Consumed dp-4

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Katie released his hand, lifting her chin to the heavens, pure bliss crossing her face.

  Soft light cascaded down. Tension eased from Jordan’s shoulders. Peace, false and temporary, filled his pores. Even then, the woman’s pull beat the moon’s. Rays tangled around her, highlighting her exquisite bone structure and stabbing the beast inside him awake. Lion or werewolf, he wasn’t sure. Either way, the male at his core wanted the female.

  He’d wondered. For more than ten years—he’d tried to keep from thinking about her. He’d known her as a child, a teenager, and now a woman. The crush she’d held came from youth.

  But something in him recognized her. Wondered if she’d already be wearing his mark, had the damn Kurjans not messed with fate. Along with biology. The need to sink his teeth into her neck just enough to mark had his incisors lengthening, shifting into lion form while his body remained human.

  Salty, the breeze carried her sigh as she lowered her gaze to him. Her pretty brown eyes widened. “Your teeth.”

  “Yeah.” He shoved them back up.

  “I miss that.”

  He struggled for control. “You miss having cougar teeth?”

  “Yeah.” Her smile surpassed beautiful and grabbed him around the heart to squeeze. “Remember when I first learned how to elongate the teeth only?”

  Warmth slammed into his solar plexus. “You bit the crap out of us.” He chuckled, feeling humor for the first time in a week. “I thought Noah was going to perform a root canal on you.”

  She threw back her head and laughed, the sound filling the night with joy. “Remember when I bit Talen because he wouldn’t play catch with me?”

  “You were a monstrous six-year-old.”

  Her eyes sparkled, then grew serious. The smile waned. Tremors shook her shoulders. Almost in slow motion, she turned her head to gaze beyond the courtyard to the forest extending into darkness.

  “What?” His shoulders went back. Electricity danced up his spine. The breeze whipped a new scent into the area. “Dog.” Not just any dog. “How—”

  His breath caught as fire lanced through his veins. A tidal force of energy ricocheted inside his muscles. Bones snapped. His teeth sharpened, drawing blood from his lips.

  Stubborn will had him fighting the change, fighting what overcame his human side.

  Without making a determination—against his will—he shot into lion form.

  Katie flew across the courtyard to land on her butt. The energy released when Jordan shifted held an element of something new ... something she couldn’t shield against. Her palms pressed into the soft grass as she levered to her feet, her gaze on the massive western cougar eyeing her like a midnight snack.

  Even so, a darker danger stalked closer ... menace and need winding through the oxygen to clog her lungs. Oily darkness reached out to her, sending a humming through her brain. A shiver rippled down her spine. The hair on her arms stood up. How the hell had he found her?

  Roaring a battle cry, Brent leapt over the stone wall to land in the center of the courtyard.

  She stepped back, fear turning her knees brittle. “How?”

  “Kaattieee. Have blood.”

  Jesus. He’d tracked her that easily—and traveled across the country during daytime? Just because he’d tasted her blood? She’d never be free of him. “Guess you need to die then.”

  Why hadn’t Jordan attacked? She shifted her gaze to the cougar, who remained still, head cocked to the side and studying Brent. Was Jordan’s coat darker than usual? Had the changes already begun? “Jordan?”

  Brent tilted his head, pivoting. Both animals began to circle, sniffing the air. Brent gave a low howl. “Jordaaan. Like meeee.” The furry beast clapped his hands together. “Baaad Jordaaan.”

  Teeth flashed when Jordan snarled, his gaze going from Brent to Katie. He stilled and sniffed the night.

  Damnit. The virus had progressed enough in Jordan to confuse him in relation to Brent. Katie kept her hands harmlessly at her sides. “Jordan. You’re the good guy. He’s the bad.” Simple, but hopefully effective. Though, the men had once been family.

  The cat licked his lips. Too dark ears lay back, and he abandoned his vigil of Brent to stalk three steps closer to her.

  “Uh, Jordan?” She edged sideways toward the door.

  His low-pitched snarl stopped her cold.

  Fear settled deep in her gut, sending adrenaline to flood her veins, terror erasing years of combat training. The animal held her in his sights. Jordan was gone. In his place a creature of primal instinct eyed her like she was dinner. Or maybe dessert.

