by Raand, L. L.
*
Drake McKennan, Prima of the Adirondack Timberwolf Weres and mate to Sylvan Mir, stood alone by the wide-open window on the second floor of the headquarters building, scenting the evening air. With the ending of summer, nightfall came early to the mountains, and twilight shrouded the dense forest just outside the protective stockade that circled the Were Compound. A hazy glow to the east foretold the rise of the nearly full moon. In a few days the moon would be full, and Sylvan would call the wolves to hunt. Drake breathed deeply, letting the sounds and scents of the land and Pack flow through her. The heartbeats of a hundred wolves moving about in the Compound resonated in her chest, each series of strong, steady beats distinctive, each adding to the whole, creating something greater than any of them alone. She was learning to identify each Were by their subtle but unique rhythm, picking out the sentries on the perimeter ramparts, the centuri standing guard on the long porch just below her, and the soldiers in the barracks. In the very heart of the Compound the beta wolves and maternals tended the young, defended by ever-widening circles of armed Weres who would die to protect them. The young were the most precious members of the Pack, and any Were would sacrifice themselves without hesitation to keep them safe.
Even knowing that, Drake’s wolf fretted, clawing at her insides, demanding Drake seek out her young in the nursery where they slept under the watchful eye of Roger, a beta wolf and their designated trainer. She and Sylvan were parents to the twins and would be responsible for teaching them to hunt and eventually lead, but Roger would play a large role in supervising their socialization with littermates and, eventually, Pack. He would be their teacher and guide until they reached adolescence and began training to join Sylvan’s guard. They were only a few weeks old and had already begun their journey toward leading the Pack one day.
Drake appreciated the need to socialize them with others their age, the need for them to understand and for others to recognize their place in the Pack. But even a few hours’ separation from them was like missing a part of herself. And in recent days, the loneliness had become more acute. She was missing more than her young. She was missing her mate. She scented the air again, seeking the wave of power that would signal Sylvan’s return. Her heart sank when she caught no trace of her. Sylvan had only been gone a few hours this time, but after all that had happened, even a few minutes’ absence was almost more than Drake could tolerate. Physically, she craved her mate’s presence at all times. They were bonded, their chemistries attuned, biologically changed and interconnected at the moment of their mating. But her soul, her spirit, was bound to Sylvan too. And since the attack—the latest attack—Sylvan had changed. Her wolf was nearly always in ascendance, barely restrained, hungry for battle, raging for retribution. And at the heart of her, such sorrow.
Drake was at a loss to help her. She was Sylvan’s mate, her strength, just as Sylvan was hers, and every day she felt her failure more keenly. A ripple of heat rolled over her and she tensed. Sylvan was close. Drake pushed her worry and sadness aside. The Pack needed Sylvan now more than ever, and even if she didn’t know how to heal her, she knew what Sylvan needed. Sylvan needed her, and she would give whatever Sylvan asked. Twisting to one side, she barely missed being struck by the huge silver wolf that bounded through the window and landed in the center of the floor, wolf-gold eyes bright with fury and lust. Drake went still, watching the air around the great beast shimmer.
Sylvan rose, naked and glorious, her sun-kissed hair longer than usual, wilding around her sculpted shoulders. The gold of her irises faded to a ring around the glacial blue center, the wolf band never completely receding these days. Sylvan’s mouth twisted into an ironic smile. “Prima. You await me?”
“Yes,” Drake murmured, liquid heat stirring at her core.
Sylvan stalked her, striding slowly, methodically closer, the muscles in her shoulders bunched, her skin gleaming with the sheen of sex and power. Drake gave way as Sylvan bore down on her, backing up until her butt hit the edge of Sylvan’s wide wooden desk. She braced her hands on either side of her hips as Sylvan closed in. They’d played this game of hunt and trap many times, and each time Sylvan claimed her, her soul knew with certainty where she belonged.
