Born Wild

by Nikki Jefford

  Three down. Four, if Jackson didn’t make it. He wasn’t as bad as a lot of Hawk’s other men, but he was still her enemy—one she guessed had been ordered to hunt her down.

  “Hold position. Do not go into the woods,” Bailey shouted.

  The remaining men formed a tight line, guns aimed at the forest.

  The bearded man looked up. “What about Jackson? He’s bleeding out fast.”

  “Leave him,” Bailey commanded. “Grab Sparrow. Quick!”

  She startled at her name and froze for a second as the bearded man jumped to his feet and started for her.

  Somewhere inside her mind a voice screamed, “Run!” It took her a moment to switch gears from keeping still, and out of harm’s way, to making a dash for the woods behind her.

  The bearded man lunged forward. He was fast and wearing boots. Jagged rocks and sharp thorny vines stabbed at her bare feet, but she kept running until her big toe connected with a hidden rock, covered by grass.

  “Ouch!” she hollered.

  Sparrow jumped on one foot, clutching the other. Rough hands grabbed her from behind. She spun around, screaming into his beard, striking his chest and face as she tried to push him off her. He jumped forward again and grabbed at her sleeve. It ripped when he tried to pull her forward.

  “Get away from me!” Sparrow yelled.

  In her panic, she didn’t notice the gray wolf prowling toward them until the beast stood three feet behind her bearded pursuer. The next shout on her lips turned to a scream of dismay when the wolf snapped his jaws around Beardy’s ankle.

  A bone-chilling shriek left the young man’s hairy lips. The panic in his eyes sent a sick wave rolling through Sparrow’s stomach. She scrambled back, tripped over a fallen branch, and felt the ground slip from beneath her feet as gravity pulled her to the earth. The dress billowed around her legs like a tattered flag in the wind.

  She landed on her ass with an “oomph.”

  Beardy’s screams rattled her rib cage and blasted through her eardrums.

  A second wolf joined the other and locked its jaw around a flailing arm. Then a third wolf ran past them, straight for Sparrow. It wasn’t black, which meant it was one of the Wolf Hollow shifters. Why wasn’t it joining its packmates against Hawk’s men? Why was it coming after her?

  The beast got bigger as he came closer, and her eyes expanded on his savage form. She scooted backward, dragging her body with her hands and feet. She tried to stand so she wouldn’t be easy prey lying on the ground on her back, but the wolf was faster. He jumped on her with a vicious snarl.

  Sparrow screamed.

  From several feet away, Beardy continued to scream. The wolves were drawing out the kill, feasting on the human’s terror.

  She didn’t want to give this wolf the same satisfaction, but her vocal cords had other ideas.

  Claws raked across her abdomen. The fabric offered little protection against the razor-sharp nails branding her skin.

  Her screams seemed like they were coming from somewhere outside her body while a clear voice spoke incessantly, cutting through the growls and screams.

  “You’re going to die. You’re going to die.” Over and over on repeat.

  “I don’t want to die!”

  The wolf pinning her down began to wobble on top of her. Saliva dripped from his fangs onto her neck. His muzzle drew in, defying the laws of nature as fur receded, and skin smoothed over human arms and legs. It was Garrick, the older one who’d been sneering at her from the moment he saw her outside the caves. He didn’t just hate her; he seemed to want her dead. After his face finished shifting, he swiped the back of his thick hand over his mouth.

  Sparrow’s lips curled in disgust. She wiped the drool off her neck, but only succeeded in smearing it onto her chest. The brute glared down at her then grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet.

  He sneered into her face, his hot breath catching in her lashes. “Scream to your friends for help.”

  When she gaped back at him, he slammed her back against a tree and grabbed her throat. “Scream for help,” he said again in a low, dangerous voice.

  If he wasn’t an inch from her face, she might have missed his words. Beardy continued to scream at the top of his lungs. It was a wonder his voice still worked. Like a newborn, he wailed and wailed and wailed.

