Taming The Shifter (Nocturne Wolf Romance)

by Lisa Childs

  “No.” A muscle twitched along Reagan’s tightly clenched jaw. “He was going to hurt you. He’d loaded his gun with the silver bullets to take your life.”

  Reagan had started saying something like this that horrible day that Warrick had found one of his idols standing over the dead body of the other. By that time, Reagan had already been a fallen idol, so Warrick had refused to listen to his explanation and had attacked him. But Reagan had gotten away from him and instead of staying to explain his actions to everyone, he had fled St. James.

  “Why my life?” Warrick asked, needing the explanation now. He needed Kate, too, but Reagan had seen to her protection. And Sebastian, Paige and Ben had bought her time with the society.

  Even if she’d decided to join the society, it probably wouldn’t happen right away. So he could deal with his brother now; then he would know exactly what kind of future he could offer Kate when he found her.

  “Father believed you had lost your honor when I took Sylvia,” Reagan explained almost reluctantly. “So he was going to take your life.”

  Warrick understood now why Reagan hadn’t been eager to explain his actions. Because his reasons hurt Warrick, too. If he was telling the truth…

  The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach told Warrick that his brother was telling the truth. And maybe he’d always known it.

  Maybe that was why he had never tried harder to kill Reagan—because he’d known that he hadn’t deserved to die. According to the rules, Warrick was the one who should have been killed.

  “Father believed I was weak,” he said. Reagan had always been the old man’s favorite. “And he would not tolerate anyone weak in the pack. He was going to kill me?”

  That muscle twitching in his cheek, Reagan grimly nodded.

  Warrick dragged in a deep breath, bracing himself before he asked, “So you killed him to save me?”

  Reagan nodded again.

  Warrick wasn’t entirely convinced. His brother and father had been so close. They’d gotten along so well. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t accept his brother’s explanation.

  “And you expect me to believe that you would kill a man you loved and idolized for me?” He snorted. “You almost had me. You’re so good with the manipulations.”

  “He was my father,” Reagan said. “But you’re my brother.”

  “A brother you had no problem betraying when you stole my fiancée,” Warrick reminded him. “You killed Father because you wanted to lead the pack.”

  Reagan snorted now. “I’m not the one who’s been manipulating every situation to his advantage.”

  “What are you talking about?” Warrick asked, taking offense at the implication. “Do you think any of this has been to my advantage?”

  “While chasing me down, you met Kate,” Reagan reminded him. “Wasn’t that to your advantage?”

  “Yes.” Even if she never forgave him, he would never regret loving her. Now he finally understood what true love was. He’d been a fool before.

  “But I’m not talking about you,” Reagan said, interrupting Warrick’s thoughts. “You’re not a manipulator.”

  Warrick sighed.

  There were things his brother did not know about him. Warrick had changed after everything that had happened between them.

  “If you’re not talking about me,” he asked, “then who?”

  “It’s obvious,” Reagan said. “Who’s leading the pack? Who’s got everything he always wanted but that Father always denied him?”

  He sucked in a breath of shock and dread. “No.”

  “I suspect he even manipulated Father into deciding your fate,” Reagan said with the wisdom of someone who had spent a long time alone, thinking about what had happened.

  Warrick had been so busy falling for Kate that he’d been too distracted. Otherwise maybe he would have figured out what his brother had—because what Reagan was saying…

  It all made horrifying sense.

  “Father killed Uncle Stefan’s sons because they were weak,” Reagan said.

  “They were killers,” Warrick reminded him. “They went rogue and were attacking innocent humans. Father had to take care of them or risk the whole pack being hunted down and killed by humans. Uncle Stefan understood that.”

  “Understood, but did he forgive?” Reagan shook his head. “I don’t think so. Then when…”

  “You stole Sylvia?”

  He nodded. “He jumped on it—called you weak. But Father would never admit something hadn’t been his idea. He wouldn’t back down once he’d made a decision. It was killing him, but he was determined to…”

  “Kill me.” His heart ached with a betrayal that was far greater than what he’d thought Reagan had done. “He was going to kill me.”

  “Uncle Stefan made certain I knew what Father was planning,” Reagan said. “He was even there when I fought Father for the gun and got it away from him.”

  “He came and got me,” Warrick remembered. “Said I had to stop you…” That was the reason that he had showed up when he had—why he’d seen what he had. “But I was too late…”

  Reagan shook his head. “You were right on time for Uncle. He made certain you knew that I killed Father.”

  Warrick couldn’t deny what he had witnessed himself. He wouldn’t have been able to defend his brother—even if he hadn’t already been angry with him over Sylvia.

  “He orchestrated it all,” Reagan said. “He’s brilliant really—smarter even than Father.”

  “Smarter than I am,” Warrick admitted. But not smarter than Reagan, who had figured it all out. If only Warrick had listened to him sooner…

  “Damn!” Regret knotted his guts. “I sent him back home to get Sylvia.”

  Reagan cursed. “I thought she got away from them—”

  “You’ve been back to St. James?”

  His brother nodded.

  Just as Warrick hadn’t been able to stay away from Kate, Reagan hadn’t been able to stay away from Sylvia.

