by Raand, L. L.
“Do you remember who they are?”
“No. I keep trying, and sometimes I’m so close.” Gray jumped up, started to pace. “I see faces sometimes, but I can’t make them out clearly. I recognized the human the Alpha captured once I saw him again, but before then…only the pain.” She snarled. “I should have killed him.”
“Martin. I remember him too now. He tried to help us.”
“Maybe.” Gray’s claws punched out. “But he was with them, when they came for us. When they did…things.”
“Sometimes we can’t do what we want to do right away. Like on a hunt, we have to be patient before we can strike.”
“Not if we hunt alone.”
Katya rose, pulled on her fatigues, grasped Gray’s shoulders to stop her pacing. “You’re not a lone wolf. Just because you’re angry, and you think no one understands you, doesn’t mean you’ve been turned out.”
Gray yanked away and stalked to the window, her back to Katya. Outside the sky was crystal blue, clouds of ice ribboning the sky. “Winter is coming.”
“So?”
“If I want to find a den so I can last through the winter, I have to leave soon.”
Katya jerked her around and snarled in her face. Her wolf was so close her pelt streaked her forearms and chest. “What makes you think you’re so special?”
Gray’s eyes widened. “What?”
“You weren’t the only one in those cells. I was there too. And there are probably others—still imprisoned somewhere. So why do you get to run away? Why is your pain so much worse than mine or anyone else’s?”
Gray’s lips drew back and her canines flashed. “You don’t know—”
“Yes, I do. Maybe they didn’t do to me what they did to you, but every single thing they did was just as bad. I remember the pain, and I remember—” She hesitated, lifted her chin. “I remember the pleasure too. And I wanted it. I wanted what they were doing, just like you.”
“No, you didn’t.” Gray sagged and wrapped her arms around Katya’s waist. “They just made you think you wanted it. We can’t help what our bodies feel.”
Katya clasped the back of Gray’s neck and massaged the steel-banded muscles. Gray’s breasts pressed to hers, their thighs met, strength on strength. This was what Gray needed, what every wolf needed. Pack. “Then why do you torture yourself?”
Gray was quiet for a long time, her forehead pressed to Katya’s shoulder. Finally she spoke, her voice muffled, almost apologetic. “Because I still want the pain.”
“So?” Katya dragged Gray over to the cot, pushed her down, and flopped next to her. Their shoulders and sides and thighs touched as they stared straight ahead. “We’re wolves. We’re predators. Pain is part of our life. When we hunt, when we run with the Alpha, when we take our prey, don’t you ready? Don’t you want to release when we’re done?”
“Yes, but—”
“But what? Why is one feeling right and the other wrong? Do you want to submit, is that what embarrasses you? Because you’re dominant and you want someone else to take control?”
“Sometimes.” Gray drew a shuddering breath. “Sometimes I want to be forced, taken, made to hurt so the pleasure’s even greater.”
Katya laughed softly and Gray stiffened beside her. Katya rapped her fist lightly on Gray’s thigh. “Don’t take yourself so seriously. If you want someone to bite you, so what? I like being bitten too.”
“Yeah,” Gray said sullenly, “by a Vampire.”
“Why does that bother you so much?”
“I saw her take you that first time, in the labs. You didn’t want her then. She just took you.”
“That first time,” Katya said, remembering the terrible pressure in her belly and the torrential release when Michel bit her, “I only wanted someone to take away the need. But now…now I want more. I want her.”
“But she’s…not us. The Vampires are our enemies.”
“Not all of them. The Alpha has a treaty with the Vampires.”
“For now.”
“Lara is a Vampire and a wolf,” Katya said. “She’s still centuri. Still one of us. Maybe we can be more than what we think.”
“Vampires can’t be trusted. They can make us want things.”
“She does,” Katya murmured, and just the memory of Michel’s mouth on her neck made her nipples tighten all over again. Sex pheromones burst on her skin. Beside her, Gray grumbled, her wolf scenting Katya’s excitement. “I want her to make me want. I like the way it feels. But you forget, she wants too. She wants me. I am not without power.”
Gray tilted her head against the wall and stared at the ceiling. “Everything is changing.”