  “Scream loud,” the beast added with a gleam in his malicious eyes. He removed his hands from her throat.

  “Help!” Sparrow yelled. “Help me!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Helllllp!”

  She glared at the man-beast’s grinning lips.

  “Good, gir— Owww!” he yowled.

  Sparrow stepped back, shocked at what she’d done. Before he could finish calling her “girl” or “girlie,” she’d kneed him in the nut sack without thinking. It had all been hanging out, exposed. Such easy access—a bull’s-eye if she ever saw one.

  Sparrow turned on her heels to run, but not before Garrick grabbed the front of her dress. It ripped as she jerked away, freeing herself from his grasp.

  Shots exploded around her. More growls and screams joined the fracas. She dove from tree to tree, dodging wolves and bullets. Having no weapons of her own, she used the trees for cover as she ran in the direction of the cave—her new home. It wasn’t especially cozy, but it was safe.

  “Stay together!” she heard Bailey holler. He and his men had entered the forest. Another shot ricocheted through the forest. “We just want the girl, then we’ll leave and never come back.”

  Sparrow hissed under her breath. She was tired of people calling her a girl.

  “Is one girl worth a war?” Bailey continued. “There are hundreds more of us in the city, and we won’t stop coming until you give Sparrow to us.”

  Male laughter boomed and echoed all around them.

  “Cujo?” Bailey’s voice was heavy with disbelief.

  “Keep your men coming. We will kill them all. Starting with you.” Wolfrik’s voice was taunting and cruel. The delight in his tone sent chills down Sparrow’s spine. Hawk and his men had turned him into a cold killer.

  “Retreat!” Bailey yelled. It was the last Sparrow would hear of his voice. Everything turned into snarls and explosions afterward.

  She sprinted for the next tree and pressed her body against it, sinking low and searching the ground for a large rock or pointed stick, but only ferns tickled her toes.

  A nearby growl raised the hair on the back of her neck. She froze in place, scarce daring to breathe. If there was one thing she knew, it was not to make herself a moving target. The growl drifted by and joined the snarling mass circling around Bailey and his men. Frequent shots went off. If the fools kept at it, they’d run out of ammo.

  Now that Bailey had seen Wolfrik, Sparrow was sure he wanted to get back to the city and report to Hawk. They’d regroup and send a whole army to recapture Hawk’s prizefighter and runaway sister in one fell swoop.

  Sparrow also knew Wolfrik wouldn’t allow that to happen. Bailey and his men would not walk away. He’d purposely shown himself, thrown it in their faces before he and his pack finished them off.

  Through the trees, she thought she caught a glimpse of the river—the one Wolfrik and Aden called the Manama.

  More shots exploded. One whizzed by her head. It was difficult to tell their distance the way they ripped through the forest. She fell to her hands and knees and crawled toward the river. Bits of dirt and leaf debris pressed into her palms. She moved through a spiderweb and bit back a scream when a fat, fingernail-sized spider dangled in front of her face. Her body jerked, and she turned to the bushy ferns at her side, managing to lose the spider in their bushy fronds. Once rid of the creepy crawler, Sparrow swiped the rest of the web from her face and lifted her head slowly to look around.

  Snarls nearby made her duck her head back down. As she crou
ched over the earth, she recalled what she’d seen. A large brown wolf fighting two black ones.

  Sparrow lifted her head again. There was only one wolf she’d seen who looked like that: Aden. He got onto two legs and swiped at the black wolf lunging at him. The second black wolf snapped at his leg. Aden crashed down onto all fours and kicked the wolf off.

  Sparrow should crawl away as fast as her arms and legs could take her, but something made her pause then inch her way closer.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed at herself.

  Prickly bushes caught and tore at what was left of her tattered dress. She came up along a thick, fallen tree. Its branches had broken apart like limbs. One fit perfectly in her palm and carried enough weight to knock out a man—or wolf—with enough force in the right place.

  She popped her head up again and noticed there weren’t any other wolves from Aden’s pack close by—they were all busy with Bailey, his men, and their guns farther off.

