dropped to all fours. Her jaw cracked, bones re-formed, and fur sprang up on her body. Freedom soared inside her veins. A hundred sounds hit her just before a thousand smells filled her nose.

  One smell jerked her head up.

  Male. The scent of night and musk. Terrent.

  She padded along the grass until reaching the river. Bunching her back legs, she jumped for the rock, touched down, and soared to the other side.

  She skidded in the reeds, sniffing to find him. His scent was everywhere, but she couldn’t hear him. Her nose down, she followed his trail, going in circles.

  Where the heck was he?

  Suddenly, four hundred pounds of muscle and fur hit her, sending her rolling end over end. She jumped to her feet and snarled. He gave her the canine equivalent of a smile, turned, and ran.

  She yipped and bounded after him. So the wolf liked to play, huh?

  Increasing her speed, she jumped, stretched her whole body, and landed square on his back, digging in her claws.

  He growled and skidded to a stop.

  Her yowl echoed off trees as she flew through the air.

  Twisting mid-flight, she landed on all fours. A wet nose snorted into her ear. She turned and batted his face.

  With a head-butt to her flank, he flipped around and rushed between two trees. She followed, emitting an excited yip.

  They played for hours. Through trees, along the river, up a rocky mountain. Wild smells filled her world, spicier than the ones in Oregon. Finally, he led her up an outcropping, sharp and jagged, where the smells turned fresher and sweeter. She picked her way carefully, her paws not accus-tomed to the craggy rock.

  A trembling started in her back paws and wandered up her hind legs.

  Oh no.

  She blew air from her nose and tried to shove down panic.

  Her ears went numb. She glanced down at the ground twenty feet below, swiveling her head to see the wolf above her. A panicked whine sailed out with her breath.

  Terrent glanced down, golden eyes wild in the night.

  She searched for a ledge. Nothing was large enough to hold her human body.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to stop the change.

  With the softness of a whisper, her body shifted from animal to woman. Her nails clawed into the rock even as she began to fall. Her eyelids flew open to see a powerful wolf lunge straight at her from above.

  Terrent made the split decision to shift from wolf to man just in time to smack into the woman and start twisting through the air. He timed the movements so he’d hit first, calculating the distance and ground cover. Tucking her close, he allowed his right shoulder to impact, immediately rolling over several times and keeping her off the ground. The pain didn’t hit until they’d finally stopped.

  Agony burst like fire through his shoulder.

  He took a deep breath, mentally dispatching healing cells to the muscles and tendons.

  She shuddered on top of him, her heart beating so hard he could feel it on his chest. The woman levered herself up, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Straddling him, she patted his chest, his stomach, his face. “I’m sorry.”

  God, she was cute.

  Her breasts glowed in the moonlight, and she was sitting smack on his cock.

  Suddenly, he forgot all about his shoulder. “Why did you shift?”

  “I couldn’t help the change.” She ran her palms down his arms, obviously searching for injuries. “I’m still regaining my strength from having the virus for so long, and sometimes I can’t hold the wolf form.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Maybe you should’ve told me that before we climbed rocks.”

  “Um, yeah.” She bit her lip. “But I was having so much fun. You don’t like heights, anyway, so I wouldn’t have thought to tell you.”

  “I don’t mind rocky hills when I�
�m in wolf form. But flying? Or climbing trees? Or, God forbid, high-rise buildings?

  No way.” Then he waited for reality to hit her.

  She finished patting him down and relaxed, her knees on either side of his hips. Straddling him. All movement stopped.

  Her pretty brown eyes widened. A lovely pink flush rose from her breasts to her face.

  Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.

  He expected her to scramble off him. To stutter. Instead, she tilted her head to the side and slowly, so damn slowly, flattened her palms against his chest. A low purr rumbled up from her abdomen.

  A wolf who purred. His head might explode, she was so damn perfect.

  She swallowed. “You’re naked.”

  “So are you.”

  She wiggled a little bit. Heat roared between his ears and down his spine. He grabbed her hips to hold her in place.

  “Ah, don’t wiggle.”

  Her blush strengthened to a red that had to burn. “Sorry.”

  She didn’t look sorry. Heat lightened her brown eyes, and curiosity filled her expression. Wolves. Always curious.

  She wasn’t the only one wondering.

  He slid his palms up her flanks, ignoring the pull in his injured shoulder. It’d heal within minutes. Her skin was smooth and so damn soft. He remembered how soft. It had been hell leaving her in safety the last decade while he hunted the additional werewolves created during the war. He’d had a job to do, and he’d done it.

  She ran her hands along his ribs, a small smile tilting her lips. “You’re so big.”

  “Too big?”

  “No. Just big.”

  He outweighed her by a couple hundred pounds. When they’d dated before, she’d liked his size. Before she’d been taken and infected with a virus by their enemies. Did soldiers scare her now? Rage ripped through him, but he forced his anger down. “I won’t hurt you.”

  She nodded, absorbed in watching her hands drive him crazy. “Why the one fang?”

  “Huh?” His anger dissipated in a flash.

  “The one fang mark on my butt. You have two fangs.”

  Oh. “I had broken one off in a fight with a werewolf earlier that day. It took about a week to grow back.” Probably a good thing, too, or he would’ve marked her. Not that he wasn’t going to soon.