Xander

by Dana Archer

  Xander stepped behind her, pulling her into the shelter of his body. “It’ll be even lovelier in the morning.”

  “It’s too bad Vlad lost his phone. He could’ve taken a picture.”

  “I’m sure Dante will have his cell. When he comes for us, I’ll ask him to snap a picture for you.”

  She tipped her head back. “Who’s Dante?”

  “Devin’s brother.” Xander urged her toward the smallest cabin. “He’s been a tremendous help with our search for you, following up on leads and getting us out of situations that could’ve ruined our pack’s name.”

  “Like participating in human hunts?”

  He chuckled. “Yes. My pack would be furious if they’d known. They’re already not happy with me. Neither is my twin, Xane. He’s been shouldering the day-to-day duties of running the pack while making excuses for my absence, but from what Dante has said, he’s frustrated.”

  “You haven’t talked to him?”

  “No. I don’t need to hear his lectures about the deteriorating state of our pack. The picture Dante has painted for me is bad enough. Dominants are fighting, and tensions are running high. It’s my fault. Every full moon that passes without a ceremony weakens our communal bond.”

  “I’m sorry I was the cause of it.”

  “Never apologize for something you can’t control.” With one hand on the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder. “It’ll make you appear weak, and that’s not how you want to be viewed by shifters, especially wolf shifters.”

  The reprimand caught her off guard. Since meeting Xander, he’d only spoken warmly of her. He’d even defended her reasoning for stopping to remove the tracking device in front of Vlad and for wanting to save Killer. Why the change?

  She stiffened, unsure of how to respond.

  He sighed, an exasperated sound that spoke of annoyance. “I shouldn’t have said that so soon. You’re obviously not ready to hear the truth.”

  “Not ready?” Her voice cracked. She hated when it did that. She sounded like a child, scared of the dark.

  “Yes.” Xander opened the door to the cabin Vlad had chosen for them and scanned the interior before stepping to the side and ushering her forward. “I know you’ve been around shifters, but you’ve never lived with them in a pack environment. It’s different. You need to be prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?”

  The door closed, sealing them inside. Total darkness surrounded them. She froze. Her heartrate kicked up. Memories of hiking through the Alaskan forest at night rushed over her. She’d never felt more vulnerable, even while imprisoned in the fighting compound.

  As a human, she hadn’t been able to see where she and Molly were going. Molly was the one who’d taken her hand and led Gwen as a child through those woods. She’d felt like such a failure. She’d been a pathetic guardian. It was no wonder they’d been cornered by those shifters who…

  Strong arms wrapped around her. She screamed. A hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the sound. The instinct to escape took hold. She twisted and slammed her elbow into the hard chest of the man holding her.

  “Gwen, calm down.”

  Xander.

  Embarrassment tightened her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I—”

  “Never apologize for something you can’t control,” he repeated his earlier words.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. They burned. “You startled me. That’s all.”

  “I can see that, but this is what you must prepare for. I can hear your heart pounding. I can smell your fear. And I can see how you’re trembling. That’s what a predator does, my mate. Focuses on the weaknesses of those around him. Outside of the pack, a shifter will ignore such things for the most part as we understand humans can’t control these traits. In a pack, however, we’d exploit it, even if we don’t consciously do so. The pack order is constantly in flux, and my absence has sent the structure of the Winchester pack into chaos. When we return, you will draw everyone’s attention.”

  “And they’ll view me as a beta.” She spoke the truth she already understood. She might not have lived in a pack, but there’d been a structure of strength among the prisoners in the compound. Killer had been at the top. She’d been the highest of the betas only because of her friendship with the man everyone feared.

  “Yes.” Xander squeezed her harder. “I don’t want you to experience that, but you must rise above their assumptions and prove you’re an alpha female.”

  She turned toward Xander. A slight outline of his face filled her vision. She focused on him and ignored her racing heart. “I’m not strong enough to fight against shifters without a weapon, and I refuse to use one on your pack mates.”