“Maybe. But some things will never change. We will always be wolves. We will always be Pack. And we will always be loyal to the Alpha, and she to us. You need to be here, you need to fight.”
Gray turned her head, gazed at Katya with vulnerable eyes. “I don’t want to go.”
Katya slid her arm around Gray’s shoulder, pulled her close, kissed her. “Good. Because I’m not letting you.”
Gray sighed and rested her cheek against Katya’s shoulder. “Does the Alpha know you were with her tonight?”
“She gave me leave to see her.”
“Why?”
Katya hesitated. The Alpha thought she might be able to learn from Michel who was involved in the attack on the Alpha and the Prima. But that’s not why she had gone. She had gone because Michel’s call lived inside her, a need that was always with her. “To find out more about the attack.”
“You need to be careful,” Gray said.
“Yes,” Katya said, an image of Francesca sliding through her mind.
*
Sylvan’s wolf scrambled up a rocky slope downwind from the trio of raiders they’d been tracking since dawn. Drake bounded up at her side, the heat of her breath warming Sylvan’s face. The raiders had gotten a good start on them after their blitz attack on a cadre of young soldiers at a border outpost, but the raiding wolves were Blackpaws and had slowed down the deeper they’d traveled into the Berkshires, Blackpaw territory where they felt safe. They should have known they wouldn’t be safe from the Timberwolf Alpha, no matter how far they ran.
Sylvan halted along a ridge covered from the sight of those below by a line of scraggly mulberry bushes and crawled forward on her belly, panting softly. Drake inched up beside her. Two hundred yards downslope, three wolves trotted along a narrow forest path heading northeast, toward the Blackpaw stronghold. Sylvan couldn’t see them, but she scented other Blackpaws ranging in the forest around them. The Blackpaw Pack was smaller than the Timberwolf and led by an Alpha far less experienced and powerful. Bernardo, the wolf Were she’d seen in Torren’s vision, had seized power after the last Alpha had challenged Sylvan’s mother and lost. Bernardo had been meeting in secret with those Torren called the Shadow Lords. Cecilia, Francesca, and others Sylvan could not name. Bernardo was her enemy. Did that make all of them her enemy?
Drake nosed her shoulder. They were in Blackpaw territory, and as soon as these wolves sent out a call for reinforcements, they would be outnumbered. Time was short. We should take them before they get closer to their Pack.
Yes. The answers to her questions would have to wait. Take Max and Dasha and block their forward escape. I’ll strike from the flank. Wait for me before you show yourself.
Drake flashed her teeth, her wolf happy to be hunting with Sylvan again. Go.
With a flick of her ear and a tilt of her muzzle, Sylvan signaled to Jace and Callan to come with her. Drake waited until they disappeared and called Dasha and Max to follow her. Trusting Sylvan’s group to outflank the trio of raiders, Drake arrowed straight northeast to intersect the path of their quarry if they should try to outrun Sylvan and the others. Before they reached the trail, she picked up the sounds of fighting and running wolves approaching fast. She burst out of the forest with Max and Dasha as the raiders, a big gray male with black slashes on his muzzle and a pair of smal
ler black and whites, one male and one female, bounded onto the path.
The heavily muscled gray male charged without slowing.
Drake crouched, waiting until the last second to dart to one side, slashing at his shoulder with her teeth as he passed. She caught flesh but not deep enough to slow him down. He scissored around and launched himself at her, clearing the distance between them in one powerful lunge. She managed to twist away, his claws raking a line of fire down her side. Dasha and Max rolled on the ground with the other two, snapping and clawing. Two more wolves burst from the forest and joined the fray. One landed on Dasha’s back, burying his fangs in the thick muscle at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She howled in pain.
