Peter glowered at him, his hands growing claws and a chill gathering in the air around them. Henri met his eyes and stood his ground. He looked small and young, like a thin man in his mid-twenties of no particular height and no great strength. But only a fool would have underestimated him. His fathomless eyes watched Peter as if he were a child’s science experiment. Curious, but not afraid.
“You would kill her.” Peter stated this as fact.
“Unhappily, of course. But I would.” He held up a narrow-fingered hand, and his too-still face animated with a sympathetic frown. “Look, let’s see how this pans out.”
“If you come after her, you’ll be coming after me as well.” Peter could hear the power growing in his voice, edging past his tenuous control. It didn’t seem to affect the vampire though.
Henri stared unblinking at Peter and then gave a firm nod. “Very well. Good to know.” He stepped back into the shadows, fading from view. His voice came out of the gloom though, one more time. “Keep an eye on her, Peter. I’m off to follow the trail, and I hope it doesn’t lead me back here.”
Peter turned back to the watch the farmhouse. The windows shone gold out into the grey-violet yard and he could see Margy, the silver-haired werewolf, moving about the kitchen. Deanna stood nearby and they were talking. Isabel wasn’t in sight, but he could hear her heartbeat in the house. Towards the front, he guessed. Upstairs, Arlene’s heart sped up. She was awake…and scared.
A tickle climbed his spine.
She was using her powers—probably by accident. His gaze sharpened as one of the windows of the upper floor turned white. Indoor frost. He ran forward, his skin draining of color. He jumped as he reached the house and landed easily on the sloped roof over the porch with a quiet thump. He ran toward the window.
* * * *
Arlene wanted her sister. Fear shook her body—and the room swirled around her. Ice coated everything and yet she wasn’t cold. And that’s when she heard the heartbeats downstairs. Three. What she wanted from them, she didn’t know. It was like no need she had felt in her short life. Strange sensations rattled her as her body ached oddly, and when she held up her hands to see her arms, her skin shone pure white, like moonlight, and sparkled, as if dipped in diamond dust. Her fingers looked longer too, stretched out and strange. Her nails curved black and sharp. Claws.
She glanced into the mirror again and saw the strange, white woman with glowing silver eyes and platinum hair. Her eyes were too big, too reflective, like mirrors inside her skull, and her teeth appeared longer, sharper. A scream built up behind her throat but she swallowed it down.
It was as if she had suffered hypothermia, and yet she felt strong. She went to her bed and lifted it. The entire thing came up as if it weighed nothing. On impulse she threw it and the mattress crashed into the wall, the noise startling her. She whirled around as she heard the heartbeats move downstairs. Her sister was coming. Oh, thank God! She wanted to see Isabel. Her sister would know what to do.
“Arlene? Are you all right?” Isabel called as she came up the stairs.
“Isabel,” she whispered, drawing out the name, her voice sounding strange to her ears. It was breathy and chilled, like winter wind blowing through bare branches. “Isabel,” she called again.
Her sister opened the door and wandered in, but she wasn’t herself. She appeared in a daze, her eyes wide and fixed, her mouth slack. She stopped in the center of the room, not seeming to see the mattresses leaning against the far wall, blocking the window, or the bed frame fallen empty to the floor. The ice and chill brought goose bumps to her arms, but her face didn’t register the cold, nor her arms cross or her teeth chatter. She stood as if in a dream, her violet eyes empty of expression or thought.
“Isabel,” Arlene said in despair. “Wake up!”
She took a few steps to her sister’s side and gripped her arms. The flesh was so warm. It filled her with a different need. Hunger like she had never felt rippled through her. Her sister’s heartbeat called to her. Her stomach churned with pain. God, she had to eat. The soft skin in her hands tempted her.
She would rip open her sister and tear her to bits. Horror climbed her throat with poking, painful stabs, and her hands opened. “Run,” she whispered to Isabel. “Oh, God, run.”
Glass breaking barely distracted her. She gritted her teeth, but they didn’t grind or fit together. They cut into her lips. Blood, her own blood, ran cold down her chin. Isabel staggered back, eyes still empty, and began to flee. Some instinct rose in Arlene that she couldn’t control. She jumped forward and grabbed her sister around the neck.
“Arlene,” a voice called to her. A rival. That was her first thought, and she crouched with inhuman speed, the room whirling about her as she focused on the invader. Isabel came to the floor with her, still held by the neck. Her sister choked and began to weakly struggle.
The figure had burst through the window, flattening the mattress and landing on top of it in a crouch. He unfurled his long, near-naked body, white-silver hair blowing about his muscular form. Only his pants clung to him, barely covering the pale, hairless skin descending off his flat belly. His chest rippled with muscles and a different kind of hunger filled her. She wanted to mate. The feral impulse of it was nearly as strong as her hunger.
“Let her go,” he said, and his power washed over her.
His eyes gazed at her with only the hint of blue in the shining field of white.
Peter. She remembered. Her two parts battled inside her, the memory of before and a pure, wild instinct. That instinct told her to rend and tear, to call to the other two heartbeats who even now started to walk up the stairs, and to eat them all. To tear into their flesh and bury her face into their hot blood and soft meat. Sickened, she let her sister go and crawled away, across the room. She had to get away.