  “They’ll never hurt you physically. They’ll exclude you from activities. Correct you constantly. Look at you with pity in their eyes. It’ll be subtle, and most won’t even realize they’re doing it. You’ll know, though. So will I, and it’ll anger me.” He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his voice. “And I’ll hurt them for it. Make them beg for forgiveness. I won’t be able to help myself. If they hurt you, they hurt me.”

  “And will that make you resent being with me?”

  Xander leaned in and kissed her, slipping his tongue past her lips and slowly twining their tongues until she arched in to him, her belly warming. “I won’t ever lose you. You’re the light to my darkness.”

  Not a confirmation or a denial.

  She would’ve looked away, but he held her steady with his strong hands on either side of her face. His focused stare demanded she say something. She wasn’t sure what, but finally said, “I’ll try harder to keep my reactions under control.”

  “Only in public. When we’re alone, you don’t need to hide anything from me. I won’t judge you for it.”

  Wouldn’t he? He’d just admitted shifters did so subconsciously.

  He released her and stepped back, leaving her alone. Cold. “I need to go deal with the ATV, then keep watch.”

  “And I should stay here?” Alone. In the dark.

  “Yes.” He slipped his arm around her waist and led her to the other side of the room, then urged her to sit on the bed. “I know it’s cold in here, but there are blankets on the bed. Climb under them, and as soon as Vlad gets here, I’ll come hold you.”

  “Okay.” She slipped under the covers, refusing to think about who had last slept on this bed or if there were spiders or mites on the sheets. That would make her look weak. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Yell if you need me.”

  He trailed his knuckles along her jaw. Then he walked out.

  She lay in silence until the memories of her time in the Alaskan forest choked her. Throwing the blankets off, she sat on the edge and brushed her hand over the nightstand. The stump of a half-melted candle met her fingertips. Perfect. She grabbed it, then rifled through the drawer, feeling for matches or anything she could use to spark a flame. The telltale contours of a matchbook under her hand brought a smile to her face.

  With a flick, the match lit. She held it to the wick until the flame caught before shaking it out. Using the candle, she scanned the single-room cabin. A small kitchenette took up one section of the wall, and a fireplace dominated another. No other doors. No bathroom.

  She swept her gaze over the space once more, noting the rocker and recliner by the fireplace. A single window offered a view outside. Likely, it overlooked the lake. Would she be able to see it with the light of the candle?

  With nothing else to do, she made her way to the window. The wooden shutters creaked as she unfolded them, then moved soundlessly. Ice covered the inside of the panes, blocking her view of the outside.

  Using the sleeve of her shirt, she wiped the glass. A man’s scream tore through the night. She couldn’t make out the word but her instincts took over. She blew out the candle and froze in place.

  Again, the man yelled. She focused on the garbled word. Her name. Xander was screaming her name.

  The door was flung open. She cau
ght a glimpse of Reno running into the cabin. He raised his hand. A soft pop sounded, a whoosh she barely heard. He toppled, knocked over by the weight of a white wolf jumping through the doorway behind him.

  Her mouth opened on a soundless cry as the sounds of fighting wolves built around her. Pain registered. Blood filled her mouth, and numbness spread from her chest, lower. Her knees gave out. The world spun. Then she was falling forward. She hit the ground, face-first. It didn’t hurt.

  Nothing did.

  And that scared her most of all.

  Chapter 12

  Darkness surrounded Killer. For years, he’d welcomed the obscurity it offered. If he sat in the corner of his cell, facing the wall, he didn’t have to hide his expressions. He could grieve in peace. Each life he took deserved his remorse. It was all he had to give.

  Today, the pitch-black tomb he inhabited left him agitated. So did the whispers of his handlers. They talked about his pack mate, his little sister…Gwendolyn. How she was going to be raped, multiple times, until she either couldn’t walk or died from the abuse.

  Killer couldn’t save her either. They took her away.