When Sylvan was a foot away, Drake lifted her chin, turned her head, and exposed her neck. Not submitting, inviting. The low rumble in Sylvan’s chest struck Drake’s belly low and deep, and she quivered, need and desire rising through her like flames in dry tinder. Sylvan tore Drake’s shirt down the center, sliced her pants open along her thighs, and shoved the remnants of clothing away. Drake’s pelt rolled beneath her shimmering skin, and she readied. Her breath escaped in harsh pants, and the mate bite in the curve of her shoulder pulsed in time with her heart, awaiting her mate’s joining.
“Sylvan,” she murmured, arching in welcome.
“Mate,” Sylvan growled and pressed Drake to the desk with the weight of her body.
As Sylvan’s power spread over Drake’s skin and into her cells, the scent of forest, crushed pine and vibrant life, enclosed her. She opened, took Sylvan between her thighs, and jolted as the hot, heavy length of Sylvan’s engorged clitoris notched below her own, joining them. Igniting her.
Sylvan unleashed the power of her wolf, in a fury to join, to taste and take and fill the dark empty places with the essence of her mate. Drake was all she clung to in the midst of her tormented rage. She fit herself tighter, felt Drake enfold her, anoint her, and she buried her canines in the warm, welcoming flesh of Drake’s shoulder. Distantly, lancets of pain raked down her back, Drake’s claws pulling her in, urging her on. Her hips thrust, the heavy glands filling with the victus that rose only for Drake, called from her depths by her mate’s unique chemistry.
“I must have you,” Sylvan gasped. “Always.”
“I know, I know.” Drake dug her claws into Sylvan’s back, calling Sylvan’s wolf with her own. “I’m here.”
Sylvan rumbled, the fire in her belly driving her hard, beyond control, demanding she bury herself, flesh and spirit, in her mate. She gripped the desk, her claws gouging the wood, and gave herself over to the storm. Gave herself to Drake. When Drake’s canines found her breast, Sylvan threw back her head, roaring in primal victory as she came.
“I’m here,” Drake whispered, holding Sylvan tightly as she sagged, momentarily at rest—a vulnerability Sylvan only ever allowed herself when they were alone. Drake stroked Sylvan’s damp hair, kissed the corner of her mouth and the hard angle of her jaw. She’d lost weight, become only muscle and bone, a warrior honed to a killing edge. Drake’s heartbeat slowed in time with Sylvan’s as she caressed her. “I missed you.”
Sylvan shuddered, rubbed her cheek against the bite on Drake’s shoulder. “Where are the young?”
“With Roger.” Drake nuzzled Sylvan’s neck. Bit lightly. “I love you.”
Sylvan pushed herself up on extended arms, shadows darkening her eyes. “I’m dangerous.”
“No, you’re not.”
“My wolf is too much in charge. I’m afraid I can’t—”
“You can control her. You already have. You are our strength, but we are yours too.” She caressed Sylvan’s cheek. “Take from us. Let the Pack help you.”
Sylvan pushed away, strode to the window, her back to Drake. “I can’t. If I do, if I lose more of you—”
Drake went to her, threaded her arms around Sylvan’s waist, pressed her cheek to Sylvan’s back. “We are yours, and you are ours. We will fight as one. You cannot do this alone.”
Sylvan growled, her wolf angry and hurt and, for the first time in her memory, uncertain. What kind of leader could she be when she did not trust herself?
Drake caressed her breasts, her belly, pressing tightly to her back. “I love you. We love you.”
Sylvan gripped the windowsill, stared down into the Compound where her wolves moved in the flickering light of fires burning beneath food cauldrons and on torches along the walls. How could she keep them safe when she could no
t name her enemies, when she was helpless to stop even those she suspected? When she had failed? Her wolf rose, pressing her to shift, to run, to lead her Pack into the wild.
“We cannot run,” Drake whispered. “We cannot go back.” Sylvan did not answer, and the silence tore at Drake’s heart. She sensed Sylvan’s wolf drawing away. “Stay.”
Sylvan shuddered, struggling to hold on to the connection with her mate. “I want to see the young, but not like this.”
“It will be all right. I’ll go with—”
A knock came at the door, and silently, Drake cursed.
Sylvan tilted her head, appraising the Were who had once been one of her centuri. The scent of this Were had altered since she’d been turned, since she’d become Vampire, since she’d left the Pack. But this Vampire was still part wolf, still hers, and she recognized her. “Lara.”
