Patience, she told the wolf.
I didn’t get us into this mess. Why should I have to suffer?
Oh, shut up, bitch.
Stop calling me a bitch!
Well, technically, you are one, so…
The she-wolf whined, then lay down and pouted.
Meredith knew her relationship with her she-wolf was special. According to the other Lycans she talked to, none of their wolves spoke in complete sentences, nor conversed with them. Lucky them. Some days, she couldn’t get the animal to shut the fuck up.
A low moan caught her attention, and her head snapped towards the figure in the bed. Daric, the prisoner she’d been guarding for the last two days. The warlock had been injured badly in their last confrontation with the mages, the Lycans’ enemies. Daric couldn’t use any of his powers, so he had apparently tried to stab the mages’ leader, Stefan, with a knife. That didn’t go so well, and Daric ended up getting hurt.
Meredith sighed again. Witches and warlocks were biologically human, and thus didn’t have the same speedy healing and metabolism Lycans did. She didn’t know how the hell they ended up being the dominant species on this planet, seeing as they were all practically like walking bags of organs wrapped in a balloon.
Daric let out another moan and twisted his body, the white sheet covering him slipping lower. Meredith felt her mouth go dry at the sight of his chest—broad and muscled, with a sprinkling of dark blonde hair. His shoulders were wide, nearly taking up the entire width of the small twin bed. His arms were thick and muscled, like tree trunks. His torso was covered in bandages, but she was pretty sure he’d have a rockin’ set of six-pack abs. Daric was about half a foot taller than her 5’10 frame, and probably outweighed her by over a hundred pounds. He could probably pick her up and slam her against the wall and—
The she-wolf growled in appreciation.
Oh, stop it.
Meredith quickly looked away, trying to ignore the rush of heat and desire. She would not go there. Again. The first time she got near Daric, he had attacked Jade, and she pulled him off her. The shock of electricity that shot up her arms surprised her, and she nearly let go of him. Even in his powerless state, he managed to pin her to the ground. The heat of his body was something she could never forget, and some nights she woke up wanting and horny, wishing that—
Fuck this shit; she needed to get laid. It had been too long. Almost two years. But, she didn’t exactly have the opportunity now. She didn’t shit where she ate, and she couldn’t go anywhere else except the Fenrir Corp building. Now that Jade had a motherfucking dragon for a mate, who also owned a security firm, the Lycan scientist didn’t need her as a full-time bodyguard, and thus, Meredith was trapped in the basement, guarding their warlock prisoner.
“Stefan. Mother!”
Daric’s scratchy groan had Meredith scrambling to the side of the bed. This was the first time in two days the warlock had been conscious enough to say anything. Dr. Faulkner, the Lycans’ resident physician, had been by regularly to check on him. Daric had suffered a few bruised ribs, but no internal injuries. Still, he needed time to recover and rest.
“Daric,” she called softly. “Do you need Dr. Faulkner?”
Blue-green eyes flew open and a large hand wrapped around her wrist. Meredith struggled to break free, but his grip was like steel, and his touch sent tingles across her arm.
“Let go, warlock!” she hissed.
He loosened his grip as surprise flashed briefly on his face. “Where am I?”
“You’re back in your cell in Fenrir,” Meredith sneered.
Daric struggled to sit up, his fingers massaging his temple. “Stefan…”
“He got away, unfortunately,” she explained.
“My mother?” His eyes zeroed in on her. “Where is she?”
“She’s safe, with the New York coven.”
He relaxed visibly, the tension leaving his shoulders. “I’ve been hurt.”
“Yes, well that’s what happens when you try to kill a master mage with a butter knife,” she said sarcastically. “What the hell were you thinking anyway? Going up against Stefan without your powers?”
“I had no choice,” Daric replied. “It was our only chance to kill Stefan.”
“Well, it was a stupid choice,” Meredith muttered. “You could have died.”
“It almost sounds like you care, Lycan,” Daric countered.
