Wolf Curves

by Christa Wick

  Instead of getting out of the vehicle, Gordon blared his horn.

  "What on earth, Gordon?" Esme stepped off the porch and approached his car. He whispered something in her ear. Esme straightened and started to return to the house, but he grabbed her wrist with one bony, gnarled hand.

  "I've got all the supplies we need, there's no time!"

  Leah approached the porch railing. "What's going on?"

  "One of the team's found another latent, near your apartment building." Esme looked at the front door, started to move toward it again, but Gordon would not release her arm.

  "She's injured." He wheezed when he spoke. "They can't move her and it's bad, too bad for me to heal her."

  "I need my phone." Esme twisted her wrist, freeing herself from the old man's grip.

  "We'll use mine. The girl could die."

  "Fine!" Esme spun back toward the vehicle, her hands flapping for Gordon to move over. "Then we don't have any time for you to drive, move."

  Leah took a step off the porch. "Should I come? I can help you."

  "No, Seth would have my head if I took you off clan land." She shook her head, the strength of her dismissal setting her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. "Too risky. Even charmed, that many latents would be like sending up a flare. The Hunters would pinpoint us immediately."

  "Aye-aye, cap'n. I'll hold the fort down." Leah offered a perky salute, hoping to ease Esme's worry about leaving her alone.

  The witch frowned, the furrowed line in her forehead deepening. "Stay inside, doors locked, promise me."

  Gordon nodded. "Best do as she says, child. I'll text Seth and let him know you're out here alone."

  Faking a smile, Leah thanked the old man. He still hadn't caught on that the last shifter she wanted to see was Seth. Even thinking about him hurt. The times he'd waited just beyond sight, guarding her without her permission, had been pure torture. She'd felt his restlessness, his need. Whatever emotion he felt magnified inside her, each day harder to bear without him than the day before.

  Watching the car disappear down the long drive, Leah went inside and locked the doors.

  *****

  At dusk, Gordon's car returned with just the old man inside it. Seeing the vehicle make solid contact with the porch, Leah's stomach tightened. Some spells didn't last beyond the witch who had cast them. The sentry spell on the porch was one of them.

  She ran outside and threw open the car door. "Where is she!"

  Gordon shook his head. "She's alive, but hurt bad. Camille is on her way, but--"

  Leah knew Camille was visiting another clan, the trip at least half a day by car.

  "Take me to her!" Leah ran around the back of the vehicle and hopped in the front passenger seat. "There's got to be something I can do until Camille reaches her."

  "Seth--"

  "I don't give a damn what Seth says!" She hit the car's dash, blue waves of energy rippling out from the point of impact. "Take me to her now, Gordon."

  His mouth set in a grim line, he put the car in reverse. Realizing she should have made the old man let her drive, she told him to pull over.

  The car picked up speed. "It's not far from the clan's land," he argued. "I know these old roads better than you, girl. Watched 'em built as a boy."

  Leah stopped arguing and willed the vehicle to go faster. The car seemed to respond, Gordon whipping around the curving country lanes like he was a young man running moonshine. He laughed once, the oddly joyous sound strange falling from his ancient lips.

  The car skidded to a stop next to an overlook on the road. Parked next to them, one of the shiny black van's the clan used idled with the side door open. A blanket covered a woman's body, dark blonde hair spilling onto the van floor from beneath one edge. Leah unhooked her seat belt and bounded straight into the van.

  She touched the figure, realized her mistake in trusting the old man a second too late as strong hands grabbed her by the arms and someone slapped duct tape over her mouth. The tape was followed by a hood cinched tight at the throat.

  "Now I have a witch and a latent."

  The smooth, unaccented voice sent a chill down Leah's spine. The chill turned to a frozen dagger stabbing straight into her heart as the van shifted into gear and he spoke again.

  "I can't wait to kill them."

  *****

  Leah woke to the sounds of torture. Duct tape sealed her mouth, but the hood had been removed. She slitted her gaze, hoping her captors would continue to think her unconscious after they had choked her in the van.

