by M H Soars
I should have intervened sooner.
Shaking my head, I kneel next to my father, pressing my fingers against his throat. His pulse is weak, and he’s lost a lot of blood. I also take the time to inspect the back of his head, searching for a clue as to why he acted so crazed, just like the rogue wolf who attacked Red had. There isn’t a controlling device attached anywhere, but I do find a patch of puckered skin. Looking more closely as I part the fur, I see a light pink scar there. Dread trickles down my spine as suspicion takes hold of me.
“What is it?” Tristan asks telepathically.
“Not good news.” I pick Dad up, hating the feel of his limp body in my arms. A great lump lodges in my throat. Before he was the alpha—before he went mad—he was our father. He never let his position in the pack interfere with our upbringing. Always found the time to be around my brothers and me. He was kind and patient, a truly devoted dad.
There’s no time for sentimentalities, though. Clenching my jaw hard, I run back to the compound with my father in my arms, not looking to see who is following me. A few seconds later, I sense a wolf at my heels—Mom. She changed back, and not because she’s faster on four legs, but because she doesn’t trust the other wolves at the moment. Leadership instability is a dangerous thing in a pack.
Red
I’m so sick of the ways things are done in this pack, so when Lyria jumps in front of me, blocking my way, I don’t think twice before I’m challenging her. My body is sore in more places than I can count, and I’m not sure how I’m still able to stand on four legs, but there’s a new fire burning inside of me that’s giving me strength. I know without a doubt I can take her if she decides to step up to the challenge. I’m ready. Oddly, she backs down, returning to her group of friends with her tail between her legs.
Dante changes back to human form. He checks his father’s vitals, before searching for something on the back of the former alpha’s head. Frowning, he turns in Tristan’s direction. I know they’re speaking telepathically the same way that I sense Dante found something. Tristan throws his head back and howls, a sound filled with so much sadness that it makes my eyes sting.
He goes to Samuel, who is still in the same prone position as before. Tristan nudges his brother on the side, but all Samuel does is shake his head.
“What is it?” I ask, hoping I’m doing this telepathic communication thing right. I must be, because Samuel answers.
“I can’t feel my legs.”
Tristan’s gaze collides with mine after his brother’s announcement. “Red, I have to shift back to human to carry Sam back to the compound. I’ll need you to guard our backs.” I don’t detect a shred of doubt in him about my ability to do so. He doesn’t even ask if I can do it. He just trusts that I can.
“I’m on it.”
Billy separates from the rest of the pack to stand by my side. His brother Seth growls at him, but the omega ignores the warning. To me, he says. “I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks, Billy.”
“What about Rochelle? We need to organize a rescue mission,” he says.
“Fuck!” Tristan’s reply is loud in my head. “Let’s get Sam to the infirmary first, then we can talk about it.”
Tristan shifts back. Without another word, he lifts Samuel into his arms. I make a disgruntled sound in the back of my throat when I catch all the cuts and bruises on Tristan’s body his fur had hid. My throat goes dry as my heart clenches painfully in my chest. The alpha was able to inflict all that damage while fighting three wolves at the same time. If the brothers had not intervened, I’d be dead.
Tristan takes off with Samuel, running faster than a regular human could. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s a shifter or if he’s been fueled by the emergency of the situation. I don’t waste time thinking about it, just leap forward to keep up, wincing with every step I take. Billy is close behind me. In the distance, I can hear the other wolves running after us. No one pulls any shady attempt to attack us, which gives me a little bit more hope that the pack will survive this.
Within minutes, we reach the edge of the compound, the familiar wired fence looming in the horizon. Tristan aims for the gate, which is hidden behind thick shrubbery. Up until this point, I hadn’t even known it was there. It swings open automatically. As I cross the threshold, I see the mounted security cameras on top of it. Those measures don’t comfort me, though. The hunters who attacked us and kidnapped Rochelle were well equipped with high-tech weapons. Plus, they were controlling wolves, using them as their attack dogs. How are we going to fight them?
Tristan makes a beeline for the infirmary building. Before I venture in, I shift back. For the first time since I became a wolf, I don’t give a rat’s ass about walking naked out in the open. Tristan enters the first room to his right, a generic examination room with a single bed and a cupboard with medical supplies, very similar to the one I occupied when I was brought into the compound.
Still in wolf form, Samuel whines when Tristan lays him on the bed. “You have to shift back, Sam.”
“But it hurts too badly,” he says, not blocking me from the conversation.
I come into the room, stopping next to the bed. After I touch the side of his face, I lean down and press my cheek against his. “You can do it, Sam.”
Feeling his body shake, I ease back, but keep my hand on his shoulder. He growls as his muscles begin to spasm and change shape. It takes longer than usual for him to complete the shift, and I can feel the agony he’s going through deep in my bones. When his beautiful face turns to mine, its twisted into a grimace.
“Red…”
I touch his forehead with the tips of my fingers. “Please don’t speak, Sam.”
“I have to.”
Tristan grunts on the other side of the bed, catching my attention. “What is it?”
Shaking his head, he says, “Nothing. I’ll wait outside.”