  She cleared her throat, the sound harsh in the quiet night. “You’re still a cougar, Jordan. Fight this. Please.” He wasn’t a werewolf yet—he could still think. Still be her protector.

  His huge head lifted.

  Powerful muscles bunched.

  Then he leapt.

  She screamed. Pivoting, she kicked out, connecting with his belly, sending him sprawling. Oh, she’d caught him by surprise, otherwise the move wouldn’t have worked.The cat rolled over in the spongy grass, stretching to his feet, sharp canines flashing. A quick weave to the side and he blocked her way to the door.

  Brent threw back his furry head and laughed, the sound grating. He leaned against the hedge, amusement lightening those yellow eyes to something almost translucent.

  Katie fought a whimper, sidling to the entrance. Fear cut through the night to narrow her vision. The cat’s low snarl stopped her escape.

  Her feet froze. A tremor started at her knees and slid north until even her ears shook. “Jordan?”

  He lunged.

  Both paws hit her shoulders, knocking her down.

  Pain radiated along her neck as she landed on the hard earth. The air swooshed from her lungs. Her head instantly pounded. Adrenaline slid with fear through her veins, and she calculated ways to take him down.

  There weren’t any.

  Heated breath brushed her face. Wide paws pressed down on her shoulders, keeping her in place. Blade-sharp claws ripped into her shirt, against her skin. His entire body vibrated.

  Terror held her immobile. The cold ground chilled her back. Instinct had her stilling, trying not to breathe. Sharp, deadly teeth flashed in the moonlight. He lowered, scraping their fierce points along her jugular.

  She fought her body to keep her hands at her sides, not threatening him. Inside her, a lioness awoke. Stretching, cautiously coming to the surface, instinct emerging in a final effort to stay alive.

  A low grumble came from his chest. His teeth retracted and he sniffed her throat, along the jugular to behind her ear. His nose pressed against her skin, wet and flared.

  Could she punch him in the throat and roll away? Something told her the move wouldn’t work—he was too fast and deadly in this state. Ever since she’d contracted the virus, her reflexes had slowed and her strength ebbed. She couldn’t take him like this.

  Snarling, his head lowered, his teeth slowly elongating into the flesh where her neck met her shoulder.

  Pain ripped through her. Reality smacked her—he wanted to mark her, not kill her. His fangs went deeper. She cried out, quickly silencing herself.

  He stilled. His massive head lifted, those teeth leaving her flesh. His eyes swirled from yellow to green.

  Three darts impacted his face, throwing him off her. Strong hands grabbed her armpits, dragging her to the entrance. Fresh bruises vibrated in her skin.

  Her eyes wide on the cat, she struggled to stand. Conn shoved her partially behind him. His hand stayed steady as he extended the dart gun toward Jordan. With a soft snarl, the cougar lifted his upper lip. Then he swayed, dropping to the grass.

  Katie gulped, her gaze spinning to the hedges.

  Brent was gone.

  Chapter 10

  Jordan stretched his legs under the conference table, trying without success to ignore the poison still vibrating through his veins. Conn had used a sedative necessary for taking down large game animals. It
was a good move, because Jordan had been more animal than man when he’d bitten Katie. The idea that he’d hurt Kate made his stomach lurch. While he’d had no intention of injuring her, the craving to mark her had nearly destroyed him. And marking her, considering she had lost shifter strength and power, might destroy her.

  Dage sat at the head of the table, flanked by Conn. Stunning oil paintings by Brenna Dunne lined three walls, while floor-to-ceiling windows showed the sea waiting for daylight. The central aboveground hub of the Realm was both comfortable and imposing.

  Dage tapped a file on the mahogany. “We need to decide if we should move again.”

  “I got the sense Brent is alone.” Anger made Jordan’s head spin. “He has Katie’s scent, her blood, and he’ll find her wherever she goes.” What had he been thinking to let her fight werewolves? “I’ll take her away from headquarters and set a trap somewhere else for him.”

  “No.” Conn leaned forward, his dark T-shirt shoved up past his elbows. “We stick together.”

