by Unknown
From his hiding point, Ian could see that the underbrush didn’t go forever. They’d find him soon. If he tried to run, they’d most likely shoot him again. Maybe not just in the leg. He closed his eyes as his vision swam. Damn it, he’d already been starved and exhausted before healing. Now his system wanted to shut down and rest from all the abuse. He needed food and sleep to recover. Not another injury.
Rifles were good for hunting at a distance. Shooting at close range could lead to injuring one another. They all carried knives except for Harold, who was more interested in filming his buddies on his phone. Could he take them all out? They were only humans. He had just begun taking basic combat skills with his pack’s leading fighter so he had minimal experience. He knew more theory than actual practice. At this point, he didn’t have much choice. It was take or be taken.
Naked as the day he was born, Ian left his cover. The hunters all had their backs turned to him. He stepped lightly next to the closest man, legs apart and muscles loose, like he’d been taught. Clenched fist ready, he used the momentum of twisting his hips to add force to his strike as he punched his opponent in the temple. His purpose was to knock him out fast and move to disarm the others.
The hunter crumpled to the forest floor, his rifle clattering on the tree roots. The others spun around at the noise.
“Don’t shoot,” cried Camo-guy. “You might hit Wilbert.”
Ian dove behind a small stand of thin trees with Wilbert’s rifle. He hadn’t a clue how to use it. Better to swing it like a bat than shoot himself in the foot.
The others were already scrambling for better positions, trying to surround him.
He hefted the rifle’s handle like a club and slammed it into the closest hunter’s head. It was the guy who’d been afraid to leave the tree stand. He sprawled onto his back, eyes rolling into his head. Ian ducked as another shot went off.
“I said hold your fucking fire, Harold. You’re more liable to shoot me.” Camo-guy sounded too close for Ian’s comfort. “What the fuck are you?”
“He’s a werewolf. I’ve seen them in the city. They can move fast like this guy.” Harold seemed to have the most brains of all three.
“Harold, explain to your friend that I’m harmless.” Ian tried to spot the geekier hunter.
“You don’t seem harmless to me. You’ve already attacked two of us.” A crunch of boots to Ian’s left declared Camo-guy’s location.
“You shot me and are still holding guns.” Ian tossed Wilbert’s rifle to the ground. “Let’s talk about this like civilized people.”
“Your kind are not people,” Harold whispered, sending a cold shiver over Ian’s soul. He shouldn’t have tossed the gun. Crap.
A twig snapped closer to his left. Ian dove for Wilbert’s rifle. The crack of gunfire filled the forest air again. Ian sensed the bullet skim over his spine, leaving a trail of heat on his skin. His fingertips curled around the rifle barrel. He picked it up and tossed it at Camo, catching him under the chin. The hunter joined his buddies on the ground unconscious. Yes!
Another shot crackled in the forest silence. Pain exploded in Ian’s gut. He doubled over with a moan. He hadn’t the air to make more noise. Glancing up, he met Harold’s stunned stare. “You killed me. What have I ever done to you?”
The human blinked and dropped his weapon. With a tangle of quick steps, he retreated until his stumbles evolved into a full on run.
Ian stared down at the blood on his hands. If he died here, no one would ever know what happened. It was a fitting death for a nobody.
Chapter Four
Cracking his eyelids open, Ian stared at the treetop silhouette. The dark leaves shivered in the moonlight. He was alive? And apparently he had been lying on the forest ground for some time. He grimaced. His mouth tasted like he’d been sucking on rusty nails.
The scent of smoke drew his attention. A fire burned to his right, ringed by stones in a makeshift fire pit. He sat up in one swift motion. The world spun and his stomach screamed in agony. He flopped back on his elbows.
The hunters…
The bullet…
He scanned the area, but no bodies lay on the ground. Hey, he wasn’t in the same place. Had he walked after he’d been hurt?
As if bleeding out of the darkness, Pallas stepped into the ring of firelight where Ian lay. The vampire squatted by the fire, a spitted and skinned rabbit in his hands. He set it over the flames.