  Snarling, Killer grabbed the bars of his cell and shook them until the metal groaned and concrete dust rained over him.

  A light flicked on. The sound of pounding feet grew closer.

  Killer gritted his teeth and yanked the bars. The metal screeched. He grinned. They were going to give this time. He’d been working on loosening them for weeks.

  One of the cowards on the other side stared at the ceiling. His eyes widened. His mouth opened. Then he scrambled for the prodding stick.

  Killer flicked his gaze from the pathetic bear shifter to the ceiling. Another chunk of concrete gave away, exposing the tip of the bar. Using both hands, he tugged on the metal. The bar snapped. The door to his cell opened. Killer spun and swung the piece of the bar he’d torn free at the second coward. The metal connected with the male’s head, tearing a gash across his face.

  The scent of blood hit Killer square in the chest. Instincts took over. He drove the metal forward, skewering the shifter. The injured male screamed. His hands flailed at the rusty bar impaling him. Killer jerked the bar upward, ripping him open. The male’s hands fell limply at his sides. His cry cut off. Death slipped into his eyes.

  There was no mistaking that look. Killer had seen it too many times.

  More shifters rushed into the cell. Killer pulled the bar free. He pivoted to face the new males. Some he’d seen before. Some he’d never laid eyes on. That was the norm, though. The guards feared him. They begged to be transferred elsewhere. He’d killed too many of them. All it took was getting a little too close to the bars.

  The male who’d gone for the prodding stick jabbed at Killer. He arched, avoiding the electric tip. The jolt it delivered could kill a human. The shock wouldn’t end his life, but it did mess with his nerves. Killer didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability. He couldn’t protect his pack mate.

  But she wasn’t here.

  He’d failed. His job had always been to watch out for their women. The other males trusted Killer with their precious mates. No greater honor could be bestowed upon a male. This time, he’d failed. His little sister…gone.

  Killer bared his teeth, then grabbed the nearest male. With a sharp twist, Killer broke the shifter’s neck. He tossed the dead body at the others trying to get to him. More rushed forward. Killer whacked them away, then reached for the skinniest of the bunch, a wolf shifter who looked too prissy to be a guard.

  The guy yelped while the other shifters around them froze.

  “Bring her back.” Killer wrapped his hands around the scrawny neck of the wolf shifter: a single, not a Royal. “You hear me?” Killer shook the male until his green eyes bulged and veins popped out on his pasty skin. “Bring her back!”

  “You kill him, and I guarantee you the female will die.”

  Killer whipped his head to stare at the male who’d spoken. A Royal wolf shifter stood on the other side of the bars. Dressed in a suit with wavy black hair caressing his shoulders, he stood apart from the other males in this basement dungeon. For good reason. Power and strength clung to him. He was old. Very, very old. His orange eyes told his story. He’d seen too much and hated it all.

  The other males were smart to give him a wide berth. He was important, but he wasn’t a fighter. He was…a leader. The thought took hold. Yes, he led others. Killer had met him before. Those eyes were unforgettable. He was sure of it, but he didn’t know where or when. Memories didn’t linger long in his mind unless he worked at keeping them. Or if the drugs stirred them to the surface and he could latch on to them.

  “Where is she?” Killer demanded.

  The orange-eyed Royal shrugged. “I have no clue. I’m not even sure who she is.”

  “Then how do you know—”

  “Because the shifters running this fighting compound are spiteful. If you kill the male who’s been funneling them money and information, they’ll retaliate against this female because she’s important to you.” The Royal rolled his eyes. “Surely you’re not stupid on top of being feral.”

  Killer clamped his jaw closed. He didn’t know if he was feral. His handlers punished him for both acknowledging and denying it. No matter how he answered, they pumped him full of drugs that made him hallucinate and act like a crazed animal. If they were going to return his pack mate as they’d promised, he couldn’t allow himself to be forced into that delusional state. He might hurt her. Again.

  Silence was best. They left him alone if he kept his mouth shut. Mostly.

