by J. D. Tyler
And so he didn’t see the shifter with the huge wings swoop down from the sky, talons extended, intent clear. Nick couldn’t scream. Couldn’t warn Micah of the danger.
The creature hit Micah from the side, hard, knocking him from the speeding motorcycle. Micah went airborne, flying through the air for awful seconds—until he slammed headfirst into a tree. Falling to the ground in a crumpled heap, head at an unnatural angle, he stared into the sky. Struggled to breathe.
And then stopped, brown eyes fixing on a point he could no longer see.
Nick propelled himself from the horrid vision, fighting to regain the here and now. Calla’s and Micah’s concerned voices coaxed him back to reality, and slowly the room came into focus. His lungs were burning and he heaved a great breath, focusing on the worried wolf in front of him.
“Nick? Boss, you with us?”
Can’t interfere with free will. But I can suggest, and that doesn’t mean they’ll listen.
He wanted to tell Micah to sell his bike. Not to get involved with Jacee, the bartender from the Cross-eyed Grizzly. To quit using. Any number of things to avert the terrible future he’d just witnessed. In the end, he went straight to the heart of the matter.
Leaning toward Micah, he said, “Take a serious look at your life and where it’s going, because I just did.”
The man paled, the scarred side of his face standing out in stark relief. “You had a vision? About me?”
“Yeah. And your story doesn’t end well, if you keep on your current path,” he told the man grimly. “Kick your addiction, now—and keep your eyes on the skies.”
“Shit.” Micah swallowed hard. “The skies? I don’t get that part.”
“Me, either. But apparently you’re going to make some nasty enemies in the near future, and you’re going to need to be alert to fight them. With our help, of course. You can always count on your team, Micah. Don’t forget you’re never alone in your struggles, okay?”
Wide-eyed, the man nodded. “I won’t. But I’m not an addict, okay? Mac prescribed this stuff I’m on. I know it’s an experimental drug, but it really helps me cope, you know?”
“Maybe it did at first, but now it’s killing you, kid. We’re going to talk to Mac and see about alternatives.”
“All right,” he agreed, clearly shaken. As he should be.
“I’m going to get dressed, and I’ll meet you and the others in the conference room in a few.”
“Got it.” After hesitating, Micah walked out.
First the disturbing vision about Phoenix and Noah, and now this. Every one of the guys had endured his share of heartache, and it seemed there was more on the horizon.
“Nick?” Calla said softly. “Is Micah going to die?”
“We’ll all die sooner or later.” He regretted his flip response the instant it left his mouth. “I’m sorry. Believe me, baby, you don’t want to know what I saw. But what I said to him was the absolute truth—if he doesn’t get his act together, he’s headed for a brutal and abrupt end.”
“Gods!” Taking his hand, she brought it to her face. “I don’t know how you cope with being able to see the future. That’s one so-called gift I’d never wish for, ever. I’m here for you, though, however I can be. I’ll help keep an eye on him when I can.”
He kissed her forehead. “Thanks, baby. What I see isn’t written in stone, thank God. Events can change, because the choices people make constantly change.”
“Well, I hope his choices change, and soon.”
“Me, too.” He sighed. “I’ve got to get to this meeting. Can I come to your quarters afterward so we can talk?”
“Of course.” She wrapped him in a hug, holding tight for a minute before letting go. “My door is always open to you. You’re my mate.”
That went a long way toward warming the place that had gone cold in his heart after the vision. After giving her another lingering kiss, he slid from the bed and put on the jeans and black T-shirt John had sent with Micah, then pulled on his boots. Feeling more human, he walked out, holding Calla’s hand.
“You were supposed to wait for my clearance,” Viktor admonished as Nick approached.
“Sorry. Things to do, people to see.”
Whatever else the doctor might have said was lost as Nick hurried out of the infirmary. In the corridor, he turned and gave his mate another quick kiss. “See you soon.”
“Not if I see you first.”
With a short laugh, he left her, reluctantly. He’d rather be anywhere in the world with his mate than working, but he figured most newly mated guys felt that way. It might sound cliché, but she really was the bright spot in his darkness and he didn’t want to be away from her long enough even to hold a simple meeting.
Forcing his mind to the task at hand, he made his way to the meeting. The guys were restless when he walked in, and met him with a chorus of greetings. He caught some good-natured shit about his run-in with the basilisk, which he knew by now meant they counted him one of them. After almost a year and a half leading the team, their complete acceptance meant more than they knew.
Unbidden, thoughts of Damien and his incessant phone calls infiltrated his brain. His brother hadn’t given up trying to reestablish a relationship with him, and it was wearing Nick the fuck out. He didn’t know what to say to the asshole past hello, and didn’t care to try.
Selene would be disappointed in him. God, that hurt. His daughter held out such hope that her father and uncle would reunite. When hell freezes over.
“John,” he said, getting started. The team looked to the big man, some of them wearing curious expressions that indicated they were still getting used to his real name. “Were you able to speak with the basilisk?”
John stood and came forward to lean against the wall near the front of the room. “Yeah. Her name is Sasha. Her story is she was abducted from her nest a few days ago and held captive in a dark cell underground. She was tortured and starved, bound by a tight collar around her neck to keep her from shifting. Her bruises and physical condition support that claim.”