  Her eyes landed first on Esme and it took every last scrap of willpower Leah had not to cry out at the sight of her battered friend. Bruises blotted her face, the skin over the right cheekbone split from a blow, the eye above it swollen. A wet rag filled her mouth, the sides of her face red from where the tape had been roughly removed.

  Someone had stripped Esme down to her bra and panties. More scratches and bruises marred her pale flesh. Her arms were stretched out, held by two men. Three of her fingers bent back at an angle that was impossible unless they were broken.

  "I like to brand my witches before I kill them." The voice belonged to the man from the van. "Let's the devil know who sent them."

  Leah looked scanned the length of Esme's body to find him standing near her feet. He held an acetylene torch to the end of a small branding iron, the head an elaborate Q glowing orange from the flame's heat. He moved, his back half turned to Leah as he ran his hand over Esme's thighs in search of the perfect spot. White bolts of static crackled in the gap of air.

  "Jesu," he laughed, raising his hand and watching the size of the bolts increase. "I've never drained a witch as powerful as you. I'll be a fucking god for a few days with your juice in me."

  "You'll give me the latent's power?"

  Leah recognized the last voice. She didn't need to risk looking at the figure in the dark corner to know that the whine belonged to Gordon.

  "I told you I would, old man." Stepping closer to Esme's head, the man toyed with the cloth in her mouth, pulling it almost out, pushing it back in, then giving it another pull. "Bet you wish you could talk right now."

  Esme's gaze narrowed. Leah knew if looks could kill, their host would be dead on the floor. Lucky for him, spells required speech. Laughing again, he looked at the Q.

  "Damn thing's cooled. Can't have you half branded." He nodded at the men holding Esme's arms. "Keep her still."

  Re-lighting the torch, he gestured at Esme's full hips. "You think it's her size giving her all that power."

  Gordon responded with a phlegmy grunt and a lift of his frail shoulders. "Her mother's a skinny enough bitch."

  "Still." The man inclined his head in Leah's direction without looking at her. "This one has quite a lot of juice, too. The two of them together…"

  An excited shiver coursed through him.

  "Leah's mine," Gordon reminded him.

  "Hah, of course." The brand's tip glowing orange once again, the man returned his attention to Esme. "As I promised, you'll get yours."

  The witch's fierce gaze had remained on him. Showing no sign of fear or the incredible pain she must feel, Esme watched him bring his arm up in an arc, taunting her with the inevitable searing touch of the brand. He brought the iron down quickly, his attention focused on the outside of one plump thigh as his target.

  Leah closed her eyes tight. The agonized scream piercing the air shocked them open. It wasn't the scream of a bound and gagged woman. A man had made that sound.

  Esme's tormenter screamed again, the Q embedded against his hip, the smell of his burning flesh filling the air. His arm flailed violently, pulling the iron free with a wild jerk. The Q, still hot, hit the man holding Esme's right arm straight in the cheek.

  Realizing the ensuing chaos might be her only chance to save herself and Esme, Leah wiggled until her hip was against the edge of the table they had placed her on, her legs coiled tight to her body. Taking aim, she kicked the ring leader, hitting him wi
th both feet against the side of his knee. He buckled for a second, losing his grip on the iron. Rising back onto his feet, he spun in her direction, murder in his eyes.

  Leah had a momentary awareness of Esme pulling the rag from her mouth. The two men that had held her were fighting to clamp a hand against her lips as Gordon fumbled through a spell.

  Concentrating on her own attacker, Leah took aim at his crotch and kicked.

  Sneering, he caught Leah's feet before she could turn his balls into clam chowder. "Your sister didn't fight half as hard."

  She froze, her eyes locked on his. From behind him, she heard the impact of bone on bone. Forgetting Amanda, Leah's gaze jumped to the side just in time to see Esme's head snap back. Laughing, Leah's attacker drew a long-bladed knife from the back of his pants.

  Leah's lips parted, but no sound came out. The terrified scream that had been building died in her throat, choked off by a familiar sense of safety. Her head jerked right to stare at the wall.

  "Wolves!" Gordon warned. "They've found us, Quentin!"