Ian remained very still. His wolf wanted the meat badly. He had depleted all his resources and needed protein, but the vampire stood in his way.
“Don’t try for the rabbit yet.” Pallas glanced at him over his shoulder. “It’s still raw. Did your alpha explain what happens if you start eating raw meat?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ian had eyes only for rabbit. “So it’s for me?”
The vampire raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not for me.” He cocked his head to the side. “Did they strike you in the head?”
Ian lowered himself to the ground and closed his eyes, reigning in his wolf. “I must have hit it when I passed out. How did you find me?”
“I’m not a stranger to hunting.” Pallas smirked. “The scent of your blood helped.”
Lifting his head slowly, Ian peered at his abdomen. None of his organs hung out. That was a good sign. “How bad is it?”
“You were dying.” Pallas sat with his back to a tree, one knee bent and an arm resting on it.
“And I’m not now?” He felt like he was dying.
The bloodsucker seemed at ease out in the woods. More than Ian did. “Not anymore. I’m healing you as we speak.” He gazed at the treetops and closed his eyes. “It has been a long time since I’ve spent an evening by a fire and hunted rabbit. I feel almost human.” He gave Ian an inhuman grin, firelight flickering off his fangs. “Why did you leave?”
Ian glanced at the hole in his gut again. “I was given the impression that you wouldn’t care if I did.” What did he mean he was healing him right now?
“Not from me.”
“No.” Ian suspected that Pallas could detect a lie with as much accuracy as a shifter. “You gave the impression that you’d enjoy torturing me. I don’t see how you’re making me any better. I’m bleeding to death.”
“You were.” The vampire leaned forward and sniffed. “The blood isn’t fresh anymore.”
“Probably because it’s all outside my body.”
Pallas chuckled. “It would have been a shame to find you dead. You’re very amusing.” He met Ian’s stare with deadpan seriousness. “My blood is keeping you alive while your shifter abilities heal your wound.”
A vise grip clutched Ian’s chest. “You gave me your blood?” Suddenly the metallic taste in his mouth made sense. Would he become a vampire now? Was that possible? Worse, would he lose his hair and turn into something like Pallas?
“You’re safe from turning into something like me.” The vampire’s sardonic tone wasn’t lost on Ian.
He took a deep, shaky breath. Did he just read his mind? Was that possible? He glared at the Pallas, who raised a non-existent eyebrow. Yeah…that wasn’t creepy. “Why are you here?”
“Isn’t that the question of the evening? I was curious where you would go. I didn’t think you were stupid enough to return to your pack.”
“They’d just drag my ass back.” Ian turned his face away from the vampire. The forest went on forever, fading into the night. The fire and Pallas suddenly seemed like the center of the universe, pulling Ian into orbit against his will.
“So where were you going?” There wasn’t any animosity in the vampire’s question. He sounded genuinely curious.
“Nowhere.” Ian rolled his eyes. “Everywhere.” He twisted around, gritted his teeth, and leaned up onto his elbow. “Look, what do you want from me?” He never liked mind games. He’d been the recipient of them on more than one occasion with his mother, so it was difficult not to try to read between the lines, even when there was nothing there to read.
“Do you wis
h to be a failure?”
Ian gave him a slow blink. “I’m not a failure.”
“Four middle aged hunters shot you twice and left you for dead. You’re a young shifter male. This shouldn’t have happened.”
“Are they dead?” The smell of the forest was different and the trees didn’t grow so close together. Pallas must have carried him away from the scene of the skirmish.
“No, I left them to be found by whatever search party Harold will scrounge together. Do you want them dead?”
Ian let go of the breath he’d been holding. “No.” If he wanted the hunters dead, he would have killed them. The last thing his kind needed was another shifter losing control and killing humans. The tentative truce between their people grew thinner every day.
“Good, killing is a messy business, especially in these modern times. Bodies raise too many questions.”
“Oh.” For a moment, Ian had stupidly thought Pallas actually had a conscience.
