The Werewolf Academy Series Boxed Set

by Cheree Alsop

  Dr. Kamala ignored her. The pain that surged through Alex’s body was so intense his back arched to the point that he felt it would snap in two. A yell ripped from Alex’s lips. His limbs pulled of their own accord against the bonds that held him to the table. His body shook. He couldn’t take the fire that raced beneath his skin as though cooking him from the inside out. He closed his eyes, hoping to see Siale’s face, but all he could see was red and white, pulsing and burning. His heart skipped a beat, then another. The pain was too intense. He couldn’t breathe.

  Something snapped. There was an explosion of white in Alex’s mind, and everything went dark.

  Chapter Three

  Alex was dancing. He felt himself swaying from side to side as he and Siale made their way across the floor, but something was wrong, his feet didn’t touch the ground. Siale spoke to someone behind him. When he turned to see who it was, there was nobody there. Panic filled him. He looked back and Siale was gone. He stood alone on the dance floor. The lights went out one at a time until he stood in a single pool of light amid darkness so deep his werewolf vision couldn’t pierce it.

  Something hit him hard, throwing him across the room. Pain exploded in his ribcage. He struggled to breathe. The last light faded. The pain flooded through him again. He couldn’t see his attacker. He couldn’t fight. He wanted to find Siale. She shouldn’t be alone in the darkness. She needed him.

  The next burst of pain was so sharp Alex opened his eyes. Light flooded against his retinas. He saw Drogan’s form leaning over him. The werewolf had both hands gripped together in a club, ready to slam down on Alex’s chest again.

  Alex put up his hands, catching Drogan’s arms before he could complete the attack. In his current state, he shouldn’t have been able to best the Alpha, but Drogan rocked back on his heels, watching Alex with an unreadable expression.

  Every breath hurt. Alex had experienced enough broken ribs to know that he was dealing with several. He put a hand to his chest as he pushed up, unwilling to stay in such a defenseless position any longer. He moved back to sit against the glass with a considerable amount of effort.

  “Pretty good for someone who just died.”

  Alex studied Drogan. “What are you talking about?” He was amazed how painful it was to talk.

  “You were dead,” Drogan said. “They threw you in here like a pile of junk. Your heart wasn’t beating.”

  Alex tried to understand what the werewolf was saying. “So you hit me?”

  Drogan’s eyes narrowed; whether in humor or disgust, Alex couldn’t decide.

  “I guess you could call it that. I slammed your chest with my fists until your heart started again.”

  Alex didn’t know what to say. His enemy, the one who was responsible for his parents’ death and his constant fear of losing his loved ones, had just brought him back to life.

  Drogan must have read his confused expression because he lifted a hand. “Don’t go reading too much into it. If you die without giving them the Demon or breaking us out of here, I’m screwed. I’m just protecting my hide.”

  “Noble,” Alex muttered.

  “Yeah,” Drogan replied. “And breaking as many of your ribs as I could in the process was just a bonus.”

  Alex fought back a reply. No matter how he felt, the werewolf had just saved his life. His chest ached. He set a hand on it. Even touching the skin hurt, whether from the electricity or Drogan’s animalistic version of CPR he didn’t know. Bruises were already spreading dark and angry across his chest. He longed for the healing touch of moonlight. As it was, he could feel himself healing, his body grudgingly settling into the restorative cadence that kept him alive.

  A strange silence settled between them. There wasn’t tension, really, or camaraderie. That was impossible after all they had gone through. Instead, it was as if going through the things they were experiencing beneath Dr. Kamala’s hand put them on a level playing field. Alex wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  After a few minutes of silence, he asked a question that had been bothering him. “How did your mom die?”

  The question hung in the air, thick and tangible as though the words were made of smoke that refused to dissipate.

  “I told you werewolves killed her,” Drogan said finally.

  “But why?” Alex replied. He opened his eyes to look at the Alpha. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  Drogan’s eyes narrowed. “It’s pretty easy to understand,” he said with a tone that reminded Alex that the hatred was still very much there. “I was four years old. Dad’s brothers were trying to help rehabilitate some werewolves, they got out and tore my mother apart in front of me. What doesn’t make sense about that?” he spat, glaring at the wall across from him.