  Spinning, Quentin snarled and buried the blade in the throat of the nearest of the two men that had attacked Esme. Across from him, the other man buried his own knife in Gordon's throat.

  Bending down, Quentin snatched a gun from the dead man's boot. From the other side of Esme's inert body, his last living helper smirked as Gordon folded to the ground. The smile was short lived. Quentin fired two shots. The first put a hole through the final man's head. The other took out the only light in the room.

  Leah heard the sound of something heavy being dragged along the floor, hinges creaking and the hard thud of wood hitting wood. From the wall to her right, metal clanked. A second later, the wall was in pieces, two high-beam headlights illuminating the dust-clogged air.

  It took another second before she realized not all of the bodies near the vehicle were human. A shifter stepped into the light, his frame too big for her to believe she knew him. But she recognized his scent, the warm drip of caramel subduing the pure terror clawing at her mind.

  The shifter contorted as he moved, bones popping and snapping, his size diminishing until it was clearly Seth standing in front of her, as naked as the night he had taken her in Esme's house.

  Seth's arms were around her in an instant, crushing her against his chest. "Leah, say something, baby."

  "Esme…"

  A low, howling whine drew her gaze to where her friend sagged in the arms of another shifter. The high-beams bounced off red-gold fur. The strangled cries coming from Dana's throat reminded Leah of a dog she had seen run over. It had taken ten minutes to reach the vet's office, which had been about three minutes too long.

  Leah tried to fight her way out of Seth's embrace. "We've got to get her to Camille, now."

  Seeing her intent to reach Esme, Seth shouted a command for the van's driver to take Leah and put her inside the vehicle. She kept fighting. She had to touch Esme, had to use the small amount of healing magic she'd learned to keep her friend alive until they reached Camille.

  Seth tried to calm her. "Baby, he's in lock down, he'll shred you if you go near her."

  "No." Sagging in Seth's arms, she looked at Dana. "Please, you have to let me help her. You love her."

  The change came over Dana with none of the grinding bones or popping cartilage that had marked Seth's shift. Even human, he still seemed feral. Leah twisted out of Seth's grip, his hands staying on her shoulders as she cautiously approached Dana. Risking her hand on his arm, she guided Dana toward the van. Climbing in first, she told him to place Esme where her head would be cradled in Leah's lap.

  He obeyed, growling lightly when Leah brushed the hair from Esme's cheek and the witch winced. Seth tensed, the van's cargo door closing behind him. Trying to ignore the tension running through the two shifters, Leah focused on Esme.

  There was blood, too much blood.

  Seth handed Leah a wet cotton square and she cleaned Esme's face, forcing the magic down through her fingers and into the split skin.

  "You knew." Dana's voice was hollow, the accusation empty of any threat or anger.

  "Quiet." Leah ran her fingers through the thick blonde curls matted with blood. Gently, she explored the scalp. Leah's hands tingled, more magic leaking from Esme into Leah than she could offer the witch in return.

  The van took a turn too sharply. Dana threw one leg out, bracing his body to keep Esme from being jostled. Looking as Esme, his gaze slowly died. "All these years, baby. You should have told me."

  Leah fixed him with a hard stare. "Don't! She can feel you, even if she's unconscious. Don't accuse her. Tell her to stay with you. Tell her you need her to come back."

  He nodded slowly, fire re-igniting in his eyes. His hand caressed Esme's hip, slid under her back.

  "No," Leah cautioned, sensing that he wanted to hold the witch and cradle her close. Two weeks ago the glare Dana threw Leah would have frozen the blood in her veins. She shook her head. "She stays exactly like she is until we reach Camille."

  She looked at Seth. "How long?"

  "Five minutes, she's meeting us at the nearest border house."

  Closing her eyes, Leah lightly cupped the back of Esme's head. There was swelling at the base. She willed it to recede, her magic pleading and coaxing, her touch a gentle vibration disrupting the building pressure inside the witch's skull.

  *****

  Five minutes.

  Three hundred seconds.

  Each one an eternity.