  Killer eased his grip on the skinny wolf shifter, allowing him to fall to the ground. Gasping, the male clawed at the floor, dragging himself toward the door.

  “Smart move,” the Royal praised.

  Killer turned his back on the shifters in the cell with him and faced the Royal. “What do you want?”

  “You.” The Royal wolf shifter swept his gaze over Killer in a calculating appraisal that tensed his muscles. “I’m in the market for a skilled tracker and hunter. I was told you once were the best of the best, but it appears you’re no longer on the market.”

  Killer had been sold several times before ending up here. He’d been everything from a laborer to a sex slave. He got flashes of those times every now and then. He also knew it was him killing his mistress that landed him in the fighting pits. Gods, he wished he could go back in time. All those males who’d stepped into the ring with him would still be alive. Would it really have killed him to service his mistress?

  “There are others here. Let’s check them out,” the skinny wolf shifter joined the Royal on the other side of the bars.

  Killer focused on the Royal. There was something ominous about his statement. Killer’s wolves fed him the knowledge. “Why am I not for sale?”

  “Because it’s time for you to die.” The skinny wolf shifter grinned.

  A jolt of electricity whipped through Killer’s body. His muscles seized. Two more hard jabs sent fiery pain to his fingers and toes. His muscles twitched. His legs gave out. His head smacked into the ground.

  The male who’d shocked him jabbed a syringe into his chest. An icy-cold sensation numbed the fire in his veins. His eyelids grew heavy.

  Killer cursed, but no sound came out. He was locked inside himself with three angry wolves who feared dying and failing a true mate they’d never met.

  Chapter 13

  Rage and fear mixed, leaving Xander seething with a fury he’d never known before. He ripped Reno apart, making him suffer, making him scream. No one threatened his true mate. No one. He would not lose her.

  In his white wolf’s body, he clamped his jaw around the male’s neck and bit. The sound of bones snapping added to the distinctive thump of a body hitting the floor deeper in the cabin.

  Gwen!

  Xander released the dead wolf and spun. Gwen was lying, facedown, in a twisted heap on the floor. One arm was bent at an odd angle at her side, and h
er legs were folded next to her as if she’d been trying to curl into a ball, then passed out. Or died.

  No! No, she wasn’t dead. His wolves supplied him with the truth. Her heart beat, weakened but steady, but she’d been hurt. The scent of her blood was unmistakable.

  He shifted into his human form, then ran to her and grabbed her shoulder. “Gwen!”

  She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her heartbeat stuttered.

  The fear he’d felt when he’d watched Reno slip out of the outhouse and rush to the cabin where Gwen was hiding gripped him again, tightening his chest. As the alpha of the strongest Royal wolf pack, the emotion wasn’t one he dealt with often. Only with his true mate had he turned into a weak male, unable to counter the threats to her. Unable to save her.

  Never again.

  He swept his gaze over her, looking for the source of the blood he smelled and finding none. He silently cursed. “I need to turn you. Ready?”

  No answer. He gripped her shoulder and slipped his other hand under her body, then rolled her. The sight of the blood soaking the neckline of her shirt chilled his soul.

  “You’re going to be okay, Gwen. Promise you.”

  With a lump in his throat, he stared at the wound she’d sustained. The bullet had hit Gwen in her upper chest, right at the base of her neck. She wouldn’t be able to swallow his blood if it ripped through her throat.

  Without his blood, she’d never be able to heal the wound. His saliva would do little for internal injuries, and sealing the wound would make matters worse. She’d still bleed, but the blood wouldn’t have anywhere to go, and neither would the bullet. It had to be lodged inside her, maybe in her spine.

  “No.” He wanted to curse his pack’s goddess for not protecting Gwen. It would do little good. The deed was done, and his goddess had forced his hand.

  He flicked his gaze to Gwen’s face. Her mouth was slightly open, and her eyes were closed. She was unconscious, and time was running out. He was going to lose her before he ever got the chance to earn her love and forgiveness.