“Christ,” someone muttered.
“Can she identify who took her?” Nick asked.
“Humans in cammo pants and carrying assault weapons.”
“Hunters,” Jax said, hate filling his eyes.
“They weren’t the ones calling the shots, though, according to Sasha,” John continued. “That would be the mysterious vampire everyone was bowing and scraping to, trying to please.”
Nick leaned against the edge of the table with one hip. “Did she get a description?”
“Pale complexion, longish dark hair. No name.”
“Wow, that really narrows it down,” Aric drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know a single fuckin’ vampire who fits that description.”
Nick shot the redhead a glare, and the wolf shut up. Miraculously.
“Did she catch any talk among them about their agenda?”
“Now, that she did manage,” John confirmed. “Seeing as how they all thought we’d kill her when we got to the scene, their lips were pretty loose. It’s pretty much what we thought—letting loose a basilisk in the city, one who had been tortured and starved, was a lure for us. Only it was supposed to be an ambush, so something obviously went wrong.”
“Could’ve changed their minds at the last minute,” Micah suggested.
“After going to all that trouble to set it up?” Ryon, healed and out of the infirmary as well, shook his head. “Don’t think so.”
“Dissension among the ranks, maybe,” Jax speculated. “Someone didn’t follow orders.”
“Or just fucked up. It happens.” This from Kalen.
“Whatever the case, we’ll be ready if they pull that shit again,” Nick told them. “But I’m inclined to think they’ll have something different planned.”
“Like?” John asked.
“A full-scale attack. They may have decided to test and observe us, note our individual strengths and fighting skil
ls so they’d be better prepared when they hit us,” Nick said. That was a chilling thought, and the men stilled as this possibility sank in.
Zander blew out a breath. “That would mean we’re really in the shit. You guys have to be careful out there, especially with my healing abilities not up to par.”
Jax clamped a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “You just look out for yourself. We’ll be fine.”
“I’ll tell Tarron what we’ve talked about,” Nick said. “We’ve posted more guards around the stronghold and he’s got drills planned to practice sneaking the females and offspring out and off the mountain in case of emergency. I’m not sure what else we can do but be ready.”
“Find out who their leader is, where they are, and wipe them off the planet first?” Kalen suggested.
Nick’s lips turned up. “That would be the best scenario, and we’re working on it. The minute we have any information, we’ll smoke their asses. Believe me.” He paused. “Unless anyone has something to add, I have an announcement. This is why I wanted to meet just with you guys today and not with Tarron and his men.”
Most of them knew, or had a clue. They were just waiting for him to say it.
“Calla Shaw and I are Bondmates.”
A cheer went up, and a round of congrats, followed by more ribbing. Nick took it all in stride, not mentioning the issues he and his mate were still working out. But they had deserved the words from his lips before they found out elsewhere.
“Where are you two going to live, Nick?” Jax asked, a slight frown on his face as he pulled at his goatee.
“We haven’t gotten that far yet, but I’ll let you all know. One thing I can say for sure is I’m not leaving the team or stepping down.”
“Damned straight!” Aric exclaimed. Laughing, the others agreed and Nick was promised bodily injury if he tried to so much as type a resignation letter to Grant.
That made him feel pretty damned good.
Dismissing his team, he endured the backslaps as he left the room. How different this life was from when he was under Damien’s rule. His brother was so unbending. Practical. Ruthless. Damien’s men were definitely not his brothers; they’d feared him. And fear bred hatred.
Nick almost felt sorry that the bastard would never know this camaraderie. Almost.
Hurrying his steps, he started for his mate’s chambers. He got as far as the corridor he should turn down to get to her room when his cell rang. He half expected the caller to be his brother, but he was surprised to see it was Tarron.
“Westfall,” he said, answering.
“Nick, we have a problem.”
“Not on the phone. I’ll come to your office.” Hanging up, he walked briskly, not wasting time but not wanting to alarm anyone. When he reached the large door, he knocked.
“Come in.”
The prince was pacing the carpet, and looked up in relief when Nick came in. “One of my guards has left the stronghold without my permission. I put him on the last shift, and found out he begged off, claiming to have fallen sick from a bad batch of blood. After his shift was covered, one of the perimeter cameras captured him leaving, acting very furtive.”
“Who was it?”
“Graham.”
“Damn,” Nick said angrily. “He’s the only one who was with Calla when she was taken. I should’ve taken a closer look at him before now. Is someone following him?”
“As we speak. Care to join me in catching up?”
“Are you kidding? Let’s go catch ourselves a traitor.”
Briefly returning to his own bunk, Nick changed into cammos and loaded up with his weapons. His wolf prowled restlessly inside, wanting in on the action.
“Soon,” he promised.
With one last check of his ammo, he went to meet Tarron out front.
Time to find out just what the fuck was going on, and destroy the asshole who was behind it all.
Ten
Out front, Nick and Tarron jumped into a Land Rover driven by Ian.
Micah accompanied Nick, appearing surprised and pleased to have been chosen for this mission, when the simple truth was Nick wanted to boost the young wolf’s confidence—while keeping an eye on him.
