“Is she okay?” Marcus asked, cutting him off.
Elijah could hear the concern in his voice and knew Marcus still cared for her. But caring for her wasn’t enough. He needed to do the right thing.
“She is this time.”
“Listen… tell her… No, don’t. I can’t come back, not just yet.”
“So there’s a chance you will?”
“I don’t know, Elijah. What happened those eight years…?”
Elijah was out of patience. “Fuck the eight years!” he said, raising his voice. “She needs you here. I need you here! There’s no reason for you not to be here with your family. Your mate. What happened to you, to us, it happened. And now it’s over. You only have to decide to let it go and let the past be the past.”
“It’s not that easy. It never has been. I’m a different person, Elijah.”
“I’ve got news for you, little brother. I’m a different person too. So is Kayla, so is Rachel. Hell, you haven’t even met your niece!”
“I’m sorry…”
“No, don’t fucking say you’re sorry. Rachel and you are bonded, you belong together. There’s nothing either of you can do about it. She can’t let you go any more than you can let her go. You staying away is hurting her. It’s not good for her. I can hear it’s not good for you either. Just… Marcus, just come home. Please.”
Elijah’s chest tightened at that. For eight years, he had believed Marcus dead. Just when he thought he would have his little brother, the last of his pack, back again, Marcus ran. He couldn’t get beyond what had happened to him. As much as Elijah could understand that, he also knew what the right thing to do now was, and Marcus was not doing that.
“When’s the last time you shifted?” Elijah asked.
“A long time ago,” Marcus replied.
“At least check in with me every now and then. Put my mind at ease. Let me know you’re not fucking dead.”
“I’m sorry, Elijah.”
Elijah looked at Kayla who sat staring at him, at his daughter who slept in her arms.
“Tell Rachel I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt her.”
“Tell her yourself. That girl is broken up over you. She doesn’t know right from wrong anymore and she’s suffering. Come home. Just come home.”
It was silent for a long time before Marcus finally spoke again. “I’m sorry,” he said and the line went dead.
Elijah stayed on for a minute longer hoping Marcus hadn’t hung up yet.
“Are you okay?” Kayla asked him, concern in her eyes as she touched a hand to his.
He shoved the phone into his pocket and gathered her and the baby up in his arms. He held them tight, taking in the smell of Kayla’s hair. “I love you, Kayla,” he said.
She hugged him back with her one free arm. “Me too.”
He let her go and stood back, looking down at her. “I don’t understand why he won’t come back. If for nothing else then for Rachel. But he won’t do it. He hasn’t shifted in a long time, that’s why we can’t hear him anymore.”
“But he heard the scream you and Rachel heard?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes. Let’s go over there. She was scared and I don’t want to leave her alone any longer than we have to.”
“What do you think it was?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Another shifter?” Kayla asked.
He didn’t want her to feel frightened. “I don’t know.”
She looked at him for a while and he knew she knew he was more than a little worried, but she dropped it. “Are you going to tell Rachel about Marcus calling?”
“Yes. At least she can know he’s not dead. Maybe if she were angry at him it would help her to get over him.”
“Is that possible? I mean, I don’t know how this works but they’re mates. You said so yourself.”
“I don’t know Kayla. She’s not in a healthy place right now though, and if he’s not coming back, she needs to move on.”
“I’ll just grab Clarissa’s bag and we’ll be ready to go.”
“I’ll get the bag,” he said, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head once before letting her go. He then collected the baby’s bag and they headed out.
* * *
When Lance opened his eyes, all he could see was the warm light of the rising sun through the thick tree cover. He slowly sat up and looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He was naked, his hands and body bloodied. The source of that blood lay mutilated next to him.
“Christ,” he swore, standing. He turned his head away, feeling nauseous at the site of the dead animal, the head of the large deer torn from its body, truly ripped off. The limbs were in a similar state and some part of its gut had been hollowed out, the marks of another animal’s teeth clear on the carcass.
Animal.
Lance stumbled away and listened. Hearing the source of water, he walked toward it and once at the lake, he knelt to wash himself. But before he did, he caught his reflection. Dried blood covered most of his face and something more than that was caked in his hair. His neck and chest were smeared with the stuff and, although the temperature was below freezing, he walked into the water and when he could no longer stand, he dove beneath the surface and washed himself, unable to ignore the evidence before him any longer. He broke the surface, coming up for air, and would have screamed but he did not want to alert anyone to his presence, not knowing where exactly he was or how close to civilization.
Once he was washed, he walked out of the water. The sun had come high in the sky now and he slowly walked back to the carcass to find whatever evidence he could to tell him what had happened the night before. To tell him where he was. One thing he could no longer ignore, the one thing he had been trying to avoid but knew was the only answer to what had been happening was now unavoidable. The serum had worked on his disease, banishing it from his body, curing him, healing him in a way that was, in one word, inhuman.
But there was a dark side to this, a price to pay.