  Seth slammed the door to the van open as Camille ran out of the house and up to the vehicle. He lifted her, setting her down directly in front of Esme. Her hands shaking, she ran them over her daughter's body in search of the most life-threatening injury.

  "Her head." Leah cradled the edges of Esme's skull. "It's still swelling at the back. I couldn't get it to go down."

  Camille nodded, her hand slipping under Esme's neck. She chanted, the words coalescing around the witch's limp form like a caterpillar's cocoon, the strands of magic a phosphorescent blue.

  She looked at Dana, oblivious to the naked body covered with Esme's blood. "We need to move her inside, gently."

  Demonstrating inhuman strength, he lifted Esme from the bent position the van's height forced on him and eased her to the door. Camille moved in sync with Dana, her hands hovering near Esme's head to keep the cushion of magic firmly in place.

  Seth and Leah followed them into the house, watching from the doorway as Dana delicately placed Esme on the mattress. Camille pointed at Leah.

  "You stay." Her finger drifted to Dana. "Out."

  Sliding into a kneeling position next to the bed, he ignored the woman. Leah moved toward Esme. His hand curling around her arm, Seth held her back.

  Camille's head whipped in their direction.

  "Tell your mate I need you." Her voice broke as only a mother's could. "She needs you."

  Leah looked at Seth. She could feel the tension coiling inside him. He had only held her for a few seconds after her rescue. As her mate, he wanted to make sure she wasn't ignoring any of her own injuries. From her lessons with Esme and the last latent's diary, Leah knew he needed his scent back on her after she'd been held hostage by other men. His instinct to protect her was so strong it overrode his responsibilities as pack alpha. That she'd kept him at arm's length before the kidnapping only heightened his need.

  Throwing her arms around his shoulders, Leah tightly hugged Seth and quickly rubbed her body against his, her clothes soaking up his scent. "I'm okay, I promise. We'll have time once she's stable."

  Knowing the danger of touching him much longer, Leah pressed her cheek against his and rubbed her hands over his arms before hurrying to the bed.

  Gently, she steered Dana down the mattress where he could still touch Esme without interfering with her care. He gripped the witch's foot, his thumb rubbing at its sole as his gaze focused like a laser on Esme's face.

  Leah caught Camille's attention. "What do you need me to do?"
/>   Reaching out, she took Leah's hand and placed it over Esme's chest.

  "Breathe for her."

  **********

  An hour before dawn, Leah staggered away from the bed. A healer from the nearest clan had arrived to relieve the women for a few hours of rest. The swelling in Esme's head was gone, but Camille had placed her in a very deep sleep to keep her motionless.

  His position unchanged, Dana stood vigil at the foot of the bed, dried blood flaking off his naked flesh.

  Stepping into the hall, Leah encountered Seth. Still wet from a recent shower, he carried a bundle of fresh clothes, feminine but not hers. Grabbing Leah's arm, he pulled her into the next room. The door closed, his hands immediately undoing the buttons on her blouse.

  She tried to stop him. "Seth--"

  "No." He didn't yell, but there was no arguing with his tone. "These are charmed. I want them off you now."

  "Okay," she whispered, releasing her hold on his hands.

  "You will never shield yourself from me again." A slight hysteria edged his voice as he unpinned the witch's lace from her bra. Reaching behind her, he unhooked it, freeing her breasts and tossing the fabric to the floor. "If those men hadn't removed Esme's charms…"

  Realization crept through her. Seth and the other shifters had only found them because of Dana's connection to Esme. If Esme's charms had still been in place, Seth and Dana might have spent the night running circles in those woods.

  Grabbing her by the shoulders, Seth stared down into her eyes. "Never! Do you understand?"

  Leah nodded, his fierce gaze breaking the last of her control. She collapsed against his chest, her breasts heaving in relieved sobs. He hugged her, his big hands traveling along her arms and back.

  "Ditch the panties, baby." His tone softened, his fingers already moving to help rid her of that last bit of fabric.

  "Seth!"

  He chuckled before turning serious once more. "They're charmed, too, love. I still can't feel you completely."

  "Oh…" Pushing his hands aside, she started to wiggle out of her underwear.