  Alex was quiet for a few minutes before he said, “You’re a werewolf.”

  “Brilliant deduction, Sherlock,” Drogan said, throwing his words back at him.

  Alex thought as he spoke aloud. “Hear me out. If you’re a werewolf, you got the genes from someone, and we both know it wasn’t your father.” He ignored Drogan’s glare that threatened death and continued, “So your mother must have been the werewolf. If that’s the case, why did the other werewolves attack her? It doesn’t make any sense. Unless...”

  “If you make me ask ‘Unless what’, I’m going to kill you,” Drogan growled.

  Alex spoke the thought he knew would anger the Alpha even further. “Unless our father was setting you up for a lifetime of hatred of werewolves.”

  Drogan pushed up to his knees, anger twisting his face.

  Alex held up a hand in an attempt to buy himself more time. “Hear me out. We both know the General wouldn’t hesitate to stoop to such levels if he was afraid his son would turn out to be a werewolf. What better way to keep the beast at bay than to instill such a hatred of werewolves that the instincts would die completely?”

  Drogan rose and crossed the cage, towering over Alex. “Are you suggesting that my father had my mother killed as a setup?”

  “He left mine to die in a gutter,” Alex pointed out.

  Drogan’s mismatched eyes narrowed in rage. “He loved my mom. He loved her!” the werewolf shouted.

  “Mine, too,” Alex replied quietly.

  Drogan grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the side of the cage. Alex grabbed his hand, trying to pry his fingers away.

  “You know I’m right,” he spoke through his tight throat. “It makes sense. You phased after your dad died. Your sorrow at losing him was stronger than your hatred of our race.”

  “You’re the one that killed him,” Drogan shouted. “He would be here if it wasn’t for you.”

  Footsteps thundered down the hallway.

  Alex kneed Drogan in the stomach. “The same goes for my parents,” he said when the werewolf dropped him.

  “They weren’t your parents,” Drogan pointed out, circling.

  The doors flew open behind them.

  “They were my parents,” Alex shouted. He dove at Drogan, grabbing him by the knees and tackling him to the ground. He grabbed the Alpha by the throat. “They raised us with love, something you know nothing about. The General used my mother and threw her away, just like he did to your mom.”

  Drogan chopped his arms and rolled, throwing Alex onto his back. He punched at Alex’s face. Alex blocked the blows with his forearms.

  “You know I’m right,” Alex realized with a start. He grunted when a punch hit home. “You knew when you phased for the first time.”

  “You’re wrong,” Drogan replied, but his tone carried panic as though Alex’s guess hit too close to home.

  Alex let the next punch connect and grabbed the werewolf’s arm when Drogan pulled back. Alex swung a leg up and hooked it around Drogan’s neck. He used his momentum to swing up to Drogan’s back and locked an arm around the werewolf’s neck. “Your father could never love a werewolf,” Alex said. “He used them and threw them away like garbage.”

  Drogan rose to his feet
and slammed Alex’s back against the glass.

  “Stop it!” Dr. Kamala shouted from outside of the cage.

  Both werewolves ignored her. Alex continued, “But what if one of the werewolves gave him a son, a successor for the Extremist battle he was so passionate about? He could love the son as long as he stayed human, and what better way than—”

  “Don’t say it,” Drogan barked. He grabbed Alex’s arm and ducked, throwing Alex to the ground.

  The blow knocked the wind out of Alex’s bruised lungs. He tried to rise, but Drogan grabbed his throat. Alex met the werewolf’s gaze, reading the pain in them when he said, “Than to get werewolves to kill his mother in front of him and scar him for life against his own kind.”

  “I’ll kill you,” Drogan roared. His hands tightened around Alex’s neck.

  Alex’s survival instincts forced their way to the forefront. He kicked out so hard the Alpha flew across the cage. Drogan slammed into the door with such force that a crack spider webbed out from the locking mechanism.