Was he becoming one of them? One of the shifters? Was what he had injected himself with enough to not only heal him but also to change him? And what did it mean for him now? How would this continue to progress and would he have any conscious control over it? He thought back on what had happened with Judy in his office. His animal instincts had taken over. He’d had almost no control in what he had done. He hadn’t hurt her, thank goodness. But how far was this going to go? What if next time, he did hurt someone?
Once the pain had come on, he had lost consciousness. He needed to understand what happened to him during that time. He needed to face this head on and he needed to do it alone. No one would help him; no one could know.
Chapter Seven
Once home, Lance called the lab to say he wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week. His voice sounded hoarse enough that when the secretary took his message, she wished him well and he was off the phone without having to lie any more than absolutely necessary. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, feeling drained and hungry. On his way to the kitchen, he considered calling Dennison now, pushing his flight to Wayne Laboratories out by a few weeks at least. But how far could he push it? Dennison would want to know why. He would be harder to fool given the fact he knew more about the secret project Lance had been working on.
At the bottom of the stairs, he had to stop and grab hold of the handrail when a moment of vertigo threatened his balance. He squeezed his eyes shut until it passed and he was himself again. He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, taking out a container of juice. He drank directly from the carton but after a few sips, felt so nauseous he had to set it down and grip the counter until it passed. He couldn’t stomach the thought of coffee or toast. Actually, the only thing he could think about was the meat he’d bought the other day that was sitting in its packaging in the refrigerator. He opened the door and took it out. Knowing he should feel disgusted, he unwrapped it and picked up the
thick slab of bloody flesh. He began to salivate as he brought it to his mouth and tore off a bite. With a grunt, he chewed and swallowed, feeling strong, feeling satisfied. He took another bite, then another until the meat was gone. He cleaned up the counter and washed his hands, determined to forget that he’d just eaten a slab of raw meat with the enthusiasm of a starved animal. Instead, he made a list of what he would need to pick up at the hardware store to secure his home lab from himself and headed out.
On his way, he dialed Dennison’s secretary. He would just keep it casual, say he couldn’t get out of work that quickly. He would need a month or so before he would be able to get to Wayne Labs. It would be easier to talk to her than to him. He might suspect something was going on and he neither liked nor trusted that Dennison had the best intentions in mind for anyone other than Dennison. Lance’s work would make Wayne Labs and Dennison very rich. Well, richer than he already was. But men like Dennison couldn’t put a cap on their greed. The more they got, the more they wanted. He would push Lance and Lance couldn’t take the chance he would find out what had happened to him.
At the hardware store, he picked up a heavy duty steel door and the rest of the supplies and tools he would need to install it. He also bought three new locks, heavier than what he currently had on front, back, and bedroom doors. With his purchases loaded into his truck, he drove home while creating a mental list of priorities. And priority one was getting the door changed out on his basement, installing the steel door to ensure that if he should shift again, the creature he would become would not be able to destroy his lab or his precious remaining samples.
Trying not to think too much about it, he made one more stop at the grocery store to buy more meat before going home. He pulled into his garage and closed the door, still not fully comprehending what all this meant, what he believed was happening.
On his way into the house, he had another episode, this one lasting a little longer. But the effect of this one was different. It didn’t leave him hungry but it didn’t quite leave him as he was. This one had him thinking thoughts he should find repulsive, even more repulsive than the thought of having killed the deer in the woods. This one included Judy. Well, not even Judy specifically. He stood in the mudroom on his way into his house, his purchases half unloaded, the door not quite closed behind him and had the irresistible urge to relieve his throbbing, hard cock. And right there, right in the middle of everything, he did just that. It was fast and hard and when he came, the desire for a woman’s hot pussy to drive his cock into didn’t fully subside. In fact, he wanted more. Much more.
* * *
Rachel sat in her living room, one lamp casting a dim light into the quiet space. Her eyes were closed and she was concentrating hard. Elijah had told her the other day about Marcus’ phone call. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it now after the initial relief that he wasn’t dead had passed. She was listening, trying hard to hear him. Elijah had said he had not shifted in a long time. That explained why she couldn’t hear him and hadn’t been able to for so long. The gene she carried, her link to the pack, allowed her telepathic communication with the pack when they were in wolf form only, although she hadn’t yet perfected the use of it—she’d never had the chance before the massacre.
The gift was in her family but had become diluted over the years. Her grandmother had had the same, but she’d died when Rachel was still too young to teach her how to use the gift. It skipped generations and then reappeared almost at random. The tell-tale sign was the color of the eyes. How it had come about was still a mystery to her. Elijah had explained what he knew, how so many years ago some gene had mutated and rather than a shifter birth, the first woman who could communicate with a wolf pack had been born. There were no female shifters in their pack, only male.
She wouldn’t be passing it on to anyone either, not unless she mated with a shifter. It would be as good as gone from her bloodline if she married and had children with a human. For the gift to carry, it had to have the right blood combination.
