Marked By The Wolf (Werewolf Fever #3)

by Juno Blake

  Buzz, buzz.

  Lucy groaned as she figured out what it was. “Now you’re freaking out over your phone?” she muttered to herself, hurrying back to the bedroom. “Where is it…?”

  She searched the bedside table with no luck, and started rifling through the bedcovers. There was only one person who could be calling her. A warm glow blossomed through her at the thought of hearing his voice. It wouldn’t be as good as being with him, but it was better than nothing… aha!

  “Ciaran?” she said, awkwardly bundling a pile of sheets and comforters back onto the bed with one arm. “What’s happening? Is the sentencing over already?”

  Static crackled in her ear. “—Lucy—safe—escaped—”

  A cold pit opened in her stomach. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

  “Ciaran? I can’t hear you, there’s too much interference—where are you?”

  Crystals of ice formed around the pit in her stomach. This was meant to be the end of it, she thought desperately. It can’t all go wrong now.

  Hand shaking, she spoke into the phone again. “Ciaran, what’s going on?”

  She heard him draw in a breath, long and ragged through the static. “It’s Delauncey and the others. They’ve escaped.”

  Lucy staggered. No.

  “Lucy, listen to me.” Ciaran’s voice was urgent. “We don’t know—gone. You have to—”

  His voice cut out in a burst of static. Lucy swore.

  “—back to the house. Lucy—hear me? The guard—”

  “I hear you.” Lucy’s voice shook. “I’ll wait for you here. The guard will know what to do, right? If—if…”

  She tried to speak clearly, knowing the connection was so bad, but she couldn’t stop her voice from cracking. This can’t be happening.

  “Ciaran? I love you,” she blurted out as the static grew louder.

  “I love you too.”

  The call cut out, leaving Lucy breathless. Had she heard him right? Had he really said—

  Lucy shook herself and took a deep breath. Focus. If Delauncey and the others had escaped from custody before being sent into exile…

  She gritted her teeth. Freaking out wasn’t going to help her. But the tension in Ciaran’s voice…

  It had been more than just tension. It was fear. He was afraid for her—and that only made her more scared.

  Clutching the phone in her hand, Lucy strode out of the bedroom. She found the guard almost immediately and explained what Ciaran had just told her.

  The guard’s eyebrows crunched together. “He’s coming here now?”

  “As fast as he can.” Lucy wrapped her arms around herself. “So is there somewhere I should go, or…?”

  The guard grabbed her arm. “Follow me.”

  Lucy didn’t have a choice. She stumbled behind the guard as he pulled a phone out of his pocket and barked orders into it.

  “Wait—why are we going to the front door?” Something inside her went cold. The guard wasn’t leading her to a more defensible position within the house—he was pulling her towards the exit. “What are you doing?”

  “Just shut up and let me do my job, ok?” He put his mouth back to the phone. “She’s here. Go.”

  The front door burst open. For a moment, Lucy thought Ciaran was about to rush in, or the rest of his security team, sent on ahead to protect her.

  Then her mind went white.

  “You,” she gasped.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ciaran’s warning had come too late. Delauncey and his friends had escaped from the werewolves’ justice—and come straight for her.

  Imprisonment while awaiting trial hadn’t suited the rogue werewolves. The last time Lucy had seen them, they had been dressed in formal suits, every inch the wealthy, powerful werewolf—except for their flat, soulless eyes.

  Now, the civilized veneer was gone. The three men were wearing faded black and gray boiler suits. Their cheeks were sunken, and the tendons of their necks stuck out, tensed almost to snapping point.

  Only their eyes were the same. Lucy’s heart thudded as she stared into Delauncey’s cold gaze.

  “What are you doing here?” she quavered, then turned to the guard, struggling against his grip on her arm. “What are you doing? Stop them!”

  The guard thrust her forward. Lucy staggered, falling onto her hands and knees.

  “There. She’s yours. Now where’s my reward?”