  “I’ll kill everyone you love,” Drogan growled. He ran at Alex.

  “He’s the one who killed her,” Alex said, dodging to the side so that the Alpha in his mad rush slammed against the glass.

  Drogan turned with the speed of an Alpha and rushed again. He grabbed Alex around the waist and rammed him against the door. The glass shattered around them.

  “Shoot the werewolves!” Dr. Kamala called.

  Alex rose. A dart hit his back, propelling him to the floor again. Drogan grabbed a large shard of glass and drove it down toward Alex’s eye. Alex moved his head at the last moment and the glass shattered against the cement floor.

  “You’re one of us,” Alex said. “Stop fighting it.”

  Drogan’s hand was streaming blood as he grappled for another piece of glass. A dart hit him in the shoulder, slowing him.

  “I’ll never be one of you,” the Alpha snarled. He reached for Alex. With the effects of the liquid silver streaming through his veins, Alex couldn’t move away. Drogan would kill him.

  Another dart slammed into Drogan’s shoulder, spinning him to the right. He collapsed to the floor.

  “Finally,” Dr. Kamala said. She stared at them both with her hands on her hips. Instead of living, breathing creatures, she watched them as if they were merely experiments that had gotten out of hand. She smoothed her hair and picked up her clipboard from the ground. “If we let them kill each other, we’ll never get the results we need. Strap them to the compound tables.”

  Alex was hoisted into the air and carried back into the experimentation room. He could see Drogan being transported the same way. Alex was brought past the electricity table to another one against the far wall. It was upright and had indents formed to fit a body. Thick cuffs were fastened around his arms and legs, waist, and neck, pinning him effectively to the cold metal. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Drogan being locked onto a similar table.

  Dr. Kamala didn’t bother to hide her frustration when she said, “It’ll take hours for the silver to get out of their systems. That’s too much precious time wasted.”

  “I’m sure the chemical trials will be successful,” Kate replied. “You’ll get the Demon for sure.”

  “We’ll experiment on both of them at the same time,” Dr. Kamala said, her tone firm with the conclusion. “I’ll not wait any longer than it takes for the silver to leave their systems.”

  The door shut and the sound of locks being fastened echoed through the big room.

  “Ridiculous,” Dr. Kamala exclaimed. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

  Their voices died away with their footsteps.

  Alex couldn’t move. Claustrophobia-tinged panic rushed through him. He had to escape. He couldn’t imagine what the doctor had planned next. Chemical experimentation sounded even worse than the electricity. He had already died once.

  As hard as he fought, Alex couldn’t force himself to move with the effects of the silver dart in his veins. He didn’t know how long he struggled before he was able to calm down enough to think. Last time, he had focused on one part at a time. He closed his eyes and concentrated on a finger. It took a considerable amount of effect, but a few minutes later, the pinky finger on his left hand twitched.

  Alex breathed through his teeth. It wasn’t enough progress. He had to get out before the doctor came back, but if he panicked, he lost the ability to move altogether. He sucked in a breath and let it out, focusing his attention on his finger once more.

  ***

  A single set of footsteps sounded down the hall. It was too soon. Alex could move both hands and wiggle his toes, but any shows of strength would be completely past him for a while longer. If whoever was coming was supposed to begin the tests, he would have no chance.

  The door opened. Kate, the assistant, poked her head in. She looked past both werewolves, searching the room.

  Alex held perfectly still, hoping that if she was checking on their progress, she would conclude that they weren’t close to ready.

  Kate shut the door behind her. She drew something from the pocket of her scrubs.

  Alarm filled Alex at the sight of the gun. Kate lifted the weapon and aimed. Confused at the line of her trajectory, Alex willed his hands not to clench into fists and give him away. The hum of a silenced bullet buzzed past him and hit something out of the range of his periphery. She aimed past Drogan and did the same. Turning, Kate fired two more times, taking out the cameras on either side of the door.

  She hurried across to Alex, her expression showing something close to alarm. Alex had no idea what she was up to. He flinched when her hand touched his wrist. Her palm was cold and clammy.