“I don’t, warlock,” she spat, hoping the nervousness in her voice didn’t come out. “I was just afraid I’d have to clean up the smear your pathetic little body would have left. I hate getting blood on me.”
Daric swung his long legs over the side of the bed and attempted to get up. He stumbled, and Meredith pushed him back down.
“What are you trying to do? You’ve been in bed for two days!”
“And thus, I’m in need of the facilities.” Daric looked meaningfully at the door leading to the small bathroom.
“Ah, well I guess you gotta drain the snake, right?” As soon as the words left her lips, she slapped her hand over her mouth. God, she even surprised herself sometimes. Don’t think about his snake. Don’t think about his snake. And there it was—a mental image of Daric’s penis stuck in her mind. Thick, veiny, erect and—Fuck, this would be a long day.
Daric struggled again but got to his feet. He towered over her, but he was still weak, so she could probably give him a gentle push, and he’d fall over.
“Do you need help?”
“Not to drain my snake,” he replied.
Meredith turned bright red. God, she was turning into Jade, who blushed at the mere mention of sex or penises.
“I could use some help with this,” he said, rubbing the thick, scraggly beard on his lower face. “Could I bother you for some razors?” His voice was less raspy, but his strange accent was more pronounced than usual. When she first heard his voice, she thought he sounded vaguely European with a touch of a refined British accent.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Meredith grumbled. As Daric disappeared into the bathroom, Meredith left the cell. She walked out of the main detention area and into the small hallway leading to the elevators.
“Hey, Tank,” Meredith said to the burly Lycan guard standing outside.
“Yo, Meredith,” he greeted back. “How’s the prisoner?”
“Up and about. Say,” she began. “Any chance you can get me some razors?”
“You ready to slit his throat already?” Tank chuckled.
“Ha! Tempting, but no.” She shook her head. “He’s tired of the hobo Jesus look, I guess.”
Tank shook his head. “I don’t think the Beta will allow that, but let me see what I can do.” The Lycan guard picked up the telephone next to him. He said a few words and then put the phone back into the receiver. “Sorry,” Tank said, shaking his head. “Mr. Vrost said he doesn’t want to leave the warlock alone with anything sharp. You can offer to shave him if you want. But the Beta was pretty clear about not leavin’ him alone with anything he could use as a weapon.”
“Fine,” Meredith shrugged. “Have someone send the stuff. I’ll take care of it.” She really shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it. She had been held as a prisoner in this same facility, so she felt some sympathy for Daric. God knows, she had needed some grooming herself by the time she had some contact with the outside world.
Tank nodded and picked up the phone again. A few minutes later, one of the Lycan security guys, Heath Pearson, came down with a small paper bag.
“You need help, Meredith?”
She shook her head. “I think I can handle one injured warlock with no powers. Thanks, Heath.”
Meredith strode back into the main detention. By the time she got to Daric’s cell, he was already sitting on the bed. He was wearing a fresh pair of loose pants, and from the dampness of his hair and the droplets of water on his skin, he probably took some time to freshen up. A small towel hung around his neck.
“Nick Vrost said not to give you anyt
hing sharp,” Meredith said, holding up the paper bag. “But I got the short end of the stick, so I’m volunteering myself as your personal barber today.”
Daric stood up and sat on one of the chairs in the middle of the room. “Then I leave myself in your capable hands.”
Meredith smiled wryly and walked over to him. She opened the bag and took out the razor, a can of shaving cream, and a pair of scissors. “I’ve never done this before, so you need to tell me what you want.”
A pregnant pause hung in the air. “What I want,” he began. “Is…Just take it all off, I suppose. Unless you have a preference?”
She shrugged. “I’m not Vidal Sassoon here, mister.”
He looked at her like she was speaking another language.
“Right.” Daric was raised in a remote village before he was kidnapped by an evil, egomaniac mage. He probably didn’t know who the iconic hairdresser was or watched that comedy about the assassin who wanted to become a hairstylist.