  The pounding in Lucy’s ears rose into a roar. If Delauncey replied, she didn’t hear him. She jumped to her feet and ran.

  The bathroom. Locks on the doors. I have to—

  The guard’s arm struck her like a battering ram in the stomach. Lucy doubled over, choking for air.

  I have to run—

  The second blow came out of nowhere, slamming her to the ground.

  “You gonna take her, or what?”

  Even through the pain, she could hear the bluff in the guard’s voice. He was trying to act tough, but he was only human. She swore at him.

  He scowled down at her. “Pipe down, missy. This is a business transaction. It isn’t personal.”

  “Fuck you!”

  He growled and swung one foot back, but Delauncey stopped him.

  “None of that. We want her pristine for tonight.”

  Lucy’s stomach churned. Tonight. The full moon.

  How long have they been planning this? she thought, sickened. How many of the guards were in on it?

  Ciaran’s out there somewhere. If they escaped from the werewolf courts, he must be close behind. If I can just keep them talking…

  “What are you going to do with me?” she asked, slowly pushing herself upright against the wall. Her stomach and side ached where the guard had hit her. She didn’t have to fake the fear in her voice.

  “That’s for us to know, and you to find out,” Delauncey sneered.

  “If I’m going to find out anyway you might as well tell me now,” Lucy retorted through the haze of terror. Inside her, a small voice was screaming at her not to provoke them, but she ignored it. She stuck out her chin. “I want to know what your plans are so when they fail, Ciaran and I can laugh over them together.”

  “OH, really?” A dull light gleamed in Delauncey’s gray eyes. “That’s how you think this will work out, is it? Happily ever after?”

  He advanced on her and Lucy stumbled back until there was nowhere to go. He reached up and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her towards him.

  “News flash, bitch. I’ve had four weeks to plan this. You and that freak of yours want to take me down? You’re coming down with me.”

  Lucy strained to pull her head back as his foul breath washed over her. “Fuck you! Let me go!”

  “Oh, I’ll let you go. When the time’s right.” Delauncey thrust his head forward and licked Lucy’s face. She almost threw up. “Gyre, Crothers, time to go. Deal with the human.”

  Lucy fought back nausea at the sticky wetness on her face. She twisted until she could see the guard over Delauncey’s shoulders.

  “Why are you just standing there? Do you really think they’re going to pay you? I know you’ve got silver bullets, just fucking shoot them!”

  The guard didn’t meet her eyes. “Where’s my reward?” he demanded, shifting his focus between the three werewolves. “The money, and—hey!”

  One of the other werewolves—Gyre—reached him and grabbed him by the jaw. Lucy’s skin crawled at the expression in the guard’s eyes.

  “Is this it?” he gasped. “You said you’d turn me, that I could be one of you—”

  “Human filth.” Gyre spat. “I wouldn’t dirty my teeth on you, traitor.”

  “Traitor? But—” The guard’s eyes went wide. He looked at Delauncey, confused. “You said you’d pay me! You said, if I got you in—”

  “Finish it, Gyre,” Delauncey said sharply. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, but couldn’t blot out the loud crack and horrible gurgle as Gyre broke the man’s throat.

  “Disloyal piec
e of shit,” Gyre muttered, dropping the body to the ground.

  “There’s your first lesson of the day,” Delauncey hissed in Lucy’s ear. “A lesson about real werewolves. To us, loyalty is everything. That piece of shit guard betrayed Ciaran to let us get to you, and that makes him worthless.” He yanked on her hair. “Got that? Good. There’ll be a test later.”

  All three werewolves laughed.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Stay down,” the man with his foot on her throat growled. Lucy could have sobbed. Stay down? She couldn’t have gotten up if she had tried. With his boot pressing into her neck, she could barely swallow, let alone move.

  They hadn’t wasted any time bundling her out of the safehouse and taking her to their waiting car. Delauncey had thrown her in the back seat and ordered Gyre to keep her down while Crothers drove.

