What A Wolf Dares (Lux Catena Series Book 2)

by Amy Pennza

  Remy shrugged, as if telepathy was no big deal.

  It reality, it was a very big deal. Although all wolves were blessed with certain abilities, more often referred to as Gifts, the ability to speak mind-to-mind was rare. Dom and Remy were the only telepaths she knew. Most wolves inherited common Gifts like enhanced vision or accelerated speed—tools useful in battle or the hunt. Wolves with an advanced sense of smell were called Trackers for their ability to detect emotions and lies. Healers could mend wounds faster than any human doctor.

  Lizette had heard it theorized that plenty of wolves were born with so-called rare Gifts. They were just vulnerable to wolves who were superior fighters and thus less likely to live long enough to pass on their genes. Some wolves with mental Gifts took great pains to hide their abilities for that reason.

  Remy tapped the side of his head. “Besides, I need the practice.”

  “For what?”

  “Most of the time, I can only talk mind-to-mind with other telepaths, but lately I’ve been able to send to anyone.” He narrowed his eyes. “Pretty cool, huh?” His voice flooded her mind as if he’d shouted into her ear with a megaphone.

  “Whoa.” She put a knee against the dresser to steady herself. “Warn me before you do that again, okay?” It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her brain, even though she’d learned in freshman psychology class that the brain actually lacks nerve endings. Tell that to someone with chronic migraines.

  “Sorry.” He didn’t look the least bit guilty. “I’m still learning to control the volume.”

  “No worries.” She moved into the en suite bathroom to gather some toiletries. She crouched in front of her vanity and plucked a shampoo bottle off the bottom shelf.

  “Ready?” Remy’s voice floated from the bedroom.

  No. Never.

  She stood and caught her reflection in the antique mirror above the vanity. White with scrolling green vines, the mirror was one of the first things she bought for the apartment when she moved in five years ago. I’m coming back, she told herself as she opened a drawer and grabbed her headache medication. She clutched the orange bottle as her heart started to pound.

  She and Max had a deal. Five years ago, he sent her away.

  And in doing so, he gave Lizette her freedom.

  If he’d forgotten about their agreement, she’d just have to remind him.

  “Lizette?”

  In the mirror, her eyes lightened to wolf blue. She put her shoulders back. “Yes. I’m ready.”

  * * *

  Lizette rolled her eyes when she saw the black Infiniti QX80 in the apartment complex parking lot. It was wedged between a Prius and an early model Accord.

  “You guys really know how to blend in,” she muttered as she followed Dom down the stairs. Remy had insisted on carrying her duffel, which should have looked ridiculous, but somehow emphasized his imposing size and rugged masculinity. The other three males brought up the rear, their footfalls barely registering, even to her sensitive ears.

  When they reached the massive vehicle, Remy opened the rear passenger door and gestured for her to get in.

  She’d put one foot on the running board when a sudden thought hit her. “Gimme a second!” She jogged back to the building and rolled her eyes again when pounding footsteps followed her. Dom and the one called Aiden hovered on either side of her as she removed a piece of paper from her pocket and thrust it inside one of the shiny black mailboxes bolted to the front of the brick building. She’d scribbled the note in her kitchen right before Remy hefted her overstuffed duffel like it was a teacup and gestured for them to leave.

  Aiden sniffed the air around the mailbox. “That one smells like a human.” He glowered at her. “A male,” he added, making male sound like serial killer.

  She raised her chin. “He’s my landlord. He’ll wonder where I’ve gone.” Anger made her cheeks flood with heat. She shouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone, let alone a man she’d just met. What right did he have to question her?

  “Back off, Aiden,” Dom said. “Go ahead,” he told her in a gentler voice.

  She met his gaze with a glare. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to communicate with my friends.”