Pallas checked the rabbit. “It looks done.” He squatted next to Ian, carrying the meal. “I’m not a nurse.” He gestured for Ian to sit. “Nothing will fall out of your wound. It’s mostly closed.”
With a groan, Ian managed to sit crossed leg. Sweat coated his skin. Intolerable pain didn’t touch his appetite though. His wolf recognized the meat as a source of energy. After he ate, he’d heal much faster. Something in the back of his mind kept bothering him. Harold? Being shot twice? He glanced at Pallas who sat next to him now. “You seem to know a lot of what happened to me. Almost as if you’d been there, but that’s impossible.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It was daylight.”
Pallas shrugged and held out his hand to the forest floor.
A field mouse scurried from under the leaves on the outskirts of the firelight. It settled in the vampire’s hand.
Pallas lifted it for Ian to see. “I have my sources.”
“You’re a mouse whisperer?” As soon as it popped out of his mouth, he wished he could have bit it back.
“I don’t know what that means. Explain.”
“Can you speak to mice?” He somehow managed to keep a straight face by biting into the hot, juicy meat.
“No, but I can use them to see and hear during the day.”
Ian swallowed his mouthful whole. “So you saw me leave?” That was quite a security system.
“Yes. If you run again, don’t expect another rescue.”
“I couldn’t be the first one to run.” He couldn’t believe everyone followed the rules but him.
“No, others have left.”
“Where did they go?”
Pallas shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t follow them.”
“Why follow me?”
“They had places to go. You don’t. I’m not going to allow a rogue in our territory.” He poked at the fire, smothering some of the flames. “You have potential, Ian. Are you brave enough to live up to my expectations?”
Ian finished chewing his bite this time before swallowing. “I’m no coward, but I’m no idiot either. I’m assuming this course of yours won’t be easy, so what’s in it for me?” Hard work didn’t bother him. Being used did.
“If you survive, you’ll do things your alpha only could wish for.”
He slowed his eating and let those words sink in. The vampire was good. He knew exactly how to push Ian’s buttons. “What do you know what shifters want?”
“I’ve worked with your kind for centuries. Those base desires don’t evolve with time. I know what all shifters want.”
“What’s that?”
“A challenge.”
Clare paced from the kitchen, through the armory and gym, to the front door and back to the kitchen. Ian had taken her seriously and run away. She gnawed her thumbnail and tasted blood. She hadn’t been serious when she’d told to him leave. Not really.
When Ian hadn’t shown for breakfast/dinner—changing from day to night would take some getting used to—she’d gone to his room to wake him. An empty bed was all she found. His roommates denied seeing him when they woke, so he must have left during the day. She rubbed her temples. What if he was hurt or lost? Ultimately, as the one orienting him she was responsible. She should have explained things better or listened more or leashed him to this fucking bed. She didn’t want a mate right now. In a few years, when she had figured solidified her place in the pack. She’d been pissed at his inconvenient arrival and had lashed out. This was the first time in her life she could experiment with who she truly wanted to be. No daddy alpha hovering in the background to intimidate others. No brothers to knock her down. No pack to play nice with the alpha’s little girl. Her dreams would be destroyed if she let her shifter biology take control.
The front door opened, followed by the heavy tread of Pallas’ boots.
She hurried to the foyer and gasped.
Ian limped inside. Blood dripped from his fingertips where he clutched his shirt to his abdomen. His clothes appeared intact, so he’d been injured while in wolf form or when he’d been naked.
Pallas tossed her a full backpack. “You know first aid?”
“With six brothers? I’m an expert.” She eyed Ian as he sat gingerly on the edge of a bench by the door. “He looks like he needs a hospital though.” Most major facilities had trained shifter medics.
The vampire crossed his arms. “The wound is superficial now. Get to your room, Ian. Stop bleeding everywhere. I only have so much restraint. Bad enough you bled all over my vehicle.”
“I’m doing my darnedest not to bleed to death.” Ian pushed to his feet and headed for the stairs.