Drake spun and snarled at the fifth Blackpaw, and the big gray wolf hit her from the side and took her down. She brought her rear legs up to protect her belly, clawing and thrashing to keep him from grabbing her throat. Pain raked down the center of her belly and warm blood soaked her pelt. In a rage of pain, she clamped onto his throat, closing her jaws like a vise. She kept his snarling teeth away from her neck but she couldn’t crush his windpipe through the thick layer of muscles. She’d never defeat him strength on strength, but she was quicker and more agile. Twisting as she clung to his throat, she raked at his loins with her rear legs. Her assault was enough to put him on the defensive, and he rolled off her, his teeth still buried in her shoulder, hers in his neck. With his greater mass, he dragged her with him as he tried to throw her off. She hung on stubbornly, and more and more blood drenched her belly. They were at a stalemate. Eventually he would win if she couldn’t shake him loose or damage him in some vital place.
Summoning all her strength, Drake wrenched her head from side to side, burying her canines deeper in his throat. He roared and raked her unprotected side again. Her muscles quivered, weakening. Breath rasped from her locked jaws, misted with red. He’d punctured her lung.
A mad howl sliced the air, striking at the primal core of her, so raw and powerful she would have been paralyzed with fear if she hadn’t recognized the raging war cry. Sylvan. The Alpha more powerful than any living wolf.
Sylvan landed on the back of the big gray wolf as he tore at Drake’s exposed belly. Sylvan’s jaws closed over his spine in one massive strike, and the crack of bone rifled through the air like gunshot. He went limp instantly and fell onto Drake, carrying her down under him and pinning her to the forest floor with his weight. Forcing down the pain that seemed everywhere at once, she panted for air and struggled to drag herself free. Then the weight was lifted and all she could see was the huge silver wolf, snarling and circling her in a fury. Protecting her.
See to the others, Drake signaled.
No. You’re hurt. They all must die.
I’ll be all right. Don’t kill them all. We need living prisoners.
Sylvan’s slanted gold eyes burned over her before she leapt away. Snarls and growls and howls of anguish filled the forest and, just as quickly, trailed off. Drake rolled onto her belly and got her legs under her. Weak, and losing blood, but she had to stand. None of them would be safe until they reached Pack land.
Sylvan landed beside her and licked her face. Can you run?
Yes.
We chased off a scouting party earlier. More will come.
Do we have a prisoner?
Sylvan snarled. One. The others are dead.
Drake steeled herself and took a few steps. Her legs held, but her breathing was wrong. She wasn’t going to be able to run at full speed. Dasha is hurt, and we need to get the prisoner to Pack land. Leave Callan and Jace with me. Take Dasha and Max and go ahead with the Blackpaw.
I’m not leaving you. Sylvan’s expression, lips pulled back, ears flat, was as close as a wolf could come to sneering. She signaled to the others to take the prisoner and go. Callan, Dasha, and Jace herded the black-and-white wolf between them into the forest and disappeared. Max, limping from a bleeding gash in his shoulder and a tear in his front leg, shook his head and fell back by Sylvan’s side. You and the Prima need a guard.
See to the Prima, then, Sylvan ordered as they headed into the forest behind the others.
Drake met Max’s flat dark stare as he loped beside her. His ear flicked as he read in her eyes the truth every Were was born with. Protect the Alpha above all others.
Satisfied that Sylvan would be safe, Drake leaned on the strength of their mate bond—and the power of the Alpha enveloping her—and ran.
Chapter Fourteen
Dru pushed farther into Timberwolf territory than she had ever dared penetrate before. Usually she crossed into wolf territory along the border between the far northern Catamount Pride land and the sparsely patrolled and undeveloped wolf wildlands. When she did, her forays were short—just long enough to chase down a deer or mountain goat. Her need to hunt outweighed the slim chance of running into a wolf patrol party. Since the Exodus and the rebellion within the Pride, she’d joined a few raiding parties in pursuit of Raina and those loyal to her. The raids had skirted into Pack land, but most cats knew better than to challenge the wolves. The cats were outnumbered and far less organized than the wolves. One-on-one, the cats were superior fighters, but the wolves fought in packs. Cowards that they were.
Now she deliberately forayed deeper and deeper into the heart of Pack land, following the distinctive scent of Francesca’s escaped prisoner. She loved to track almost as much as she loved the kill. She’d expected the prey to go to ground in some hidey-hole along the riverfront as quickly as possible, but this one seemed unconcerned about staying out in the open. She’d been tracking since dawn, and this trail was still fresh, leading directly to the river from the dank cell where Francesca had kept the Fae prisoner. No rain had fallen in the forest to dilute the distinctive spicy taste that coated her lolling tongue.