Once Tristan closes the door behind him, Sam says, “He’s sensing our bond, that’s all.”
“What?”
Sam throws his head back, closing his eyes and moaning through clenched teeth. My eyes roam over his body, noticing patches where the skin is already turning purple. There’s an angry gash just underneath his right thorax that has mercifully stopped bleeding. It seems to be knitting back together. Even so, he’s in really bad shape.
“We need to take you to the hospital.”
He chuckles as he opens his eyes. “You can’t take me to a hospital, Red. One close look at my blood and they’d be able to tell I’m not human.”
“There aren’t supernaturals working there?”
“Yes, of course, but most of the staff is human. Besides, Mom is the best doctor around.”
“What? I thought she was veterinarian.”
“That, too.” He grimaces again, and I feel bad for asking stupid questions.
“What can I do to help?”
His electric blue gaze connects with mine. For a moment, it’s clear of pain. Instead, a fiery and intense emotion shines in his eyes, waking up radioactive butterflies in my stomach. A shiver runs down my spine. The room seems like it’s spinning out of control, and the only stable thing in that vortex is Samuel. Gasping, I finally understand this crazy emotion is the mating bond taking place. I also felt similar intense feelings with Dante and Tristan. And now Samuel. How can one person be equally connected to three men?
“Lie next to me?” he whispers.
“Won’t I hurt you more?”
“No.”
I hesitate for a moment, glancing over his many injuries. He needs medical attention ASAP, but it seems only his mother can help him right now. In the end, I can’t deny his request. My body yearns to be near him, so I do as he asks, extremely aware of every part of my body that touches his, which is almost everything in this tiny bed. I lie on my side, facing him, but he remains on his back.
“How are your legs?” I ask, almost in a whisper.
“I can feel them now, but I almost wish I di
dn’t. They hurt like a mother.”
A sense of relief—albeit small—spreads over my chest. If he can feel them, then he’s not paralyzed.
“Can I get you anything for the pain?”
“You know what would make me feel a little better?” He smiles a little.
“What?” My gaze drops to his mouth, and I feel like the worst person in the world for being aroused by our proximity.
“A kiss.”
“Sam…”
“Please? I would ask for more. Shit, my body definitely wants more…” He grabs my hand, guiding it to his erection. “But I don’t want our first time to be like this. When we finally sleep together, it will be epic.”
Desire spreads like wildfire through my body, even though I can’t entertain the idea of sexy times right now. Not with Sam mangled like this. Pulling my hand from his cock, I bring my fingers to his lips, running the tips over them. Sam parts his mouth, sucking my index finger into it. My breathing catches as pure electricity wakes up every cell in my body. The feel of his warm tongue is so intense, so erotic, that he’d be able to make me come in no time just by doing that. Rubbing my legs together, I try to ease the sudden ache between them.
I pull my finger away, then lean closer until my lips are brushing his. In this new position, my breasts press against his arm, turning my nipples into tiny pebbles. His tongue darts out, teasing my lips open. At the same time, he places his hand on the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair. Moving like that must be hurting him like crazy, but for now, he doesn’t seem to mind.
Guided by him, I deepen the kiss. Just like I expected, it’s nuclear, an explosion of senses. He tastes like he looks: exotic, intoxicating, delicious. But his kiss is not wild; it’s precise. Samuel knows exactly what to do to give the most pleasure possible. I feel awake, more alive than ever, and my entire body begins to tingle. He makes a sound in the back of his throat that’s all male, and I have to fight the instinct to roll on top of him for a ride.
As intense as the kiss is, I don’t let it override my good senses. Samuel is hurt, we don’t know the fate of his father, and we need to rescue Rochelle. So with reluctance, I ease back.
He smiles, his eyes at half-mast. “Best first kiss ever.”
“You’re a rascal even when you’re half dead.”
“I’d be a rascal even if I was completely dead.” He chuckles, but then the amusement vanishes from his eyes. He must be thinking about this father.
I slide off the bed, missing his warmth immediately. “I’ll go check on him.”
“Okay.”
I’m at the door when he says, “Red?”
“What is it, Sam?”
“I don’t want you wasting your time coddling me. Rally the wolves. Go after those bastards who took Rochelle, then make them pay.”
Chapter 32
Dante
There are some moments in life that no matter how many years pass, they’ll never be forgotten, not even the tiniest details. This is one such moment. My mother hovering over Dad, her body as tense as a coiled spring, her hands shaking as she examines him while he lies still on the bed. His face, which once had a warm honey hue, is now washed out. It has the sickly color of death. From where I stand, the incision points on Dad’s neck where Tristan held him with his teeth are evident. But those small wounds aren’t where my mother’s sharp gaze is focused. She’s pressing her hands with care over his abdomen, where great purple patches take over most of the skin.
“Mom?” I say.
“He has internal bleeding. We need to operate.”
“I’ll call Zaya.”
Without looking at me, my mother nods. Zaya is the head nurse at Crimson Hollow’s hospital and a supernatural. Her powers are a mystery to me. No one knows for sure what kind of supe she is, only that she has affinity with water. From time to time, she vanishes to an unknown location, but always comes back.