Drake broke away, opened an armoire in the corner, and tossed Sylvan a pair of black fatigue pants. She pulled on a pair herself. As much as Sylvan was hers, she also belonged to the Pack. Her wants, even Sylvan’s, must wait when the Pack needed them. “See to Lara, Alpha, and then we will see to our young.”
Chapter Two
“Come,” Sylvan snarled, standing in the center of the room, legs spread wide, arms folded, muscles bunched and ready to spring. Lara, a dominant wolf, broadcast power that was very nearly a challenge, and Sylvan ached to fight. She struggled to keep her wolf from taking control. From forcing a shift. Her skin prickled with the pressure of pelt ready to burst free. The bones in her face ached as the heavy planes of her jaw shifted. A warning rumble churned in her chest. Everywhere she turned, danger. Everywhere she looked, enemies.
A warm hand pressed to the center of her back, and her wolf stopped pacing, cocked her head, shuddered. Drake stroked her, calming them both. “Lara is not here to challenge. This is your territory, your Pack. You do not need to fight here.”
Sylvan jerked her head, refusing to be absolved. “I failed to keep Andrew safe. Placed my mate in danger. We could have lost the young. I deserve to be challenged.”
“No. You are the only one strong enough to guide us through the battles to come. We know that.”
“Am I?” Sylvan slid her arm around Drake’s shoulders. Her mate was solid, steady, strong. “Maybe you should lead them.”
“We already have a leader.” Drake pressed close to Sylvan’s side as the tall heavy doors swung open and Lara strode in. A wave of heat and power streamed over her skin as Lara approached.
Lara, nearly as tall as Sylvan, glided forward with the effortless grace of a Vampire and the sinuous strength of a Were. Her eyes, wolf-amber, burned with an undercurrent of crimson. Her chestnut hair framed bones carved from stone and tempered by a Vampire’s ethereal beauty. She was far too elegant to be a Were and too much of an animal to be a Vampire. She was both and neither, and what she might become was still unknown.
Sylvan growled softly, a dominant Were warning another to be cautious in the presence of her mate.
Lara tipped her head ever so slightly but did not drop her eyes. She stopped a few feet away, not close enough to challenge Sylvan’s space or to be a threat to Drake, but far closer than even Sylvan’s most trusted guards would approach without explicit permission. Lara smiled with a hint of Vampire arrogance. “Alpha.”
“Centuri,” Sylvan said, intentionally using Lara’s previous rank even though technically Lara was no longer part of Sylvan’s guard. Lara was blood-bonded to her, as were all the centuri, and would be for as long as she lived, but she no longer answered to Sylvan. Lara served as Jody Gates’s Vampire warlord by Sylvan’s leave because Lara needed to be among the Vampires to learn how to live as one. No matter who she served, however, Lara was still wolf, still less dominant than Sylvan, and still subject to Sylvan’s rule. Lara had been a frequent guest in the Compound since the time of the attack at the governor’s gala, serving as liaison to the Vampires and also looking after her new cat mate and cubs. “What do you need?”
“Raina is healed and the cubs are healthy. I have come to seek your permission to take them into the northlands. Raina will be close enough to Catamount territory to organize her cats, and I can secure her stronghold in Timberwolf territory.”
Sylvan smiled fleetingly, the muscles along her back rippling as her wolf tensed. “Until a month ago, the cats were our sworn enemies. Now you ask that I give their Alpha free rein in my territory? How do I know she will not gather an army to march against me from within my own borders?”
“Raina nearly died saving your life.” Lara’s eyes flashed and her canines lengthened. “She is a sworn ally, and still you do not trust her?”
Sylvan half-shifted so fast even Lara’s Vampire speed could not intercept her. Her face and hands morphed, her jaws lengthened, her clawed digits grew to twice the size of a human hand. She gripped Lara’s throat and squeezed, forcing Lara’s knees to bend. “Be careful where you show your teeth, Wolf.”
“I meant no challenge, Alpha,” Lara gasped, finally ducking her head, and leaned her forehead against Sylvan’s thigh. “Raina cannot regain control of her Pride if she remains here, and the cubs need to learn the mountains soon.”