  Jordan closed his eyes briefly when the other men nodded. Thank God. He might pose more danger to Katie than the werewolf did. “I bit her.”

  Conn exhaled. “She’s fine. We secured everyone underground, and Katie’s sleeping right now. You didn’t do any lasting damage.”

  But he’d wanted to do something lasting. The beast inside of him had wanted to mark her ... for all time. “That’s good to know.” He’d broken skin but the mating process could only happen during a claiming. Right then and there he vowed never to be alone with Katie again. He glanced out the window, counting the remaining dawns until the full moon. Three nights left. “I’ll head out to find Brent.” It’d be the last thing Jordan did as leader of the feline nation.

  “No.” Dage rubbed his chin. “I have scouts out now—we’ll find him. Unfortunately, we have bigger problems than one werewolf.”

  “One werewolf who can speak and think.” Conn yanked a double-edged knife from his side to twirl through his fingers. “I guess it makes sense the monsters have evolved.”

  “Not this quickly.” Jordan eyed the flash of steel. “Plus, he knew me. Remembered me from before he became a werewolf—he knows who he was—next in line to lead.” Brent apparently remembered everything.

  Dage stiffened. “Anything you want to tell me?”

  “No.” Jordan kept his face bland and his gaze away from Conn. What they’d done—they’d done together and with a vow that the king would never know. “I have a sense of this guy. Why do you want me to stay here?”

  The king didn’t look appeased. A hard glint entered his silver eyes, promising the discussion wasn’t over. “Because all hell is about to break loose.”

  As far as Jordan was concerned, all hell had broken loose ten years ago when the Kurjans had unleashed the virus. “Again?”

  “Yes.” Conn snorted. “I say we take the Bane’s Council out at the knees.”

  “They’re our allies.” Dage’s gaze seemed anything but friendly.

  “What’s going on?” Jordan asked, dread slamming into his gut.

  “Terrent Vilks will arrive sometime today and wants to see both you and Maggie,” Dage said.

  Terrent was the head werewolf hunter on the Bane’s Council and the most deadly wolf alive. Adrenaline heated just under Jordan’s skin. “Who told him about either one of us?”

  “We don’t know.” Conn flipped the knife faster, a true sign of his agitation. “Not only did he demand to see you both, he knew you were here.”

  Jordan sat back, forcing his claws to stay retracted. “He knew the location of Realm Headquarters?” Lance had been correct—the location wasn’t close to a secret. “How?”

  “We need to find out.” Dage’s eyes gleamed, flashing blue within the silver.

  “We have a leak.” Jordan blew out a breath. “The feline nation has had an uneasy alliance with the canine nation for two hundred years—and I consider Terrent a friend. It sucks he’s here to kill me.” But that might solve several problems.

  “He’s the most prolific member of the Bane’s Council.” While his face remained grim, a thread of respect filtered through Dage’s words. “Though I’m not sure why the head of the Bane’s Council is making the trip.”

  Jordan nodded. The Bane’s Council consisted of three wolf shifters created for the sole purpose of hunting down and killing werewolves. Before the virus had been unleashed on shifters, werewolves were former humans who didn’t live very long anyway. Now that male shifters could become werewolves—it was an entirely new world for them all. “I can’t let Terrent kill Maggie.”

  “The Bane’s Council has refrained from killing female shifters infected with the virus—so long as they’re receiving treatment from the Realm.” Conn tucked the knife in the back of his waist. “Maggie’s receiving treatment.”

  “Maggie can shift.” Jordan scrubbed both hands down his face. “No other infected female can shift—the ability makes her a threat. The poor woman doesn’t even remember her past.” Maggie had been one of the first shifters kidnapped and experimented on by the Kurjans, and she had no memory of her life before being captured.

  Dage nodded. “No clan has been looking for her the last ten years. We have to assume she was alone, or part of a clan off the grid. Either could be possible.”

  “My bet is off the grid.” Jordan tried to keep track of all feline, canine, and multiclans not part of the Realm, but it was difficult if they didn’t want to be found. “Well, we know Terrent is probably coming to make sure somebody kills me if I turn into a werewolf. But again, there has to be more to his visit than that.”