  Aden made no sound, no snarls or growls, as the two black wolves lunged, bit, and ripped at his flesh. He threw them off easily, but they kept coming at him. One jumped on his back, and before Aden could throw him off, the second lunged for his neck.

  Sparrow jumped up, the branch held firmly at her side. “Nooooo!” she screamed.

  Her voice didn’t startle or slow the black wolves who were intent on the kill.

  She ran at them, a battle cry on her lips, flying forward like a crazed maniac. They’d taken Eric from her. She wouldn’t let them take Aden. He wasn’t her lover. He wasn’t even her friend. But the neanderthal was all she had, and that made him everything.

  She lifted the branch and slammed it down over the black wolf’s back. She pictured his legs giving out and him crashing to the ground on his belly. But what really happened was his legs held strong and his back barely dipped, but at least she’d succeeded in distracting him from Aden’s neck. The black wolf swung around and snarled at her, saliva dripping from his fangs.

  Oh shit.

  Sparrow nearly dropped the branch when the black wolf turned on her. He prowled toward her, eyes unblinking as the pitch of his snarls rose louder and louder still. She backed up slowly, trying to buy herself more time.

  Aden was busy fighting the other black wolf. At least now it was a fair fight for him. In Sparrow’s case, she hadn’t placed herself on an even playing field by any means.

  Do I really expect to defeat a wolf with a stick?

  She might have laughed. Instead, she swung the branch in front of her, trying to deter the wolf. “Stay back! Back!”

  The black wolf growled in answer.

  He wouldn’t really attack me. Hawk would have his hide if he—

  The wolf lunged, knocking Sparrow off her feet. She screamed. He grabbed her arm with the branch, piercing her sensitive flesh with his fangs.

  Of course, he would attack. When it came down to it, he was in animal form, and beasts had minds of their own.

  Sparrow grasped at the wolf’s thick fur with her free hand and yanked, but his jaw was a steel trap. She thrashed beneath him, earning scratches across her legs for her trouble. They burned over her skin as though set on fire. Blood spilled from her torn arm.

  The black wolf dug in as though he planned to devour her entire arm. Maybe he’d work his way down her chest and torso from there.

  Flashbacks of her beating came back to her with those gaping, empty feelings of horror and helplessness. She’d promised herself she’d never go through that again. She’d never allow it. But promises were as worthless as dollar bills from the old world.

  Terror like she’d never known set her mind screaming as her body was ripped and torn. This was worse than the beating. Far worse.

  A yelp beside them gave the black wolf momentary pause. Before he could finish sawing his teeth through her arm, a massive jaw closed around his neck and snapped shut. The black wolf released Sparrow’s arm on a whimper. He went limp almost immediately. Aden flung him off her as though he weighed no more than a blanket. The body thumped on the ground several feet away. Aden stared at it a moment and, when it didn’t get back up, he took off at a run—a brown blur that soon blended into the forest.

  Sparrow stared into the treetops, eyelashes fluttering. Her head spun, and black spots appeared.

  He saved me, but he didn’t stay, she thought before she blacked out.

  chapter twenty

  Darkness surrounded her when she came to. No, not darkness—night. Firelight danced from the pit outside the caves. She lay beside it, wrapped in a blanket.

  She heard Wolfrik’s voice first. “More will come. But at least no one got shot today.”

  Aden grunted in reply.

  She didn’t hear anyone else. It was as though the other wolves had never been there.

  Sparrow groaned as she sat up.

  “Look who’s still alive,” Wolfrik said sardonically.

  If her body hadn’t ached so much, she would have flashed him a nasty gesture. He couldn’t care less whether she lived or died or got torn to bits.

  The blanket slid down her chest. That’s when she realized she only had on her undergarments. Sparrow clutched the blanket against her.

  “Where’s my dress?”

  “Your dress?” Wolfrik raised a brow. When she didn’t respond, he continued in a gruff voice. “Aden used it to clean your wounds. Thing was tattered to bits already. Only good for a rag after the number you did on it.”