Blain, one of his roommates, met him at the bottom and half-carried him as they ascended to the third floor. Face devoid of color, Ian wobbled.
Other shifters living in the manor gathered behind her in silence—Penny and Jake standing close together with Darrell, who had been part of the group chopping wood when Ian had arrived.
Darrell rubbed his chin. His hands were scarred from hard labor. “You never went after anyone else who left. Why this one?” He rarely spoke, even Pallas stopped in his tracks at the question.
“Who says that I never tracked the runaways?” The vampire grimaced and vacated the room, taking the stairs down to the part of the manor labeled as his territory. No one had the balls to trespass.
“Then what happened to them?” Penny whispered. She clutched the back of Darrell’s work shirt.
“And what did he do with the bodies?” Jake added.
“Enough.” Clare spun around. “Since I have to sew Ian back together again, someone else should be on fire-making duty. Get a detail on making sandwiches and send one up to Ian’s room. He’ll need fuel to heal.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “Please, let there be flame,” she prayed to anyone who listened. “We could all use a hot meal.”
“Amen to that. Let me give it a go.” Darrell pushed his way through the crowd of shifters as they all dispersed from the small foyer.
Clare clutched the backpack to her chest. Warmth spread through her as she watched this ragtag group of shifters working toward a common goal. Food was an excellent motivator. She glanced at the entrance that led to the basement. Maybe that’s why Pallas refused them electricity? If so, he was even more dangerous than she assumed. Dangerous and skilled were one thing. If he was smart then they would have the makings of a possible evil overlord.
She wanted to learn to fight and to lead, but not at the expense of her soul. What were Pallas’ real motives? Her father had filled her head with conspiracy theories. She was developing a few of her own. Why would a vampire want to teach werewolves how to fight? The only way for her to find out was to stick around.
She climbed the stairs to the third floor where she found Blain, the blind shifter, setting Ian carefully onto his lower bunk. “I’ve got it from here.”
“I don’t smell infection.” He scooted around her in the confined space without brushing against her body. “I do smell the vampire
’s blood.”
Clare sniffed Ian. “I don’t smell it.”
“You wouldn’t. My sense of smell and hearing is heightened. Trust me, the vampire bled. Maybe he was injured in the fight?”
“Maybe.” Clare met Ian’s glare. He wasn’t volunteering any info. “You look terrible.”
“I feel worse.” Ian lifted the edge of his t-shirt to reveal the damage.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Blain smoothed his hands over the door frame before exiting the room.
Clare hissed between her teeth at the site of Ian’s damaged abs. “What did this to you?” She opened the full backpack and found a huge first aid kit. Under it, she spotted some fresh clothes. “Looks like Pallas went shopping.”
“Yeah, he carried me to his car then stopped at Walmart before coming here.” Ian glanced inside the bag.
“He made a pit stop when you’re in this condition?” She pulled out the scissors and cut his shirt down the middle, exposing his chiseled chest. “The bastard.”
“He assured me that I’m not dying and the wound is superficial.”
With some sterile gauze and saline, she cleaned the area. “Who did this?” Pallas was right. The wound didn’t go deep enough to reach organs. She might have passed out if it did. Ian still needed stitches to help heal faster.
“I met the locals. They’re not friendly.” He flinched at her touch.
“This should heal by tomorrow night with rest, food, and stitches.”
“You really know what you’re doing?” He watched her work with skepticism.
“My pack lives far from the city hospitals. The local centers won’t treat our kind. We learned to take care of our own.” She pulled out her suture kit. “Where are you from?” If she kept him talking, it would distract from the pain.
“New York City. The hospitals there aren’t any better. They say they’ll help but you’re left on the stretcher in some locked room until all the humans are cared for. If we’re lucky someone who sympathizes with our kind will call a shifter medic in to treat us.”
“What about silver poisoning?”
“The alpha will call and pay a specialist for that.” His expression grew sad. “I hadn’t really given any of that a thought when I applied to be turned.”