  “But I didn’t see her,” Reagan said. “She’d been locked up in the cabin…until the last time I went back.” His breath caught. “I thought she got away…”

  He’d hoped she had—Warrick heard it in his brother’s voice. But he shook his head. “He went to get her a while ago.”

  “Why would you send Uncle to bring her here?” Reagan asked. “Did you intend to use her to lure me out?”

  “That’s what Uncle thinks. Maybe that’s even what I convinced myself,” Warrick said with a heavy sigh of regret. “But I needed to talk to Sylvia.”

  “Then you should have gone home yourself!”

  “I didn’t want to leave Kate.”

  “That’s right,” Reagan said. “You have Kate. So what do you want with your ex-fiancée?”

  “With your mate,” Warrick reminded his brother of the woman he’d stolen and then abandoned. “I wanted to ask her if she loved you.”

  Reagan tensed, that muscle twitching in his cheek again. “Why?”

  “Because then I could accept what happened between you two. If she loved you and you loved her.” He studied his brother’s tense face and body. “And you do. Then I could forgive you.” And he wanted to forgive him. He wanted to forgive them both. Now he understood that love wasn’t something that could be denied and that it was far more important than honor. It was more important than anything.

  “I was a selfish fool to act on my feelings for her,” Reagan said, his voice heavy with regret and guilt.

  “You would have been a bigger fool to not act on those feelings.” Like Warrick was for letting Kate leave thinking that he didn’t care about her—that he didn’t love her with his entire being.

  “So Uncle thinks he is bringing Sylvia here to use her as bait to lure me out?” Reagan shook his head. “I don’t think he’d waste his time with me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not the threat to his role as leader.” Reagan pointed a finger at him. “You are.”
>
  Warrick shook his head now. “No. But even if he thought that, why not just kill me?”

  “He can’t just kill you in case the pack starts to figure out his real motive,” Reagan explained. “He’s trying to manipulate us into killing each other. Then he’s rid himself of the only threats to his leadership.”

  “But we haven’t killed each other.” Because Warrick really hadn’t been able to bring himself to end his brother’s life. That was why he’d never carried that gun on him. “So won’t he get sick of waiting and pull the trigger himself?” It had already been months since their father’s death.

  “He’ll try one more time,” Reagan surmised. “He’ll put us in a volatile situation—make you think that someone you love is in danger from me again.”

  “So Sylvia will be safe,” Warrick assured his brother. “He knows that I don’t care about her…if he thinks that I was willing to use her as bait for you.”

  Reagan shook his head “No. He’s not going after Sylvia. He’ll go after whoever matters most to you.”

  Fear clutched his heart. “Kate.”

  *

  She—a mere human—wasn’t strong enough to fight him off. And the gun wouldn’t stop him. But she tried anyways, kicking and punching and trying to wriggle free of his grasp. His grip was painful, so tight that it threatened to snap her bones.

  “Don’t,” she said. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”

  “But I want you!”

  And their brief marriage had been all about what he’d wanted and nothing about her needs. No wonder he couldn’t respect that she didn’t want or need him.

  She needed Warrick. But he didn’t care enough to rush to her rescue this time.

  “Help!” she screamed. Maybe someone else— Sebastian or Paige or Ben—would rush to her aid.

  The street remained deserted. And Dwight lowered his head, his fangs glittering in the faint light of the streetlamp. Hunger filled his gaze—hunger and obsession. But then his eyes widened in surprise, and he jerked back.

  Kate slipped from his grasp. Off balance she stumbled and fell onto the sidewalk, cement scraping her hands and knees.

  Dwight cried out—as she had in fear. She jerked her gaze up, to where he fought with another man. The other man was older, his hair silvery. But he was not weak. His fist knocked the younger man back against the building.

  Before Dwight could regain his breath, the older man launched himself at him. And this time he didn’t swing just his fist but the wooden stake he grasped. The sharp point sank deep into Dwight’s chest, impaling his heart. Blood gurgled from the vampire’s mouth and pumped from the open wound in his chest. He slipped down the wall and dropped into the pool forming of his own blood.

  “Thank you,” she said, nearly sobbing in her relief. “Thank you so much. You saved my life.”

  The man didn’t turn to her, though. Instead he groaned and lowered his head.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked. After surging to her feet, she stepped toward her rescuer. “Did he hurt you?”

  The silvery hair spread down the man’s neck and then his back. His shirt split as his muscles expanded and contorted, changing shape as he changed form. He turned to her finally, his pale eyes gleaming in the face of a beast.

  Warrick did not look like this when he changed. Nor had Reagan. They were fearsome just because of their size and strength. But this man was terrifying. His pale eyes didn’t just gleam with murderous intent. They gleamed with madness.

  He hadn’t killed Dwight in order to save her life.

  He’d killed the vampire so that he could kill her himself. She reached for her gun, but his claws closed around her wrist. Before she was able to draw her weapon, he would cut off her hand. So she pulled it away from her holster and lifted her palms up.

  “What do you want with me?” she asked.

  “I don’t want you,” he replied. “I want Warrick. Dead. And you’re going to help me kill him.”

