Wolf Born

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  She retraced her steps. “‘This male is not for you’ is what you told me. And that Colton wouldn’t have been compatible before the fight, and certainly not after it. Also, you said that I’d have no idea what would happen if...” She let that empty sentence linger a while. Her father didn’t break the silence.

  “You said that I couldn’t help him, that I couldn’t remain near him. It was imperative, you told me, that Colton and I were separated, the sooner the better.”

  She hesitated, and looked her father in the face. “But the thing I remember best of all was that you said two extremes were never destined to meet.”

  Rosalind walked toward the window, able to feel Colton out there. Allowing his presence to calm her, warm her.

  “Two such extremes, Father. A Lycan with an unusual spirit inside her, and a Lycan warrior who had nearly lost his life and retained it as a ghost of his former self.”

  She was again standing above him. “How did you know what to expect? Because it’s quite obvious to me now that you did.”

  Her father’s Lycan-green eyes were bright in the indoor light. “I didn’t know anything for sure,” he finally said. “Until I heard this ghost’s name.”

  “Killion.”

  “Yes. Once I’d been made aware of that, I realized that it was probably already too late for the both of you.”

  Rosalind put her hands on the arm of his chair. “Too late for what?”

  “To reverse or withhold your bond. It was, you see, more than a case of like meeting like, and after all this time...”

  Circles. They were going in circles, when all her father had to do was tell her the truth.

  “I don’t think anyone comprehends what this bond means,” her father continued. “How could they? I’m not sure I believe it.”

  “They? Who do you mean? What do you mean?” Rosalind demanded.

  “The monsters.”

  “What wouldn’t they believe?”

  He looked directly into her waiting eyes at last, and she saw the resolution on his face. “That you, of all Weres, could have met up with the heritage of that damned Banshee who started all this,” he said.

  She waited for that to make sense, but it was gibberish he’d fed her. Not the truth at all.

  “Heritage?” she echoed.

  Her father waved a hand at the door. “Colton Killion comes from an old line. One in particular that was distressing to me. Colton is from the same lineage as the Were who mated with your great-great-grandmother, Rosalind. He’s from the same family. How’s that for the long-range designs of fate? After generations, by jumping a wall in a city where you were only visiting for a couple of days and supposedly behaving yourself, you met up with someone out of your rising spirit’s goddamn past.”

  He shook his hand, still raised, as if cursing the fate he’d just spoken about. “It was fantastical. Far-fetched. Who could have believed it? How could I have trusted my instincts on the matter? I knew only that you had locked onto this Were with an uncanny adherence that seemed absurd, given that you hadn’t even really met him. You’d only seen him once, out there, beyond these walls. Isn’t that the truth?”

  Rosalind frowned, not really understanding this at all. “Yes,” she said. “That’s true. I saw him for the first time in the park.”

  “It likely was the spirit in you that recognized him, and it didn’t take much. I don’t begin to claim to comprehend how that can happen, or if it actually did. You asked for what I believe to be the truth, and this is it.”

  Her father’s theory was an astonishing one, and probably an idea that no one, including herself, would have taken seriously, had he mentioned it in this house while Colton had been hurt and healing. He had been right about that.

  She was different now.

  “How can a spirit identify someone they’d never seen before?” she asked. “It would have to mean that whatever kind of life that spirit manifests actually continues on. Not just instincts and urges, but actually able to recognize something beyond itself.”

  She was feeling strange, and went on in a rush. “Wouldn’t that theory suggest that not only is a Banshee inside me, it’s possessing me? Driving me toward what it wants?”

  Her father countered, “Would you otherwise believe in love at first sight? A love so strong that you’d be willing to give up your life for a stranger ten minutes after laying eyes on him?”

  “I don’t believe this,” Rosalind stated firmly.

  “I can’t blame you,” her father said. “It is, however, the only explanation I have. And after accepting it as a possibility, however remote, and aside from the dangers now presenting themselves like a bad case of déjà-vu over what happened to your mother and I...I see no better way to explain what you so desperately want to understand.”

  Rosalind’s stomach was churning. Although she wanted to discount her father’s explanation, she was, at that moment, aware of Colton’s thoughts. He was going to come in after her. She’d been away from him for too long.

  The explanation her father had given her suddenly seemed viable. She felt as though a ray of moonlight had reached down inside her to help lighten the load, but it was actually the sensation of sudden enlightenment.

  Inside her, in the dark space where the unknown hovered, some of her fear began dissipate. A small portion of it, anyway. For whatever reason, she had found her soul mate. The real one. The only one. And who cared, after all, how she had found Colton?

  It was a game of sacrifice and give-and-take and spirits merging. That’s what this larger-than-life love was.

  Had her mother known about any of this? Foreseen it? Her mother had sacrificed herself for her family, with hopes that when the spirit rose within her daughter, if indeed it did, Rosalind would have the time to find her true love and explore her options.

  Her father had other ideas.