“Why are we not tracking Graham on the ground, in wolf form?” Nick asked as the vehicle peeled from the driveway. He still had the guard’s scent programmed into his wolf’s brain, so following him wouldn’t be a problem.
Tarron answered from his spot in the front passenger’s seat next to Ian. “Teague is tracking the SUV Graham took, using the tracking device installed in the vehicle.” The prince pointed to the earpiece and wire Ian wore. “He’s giving Ian directions.”
“That’s certainly easier.”
Micah spoke up from beside Nick. “Good old shifter methods fall to technology. It’s sad, really.”
He sounded so sincere, Nick and the others chuckled. Nick said, “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to use your talents.”
Micah, being the easygoing type normally, didn’t take exception to their amusement or being called “kid.” Nick was good at reading people, and Micah had a big heart. He just needed to believe in himself, and to do that he had to get past the horror that had put those scars on his face. The best way Nick could help him do that was to keep him on the front line.
Anything to keep his vision from coming to pass.
Ian drove on, getting directions now and then from their tech god, winding them through the mountains for a good hour. At last, Ian pulled over to the side of the road and addressed the group.
“We need to stop here and walk the rest of the way so we don’t alert Graham and whoever he’s meeting.”
The vampires had brought a camera and a recording device, which struck Nick as so practical he knew Micah had a point. Sometimes having special abilities couldn’t take care of everything.
They set out across the green terrain, picking their way around rocks and brush. The sky was a clear blue, a few clouds drifting past. A good day for surveillance, but also to be seen. They’d have to be careful.
A single voice reached them, and Tarron waved them to a halt. “Graham,” he whispered. The conversation was one-sided, and the guard sounded uneasy. Annoyed. “Sounds like he’s on the phone.”
As they approached, they took cover in the brush, in a spot that overlooked the relatively flat area where Graham had parked the borrowed SUV. He was alone, pacing, running a hand through his dark hair. The vampire was obviously nervous, and Nick thought he should be, getting into bed with the enemy. Though they still had to see for themselves. Innocent until proven guilty.
Ian snapped pictures and Tarron gave Micah the job of recording with the small handheld device he’d brought. The foursome watched and listened as Graham quietly unraveled while waiting for a meeting to take place. The poor bastard made a terrible villain, Nick thought. He was so outwardly nervous, he was going to get eaten alive.
Finally, a beat-up pickup truck rounded the bend, and three men hopped out. Two were wearing cammos and carrying their beloved assault rifles. The third was . . .
“Motherfucking hell,” Nick hissed. “That’s Scott Morgan.”
“Who?” Tarron peered at the innocuous-looking man with a frown.
Nick took a fresh look at Scott, knew they saw a slight man of average height and a friendly face, with shaggy brown hair and dark eyes. “The Pack’s new mechanic,” he supplied, seething. “The little bastard is a plant, to spy on us, obviously.”
“But by whom?” Micah questioned. “Who has the power to replace Tom so suddenly?”
Only Grant should, but Nick refused to believe the general would betray them. “I don’t know.”
The unlikely trio approached Graham, but the two hardened hunters stayed a step or two behind, allowing Scott to take the lead. One even threw the “mechanic” a wary—no, fearful—glance and put even more space between them. What the fuck?
Graham must’ve had the same thought. “Your tough leader
sent a boy to do his job?” he sneered. “I thought he possessed an ounce of cunning.”
So Graham and Scott hadn’t met before today. Apparently, Scott had been recruited by either the hunters or the rogues for their vampire boss.
Scott’s face darkened and he held himself dangerously still. “Vampire, you’re the only boy present, and a stupid one at that. Never presume until you know exactly who you’re dealing with.”
The vampire’s confidence waned some and he shifted his stance. “Don’t suppose you’d care to clue me in, finally?”
Scott smiled, and right before their eyes began to transform. His incisors lengthened by inches, wicked sharp and deadly. His height grew to top seven feet, and his build went from slim and average to lean but muscular. Shaggy brown hair became wavy and dark, reaching his shoulders. The rest of the glamour lifted, and the stranger stood before them wearing leather pants and a sleeveless black shirt that showed off the dragon tattoos and other scrollwork adorning both arms.
Nick stared, pulse kicking as he recalled where he’d seen this man before.
“Haven’t seen you around,” a voice said idly.
Nick eyed the dark stranger standing in the shadows. Reaching out with his PreCog senses, he found the walls surrounding this man to be nearly impenetrable. That bothered him more than he cared to admit. “Can’t say I’ve seen you, either. You know Calla or her brother personally?”
“Not really. You could say I’m gate-crashing.” His smile was feral. “Friend of a friend. You know how it is.”
Something about the man put him on edge. “I’m Nick Westfall, com—”
“Commander of the Alpha Pack. Yeah, word gets around. Nice gig if you can get it.”
Rage fired Nick’s blood. He’d been played by this creature all along. They all had. The vile monster had been observing, feeding information to his master. And enjoying the game in the bargain. Toying with his prey.
Another snippet of their conversation replayed in his head.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Nick said.