  “Good, you can move,” she said, her voice toned more for herself than for Alex. She put a key into the cuff on his arm and turned it. The cuff opened.

  Realizing he had already given himself away, Alex decided he couldn’t do any worse by speaking. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting you out of here,” she replied without looking at him.

  Chapter Four

  Surprised, Alex asked, “Why?”

  “Because she’ll kill you.” Kate gave him a searching look. “She already did, actually. I don’t know how you’re still here. I wanted to get you out before, but I couldn’t without them seeing.”

  She unlocked the other cuff. Alex flexed his fingers. “Why are you helping me? Aren’t you one of them?”

  “An Extremist intent on sucking the blood out of every werewolf we catch so we can make some super creature that will listen to the league’s every whim?” she asked, looking up at him with her hand paused on the cuff at his right ankle.

  “Yes,” Alex replied; he watched her closely.

  Kate shook her head. “I can’t see anyone else die.” Moisture filled her eyes and her jaw tightened as though she forced herself to stop talking.

  She unlocked both cuffs on his legs and moved to his waist. It was a moment before she said, “She killed my fiancé two and a half years ago with the help of your comrade over there.”

  “He’s not my comrade,” Alex muttered.

  “Good,” she said. “If you were with Drogan, there’s no way I would let you out. He can burn with the concoctions Dr. Kamala had so much fun creating. It would serve him right. Thorpe didn’t deserve to die.” Her voice caught. She unlocked Alex’s waist, then hesitated at his neck. She met his gaze. “Will you kill me after I unlocked this one?”

  Alex kept his voice firm and calm when he replied, “No. I won’t hurt you. You have my word.”

  She watched him a moment, then reached up and unlocked the final cuff.

  Alex fell forward. His legs gave out and his landed on his knees on the tile floor.

  “Get me out,” Drogan demanded.

  Alex rose to his feet before Kate could help him and crossed to the Alpha. Drogan’s threats swirled in his memory as he looked up at the Extremist. “You’ve taken so much from me,” he told the werewolf. “You won’t take a
nymore.”

  Drogan’s eyes widened with the realization that he was going to be left. “Don’t do this, Alex.”

  “We’ve got to go,” Kate said. “They should be investigating the downed cameras by now.”

  “You’re through hurting werewolves,” Alex said. He turned away from Drogan.

  “Alex!” Drogan shouted. “I’ll hunt you down, Alex, and when I do, I’ll kill you!”

  Alex ducked out the door behind Kate. He let it shut against Drogan’s enraged screams.

  Kate led him down one side hall, then another before she asked, “Isn’t he your brother?”

  Alex was silent for a moment. He finally shook his head. “He’s no brother of mine.”

  The place was quiet. Alex guessed it was late at night by the silence. He followed Kate down a flight of stairs. They were almost to the bottom when a sound caught Alex’s ears. Fire filled him at the familiarity of the claws on tile.

  “Hold on,” he whispered, catching Kate’s arm. The human hesitated.

  As if on cue, the door below them flew open. Two of Drogan’s curs entered the stairwell.

  “What is that?” Kate asked, her voice tinged with fear.

  “Looks like Drogan brought his own backup,” Alex replied.

  The creatures climbed up the stairs; their heavy footsteps shook the ground.

  Kate let out a little shriek of fear.

  “Stay behind me,” Alex told her.

  With the remains of the silver still in his veins, he wasn’t sure he could take the curs on. He tried to find the will to morph, but the strength avoided his command.

  Alex backed up so that Kate was sheltered behind him in the corner of the landing. He could hear her little whimpers of fear as the curs drew near. The one on the right was huge. It was the scarred one, Lucian, that Drogan had told him about. The curs growled with each breath and their massive heads swung from side to side. When they reached the landing Alex and Kate were on, both sets of eyes locked on Alex.

  Kate had risked everything to save his life. Alex was prepared to do the same for her. He bent his legs and held up his hands in a fighting stance, ready to protect her with whatever he had available.