Meredith began by using the scissors to trim the scraggly beard, then picked up the shaving cream and squirted a dollop onto her palms. Working it onto his jaw, she ignored the warmth of his skin and the way the hair tickled her fingers. Satisfied with the amount of foam on his face, she wiped her hands on her pants and picked up the razor.
Daric leaned back on the chair to give Meredith a better angle. She leaned down close enough, placing the razor on his cheek. As she took a deep breath, his scent filled her nostrils. Hmmm…she didn’t know warlocks could have a scent. This one certainly did and it was one she knew instantly. Chocolate. Rich and creamy chocolate. The smell was driving her she-wolf wild, and the little slut was rolling around, howling with delight.
Shut the fuck up, bitch!
“Are you going to start before my beard grows any longer?” Daric asked, his eyebrow raised.
Swallowing a gulp, she pushed the desire away, hoping he didn’t notice anything. “Um, yeah.” She thought she had some snappy comeback, but her brain somehow froze. With a deep breath, she began to shave his beard, working methodically and slowly, trying to calm her shaky hands. But she was so close to him she could feel the heat emanating from his body and his wonderful scent wrapping around her, making her panties flood with her wetness. Thank fuck he wasn’t a Lycan, or he would have smelled how horny she was right now. She steadied herself by reaching for the back of the chair, but instead, grabbed his shoulder by accident. Fuck, it was like pure stone, hard and unyielding. Meredith had the urge to withdraw her hand. She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she dug her fingers into his shoulder instead. She thought she felt his breath hitch. Maybe it was just her imagination.
With a last downward stroke of the razor, she finished with her task. She took the towel draped around his neck and used it to wipe away the remaining foam. Sweet baby Jesus, had he always been this handsome? She had glanced at him once before when they first caught him but didn’t give it a single thought. A few weeks later, when he had the beard, he looked like that homeless guy who pushed his cart down 3rd Avenue. And now, clean-shaven and looking refreshed, Daric was heart-stopping, drop-dead gorgeous.
As her hands rubbed the towel over his jaw, his fingers traced over the back of her palms. They wrapped around her wrists gently, holding them still. Blue-green eyes looked up at her, not with hate or passion, but expectantly. Like he was waiting for something to happen.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“Understand what?” she asked. His gaze was hypnotic, and she struggled to break free. But all she wanted was to get lost in them.
The sound of someone clearing his throat made Meredith jump away from Daric.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Grant Anderson, Alpha of New York, stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a bemused look on his face.
Meredith shook her head and then grabbed the paper bag on the table, stuffing all the items back inside. “No, we’re done here,” she said, straightening her shoulders.
“I’ve come to discuss terms, Daric,” Grant said as he strode toward the warlock.
Meredith walked towards the door. “I’ll be outside,” she muttered. She didn’t even spare a last backward glance before the door closed behind her.
***
Daric watched the Lycan’s retreating back and the door slam behind her. Her perfume of wildflowers lingered in the air after she left, as did that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Daric?” Grant asked, shaking him out of his trance.
“What do you want?” Daric asked, then added, “Alpha.” Pledging to the New York clan was not his smartest move, but it was the only one he had at the time. “Where is my mother?” He could feel her, she was alive, for sure. Their link was strong, stronger than it had ever been now that Stefan was far away from them, but they couldn’t use it to communicate.
“The New York witch coven had taken her to their compound,” Grant explained. “Their leader, Vivianne Chatraine, is taking good care of her, I assure you.”
“It can’t be worse than what Stefan did to her,” Daric said bitterly. The master mage had kept his mother locked up for over eighteen years. Stefan used Signe to control him, but no more. Thanks to the Lycans, Signe was safe. But her rescue had come at a price, namely, his pledge to the New York clan and his freedom. “When will I see her?”
“We’ll arrange it, but Vivianne says that Signe needs time to heal,” Grant said. “Now, let’s discuss terms.”