  Lucy still didn’t know where they were. She had got one glimpse of mid-afternoon sun, high clouds, and a general impression of green fields and countryside—and then Gyre’s boot had kicked her into the seat well, and all she could see was the interior of the car and the thinnest sliver of the sky through the window.

  She should have run. She should have been faster, smarter, should have…

  Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes. Even without the boot on her throat she doubted she could have done anything. The moment she realized who she was dealing with, ice water had run through her veins, and now every muscle in her body was frozen stiff.

  This can’t be happening. But it was.

  She had never been afraid of anything the way she feared these three werewolves. Even at his most terrifying, Ciaran had always thrilled her, but these three… there was nothing good in them, only evil.

  John Delauncey, the leader, was a brutish-looking werewolf who, Lucy had learned from Ciaran, had once been in line to become the new alpha of the Greyflank Pack. His two permanent offsiders were Adam Crothers and Glenn Gyre, also of the Greyflank Pack. With Delauncey pegged for Alphahood, the other two would have expected a life of privilege and special perks from their connection to him.

  Instead, they had been sentenced to exile. All that bright future ripped away from them—because of what they’d tried to do to Lucy.

  Werewolf protocol was strict. This had surprised Lucy at first. The popular view of werewolves was that they were violent, ruled by their emotions, little more than vicious animals in human form.

  But werewolves had to live in society like everyone else. If they just went around attacking people at random, and stealing women to force them into being their mates, the delicate peace between humans and werewolves would shatter.

  So, there were rules. Protocol. Etiquette. Werewolves who attacked humans were judged in either human or werewolf courts, depending on a complicated number of judiciary factors.

  But werewolves who attempted to take an unwilling woman as their mate… the werewolf justice system came down hard on them. Delauncey and the others hadn’t succeeded in forcing themselves on Lucy, but they’d tried, even after she told them no. To the Pack judge, that condemned them.

  But there’s no way they see it that way, Lucy thought. They’re not going to see this as their fault. They’re going to blame me for taking them to court.

  Lucy drew a slow, ragged breath, trying not to scrape the delicate skin of her throat against the werewolf’s boot.

  “Keep her out of sight,” barked Delauncey from the front of the car. Lucy closed her eyes and bit back a groan.

  “On it, boss,” grunted Gyre. He kicked down harder, apparently just to drive the point home.

  Or maybe just to hear me squeal, thought Lucy darkly. She coughed as the pressure let off, and glared up at her captor.

  Asshole. I’m not going to let you see me cry. Not again.

  Panic rose up in her as she remembered the last time she had crossed path with the rogue werewolves. Her throat closed over and her whole body started to shake.

  Lucy balled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palms.

  No. Stop.

  Her vision was clouding over. If she inhaled, she was sure she would smell the garden scents that had filled the air the night the three werewolves had attacked her. Wet grass. Cold stone. Leering, contemptuous faces…

  No!

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Think of Ciaran, she told herself. You’re his mate. You belong to him. He will come and find you.

  You just have to stay alive until then.

  She took another deep breath, steadier this time. You can’t panic. You can’t shut down.

  Ciaran’s going to come find you… but you have to help yourself, as well.

  Lucy opened her eyes. She didn’t look up at her captor—she already knew what he looked like. Instead, she strained her eyes to look out the car window above her head.

  She could only see a sliver of the outside world as it flashed by. Buildings. Sky. The sudden blinding gleam of the sun. More buildings—stone, brick, glass…

  Lucy’s eyes were watering, but she kept her focus. She had to figure out where they were taking her. If only she knew where the safehouse was… But she could figure out what direction they were going, at least. She was a photographer. She knew a thing or two about the angle of the sun.

  So. I’m in the back of a car traveling in… some direction. We started off in the countryside—but that could be anywhere. And I don’t know where the trial was being held. Ciaran could be anywhere. He could be—

  She must have made a noise. Delauncey laughed and slung one arm over the back of the front passenger seat, looking down at her.