She’d been surprised the first time the prey circled back on itself to divert first into a park and then a second time under a bridge. She couldn’t detect anything unusual about the sites. The park had been deserted. The area under the bridge was just as barren—no dock, no evidence of an encampment, nothing to distinguish the trash-strewn ground from any other area along the riverbank, and yet the prey had deliberately traveled there. She could scent nothing out of the ordinary and filed the location away in her memory before putting her nose to the ground again and racing after the distinctive scent of wolf cut through with something distinctly not-wolf—spice and honeysuckle.
The wolf scent was another surprise. She hadn’t expected the Fae to be running with a wolf escort, but the evidence was clear. She tasted, smelled wolf. Francesca appeared not to know the wolves were accomplices in her prisoner’s escape. That information would certainly be of interest to the Vampire Regent. The monitor in the Vampire’s bedroom had shown images of dozens of wolves upstairs in the club—some were probably involved. With luck she could identify the exact wolf and perhaps earn a bounty. As it was, she had proof the wolves were harboring the escapee.
She savored the knowledge that her report would drive a wedge between the Vampires and the wolves, and anyone the wolves called friends. She’d love to see Raina chained to a wall in the Vampire Regent’s dungeon. If Raina disappeared, the cats would be in complete disarray and those who should lead would be able to, in the old way—where strength, courage, and power were the only things that mattered. Compromise, alliances, politics, and planning—what did they need of those? They were human constructs, human concerns—all the cat Weres needed was finding and holding enough land to feed themselves, to sustain their Pride, and to provide prey for their young. And the wolves had plenty of all that—with an Alpha willing to go to war, the cats could expand their territory and take their rightful place at the top.
As she ran, the sun rose and warmed her back. She covered the miles easily, savoring the stretch of her muscles after the cramped confines of the city. The trail lay out before her as if a visible ribbon wended through the trees. Following it was almost too easy, or it had been until the
prey turned toward the heart of Pack land. Perhaps her prey had thought to lose herself among the morass of scents left by countless wolves crisscrossing the forest—hoping her scent would become just one note among many. But then her prey had underestimated her skill. She was a master tracker. She could pick out the different refrains left by each member of a herd of deer, or identify the path of an intruder with nothing more to go on than weeks-old spoor. All the same, she was uneasy. She was alone in wolf territory.
If she came across a wolf patrol or even a hunting pair, she’d be instantly attacked. She was disadvantaged in combat against more than one opponent—she might be bigger than a wolf, but they were almost as quick as cats and relentless fighters. She could outrun even the strongest of them, however, and if they dogged her until she reached Catamount territory, they would soon become the prey and not the predators.
The wind shifted and she caught the pungent scent of fresh blood. Slowing, she swung her big head around and sniffed the air. Her mouth filled with the remembered taste of prey. She hadn’t eaten in a long time, and something was losing a lot of blood. Something was weak, and the weak were easy prey. A wounded animal was easy to cut from the pack, easy to chase down.
Judging the direction the prey was moving, she took to the trees and, flattening her belly on a wide branch twenty feet above a narrow trail, eased forward until she could peer below. Sunlight dappled the ground although the air remained cool. A perfect day for hunting. She scented wolf—a number of them had passed this way recently—and then the blood scent grew stronger. She growled deep in her chest, gauging the distance she would have to cover, and flicked her tail in anticipation. She could easily drop onto the back of her prey as it passed beneath her.
A great silver wolf bounded from the underbrush and Dru’s hackles rose. A wolf that huge, radiating such power and strength, could only be one wolf. The Alpha wolf. The Alpha searched the trail and circled the small clearing just ahead, her golden eyes glaring and seeming nearly mad. After a second, she glanced back and barked a soft command. A black female, nearly as large as the silver one, shadowed by a muscular male, limped from the cover of the trees and passed under Dru’s perch. Every step was marked by a patter of blood falling like rain on the needle-covered ground. Not prey. Wolf.