Marcus would be one of the few who could provide that. Or Elijah but he was like a brother to her. Always would be.
Her face flushed red as she remembered the spanking he had given her. She still wished he hadn’t done it on her bare bottom but also realized it was exactly what she needed to have happen in order to get her attention. She shook her head and set the thought aside, getting up to make a cup of tea for herself.
She had been sitting for the last hour trying to listen for and reach out to Marcus but had heard nothing back. But should she be bothering anyway? He didn’t want to come back. How many times was she going to make herself go through his loss? Was she such a masochist that she couldn’t just let him go?
“He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t want to come back for you,” she said aloud as she poured hot water over the tea bag in her mug. She watched the liquid change color as the tea leaves steeped and said those words aloud again. They no longer had meaning for her; or at least she couldn’t allow herself to feel anything over them. Not if she wanted to survive.
After checking the locks one more time, she carried her tea up the stairs and into her bedroom. The sound from the other night still frightened her. Elijah had found nothing in his search that night but something terrible had made that noise. She knew it with every part of her. It was wrong, that sound. And she was sure it wasn’t the last time she would hear it.
* * *
Marcus only boarded the flight to Salt Lake City at the last moment. They had called all final passengers, paged him twice, and seconds before the door would have closed, he decided. And he left himself an out: neither Elijah nor Rachel knew of his coming.
* * *
It was almost midnight by the time the door was installed on the basement, the locks added to front and back doors as well as his bedroom door. He had also moved the security camera from over the front door into his bedroom. Lance was tired but he needed to work. He needed to find out as much as he could about what was happening to him, and, more importantly, he needed to find out just how to reverse this side effect of his cure.
He ate a quick meal of the same as he had earlier that morning, this time forcing himself to use a knife and fork. The idea of cooking the thick steak crossed his mind but made him simultaneously nauseous so he set aside any thought altogether and ate before washing up and returning to his home lab. Dennison had left two voice mails for him about half an hour after he had spoken with the man’s secretary to push his trip back. He would have to call him back soon, make sure his story was good enough that Dennison wouldn’t question him. He would do that tomorrow. For now, he needed to retrace his steps, re-read all of his research, find out where he might have gone wrong. He needed to figure out how to reverse what had happened.
He spent that night and the next day in his lab. Only when he could no longer deny his thirst and hunger and after too many hours of reading did the pain begin again. This time, it was different. This time it felt like it had that last time when he had eventually woken up with the mutilated carcass of the deer by his side.
Struggling through the pain, he climbed the stairs and secured the basement, locking the door. He made his way up to his bedroom. He pushed the key into the lock and turned it, then placed the key on top of the dresser. He wasn’t sure why he did that, but as he could not remember what happened during the episodes when he shifted, he wanted to, if he could, trap himself inside his house. Although looking around and out the window, he wasn’t sure how much that lock was going to do for him in the end. At least he had secured the basement. That was of the most importance.
He grabbed his head with both hands at the next sharp stab of pain and fell to his knees, burying his face in the carpet. He would have screamed if he had not bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood and he knew instantly he was grossly unprepared. There was no way that lock would contain him once he shifted.
He first heard then felt the sound of cloth tearing and sat ba
ckwards, determined to stay conscious for as long as possible. What he saw happen before his eyes was unbelievable as his limbs grew longer, hairier, less human. And when the pain reached its highest point, he did scream just before he blacked out.
Next thing he knew, he was moving fast through the woods, on the hunt for some creature. The branches of trees he ran past scraped his arms and his legs and his vision was blurred. He was using his instinct—wholly following that animal need when he picked up a scent that stopped him dead in his tracks.
* * *
Rachel stepped out of her car and opened the trunk. She took in a deep breath of cool air and shivered on the exhale. Turning, she scanned the dark woods across from her house. A worried expression wrinkled her forehead and she reached for the cell phone in her purse. Once she had located it, she scrolled to find Elijah’s number and almost called him, except that at the last minute, she changed her mind and slid her phone into her pocket.
She shook her head. It was nothing. No one was out there. Marcus certainly wasn’t. And she had to figure out how to take care of herself sooner or later. She couldn’t rely on Elijah for the rest of her life. He had a wife and a small baby to look after. His hands were full.
She gathered up the two bags, balancing them awkwardly as she closed the trunk and went to the front door. Laying a knee up on the wall, she held the bags steady as she pushed the key into the lock and turned it, opening the front door. She had just set foot inside when the hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she knew, without even having to turn, that she was no longer alone.
Her hands trembled and one of the bags fell to the floor. The oranges she had bought rolled out into the living room. She could hear its ragged breath now and in the next moment, she felt the heat from its body. She turned. It was as though everything was happening in slow motion. Like she was in a movie. Except that she wasn’t because when she turned, she saw it as clear as day.
Claimed by the Beast Page 5