  Tension rose around them. Across the parking lot, Remy’s head shot up. Lizette wanted to snatch the words out of the air. She’d lived on her own too long, and she’d forgotten all the rules. Wolves didn’t need labels or name tags to know who was in charge. A well-trained wolf could walk into a crowded room and know the rank of every person within seconds. Dom was the highest ranking wolf on this mission, and she just challenged him.

  If they’d been alone, he might have let it go, but the others’ presence complicated things. If he ignored her insubordination, he risked looking weak. It opened a door—however narrow—for future challenges.

  She held her breath and waited for all hell to break loose, but Dom just stood there. The muscle ticking in his jaw was the only sign of his displeasure.

  She dropped her gaze to the cracked asphalt. “My apologies,” she said, her tone formal. “I meant no disrespect.” A human listening to their conversation would have found it strange. Why would a grown woman need anyone’s consent to leave a message for another adult, and her landlord at that? But in their world, respect and obedience were everything. Without these things, people died.

  The awful tension dissipated. Lizette let out a shaky breath.

  Dom touched her cheek briefly. “It’s fine. No harm done.”

  Over by the SUV, Remy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “You three trading recipes, or what? Let’s go!”

  Dom smiled at her. “I hope you brought headphones.”

  She followed him back to the SUV, where Remy and the others stood with their arms folded, muscles on full display. They were about as unobtrusive as secret service agents at a bake sale. She glanced over her shoulder at the apartments to see if any faces were peeking out from behind the curtains.

  The most excitement her tiny college town saw was the occasional DUI or bonfire gone wild. The presence of five huge men in an expensive car was bound to attract notice. Dom climbed in the driver’s seat, while Remy jumped in the passenger side. To her intense relief, Aiden sat in the third row, all the way in the back where she wouldn’t have to look at him or risk having her thigh touch his. She’d gotten a better sample of his scent by the mailbox, but she couldn’t place him. As far as she knew they’d never met, but something about him unsettled her.

  The other two wolves, whose names she hadn’t bothered to learn, sat on either side of her in the SUV’s middle row bucket seat. She decided to refer to them as Thug One and Thug Two in her mind.

  Dom’s blue eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, then dipped to the loose seatbelt next to her. “Buckle up.”

  She sighed and put in her earbuds. It was going to be a long ride.

  * * *

  The drive from Albany to Champlain took about three hours, with a little extra time thrown in for a bathroom break and a fast food stop—at least for Lizette. The others ate lunch on the way down.

  Remy twisted around and rested his chin on the back of his seat. “You don’t eat clean anymore?”

  She lowered the french fry she’d been about to stuff in her mouth. “You realize that’s annoying, right?

  “What is?”

  Dom snorted. “Being a self-righteous prick about what other people eat.”

  “I’m not a self-righteous prick! Chris, am I a self-righteous prick?”

  The male on Lizette’s right had spent most of the trip dozing with his arms folded over his chest. He replied without opening his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Takes one to know one,” Remy mumbled.

  Lizette laughed. “You’re not self-righteous, Rem. No comment on the other part, though.”

  “He’s got a Tinder profile,” Dom said dryly. “He’s definitely a prick.”

  “You don’t even know what Tinder is.” Remy leaned over t
he seat and snagged one of Lizette’s fries. “Seriously, Liz, he still doesn’t have a cell phone.”

  Dom’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I have a phone.”

  “Only because Max forced one on you. Ugh, Lizette, this tastes like vomit.”

  She tossed her fry back in the red container and threw it in the white paper bag at her feet. “Thank you very much, Remy. I didn’t need to eat today, anyway.”

  “You can eat at home,” Dom said. “We’re here.”

  She didn’t need him to tell her that. She’d sensed Penitentiary Gorge more than an hour ago. A tingling awareness had crept up her spine, and her heart pounded. As they turned down the narrow dirt road leading to the Lodge, the awareness felt like a thousand soft touches on her skin.

  Her stomach clenched, and a wave of anxiety washed over her. She had to control her emotions—especially fear. She closed her eyes and focused on taking slow, deep breaths. It was the most basic form of meditation, but it worked well enough in a pinch—anything to keep her human side more dominant than her wolf side.

