by Kym Grosso
Wynter shook uncontrollably and rubbed at her eyes. She felt her limbs grow cold. Was he insane? There was no way an animal virus could be transferred to vampires.
“I know what you’re thinking. Little Emma’s illness is a random mutation…it couldn’t possible affect vampires. But the mutation is just a spark we need to turn our discovery into a blazing success. We need to think big…research new ways of modifying the genetic structure of those who are invincible. And as we’ve proven, even a human can be changed.”
“What did you do…my cells? I have to know,” Wynter pleaded, her voice barely audible. She stared into his cold black orbs. “You’re sick, you know that?”
“Now, now. No need to be nasty. You should be grateful for what I’ve done to you. I’ve given you a gift.” He smiled proudly.
“Grateful, are you fucking kidding?” Wynter coughed, nervously pulling at her own hair. She felt as if she was the one going insane. How could this be happening?
“I told you, darling. I’m a scientist. I’ve been playing with genetic material for many years. It’s not exactly new technology. The humans have been tampering with their food supply for a while now, developing genetically modified crops and such. They’re resistant to weeds, insects and so forth. They’ve even successfully developed animal organs for potential transplants. What I did to you was slightly more complicated, but in the same vein. The micro-injection of the recombinant DNA was quite easy once my vampires had you subdued. Really, no pain involved. Of course, unlike humans, ethics don’t impede my experiments. No, my dear, this…your genetic transformation was my creation and mine alone…although I must thank Fiona for her genetic contribution. She’s quite the sport. In the end, you’ve turned into a fabulously strong transgenic being, don’t you agree?”
Unable to keep the bile down, Wynter turned her head to the side. The contents of her stomach spewed onto the floor and she coughed, wiping her mouth. Hearing the horrific details of what he’d done confirmed her suspicions. Forever altered, her genetic structure had been modified to wolf. She’d been an experiment, nothing more, nothing less.
“And I must say that my theory proved correct. Your blood cures the very virus that afflicts the hybrid. But I still do have one small problem. I’ve been working on it, of course, and am so very close, but I need to be able to transfer the virus to a pure wolf. For whatever reason, the random mutation isn’t strong enough to transfer. And that my darling is why I need you.”
“Me? My blood?” Wynter whispered.
“Well, of course we need your blood. And lots of it. But I need your mind, darling. With you at my side, doing research, we can make history together,” he explained, taking a seat.
“Are you crazy? I told you I don’t know anything. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” she snapped.
Étienne growled. Snagging Wynter by the arms, he hoisted her so far off the floor her toes scraped the boards. He held her at eye level, mere inches from his face. “You will do this. Or have you forgotten what used to happen when you refused? Perhaps you need a refresher,” he sneered, baring his fangs. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited. I won’t be denied.”
Without another word, Étienne pulled Wynter against his body and sliced his teeth into her neck.
Blinding, searing white hot pain speared down into Wynter’s body. Not only had he taken her blood, it felt as if he’d stolen the very essence of her vitality. Optimism. Hope. Love. It had all been siphoned away by the monster draining her life force. Her pale lips parted in a silent scream yet the sound was lost in her chest. Wynter squeezed her eyes tight, her fingers digging into his arms in a futile effort to dislodge him. Like a rag doll hung on a hook, she could not shake free. The noose tightened around her neck, and she fought for air. Cloaked in evil, she prayed to God to take her soul.
Fiona whacked a chair over Étienne’s back, causing him to release Wynter. As he raised a hand to strike Fiona, she held a sharp shard of wood to his back.
“You fool,” she accused. “We need her blood for testing, for the antidote, and you can’t control yourself for five fucking minutes. This is why you need me. You’ve got no discipline.”
As if scolded by his mother, Étienne stepped away from them both and lowered his head. “But of course, Mistress. My apologies. She tempts me so.”
“Touch her again and I’ll stake you and that monstrosity you’ve created. Do you think I need you? This…all of this,” she continued, looking around the room as if talking about a magical place, “is my doing. I found you, not the other way around. I came up with this plan, not you. And you are not going to fuck it up, do you hear me? Now stop screwing around with her, get her to the computer. We’ve got maybe three hours before Logan tracks us down, and I want to get out of here.”