Daric let out a sardonic laugh. “Terms? I assumed that you would keep me here, of course.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It would be worth it, to know my mother is out of Stefan’s clutches.”
“Didn’t you have a plan for what you wanted to do after you rescued your mother?”
The warlock shrugged. “I never thought I would survive,” he confessed. “My plan was to kill Stefan, and if I had died, then that was what my fate would be.”
“You can’t see your own fate?” Grant asked. “I thought you were a seer.”
“That’s not how it works, I’m afraid,” Daric began. “The only person whose fate I can’t see is my own.”
“Well, if you have your destiny in your hands, then why would you want to stay in here for the rest of your life?”
“What do you want with me, Alpha? Not satisfied with keeping me a prisoner for the rest of my life?”
“What do you want, Daric?”
“I want to kill Stefan.” The hate in his heart was still there. He thought it would have gone when he got his mother back, but it remained rooted in place. After all, the master mage had killed his father to get his powers, before he took Daric and Signe away from their little village in Norway.
“Then help us defeat him,” the Alpha stated. “You know you can’t do it alone.”
“Not with this.” Daric raised his arm, showing off the metal band around his wrist. It was a special bracelet the Lycans had developed to dampen his active powers. “Take it off and he will die by my hands.”
“Do you know where he is? Can you trace him and kill him?”
Daric was tempted to lie. “I cannot. But I know most of his hiding places.”
“And why would he go back to any of those places, knowing you betrayed him? What makes you think he’s not prepared for you to come? He could be preparing to capture you again or kill you.”
Daric opened his mouth to speak, then realized the Alpha had a point. Eighteen years had taught him that Stefan was no fool. He also had many hiding places that Daric didn’t know about. Whenever he had the chance, Daric searched for where Stefan was hiding his mother, but never even got close. He and Stefan had the same powers, that of changing and moving matter, but Stefan had also stolen the powers of many other blessed warlocks and witches, plus he had a whole army of human slaves to do his bidding.
Grant waited for his answer patiently, never betraying any emotion or thought. He wasn’t Alpha for nothing.
“What do you propose,
Alpha?” Daric finally said.
“An alliance of sorts,” Grant said. “You help us, we’ll help you.”
Daric’s eyes narrowed. “Servitude from one master to another? I don’t think so.”
“You’re technically pledged to me, and so you must obey me,” Grant began. “But, I don’t make my people do anything they don’t want.”
“And my other choice is to rot in here?” Daric asked. “Not much of a choice, Alpha.”
“And you don’t deserve that for all you’ve done?” Grant countered. “Your mother is safe; I’ll guarantee she’ll be comfortable for the rest of her life, if you want. That’s more than generous.”
Daric paused. “What would you have me do?”
“Help us. Help us find Stefan and defeat him. Work with Dr. Cross so we can finally stop the mages.”
“And once you do get Stefan, what do you plan to do with him?” Daric asked. “Will you keep him in this cell for the rest of his life?”
“If we capture him alive, yes,” Grant answered. “But we will use any means necessary to stop him.”
Daric gritted his teeth. No, Stefan was his. Vengeance was his. The master mage would die by his hands and his alone. But the Alpha didn’t have to know that now.
Grant cleared his throat. “I’ll give you time to think about it. And, once I hear from Vivianne, I’ll let you know if Signe is ready to come for a visit.” He gave Daric a last nod and then left the room.
As the metal door slid closed, Daric remained seated on his bed. The silence in the room was deafening. Was he destined to spend the rest of his days trapped in this cell? He supposed Grant was right. He should be punished for the crimes he committed over the last few years, even if they were things Stefan made him do. Daric told himself his mother’s life was on the line and he did those things to save her, if only to prevent the guilt from crushing him. No, there would only be one way to wipe the blood off his hands, and that was to kill Stefan.
He stood up, and looked up at the camera in the corner. Someone would be watching for sure, if not the Alpha himself. “I’ve made my decision,” he said.
Tempted by the Wolf Page 2