  If she walked into the Lodge stinking of fear, she’d have a hard time standing up for herself. In the wild, humans were usually prey. Wolves, on the other hand, were natural predators. They were always looking for a weakness or subtle vulnerability. Werewolves combined the cunning of a predator with the higher reasoning capabilities of the human mind—making them a sort of super-predator.

  And the biggest, baddest predator of all was waiting at the end of her journey.

  She opened her eyes as they approached the gates. Dom must have used his Gift to tell someone inside they were here, because the black metal panels swung open, seemingly of their own accord. Not creepy at all.

  It had been five years since she laid eyes on the forest surrounding the Lodge. It was so far from civilization it didn’t even have cell service or cable—something that had scandalized her fifteen-year-old self. Fresh off the plane from California, she’d lobbied hard for a satellite dish. After months of her nagging, Max had finally given in, and she spent a solid month in her room watching Hannah Montana on the Disney Channel.

  When Lizette left at nineteen, she’d been hell-bent on putting as much distance as possible between her and the rural, isolated community that had felt like a prison.

  Returning now as an adult, she saw what she’d been too stubborn to admit before. The New York North Country might be isolated, but it was a beautiful isolation. Hickory trees towering as high as one hundred feet lined either side of the curving drive winding its way to the Lodge. They had yet to shed their leaves in preparation for winter, but the other trees had turned brilliant shades of orange, yellow, and red. The forest was gorgeous in the late afternoon sun, and her fingers twitched at the thought of running between its trees. Indulging her wolf was difficult in Albany, where she’d been forced to drive to a park and hike deep into the woods before shedding her clothes and Turning.

  Running wouldn’t be a problem here. She caught a glimpse of two dark shapes moving through the trees beside the SUV. An escort? Or guards? Pressure built behind her eyes—the start of a migraine.

  “He wants to see you as soon as we arrive,” Dom said.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice to be steady.

  The Lodge was an impressive four stories, built out of stone and timber some time in the nineteenth century. Well over forty thousand square feet, it cut into a hillside overlooking the gorge that ran through the entire forest.

  Dom pulled the SUV into the massive portico that shielded the porch and front doors. Lizette sensed an eerie stillness as she stepped out of the vehicle. It was as if the whole valley held its breath…waiting. The outside looked deserted, but there was a buzz of energy spilling from the Lodge. She couldn’t see the wolves inside, but she knew they were there. She reached out with her senses and felt them, one hundred or more spread throughout the building.

  But one in particular drew her like an electric current, so intense it was painful. She gasped and broke the connection.

  Dom steadied her. He nodded, his solemn expression telling her he understood what just happened. “You’re to go alone,” he said.

  She pushed her shoulders back, sparing a thought of gratitude to Remy for urging her to put on a bra. She needed all the armor she could get, even if it was something as silly as a couple of underwires. “Okay,” she said, and stepped into the house she’d never expected to see again.

  * * *

  The inside of the Lodge was brighter than Lizette remembered, the foyer spiraling up a dizzying sixty feet. Twin staircases graced either side, each one leading to a catwalk that appeared to float across the impressive space.

  The foyer opened onto a massive great room dominated by a huge stone fireplace. She’d spent many an evening lying in front of it, chin propped on her hand, studying the flames.

  She longed to sink into one of the big leather couches in front of the fireplace, but she had her instructions. Her orders. She was to report directly to the Alpha as soon as she set foot in the building. Disobeying wouldn’t be a good way to start her visit.

  And a visit is exactly what it’s going to be. As she walked the familiar path to Max’s study, his presence was like a beating heart in the huge Lodge. Each pulse dragged her closer to him, even though every nerve screamed for her to run back out the door and never stop.

  “Lizette?” a young, feminine voice called behind her.

  She stopped and pivoted toward it. “Haley?”