“Your blood, Dr. Ryan. So wild and pungent.” Étienne glanced to Wynter who lay sobbing on the floor. “I do think that genetic modification upped your platelet count, because I feel energized.”
“Would you stop pontificating and get her working?” Fiona implored.
“Get up,” Étienne coerced, yanking Wynter by her arm. He dragged her across the floor to a small table, picked her up and righted her in the chair. Noticing her neck was still bleeding, he stole a glance at Fiona before dragging his tongue over the wound. He licked his lips. “See, I’m quite in control now.”
“If you drink from her while I’m gone, you’re dead,” Fiona warned. “Keep it up and I’ll leave you out here by yourself. Logan and the pack will tear you apart, do you understand? I’m the only one who knows how to get out of here. Get the data and then we’re leaving.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Étienne capitulated. He gave Wynter a slap to her face and flipped open a laptop. “Wake up, scientifique. Time to work. Whatever you’ve worked on this past week, I want the information recorded now. Blood to virus ratios for the cure, viral portability, everything. The Mistress won’t allow me another taste of your delectable blood but she didn’t say anything about torture.”
“That’s better. You’re a good boy,” Fiona praised. She reached up to smooth over Étienne’s hair. “Now, I have to go outside to check the boat. And Phillip too. I’ll untie him now.”
Satisfied with his obedience, Fiona smiled to herself. As the door to the cabin slammed behind her, she eyed Phillip, Étienne’s child, who sat tied to a cypress tree, the silver cord bound around his neck so tightly that he could no longer speak. The acrid odor of burnt flesh lingered in the air. She smiled, picking a few splinters from the fragmented stake she’d created from the broken chair. Phillip’s wide-eyed stare bled red streaks down his face. Fiona knelt before him, careful not to soil her skirt.
Phillip had served his purpose on the boat. Pity that he had to die, considering his spectacular performance. As Fiona had suspected, Wynter had bought their orchestrated farce hook, line and sinker. Of course the woman on the deck had been dead. Thankfully, Phillip had left enough blood dripping to make it look believable. Like a well-honed speaker, he’d given his oration and convinced Wynter to give herself up to save Fiona. Bleeding-hearted humans. Fiona had seen the look of guilt plastered across Wynter’s face at the funeral. Logan, on the other hand, was about to leave her. As suspected, he’d choose his mate over her, a purebred wolf; all the more reason why he shouldn’t be Alpha.
But she’d never be Alpha of Acadian Wolves as long as the ancient ways ruled pack law. She wasn’t strong enough to challenge most females, let alone a male. Even her father, a virile male, hadn’t been able to subjugate Marcel. Death had been his sentence for the challenge. Her plan had merely started out as revenge for her father’s death. Convincing Calvin, Marcel’s beta, that he was deserving of Alpha took little effort. Stroking his ego, planting the seed of his dream to rule the Acadian pack was ridiculously easy. She could have easily played alpha female to Calvin. But no, no, no. Unexpectedly, Logan had intervened, killing Calvin, and her only chance of ruling the pack.
Despite the mishap,
her alternate plan, dominating the vampire, turned out to be quite ingenious. She’d met Étienne years before, allowing him to fuck and feed from her. When he’d told her of the story of the sick wolf, her idea struck like lightning. If she could control the virus and the antidote, she’d control the pack. Étienne, tired of being Kade’s lackey, sought the same goal: power. He fancied himself a scientist of great aptitude and aspired to be known throughout history. She played up his fantasy, all the while directing his actions.
Her only mistake had been relying on Étienne to isolate the virus, to turn it into a weapon. Even Wynter had failed to produce the virus in a way it could be injected, swallowed or otherwise used to infect another wolf. But this minor setback didn’t deter Fiona. As she’d pored through the volumes of genetic and viral research, she believed it was just a matter of time before a researcher made the discovery. No longer convinced that person was Wynter, she planned to kill her after they got the information she’d gleaned about the antidote. They’d drain Wynter, taking her blood for future research.