  A Banshee was probably the closest thing to real darkness on the planet. A monster magnet. Her father had maintained the hope that the creatures seeking a resting place for their black-hearted leader might never find it, and that his daughter might break the link of the Banshee spirit, who had changed the fates of so many, by being protected from all that.

  By never meeting a mate.

  By never setting foot outside their gates. Nothing like her mother’s wishes.

  But how tricky fate could be. Landau had invited them here. She had escaped her father’s net. And in doing so, she had found Colton...setting the entire scenario into action.

  Colton, a member of the same family as the Lycan male who had mated with the woman the Banshee had saved all those generations ago.

  God help them.

  Serendipity? Fate? She had found Colton in the park, and two families had been reunited by the spirit rising within her. The spirit who had recognized Colton from afar.

  “Colton,” Rosalind said as her knees finally began to give way.

  He was there in a flash of taut, tense muscle, with a face strained paler than hers. His facial welts gave him an edgy, hungry look. She had never really seen him in the light.

  But Colton Killion had always been dangerous.

  What would have happened if the vampires hadn’t attacked? If the bloodsuckers hadn’t killed his family that night?

  Would she have found Colton eventually, anyway? Would fate have taken care of the details, ensuring she would, and that the two families would again be joined together?

  A date with destiny?

  “We have to kill them all,” she said to Colton. “All who know about me, and about you.”

  Colton glanced past her, to her father, who stood up as if he were well enough to ready for the next necessary fight.

  “We have to stop them from making me one of them, completely. We can’t let them put a black heart inside my chest.”
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  “How do we do that?” he asked.

  Rosalind started for the door, pausing when she reached it. “I call them,” she said with absolute certainty. “And hope they all show up.”

  * * *

  The intensity of their bond made Rosalind look longingly at him one last time from the doorway. She wasn’t seeking permission to do what she had said she would; she was letting him see her feelings.

  There were plenty of questions still unasked and unanswered, Colton thought, and yet he had to go on trust here. Trust his gut. Trust her. Rosalind had unselfishly, and at great risk, led the demon away from him and the Landau pack that very night. Her motives had been pure. Thoughts of a black heart inside her chest, and what that might mean, were unthinkable.

  More than any of them, Rosalind wanted to give a shout to all of the monsters in the area, sensing that culling monsters with a taste for blood was the only way to have any kind of peace, if only for a while.

  If the creatures in this area that knew about them were removed from the equation, maybe no others would take up the scent.

  He followed Rosalind outside. She walked to where the judge stood with the rest of his family and his pack.

  “It’s my problem,” she said, and Colton knew how much effort it took for her to face them and to speak. “I’m sorry to have brought this sad doom to your doorstep. I know now that they won’t go away or back off for any length of time. Though I’m not certain why they want us so much, or the actual specifics of that kind of lust, Colton and I have to face them.”

  She paused only to draw a breath. “I have no right to ask you to help us. You’ve been told what I am, and can see what Colton has become because of the vampires. It’s against my better judgment to ask for your aid, but I just don’t know what else to do.”

  “We’re in.” Dylan Landau spoke up first, with a giant step forward.

  Judge Landau looked to his son.

  “We cleaned up the park a year ago. Now look at it,” Dylan said. “Monsters think it’s their personal playground and that they can come out whenever they want to.”

  “We don’t know what to expect,” the elder Landau cautioned.

  “Vampires,” Rosalind said. “And demons. Definitely more than one of each. Supernatural creatures out of nightmares. But then, so are we, really, when it comes right down to it.”

  Colton noticed Dana Delmonico’s brief grin. Delmonico would know about those nightmares firsthand, since she likely hadn’t known about werewolves until she was bitten by one.

  His gaze moved to the others present. Every single one of those Weres nodded to him, in accord.

  A small twitch in his chest made him bow his head.

  “We’re sure as hell not going to let you face them alone,” Matt Wilson seconded, with the auburn-haired female by his side.

  “It seems that my pack has made up their minds,” Judge Landau observed. “But this night’s almost over.”

  “Has it only been one?” Colton muttered, because it already felt like years since he’d last stood in this yard.

  “Tomorrow,” Rosalind said. “I’ll call them then. I can’t presume to see what will happen, but it’s the only option open that I can see.”

  Jared Kirk had followed them into the yard. He said, “The approaching sunrise will keep them down and give us time to prepare.”

  Judge Landau turned to his pack. “Tomorrow is Saturday. No one who counts will miss us at the day job.” He turned back. “Jared?”

  “I plan on being better by then,” Rosalind’s father said.

  Landau looked at his son. “You understand how dangerous it’s going to be.”

  “And how dangerous it’ll be across the board if we don’t take care of this new pest problem,” Dana Delmonico added.

  Colton almost smiled. Dana Delmonico was a tough cop and a tough Were. Not Lycan, but a perfect match for Dylan, all the same.

  Again, facing this pack, he realized how much he had missed in the past by being a loner.

  “We’ll need police presence,” Matt Wilson advised. “So others don’t come wandering in.”