When I take a step toward the door to go in search of a phone, the sound of Dad moaning makes me stop in my tracks. I return to his bedside in time to catch him slowly open his eyes. His face twists into a grimace. Extreme regret is in his gaze when he takes me in.
“Dante, my son.” He raises his arm, reaching out for me.
Wrapping my hand around his cold fingers, I squeeze. “Dad, please don’t talk. Save your energy. We need to get you patched up.”
“There’s no time, Dante. I need to tell you…” He closes his eyes, taking a deep a breath.
“Anthony, you have internal bleeding. We have to operate.” Mom touches his forehead.
“Mer, my darling.” Dad looks at her. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Mom’s voice trembles, a choke I can feel deep in my heart.
“For not taking your words seriously. For not being extra careful.”
“What are you talking about, my love?”
“At the alpha’s meeting…, something happened to me. I went out to dinner with some of my closest friends, and I can’t remember how the evening ended. All I know is I woke up the next morning in my room with a terrible ache in the back of my head.”
“The scar,” I say. “Dad, you have a small scar there.”
“Yes. I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Mom asks.
“Because my mind wasn’t the same. Honey, whatever was done to me, it changed my thought process. It completely controlled my emotions.”
Rubbing my face, I start to pace. “Who did you have dinner with that night?”
“The usual suspects. The two alphas from the biggest packs in Canada, and Simon from the London pack.”
“Not that new alpha from Shadow Creek?” Mom asks.
“No. Nobody likes him.”
“It doesn’t mean he isn’t involved somehow,” I say. “We need to let Tristan know.”
In that precise moment, Tristan walks in. “Know what?”
“How is Sam? Is he going to be all right?” Dad asks, and I notice his voice is getting weaker and weaker.
“Sam will be okay. Don’t worry about him,” Tristan replies.
I sense the lie immediately. Sam is not okay, but there’s no point in telling Dad that right now. With tears in his eyes, he motions for us. “Come closer, my sons.”
My blood runs cold when I see a great shadow hovering above Dad’s bed. The Grim Reaper. “No,” I whisper, not sure if I said the word out loud or only in my head.
The shadow takes the shape of woman as it lands right next to Mom. I can tell she senses the otherworldly presence by the shivers that runs down her spine, but I’m the only one who can actually see the agent of death.
“Please, don’t take him,” I beg.
A strikingly beautiful woman with skin so pale it’s almost translucent stares at me. Her fiery red eyes are a stark contrast against her white skin and dark hair. “His time has come, and no one can cheat death.”
She raises her hand over Dad’s chest. At that precise moment, Dad begins to cough. A trickle of blood escapes the corner of his lips. Mom wipes the blood off while tears stream down her face.
“Dante?” Dad asks.
I finally force my legs to move, trying my best not to stare at the wraith who came to take my father away. My vision is blurry, and there’s a terrible weight pressing down on my chest.
“Yes, Dad?”
“Please tell Sam I’m so sorry for what I did to him. You know I’d never hurt one of you on purpose.”
“We all know, Dad.” Tristan places a hand on our father’s shoulder.
“And the girl, Amelia, she’s terrific. I couldn’t have hoped for a better mate for my sons.”
Of course Dad would know right away if any of us was bonded to a wolf. He turns to Mom.
“Please don’t cry, my love. It will all be okay.”
“Don’t say that. This is not okay. I’m not ready to let you go,” Mom says with a choked sob, covering her mouth.
“It’s only a temporary separation, Mer. We�
��ll meet again.” With great effort, Dad lifts his arm to touch her face.
In turn, she leans down and kisses Dad’s lips. I shift my attention back to the Grim Reaper. For a fleeting moment, I catch sadness in her gaze. The emotion is gone as fast as it came, replaced by cold detachment. A swirl of energy begins to emerge from Dad’s body at the same time he begins to convulse.
I look away, not able to witness death suck away my father’s life energy. Mom lets out an anguished cry. Soon after, Tristan punches the wall, leaving a hole in the shape of his fist behind.
Sudden light in the corner of the room grows brighter and brighter, until a man with short golden hair who is dressed in all white appears. The glow surrounding him makes it impossible to mistake what he is. An angel.
“It is done,” the Grim Reaper says.
“So I see,” the angel replies with a nod of his head. “I’ll have him now.” He lifts his hand, palm up.
With a furrow of her eyebrows, the reaper sends the swirling ball of energy she acquired from Dad in the angel’s direction.
“I didn’t think you’d be the one to come,” she says.
“I asked to.”
“Why?” Surprise laces the reaper’s voice. Despite my grief, I can’t help but to feel morbid curiosity about the scene unfolding in front of me.
Dad’s life force is now hovering over the angel’s hand.
“Because I’ve missed you, Valeria.”
“Don’t say that, Gabriel.” Her neutral expression changes to something of incredible sadness. It’s in that moment I see a thin, almost unsubstantial energy thread linking the Grim Reaper and the angel. Bonded—they were bonded once upon a time. Despite being on different sides of the afterlife spectrum now, their connection remains.
The sound of my mother’s inconsolable cries over my father’s dead body pulls me back to my reality. Before the angel vanishes, I ask, “Where are you taking my father?”