Étienne’s fascination with the girl had grown dangerous. There was no way Fiona could leave the wolf alive. Logan would never stop searching for his mate. Even if he didn’t go after them, dragging Wynter through the swamp wasn’t an option. A timely escape was paramount. Afterwards, they’d bide their time, review the data, acquire a new scientist and weaponize the virus. Once she had it ready, she’d attack Logan. Then she’d return to take over the pack.
Lost in her thoughts, she eyed Phillip with faux sympathy. Deep in her chest, she tried to conjure empathy but it didn’t come. She knew she should care about his fate, but she simply didn’t. Apathy had been the beauty of her strategic plan. All of the killing, and she felt no regret. She supposed the closest she’d felt to guilt was when she’d ordered Dana’s death. At the funeral, she’d been a terrific actress, all the while unable to feel anything at all. It had been necessary to kill her. She couldn’t have allowed her hybrid half-sister to reveal the results from Wynter’s blood tests.
Over the past week, she’d made Étienne kill every single one of the vampires he’d created. She scoffed as the bound bloodsucker whimpered at her feet. Poor Étienne, the fool that he was, believed that he could bring the pink-shirted vampire with them. Of all the children he’d recklessly created, she supposed Phillip had been the most useful one of the bunch. Thankfully, Étienne had believed her lie that he could keep his treasured creature. He would have fought her on the decision to kill him. But they needed to move like the wind. It would be hard enough to escape with the two of them. Fiona thought that she almost felt a tiny shred of compassion as she drove the stake deep into Phillip’s black heart. But as he turned to ash, she shrugged. She clapped the dust off her hands and smiled, glad to have felt nothing at all.
“Fiona. What the hell?” Logan couldn’t believe what he saw on the video.
“Today on the lake,” Dimitri began.
“She jumped to the other boat. I thought she was crazy. But she did it deliberately, luring Wynter. She knew Wynter felt guilty about Dana dying. She used it. I just can’t fucking believe this. Why?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but she’s got to be working with a vamp. Dana was bitten up good.”
“She may be working with a vampire, but look at her. She’s smiling. Baiting us. And the letter. She must have planted it. She’s been watching us this whole time,” Logan spat out furiously.
“Shit,” Dimitri began. “You know with the pack, there’s not too many secrets. The guys who worked to build the lab, they may have told her.”
“Fiona’s here,” Logan breathed.
“Fi knows this place just as well as we do. She knows we’ll find her.”
“She’s going to kill Wynter for her blood, then take off.”
“We’ll have to break the search into sections. The whole pack will help,” Jake suggested.
“No, let me think. If she's got Wynter, she’s going to want to drain her blood. It's what she's after. But she won't use a vamp, though. She's going to need privacy, supplies…to collect it properly. The swamp’s too messy. And she wouldn’t keep a boat out in the open. She’s going to need shelter. A cabin maybe.”
“Ours?”
“I think…I think she may have built one,” Luci interjected quietly.
“What exactly do you know, Luci?” Logan snarled.
“Nothing, I swear. Fiona’s been the same person she’s always been. Sweet, gentle Fi. This isn’t her…she wouldn’t hurt anyone. I know she’s on that video,” she shook her head and gestured to the tablet, “but I’m telling you we’ve been friends for a long time. I just don’t see how she could be capable.”
“How long have you known her really? Marcel, he brought you here. You haven’t been with the pack that long, Luci. Sometimes, we don’t know people,” Dimitri told her. “I’ve known her for the past fifty years and there she is…right there. She did this.”
“Where’s her cabin? We know every single blade of grass out here. I’ve never seen it. Where’s it at?” Logan demanded.
“We do know what’s out there, but maybe she’s been busy over the past couple of months. We’ve been preoccupied with the challenges.” Even to Dimitri, it didn’t make sense, but there was no denying that he and Logan and the entire pack had been distracted by Marcel’s death and the fights that followed.