  Her attention snapped to Aden. He’d tended to her?

  The silent shifter didn’t look her way. His eyes were focused on the fire. He grabbed a log at his side and tossed it on top, sending sparks shooting like stars across the campsite.

  She swallowed and nearly gagged; she was so parched.

  “What happened?”

  Wolfrik snorted. “I’ll tell you what happened. One of your brother’s watchdogs got away after you interfered in Aden’s fight. While he was saving your sorry ass, one of them got away. He’s probably halfway across the wasteland by now.” Firelight danced in Wolfrik’s malevolent eyes as he looked at her, his lip curling in disgust.

  “I was trying to help.”

  “By serving yourself up as dog meat? Good thinking, Sparrow.”

  She growled, as though she too were half shifter. At least Wolfrik had used her name, and not “girlie.” Where had that older brutish shifter run off to? As long as he wasn’t anywhere near her cave, she was happy.

  Her cave. Right. When had she become territorial about her prison?

  “That damn dog is running straight back to his master, and soon your brother will know exactly where we are.”

  It was hard not to gag given how dry her throat had become.

  “Then leave. Find a new home.”

  Wolfrik’s eyes sparked. He leaped to his feet and balled his fingers into fists. “Do you think I’d run like a coward?”

  She shook her head.

  “This is Wolf Hollow territory. No one is going to take it from us or make us leave, especially not your devil of a brother.”

  Sparrow nodded her understanding. Anything she said would only make Wolfrik’s temper flare up worse. Besides, her throat was too damn dry for talking.

  “You good here, Aden?” Wolfrik asked.

  “Yeah,” came his deep reply.

  Wolfrik’s gaze snapped back at Sparrow. “Next time, stay out of the way or I’ll kill you myself.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Another death threat; how original.” It was worth the last of her spit to see the aggravation on his face and the irritated way he stormed off.

  But Wolfrik’s absence didn’t improve matters much. The silence he left behind was stifling. Aden kept his attention on the fire, his lips set in a grim line.

  Sparrow gathered the blanket around her, preparing to stand, then ca
ught Aden’s eyes on her. Heat blossomed beneath her cheeks.

  “What do you need?” he asked, his voice betraying neither concern nor irritation. He always sounded so damn neutral; it was impossible to guess his mood.

  “Water,” Sparrow croaked. Saying the word seemed to remind her mouth how little moisture she had left. The inside of her lips stuck to her teeth.

  Aden got to his feet wordlessly, bending for an empty jar then striding toward the river. His receding figure turned into a dark shadow in the night.

  Sparrow didn’t have much time to open the blanket and inspect her body in the firelight. Claw marks had been gouged across her legs, but they weren’t as bad as she’d imagined. With time, they’d fade into faint scars. Her arm throbbed where the black wolf had bit her. Strips of blue and orange fabric were tied securely around the wound. It looked like the dress had been used as more than a rag to clean up her blood. She left the makeshift bandages in place, not wanting to disturb the injury. It, too, needed time to heal.

  Twigs snapped beneath Aden’s heavy tread. Sparrow tightened the blanket around her chest as Aden came around and handed her the jar filled with fresh, cool water.

  “Thank you,” she said, right before guzzling it down. She slowed about halfway through.

  She hadn’t seen Aden return to his earlier spot, but when she lowered the jar, there he was, as calm and unaffected as ever.

  “I really was trying to help,” she said. “That wolf looked like he was going to kill you.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Aden said. “I’ve been in far worse situations. I had it under control.” He left the words “until you interfered” hanging in the trees.

  Great, more tough-guy talk. They all acted like they didn’t need anyone’s help—especially not a human’s—a girlie’s. She’d had about enough of it. Where would Wolfrik be if she hadn’t freed him? Still in that damn cell, but he acted like she was responsible for everything that had gone wrong in his life. If he loved his hollow so much, why had he left in the first place? Ungrateful animal.