  The telephone to Dage’s right buzzed and he grabbed the handset. “What?” His gaze shifted to Jordan. “Put him through on screen.” Dage hung up and pressed a button to make a screen slide down to cover two of the paintings. Conn moved to the side and out of the way.

  Noah appeared on the screen, his catlike gaze zeroing in on Jordan. One of the biggest cougars alive, his stealth and quickness were unmatched. The perfect enforcer. He stood in the main control room of the mountainous headquarters, dark rock surrounding him.

  Jordan’s shoulders went back. “Noah?” he asked softly.

  Noah took in the rest of the room. “We need to talk. Privately.”

  Logic clicked through Jordan’s brain along with the inevitability of his demise during the next full moon—that is, unless Kane’s cure actually worked. “We can talk in front of the Kayrs family—they’re going to need to know what’s going on to back you.” He already had Dage’s guarantee the Realm would back Noah as the new leader of the feline nation. Secrets would only hinder that support.

  Noah nodded, keeping his gaze on Jordan. “David Bomant challenged you as head of the feline nation about an hour ago. The challenge has gone public.”

  “Bomant?” Conn raised an eyebrow. “As in Brent Bomant—fucking werewolf?”

  “We thought Brent was our former Alpha’s only offspring.” Jordan kept his face expressionless. The situation was turning into more of a disaster than he’d feared. Death awaited him in a couple of moons, and he didn’t have time for one more issue.

  “The Brent who is now a werewolf,” Dage repeated, his gaze cutting to Conn. “Well now. I guess we know who has been helping Brent out by stalking Katie.” The king was no dummy.

  Conn twisted his head to give Noah his attention. “Who’s David?”

  “Apparently Brent’s daddy got around a bit before mating for life and had a child. Illegitimate, yet a son nonetheless. Possibly.”

  Jordan fought a snarl. “Accept the challenge—somewhere in Nevada, Colorado, or Utah.”

  “What if his claim is untrue? What if he’s not Kyle’s son?” Noah asked.

  “Doesn’t matter right now.” Jordan didn’t have time to worry about small details. Any feline shifter could challenge him for leadership. The threat developed only if Jordan lost because many people might reject Noah and follow Bomant out of loyalty to his dead father.
“If I lose, then you need to investigate his claim.”

  “I’m on it.” Noah cleared his throat. “Ah, there’s more.”

  “Isn’t there always?” Jordan rested his hands on the table.

  Noah lifted a shoulder. “The leaders of several feline clans want to have a video conference meeting with you. In an hour.”

  “Set up a meeting.”

  “Okay.” Noah cut the transmission.

  Dage leaned forward. “What does that mean?”

  Jordan shrugged. “I assume they want to discuss my being infected, my plans, and now the new challenge. I’ve accepted the challenge, so we fight to the death. If David is truly a blood relative, he’d take over if I died. Well, until someone challenged him. If someone challenged him.”

  “So why not wait?” Dage asked. Then he colored. “I mean—”

  “I know what you meant.” Jordan felt an unwilling smile. He’d made the king blush. “Killing me instead of waiting would cement him as leader—not many would challenge him.” Irritation heated in Jordan’s lungs. His strength had increased since being infected, but his sharpness in battle had diminished to animalistic instinct. The fight wouldn’t be an easy one.

  Dage leaned back in his chair. “Am I the only one not seeing a coincidence between Brent’s resurfacing and David’s challenge?”

  “No.” Jordan grabbed a band from his jeans pocket and tied back his hair. “It can’t be a coincidence. You’re right. They’ve been working together. It’s the only conclusion that makes sense.” A werewolf working with a shifter ... what had the world come to?

  “We need to alter our view of werewolves.” Dage nodded. “If they’ve evolved, you need to figure Bomant out. What do you remember about him?”

  “He was a bad guy. Hated women, loved to fight.” Jordan fought to keep his hands loose and relaxed. “Three hundred years ago the Kurjans took out his parents when they killed yours as well as mine, and I truly thought Brent would destroy the feline nation and maybe the Realm. Then he disappeared.”