  Chapter 16

  The sweet, metallic scent of blood hung thickly in the air, filling Warrick’s nostrils. Voices raised in anger and fear created a low rumble that Warrick could feel like a vibration that rattled his nerves and his senses. Oh, God, he was too late. His heart lurched, beating painfully hard in his chest.

  Not Kate…

  Not his beautiful, vital Kate…

  He dropped to all fours, using all his legs to close the distance between him and Kate. Was she already dead? He pushed through the crowd gathered on the sidewalk not far from the deserted bank. How had he missed her when he’d left?

  Because he’d thought she had headed to the club when she had turned instead for home. But she had never made it there. Would she ever make it home again? Not to her messy apartment but to his arms?

  The scent of blood was overpowering—it rose from the pool of it congealing on the sidewalk. It spattered the wall of the building behind the pool, running in rivulets down the bricks. So much blood…

  No, she was never coming home again.

  He didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see her like this. But he owed it to her to face what he had caused—what danger he had brought to her that had ultimately ended her life. Before he could shove through the crowd, someone stepped in front of him and blocked his way.

  “Did you do this?” Sebastian asked. He suspected the bartender was not the only vampire gathered around; that they all were. That was why he hadn’t hidden himself from them. He doubted there were any humans among them that would see him in werewolf form. But then, he cared about nothing other than Kate.

  “I would never hurt her.” But he had. He’d hurt her badly. And she had died with that pain being the last thing he’d given her…when it should have been his love.

  “It’s not Kate,” Sebastian said.

  Relief shuddered through him that she was alive. But then who was dead? He shoved through the last few people gathered around and stared down at the vampire lying on the sidewalk. A stake embedded deep in his chest. “It’s Kate’s ex—the detective.”

  “You were seen fighting with him,” Sebastian said, speaking for the crowd who’d turned to him now.

  “I didn’t do this,” he vowed. Even though he hadn’t liked the man, he hadn’t wanted him dead. Just a little roughed up—like Dwight had roughed up Kate.

  “That’ll be up to a secret society council to decide now,” Sebastian said. Werewolves and vampires could coexist peacefully until one committed a crime against the other; then the injured society or pack had the right to enforce their justice on the vampire or wolf responsible.

  Beneath the blood, he picked up another scent. Two scents actually: one Kate’s sweet, innocent one and the other dark and musky.

  “I don’t have time for that.” He needed to follow the scent before it faded. But these vampires were strong; he couldn’t fight them all off to escape.

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  Just as Kate didn’t have a choice now. Death had been decided for her.

  “I have an alibi.”

  “It’s not Kate,” Sebastian said. “You thought she was lying here dead.”

  Warrick shook his head. “It’s my brother. I was with Reagan.”

  “He’ll have to testify—”

  “A trial or council won’t be necessary. I know who the killer is,” Warrick said.

  Sebastian’s blue eyes narrowed. “It can’t be your brother—if he’s your alibi.”

  “It’s not my brother. He’s not the one who’s caused all the trouble in Zantrax and back home.” And if only he would have buried his stung pride and talked to Reagan, he would have figured it out long ago.

  “Then who? Give us a name,” Sebastian demanded.

  “I’ll give you his body,” Warrick promised. “If you’ll let me leave, I’ll take care of him.” That was the man that he should have spent these past few months trying to stop—not his brother. He hoped that it wasn’t already too late. Uncle had taken Kate.

&nbs
p; But thanks to Reagan, Kate had the silver bullets.

  “Warrick—”

  He snapped. “Kate’s in danger. The man who did this…” He gestured at the mutilated body. “…he has Kate.”

  If he hadn’t already killed her…

  *

  The rope cut into Kate’s skin, but she ignored the burning pain in her wrists and her bandaged forearms and strained against the bindings. Her ankles were also bound—together—and to a reinforced bar on the wall. Despite having claws instead of hands, he had tied her tightly, so tightly that she had not been able to escape them even though she’d had all night.

  He had left her alone.

  He’d left her gun, too, on a table close to her. Its nearness taunted her—had her fighting even harder to free herself. He must not have known she had silver bullets, or she doubted he would have left her weapon in the same room with her. Not that she could reach it…

  And what the hell kind of room was this? It reminded her of the bank vault with no windows and soundproofed walls. The only exit was one steel door, as reinforced as the ones in the underground clinic. So even if she had managed to free herself from the ropes, she wouldn’t have been able to escape the room.

  Or her captor. The door rattled as the locks—there were several—were unlocked. Finally the door opened and the man stepped inside. He was a man again—all trace of the wolf-beast gone but for the madness in his pale gray eyes.

  “Good to see you’re still here,” he said with a maniacal laugh. “I brought someone you need to meet.”

  He stepped back into the hall outside the room and moments later a young woman stumbled through the door. Platinum-blond hair tangled around her delicately featured face, which was pale with fear. Her hands were bound, too, but with a heavy-link chain, not ropes.

  The chain dangled in front of her swollen stomach. She was pregnant. But the man did not care, as he shoved the woman again, so that she fell to her knees next to Kate.

  “Are you okay?” Kate asked her, her heart filling with concern for the woman’s condition and her fear. “Did he hurt you?”