“Please!” he cried, feeling a kind of desperation that floored him. He’d spent the last five decades a prisoner to a torturous warden and had never known the level of desperation that crept up on him in that moment. “Please?” His voice shook.
He would have done anything just to make her throat move. Just one swallow was all it would take and the magical strength in his blood would heal the crux of whatever damage the poison had caused. He could smell it on her tongue, sense it running rampant through her system. He was fortunate that he even stood a chance. He’d run afoul of many Hunters in his time and some of them carried poisons much more potent than this one – perhaps specifically so that no werewolf could bring them back from the brink of the death they chose over captivity.
But Katherine’s particular vial had either not been as full as the others or had been created too long ago. It had lost much of its potency. It would still kill her… but it would do so just a touch more slowly.
“Please….” His voice had dropped to a whisper. He felt as though all of the strength had been sapped from his body. The thought of moving – of even coming to his feet – was simply overwhelming.
And then he felt it. Beneath the gentle grip of his palm, Katherine’s throat convulsed, letting in a large swallow of his life saving blood. Byron gasped harshly, reared back, and hurriedly moved off of her to give her some space.
The Huntress inhaled sharply, choked violently on what blood remained in her mouth, and rolled over as if to vomit. For several more seconds, she coughed violently, inhaling hard, painful lungs full of air. As she did this, Byron knew she would be unaware of her surroundings. Uncaring, at least.
All that mattered in those moments of near death was the act of not dying. Breathing. That was what was important. Everything else could wait.
Finally, Katherine heaved her last painful cough, gave a violent shudder from what was surely the long lingering, residual pain from the poison, and rolled back over onto her back. She stared at the sky first, her gaze clearly unseeing, her lids closing slowly and reopening again. It took a while, but after a few minutes, she seemed to regain most of her vision – and then she focused her indigo eyes on him.
He had no idea what to say to her. But luckily for him, she saved him the trouble of figuring it out.
“Why did you do that?” Her tone was not quite accusatory, not quite angry, but not at all trusting. It was scratchy and soft and hoarse from the coughing. It was also probably the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
“I couldn’t let you die,” he told her truthfully. “Why?” she asked, coughing as soon as she’d finished speaking. He waited until the new coughing fit passed and then said, “It’s a long story.” She seemed to mull this over, her gaze steady, her expression unreadable. The werewolf council Overseer, Alexander Kavanagh, had long possessed the ability to read people’s minds. Just then, Byron wished wholeheartedly that he’d been blessed with the same gift.
“Are you going to turn me into the council?” she asked, surprising him. It was almost as if she had been reading his mind.
Byron frowned and, instinctively, he leaned forward to wipe a bit of blood from her cheek. She flinched, but was still weak enough that she did not fight him. Unless he forced more blood down her throat, she would be weak for a while.
His touch was gentle – tender. And perhaps it surprised her that this was so, because her beautiful eyes widened, becoming quite large in the lovely frame of her face. “Why would I do that?”
“To question me,” she said, again coughing. “Torture me.” Her voice was so dry now, it was now beginning to grate on his nerves. Not because he hated the sound of it – but because he hated the fact that it was dry. He wanted to give her water; he wanted to quench her thirst and take way any discomfort she might be feeling.
“You really are a fool,” he told her, allowing some of his anger to seep into his words. It felt wrong, even as he did it. He knew he shouldn’t say such things to her; she was far from stupid. But she had tried to kill herself. She’d been willing to throw her life away, and that pissed him off. And now she assumed that because he was a werewolf, the only reason he could possibly have for wanting to save her from death was to bring her further harm. It was a reminder of the horrid view Hunters had of werewolves and of the fight for survival the organization had forced upon his kind. And that deepened his anger.
“You have a very unfortunate and very skewed opinion of my kind,” he said as he finished wiping the blood from her face and then began patting her down. He may have wanted her very much alive, but he wasn’t stupid. Hunters were always armed to the teeth. “I wish you no harm, Katherine Dare. Quite the opposite, in fact.” She didn’t move when he found the blade in a black leather sheath on the inside of her boot. Without a word, he pulled it free and tossed it into the woods.
Then he looked back up at her face.
Not for a second did it look as though the Huntress believed what he was telling her. In fact, he watched as she attempted to roll her eyes, but stopped half way due to some kind of pain. She winced, her brow furrowed, and her white teeth clenched together.
“The pain will pass,” he told her. His blood was very strong. He’d been one of the most powerful alpha werewolves the council had ever come across before he’d been waylaid by the warlock king’s magic and then kidnapped all of those years ago. And due to the fact that the vampire princess had been supplementing his diet with her own blood during that time, his body and the blood within it had remained young and potent. The wounds she’d sustained during their fight were gone. Most likely, the Huntress’s discomfort was due to the fact that she’d vomited and coughed so much, she’d given herself a headache, and not due to the fact that she’d been poisoned nearly to death only seconds ago. In fact, he could no longer scent the poison within her system at all.