  “Worried, bitch? You should be.”

  Lucy gritted her teeth, refusing to give him a reaction.

  Delauncey was in his thirties, like Ciaran. Apart from that similarity, the two werewolves were completely different. Where Ciaran was dark, Delauncey had dirty blond hair cropped close to his skull. Despite his werewolf healing abilities his nose was broken almost flat against his face, and his eyes were a light, compassionless grey.

  Ugly inside and out, Lucy thought.

  “You’re going to be in trouble for murdering that guard,” she snarled.

  Delauncey scoffed. “There’s nothing the human justice system can do to us that’s worse than what the Pack has in store. Thanks for your concern, but you should be more worried about yourself, bitch.”

  Bitch. Lucy hated that word. But the way Delauncey used it wasn’t like the way human men did.

  He wasn’t using it as an insult. He meant it descriptively. Delauncey was a wolf—and to him, she was nothing but a bitch.

  Ciaran’s bitch.

  Her blood went cold. Why had Delauncey chosen now to escape? When she was alone in the safehouse?

  And they hadn’t hurt her. They’d barely touched her. What had he said? They wanted her “pristine”… for a lesson.

  “This isn’t about me at all, is it? It’s a trap. You’re laying a trap for Ciaran.”

  Delauncey laughed again. “Catches on fast, doesn’t she?” he spat at Crothers in the driver’s seat, who grunted in response.

  He turned back to Lucy, his eyes cold.

  “That’s right, bitch. You’re not the main event tonight, I’m afraid—but I’m sure we’ll find some way to entertain ourselves before the freak arrives.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Lucy had to blank his words from her mind. If she thought about them, if she even acknowledged them, she would fall into terrified despair.

  Crothers still hadn’t let her up. Her muscles were cramped from being trapped in the foot well, but that was nothing compared to the agonies her mind was imagining.

  Stop thinking about it. Panicking won't help. You need to concentrate, pay attention, look for a chance to escape…

  She opened her eyes and focused fiercely on the sliver of the outside world she could see through the window. They were driving north. Lucy could tell that much by the direction of the sun streaming into the car. The bright sunlight was an ironic contras
t to the hopelessness of Lucy’s position.

  Look for a chance to escape? That was a joke. All she could see was the same sliver of sky through the back window, the gleaming gray of high clouds darkening the longer they drove.

  Hours ticked by, marked only by the fading of the sky. Full moon. Full moon. The words repeated in Lucy’s head in time with her heartbeat. Full moon. And then…

  Checkpoints. A matchstick’s worth of hope flared inside Lucy. Some counties still ran them: security checkpoints for travelers caught out after dark. They usually started up in the late afternoon, to make sure anyone caught on the roads had an emergency plan. If one of them hailed Delauncey…

  But no one did. The werewolves continued their journey without being interrupted. When Lucy figured out why, she could have hit herself.

  Checkpoints wouldn’t stop a werewolf’s car. What would be the point?

  Wherever they were going, Lucy couldn’t rely on the usual law enforcement to find her.

  She lost track of how long it had been. Hours, definitely, but how many? The three werewolves all but ignored her—the “but” being Gyre’s boot on her neck.

  “Right. We’re here.”

  Delauncey’s voice shocked Lucy out of her thoughts. The car crunched to a stop on—Lucy’s mind whirred, trying to take in as much information as possible—gravel?

  Where are we?

  Lucy’s head fell back as someone pulled open the door behind her. She bit back a yelp of pain. Even just moving her neck made her muscles shriek.

  “Get her out here.”

  Run. The thought electrified her body. Lucy kicked out, levering herself out of the car and past Gyre’s grabbing hands. She twisted, banging her knees on the doorway and then scraping them over gravel.

  The moment her feet hit the ground she struck out again. Her muscles screamed as she forced herself to sprint. She didn’t even know where she was going. Just run. Figure it out later. All those hours on the treadmill must have been good for something.