  “Adam Scott can arrange a perimeter,” Dylan said. “With the help of a neighboring pack.”

  “There are other Weres on the force, outside the city?” Colton asked.

  “Several good ones,” Dylan replied.

  “We can’t take this fight to the park here,” another Were said. “Besides being too close to home, outside police presence would be noted.”

  Colton looked more closely at the large brown-haired young man who added, “It’s way too risky.”

  “Then we can bring them to the hospital grounds,” the auburn-haired female who was Wilson’s mate suggested. “No one hangs around a psychiatric ward, especially after dark.”

  “Good one, Jenna,” Dylan said to the female before turning back to Rosalind. “Does this work for you, Rosalind? Will you be able to bring them anywhere you choose?”

  Like the Pied Piper? Colton thought.

  “I’m not sure if I can bring them anywhere,” she replied with a tired, sober face.

  She continued to shake, part of that no doubt from being so close to this many others. But she continued to maintain her stance.

  Although no one allowed their gazes to linger on her long, Colton read in their faces how uneasy they felt in her presence. They were equally as uneasy with him.

  He didn’t blame them. Two strange Lycans needed their help. They didn’t have to go out of their way to oblige, but this was their territory, and Weres were nothing if not protective of their space.

  If all went well, and that was a big if, what would happen afterward? They’d all return to their respective packs and homes and mates, and he and Rosalind, with or without her father, would be left to themselves.

  The location of Rosalind’s home had been compromised. He couldn’t take her back to his apartment, and the thought of reclaiming his city life made his muscles quiver in distaste. Also, and the biggest what-if of all, any future depended on the premise that he and Rosalind would survive the next night.

  “Thank you,” he said to Landau and his pack; two simple words denoting a gratitude that couldn’t actually be expressed to the proper degree.

  “I’ll stand guard until dawn,” he announced, afraid to go back into the house with Rosalind bunking inside it, and especially afraid to go anywhere near her if this was to be his last night. His and hers.

  Not the way to think, he chastised sternly. That last-night business. There might just as well be more nights. Someday he and Rosalind would be able to meet again, flesh to flesh, with no clothes to get in the way, and not a black heart between them. They would take up where they had left off.

  He’d confess how much she meant to him as he entered her blistering heat, feeling her arms wrapped around him and hearing her murmur of approval. She’d be his, and he hers, their bodies and their souls finally free to fully explore an almost mystical union unfettered by the chains of DNA that had tangled things up.

  Believing in that future seemed to be the only way for him to get through the next twenty-four hours.

  Rosalind’s eyes met his. Gray eyes that were bottomless and seductive. The pull of that seduction was like a soft tug on his wounded soul.

  Meet me, her eyes invited. Find me.

  And in that instant, Colton’s heart, mind, body and soul, despite all the arguments to the contrary, and with the full backing of his beast, agreed that he would.

  * * *

  Rosalind rubbed at her ankle, free now of the chain, thanks to the Landaus. The livid red ring of burned skin had already faded in the past hour, though the spot still stung.

  The bruises on her shins were a dark blue, and gave her the speckled appearance of a leopard, rather than a wolf. She�
�d forgotten about the pain already.

  Filled with barely contained energy, she circled the rug on the floor in the room the Landaus had given her. Colton hadn’t come inside. He was supposed to be standing guard, but other Weres were sharing that job, setting up a physical wall of muscle and bone and grit around her.

  Colton’s restlessness beat at her, adding fuel to her own anxiety. “Come on,” she whispered to the window, insanely expecting the white wulf to reply.

  She tore at her borrowed clothes, stripped to naked skin and tossed the discards in a corner, needing to be free and to breathe. The sun would soon rise. She guessed there was less than an hour of darkness left in what felt like an endless night. She dreaded the coming of daylight. She had never seen Colton in the sun. Both of them were somehow tied to darkness.

  Would he still love her when that darkness had fled?

  “Colton. Where are you?”

  Close to the windowsill, and with the memory of what use she had made of a window the last time she had been a guest in this house, Rosalind peered out. She stayed there until her shoulders complained and her head began to throb.

  “White wulf, do you hear me?”

  Would the monsters ignore her, if Colton could? If she didn’t have the ability to call a lover, what chance did she have against the rest of the world?

  Something like anger stirred in her stomach. Her beast, maybe. Possibly it was the Death-caller she imagined to be like a beast and taking up space.

  Scared of what that might mean, Rosalind clamped her teeth together so that the fangs would have no room to expand. Anger was the providence of vampires. She wasn’t one of them.

  Again, there was movement inside her, and she swore out loud. If the Death-caller was trying to tell her something, she didn’t want to listen. If she knew ahead of time how this would turn out, and how many good Weres might lose their lives, she might not follow through.

  The skin on the nape of her neck prickled and chilled up. Balmy Miami breezes exerted an unusually weighty pressure that made her nerve endings burn.

  She blinked slowly as her heart began to rev.

  Her muscles went rigid.