“You need water,” he said. Without waiting for her to respond, he stood and lifted his chin, allowing his senses to fan out around him. The shouts and turmoil that had existed in the direction of the mansion had all but stopped. The crackling continued and the air was very warm; the fire still burned, but obviously the estate’s inhabitants had either given up and fled or were dead.
Byron closed his eyes and concentrated.
Beyond the scent of fire was the scent of wet woods, moss, lichen, mushrooms – and redwood. Good, he thought. At least he knew he was in the same location he’d been in twenty years ago – the first time he’d escaped.
He concentrated further. Beyond the fire were the high-pitched wails of sirens. And beyond those was the constant hiss of quickly passing traffic, which meant that there was a highway nearby. Twenty years ago, he’d had to travel some distance before coming to a road and hitching a ride into San Francisco.
It looked like things had changed. In this case, and as far as his current needs were concerned, they’d changed for the better.
Byron opened his eyes and looked down at the woman who was now trying to sit up on the ground at his feet. She had one hand pressed to her head and the other was reaching out for the trunk of a nearby tree. He knelt beside her with the intention of placing his hand on her shoulder to stay her. However, she looked up and recoiled before he could touch her.
“Still think I want to torture you, eh?” he asked.
Katherine’s dark blue eyes narrowed. “Where are you from?” she asked.
The question took him by surprise until he remembered that his accent sounded vaguely different from hers. It had been a long time since he’d been in his homeland, but enough of Australia remained on his tongue that it curled the edges of his words. “Australia,” he said, smiling what he knew to be a winning smile. “Or I used to be.”
Something light touched the color in Katherine’s eyes, turning them more purple than blue. The effect was instantly mesmerizing for him. He found himself staring.
And then, as if realizing what she’d been doing, the Huntress pulled her gaze awa
y and her expression became once more unreadable. When she did this, Byron felt as if a cord around him had been pulled taut - and then cut. His lifeline.
Look at me, he thought.
She didn’t.
“When he died, I lost everything,” she said bitterly as she looked at the ground.
Byron considered her words. Her pain was so thick, it was nearly palpable. “I know,” he said. “I didn’t kill him, Katherine Dare. But I know who did.”
Her head snapped up at this and he knew he had her. Whether she believed him or not, he was offering her something she didn’t have a few seconds ago. It was a way out, a clue – a hope in hell.
Byron glanced around them at the growing shadows and the too-quiet nature of the warlock king’s forestland. He sensed something on the wind that he hadn’t sensed before. He didn’t know how much time they had, and he didn’t like the idea of staying there any longer than absolutely necessary.
“We need to get out of here and you can’t walk, so I’m going to carry you,” he told her plainly.
“I can walk,” she insisted, her eyes widening as he knelt with the obvious intent of picking her up.
“Not fast enough for my tastes,” he replied as he wrapped his strong arms around her before she could effectively pull away. She felt both tough and fragile in his arms; warm and cold. She stiffened in his embrace, clearly not liking the idea of him being so close. And yet, her skin was warm beneath the thin layers of her clothing, and her curves were tender and inviting beneath his strong grip.
Byron gritted his teeth and mentally shoved his wayward fangs back into his gums where they belonged. He stood, carrying her before him. The sudden rise in altitude sent dizziness through her, just as he guessed it would.
Katherine closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder.
He knew she didn’t mean to do it. She’d been nearly dead only moments ago. He’d almost lost her. The poison the Hunters used was vicious and thorough and she was probably going to be weak for a while – or until he could get her to take more of his blood.
But whether she meant to do it or not, he enjoyed it. “I told you before that I know who killed your father,” he said as he took off at a long stride through the darkened woods. “So I’ll make you a deal. Don’t try to kill anyone for a while and I’ll tell you all about him.”
*****
From the safety and shadows of a nearby copse of trees, Jason Alberich nodded once to himself and prepared to transport away. His job was done. The Hunter woman had swallowed the wolf’s blood – thanks to Jason’s magic – and would live to fight another day. Byron Caige would have his hands full with her for the rest of his life.
It had needed to be done. Because nothing is more dangerous than an alpha werewolf with nothing left to lose.
Chapter Nine
“The Harvest”
“Twins!” Lily shouted into the phone. Daniel looked up to see his wife with her hand on her chest, her gold eyes wide in shock and happiness. “Oh my God, I don’t even know what to say!” She laughed, did a quick jump up and down, and then spun in a circle on the ball of her foot. Daniel put down the files he was reading in order to watch her. She was beautiful when she was happy. Stunning, actually.
It was nearly enough to distract him from what she was saying. Twins? He concentrated his hearing and was able to make out the sound of Dannai’s voice on the other end of the line.
Holy shit, he thought as he realized what they must have been talking about.
As if to reinforce the realization, Lily lowered the phone, looked right at him, and declared, “Danny’s having twins!”
Daniel was up and on his feet the moment the words left her lips. “You’re shitting me,” he said, feeling his own smile steal across his face. It was good news. It was beyond good news. For his kind and any hope they had for survival, it was a down right godsend to have even one child. But two?