“And what about you?” Sylvan asked, releasing her hold. Lara rose but kept her gaze averted. “Where will you be in all of this?”
Lara’s head snapped up. “My first allegiance is to my mate. But I am still wolf, and you will ever and always be my Alpha.”
“And the Vampire in you?” Sylvan asked softly. “Does she not want you to rule your own Dominion one day? Or failing that, your own Pack?”
“I am slave to neither my Vampire nor my wolf.” Muscles knotted along the carved elegance of Lara’s jaw. “I am more than either, and I know where my loyalties belong. I will not challenge you or Liege Gates. I do not want to lead unless it is at Raina’s side.”
“Being separated from Raina will be difficult,” Sylvan said. “Especially for a newly mated Were.”
“But I am not Were.” Lara’s mouth twisted into a cool line and her torment was clear. Even Raina’s love had not been able to banish her self-loathing. Not yet.
“Not Were only, but Raina is. She will suffer without you near her, especially when she comes into her heat.”
“I know what you say is true.” Lara’s rigid stance broke and she paced, her wolf too agitated to be subjugated by the glacial control of her Vampire will. “It is…difficult for me to be away from her, but I have no choice. I have given my oath.”
Sylvan glanced at Drake, smiled wryly. “The difficulty you experience when you’re away from her will not lessen in time. Just the opposite. You will both suffer when parted. Are you sure Raina wants to rule again? I’m sure Gates would welcome a cat Were among her security forces. And she would protect your cubs.”
Lara’s eyes shone, the fury gone, replaced by pride. “Raina is an Alpha. She was born to rule. And we will protect our cubs.”
“Spoken like a true mate.”
“If it comes to war, Raina’s cats will be needed,” Lara said. “She needs time to reunite them. Her Pride is fragmented after the attempt by the mercenaries to kill her and the cubs.”
“You will be needed as well.” Sylvan gripped Lara’s shoulder. “I value Raina’s loyalty and skill, as I do yours. I can speak to Jody about altering your service—”
“No,” Lara said. “I would not have you in her debt because of me. Raina and I understand what we must do, and we are prepared for it. We will be all right.”
“I will send wolves north with you. You have two cubs, and if you cannot be there to protect them at all times, then Raina should have guards.”
Lara bristled. “Wolf guards? I don’t want my mate surrounded by dominant wolves.”
Drake laughed and Sylvan said, “You don’t think Raina would be tempted.”
Lara snarled. “No, but some young pup might be.”
“I think an Alpha cat can handle one of our randy young,” Drake said reaso
nably. “Take the offer, Lara. You can’t afford to have Raina unprotected.”
“And,” Sylvan added, “as you said, she is our ally. She can use her cats to protect our northern borders and help us find the mercenaries who worked in the human labs. We need whatever information they may have.”
“All right,” Lara said, her reluctance evident. “But I would like to choose the guards.”
Sylvan nodded. Lara was a powerful Were with near-Alpha powers who had sworn her loyalty and forgone her right to challenge. She deserved this show of respect. “As you will.”
Lara inclined her head. “Thank you, Alpha.”
“You are welcome.” Sylvan looped an arm around Lara’s neck and drew her close. Lara’s skin glowed against hers, her bonded scent rich and strong. “Be careful, Lara. I would not want to lose you.”
“You cannot.” Lara rubbed her cheek over Sylvan’s bare shoulder, a sign of submission and trust. “No matter what else I am, I will always be your wolf.”
“Go find your mate,” Sylvan said softly and let her go.
When the doors closed behind Lara, Drake encircled Sylvan’s waist. “Replacing any lost Were is impossible, but naming Dasha in Andrew’s place on your guard has helped the Pack see we are healing and returning to strength. They are your wolves, but without faith that you will protect them, they will falter.”
“I need to name at least one other.” Sylvan listened to the fading sounds of Lara’s footsteps. “Whoever I choose will be in danger.”
“The centuri share your blood—they are the strongest of the strong. And every wolf envies them the honor.”
“You are a wise and clever mate.”
Grinning, Drake kissed her. “And you are a wise Alpha to recognize that.”