“She took me there once,” Luci said solemnly. “Made me promise not to tell anyone. But last month when I asked, she told me that a storm took it out. I believed her. I had no reason to doubt her. It happens all the time, you know. I guess she could have rebuilt something.”
“Let’s go.” Logan glanced at Dimitri and Jake. “Fiona is not leaving this swamp. And bring stakes. She isn’t alone out there.”
“But what if Wynter isn’t…” Alive. Dimitri hesitated to suggest it but the reality of the situation was bleak.
“She’s alive.” The vision of Wynter dying before him played in his mind like a horror movie. He’d be damned if he let it happen. “She will not die, do you hear me? The next person who suggests it can find another pack. She’s mine and I can feel her. Now, let’s stop wasting time and go.”
Wynter pretended to type out information about the virus. She made up data, dates, measurements and ratios. She’d never help to create a viral weapon. They could kill her; drain her of all her blood, but she’d never ever give them what they needed. Wynter had spent the time gathering her strength, deciding she’d try to escape. But first, she had to shift. If she pretended to comply, she might be able to get him to take off the silver. Then, she’d fight with her last dying breath to get away.
“There’s nothing more.” Wynter pushed the save button as if she were truly cooperating. A reiteration of what they already knew would help to confirm her story, play to his arrogance. “You were right. My wolf blood, it’ll cure Emma. Her immunity will show in her viral titers but the symptoms will disappear. It isn’t contagious either.”
“See how nice it is when we collaborate, Dr. Ryan? Professionals discussing our research,” he lectured as if he was a professor.
“Your genetic modification was spot on. My shift was difficult, but it was enough to manipulate the blood. I need to continue the research to learn more about why my blood is counteracting the virus,” she continued.
“That’s the spirit. We’ll set up a new lab in Wyoming. I’ve grown quite tired of this heat. And the Mistress, well she’ll want to return here eventually. Perhaps the mountain air will entice her to stay.”
“Out West? Really? I’ve always wanted to see Yellowstone.” As a camper, not a captive. “When do we leave? I’m a mess.”
“Always beautiful in my eyes, darling. Your intellect is captivating,” he purred into her ear.
“I’m still weak though. I don’t think I’d be able to keep up with you. If I could just shift, I think I’d be okay to go,” she suggested innocently.
“We’d need to discuss that with th
e Mistress. I can’t allow…”
“You don’t have the power to do it? What I meant to say is that it was your brilliance that researched the genetics, created a wolf from a human. It’s the first time it’s been done in history. Your name should be published in the New England Journal of Medicine. This is a historic medical breakthrough. It’ll have far-reaching implications across the world. I imagine all the Ivy League schools will be clamoring to have you teach,” she boasted. She knew she was laying it on thick but she watched in pleasure as his eyes glossed over in dreams of grandeur.
“Sir,” Wynter pleaded demurely. Batting her eyelashes, she seductively glided her fingers from her mouth down to the valley between her breasts. “I really am a mess. My lips…my neck. Of course, I’d need to take my clothes off in order to shift.”
Étienne’s cock jerked in response. How he’d missed watching her in her underwear while he held her in his lab. Viewing her nude was a gift he’d earned, deserved. The Mistress would not approve but she wasn’t here, was she? Just a small peek wouldn’t hurt. She’d be well enough to travel and he’d fuck her later.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, but you must promise to be a good girl.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Wynter breathed calmly as his cool lips touched her skin, resisting the urge to flinch. She just needed to shift and then she’d have a chance to escape. In her current condition, she couldn’t stand, let alone run or fight. For a second, she thought he’d changed his mind as he stood to retrieve a pair of gloves from his pocket.
“Gloves, darling. The silver,” he noted. He knelt before her like Logan had done to her in the lab. “This’ll take just a minute.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he’d hurry. Luckily he couldn’t get too close to the silver as he wrapped his arms around her, unfastening the corset. Her lungs wheezed as the poisonous metal fell to the floor. A fresh rush of energy circulated throughout her body.