What was more, Dannai was the Healer. Daniel couldn’t help but wonder what kinds of powers the children of an alpha werewolf and a witch would possess. The thought was filled with hope. With any luck, the children would be strong enough to make it to adulthood – and powerful enough to make it count.
Daniel strode quickly to his wife’s side and pressed a series of buttons on her phone. Lily caught on right away and set the phone down in its recharger on the counter.
“Danny, you’re on speaker phone,” she warned her friend.
“Congratulations, cher,” Daniel said, shaking his head and grinning ear to ear. “You and Caige must be doin’ somethin’ right.” He really couldn’t control the giddiness he felt; this was a reason to celebrate. “When did you find out?”
“A week ago,” Dannai replied.
“A week! And you waited until now to tell us?” Lily demanded.
Dannai laughed. “Well… we had some important things to do last week.” There was soft laughter and then a few clicks from her end. Daniel could hear the change in the receiver and knew that he and Lily had been put on speaker phone as well.
“Thanks for the congrats, Chief,” came a vaguely Australian accent from the other end. Daniel could hear both the smile and the pride in Caige’s voice. Lucas and Daniel were not necessarily close; Lucas had once worked for Malcolm Cole, and everyone in the werewolf community was well aware of the history between Daniel and Cole. However, times were tough and the community was tight – it had to be. When it came down to it, either man would fight for the other. And that was all that mattered.
“Girls or boys?” Lily blurted out before the men could say anything else.
“A girl and a boy,” Dannai replied.
Beside Daniel, Lily made a delighted squeal that his werewolf ears picked up on all too well. He grimaced and then chuckled, shaking his head.
“You’ve done it now,” he said to the phone.
“Names!” Lily demanded. “What are their names? Have you decided yet?” She was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Daniel turned fully toward her to watch. At that moment, she seemed like a golden rod of lightning, all energy, all heat and warmth, dangerous but bright and beautiful.
He remembered a time when they were both in high school and she’d been this happy. He recalled surreptitiously watching her from across the hall. He’d been overcome with curiosity as to what had happened to her that she was so happy. He wanted to know… it fueled his arsenal and gave him something to repeat. Anything to make her smile like that again.
But after he had very covertly dug around all day long, it had been to find that nothing had actually happened to her. It turned out that one of her friends had gotten into Stanford. She’d been happy for him. She was always happy for others.
Just like she was now.
Of course in this instance, Daniel knew there was more to it than that. He shook his head again and ran his hand through his blue black hair. He knew what was going through her head, and it looked an awful lot like expensive baby shower invitations, pink and blue stuffed animals, tiny hooded onesies, and ultra soft baby blankets. He was going to have to ask the mayor for a raise.
“And that’s not all,” Dannai was saying. Daniel realized that he’d spaced out and missed the last portion of their exchange. He straightened and moved closer to Lily in order to wrap his arm around her waist. Instant warmth washed over him, a reliable comfort that he would never take for granted.
“What?” Lily asked, her golden eyes as round as golf balls. “What!” On her end, Dannai paused, dragging out the suspense. And then she said, “We eloped last week. We’re married.” ***** Malcolm clicked the “end” button on his phone and turned to face his mate. Charlie’s blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of happiness, surprise, and mischievous anticipation.
“I can’t believe they’re married,” she breathed. And then she clapped her hands together before her and shouted, “I can’t believe they’re having twins!”
“You’re going to throw the luc
ky bugger a king’s party, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question, but Charlie nodded emphatically anyway.
It had been Caige on the phone. He and Danny were having twins. Charlie’s reaction to the news had been just as Malcolm had suspected it would be. She was ecstatic, and for many reasons. Not only was it exceedingly good news and certainly cause to celebrate – it also took the pressure off of Charlie, so to speak.
Werewolves were a dying breed. No one knew the exact numbers; they hadn’t been counted in some time as far as Malcolm knew. However, fewer and fewer answered when the council and the coven of witches who helped the council called. Hunters were spreading at the rate of an epidemic disease, and with each passing moon came the deaths of more and more loved ones.
It had been decided years ago that the only way for the werewolf community to survive this attempted genocide was to locate every dormant it could and reproduce. It sounded crude and old world. But that was what it meant to fight for your life. That was survival to a tee.
Charlie, otherwise known as Claire St. James, had been a very special and powerful dormant. Not only had she carried the dormant gene – she’d been a female-born werewolf. Until she’d come along, such a thing was not known to be possible. The possible implications of her existence were staggering, not in their number, but in the scope of their power. If she could reproduce, would she create offspring who were also female born werewolves and dormants? Or something better? Could she be the beginning of a change for the werewolf community?
These questions went unvoiced by both the council and Charlie’s friends. They loved Charlie very much, and they knew how much she’d been through. Charlie had been kidnapped, tortured, turned into a made wolf, and then turned back into a dormant through the use of black magic. Alexander Kavanagh had been the only family she had left in the world, and he’d died in order to protect her only three months ago.
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