  A dark blur shot from the other end of the hallway. Before she could say anything else, Haley threw itself into Lizette’s arms, wrapping her in a tight, perfumed hug with surprising strength.

  She patted her friend’s springy, light brown curls. “Have you been working out?”

  Haley laughed and pulled back so they were face-to-face. “It’s the wolf,” she said, her white, even teeth bisected by the thin metal wire of her retainer. “I can’t believe how much it’s changed me in such a short time.”

  Six weeks earlier, Haley had convinced her guardians to let her spend a weekend with Lizette. Haley turned seventeen that past Christmas with no sign of her wolf emerging. The Turn happened at different ages for everyone, but it usually happened by puberty—and because girls tended to mature faster than boys, females usually Turned earlier. But Haley hadn’t made the change, and her guardians worried she never would. Among werewolves, such wolves were called latents.

  Latents had a wolf counterpart, but they couldn’t Turn. They felt the pull of the wolf’s instincts but had no outlet for them. Lizette had heard it described as being a pianist with your hands permanently tied behind your back.

  It was a sad, frustrating existence for wolves, cursed to live trapped inside their human bodies, unable to transform into their other selves. The hope of finding a mate was slim, since they lacked the ability to form the lifelong bonds so treasured by the wolves, and many couldn’t bear to be around normal werewolves.

  The problem had even spilled over from werewolf society and trickled down into the human world. Every now and then news headlines told of a madman or killer who’d committed some unspeakable crime. In some cases, it was just a random crazy human. But in others it was a latent who’d lost his or her grip on reality, and the local Alpha would dispatch a group of wolves to quietly take care of the problem.

  In the morning the human police would find the defendant hanged in his cell. Was it murder? Yes, but it was too risky to allow those wolves to live.

  The human word lunatic was a lot closer to the truth than most people realized.

  At first Haley’s guardians thought she might simply be a late bloomer. But when puberty came and went and she still hadn’t Turned, they were desperate. So they sent her to Lizette, hoping some time with another female around her own age might relieve some of the Haley’s anxieties. What if she never Turned? Latents often lived a sort of half-life. Cut off from the werewolf community, many committed suicide.

  To every
one’s delight, Haley Turned for the first time during her stay at Lizette’s place. She and Lizette had danced around the apartment blasting One Direction and Taylor Swift until Lizette got a migraine and the downstairs neighbor pounded on the ceiling to shut them up.

  Lizette squeezed Haley’s bicep. “I’m impressed. You have Madonna arms.”

  Haley laughed, her pretty face lit up with joy. It made Lizette’s heart happy to see her like this. In a way she felt protective of her, and not just because Lizette was there the first time Haley Turned. Like Lizette, Haley lost her parents as a child. Although Haley was raised in a werewolf community, they’d both been foster kids of a sort. Haley knew what it felt like to be an outsider.

  Haley’s expression grew abruptly serious. “Have you seen him yet?”

  Lizette swallowed. Of course Haley knew why Lizette was here. There was only one thing—or rather one person—who could have compelled her to return. “Not yet. Soon.”

  “Oh.”

  They stared at each other. Even at seventeen, Haley understood that being summoned to appear before the Alpha was serious business. Everyone did. In Lizette’s case, however, it held a special significance.

  “I should go.”

  “You should go.”

  They both laughed.

  Lizette took a reluctant step toward the foyer. “I’m sure I’ll see you later. We have a ton of things to catch up on.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Like boys.” Although goodness knew Lizette had little advice to offer in that area. Aside from one brief—and that was generous—relationship as a teen, her love life was DOA.

  “Definitely,” Haley said. “And I want to run together before you go.”

  Lizette gave Haley a little wave and tried to ignore the way her stomach lurched as she headed back the way she’d come. She stopped in front of a set of big double doors and wiped her palms on her jeans. She angled her chin down and took in her sweater and mint green Chucks. Was Aiden right? Maybe she should have changed.