Isabel seemed to shake herself, like a sleepwalker waking. Then she gripped the amulet at her neck and backed up. She frantically whispered a spell of protection, calling forth the earth spirits that guarded this land and the house. Arlene knew what they were; she even knew the spell, though it had never worked for her. She had never even seen the spirits her sister insisted lived all around them. But they rose now before her eyes. They were sparks of light—yellow, sunny light—and they danced and sparkled in front of Isabel like a shimmering wall between her and the rest of the room.
Deanna and Margy came to the door, Margy blurring as she shifted to wolf form. At one time that might have amazed Arlene, but she had seen enough wonder for the day. She clenched her elongated hands into her lap and concentrated on breathing. With each exhale the room grew colder. And their flesh grew warmer. The hunger burned inside her, painful and roiling. She cried with it, dry sobs shaking her changed body.
“What did you do to her?” Isabel asked, and her voice resonated with fear. “What the hell is going on?”
“To save her life I had to…change her.”
“You gave her your demon flesh!” Isabel yelled. “I know what you are, and you’ve given it to her.” The spirits flew agitated around Isabel, beating their wings and growing brighter. Deanna moved beside her, unaware of them, her dark hair covered now with frost and her body shaking with cold. She crouched though, ready to defend Isabel and a deep, menacing growl rippled out of her throat. Her eyes flashed gold.
The mirror cracked from the cold and frost grew around the doorway. Margy howled, sitting back on her haunches. She called to the pack. More would come now. Arlene cried, and the tears froze on her white skin. More! She wanted them all to come. Her hunger demanded more and more.
“Take me out of here,” she said to Peter, slowly, forcing each word out.
Isabel stepped closer. “No! Stay. I don’t care what you are! I can help you.”
She banished the spirits with a wave of her hand and went to Arlene’s side, kneeling down. She put her skin so close, and the warmth called. The pulse beat at her neck and down to her chest where the heart pumped fast. It seemed to Arlene that she
could hear the blood whooshing through the muscle. She wanted to taste it. She turned her face away. “Get me out of here!” she yelled through grinding, too-sharp teeth. Her own blood filled her mouth, and it was cold. Like ice-water.
Peter picked her up, despite the growling of the werewolves. Isabel didn’t fight him though. She sat back on her heels, staring after Arlene. Whatever she had heard in Arlene’s tone had seemed to convince her. “Come back then, when you can…” she murmured, tears filling her eyes. She turned to Peter. “Can she come back? Have you taken my sister from me?”
“We’ll see.”
“Isabel! Are you going to let him take her?” Deanna cried, voice breaking in the cold. “What the hell is he?”
Arlene wrapped her arms around Peter’s bare chest. She pressed her face against the cold skin of his shoulder and found comfort in the solid strength of him. It was as if the sea pulled at her, and he was all she had to hold onto.
“One of the Lost,” Isabel answered, her voice filled with grief.
Arlene felt herself slipping away. Peter became less solid, and her thoughts jumbled, growing confused. She wanted to eat. She wanted to fuck. She needed to kill and chew skin, bones, and blood.
Arms held her but living things were close. Their hearts raced. Blood pumped in their veins, crying for her. What held her were like bands of steel. She fought and suddenly they were falling—no, he was jumping and they landed on grass. She could smell the little living things beneath the earth, moles, worms, and a garter snake sleeping in the cool evening.
She needed to eat. She would have eaten a mole. Or the snake. But then the bear roared and she knew what she wanted.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Peter jogged into the night-shrouded forest with Arlene cradled in his arms. The warm August air wrapped itself around him, and the ferns and brambles brushed at his legs as he moved deeper into the strip of wild land. He paused as he smelled Cecile. She was close. The thick musky scent drifted on the gentle breeze and he stared into the deeper shadows beneath the trees. How close was she?
Arlene stirred, her eyes widening as she caught the scent. Behind them, two heartbeats came frantically across the yard. Werewolves. He turned to see the alpha’s mate and the older wolf—Margy—running toward him. They were both changed and beautiful in the bestial shapes. He heard the echoing howl of the rest of the pack, and he knew he didn’t have much time.
He set Arlene gently down on her feet but held her shoulders. She was more than beautiful in this state. Her hair shone silver-white, like the moonlight given life and form, her eyes mirror bright and shining. And still he could see the human woman she had been. Her black, curved nails dug into his arms. “Peter…” she forced out. The muscles at her neck flexed and rippled. “Don’t let me kill them. Please. Oh, God, Peter…the hunger…”
“I know,” he said. “I know. But I need you to run with me. Can you stay with me? Concentrate on that. We need to run.”
The two female wolves approached now, growling, their eyes glowing gold. They wouldn’t attack, he knew, they were just there to hold them in place so the alpha could arrive and decide what to do with them. Peter didn’t have time to wait for Creed.
He was about to pull Arlene with him when Cecile lumbered out of the brush, stomping down blackberry brambles and shaking off the thorny branches. The huge bear launched itself at them, gathering speed and roaring. Her teeth flashed white in the moonlight.
Peter sucked in a breath to try and stop her, but the two wolves threw themselves between Arlene and the bear. They leaped high, the small female clinging to the huge bear’s back and trying to grip her by the neck. The older one stood in front and danced forward, snapping and growling.
The bear roared, the sound echoing through the woods.
Peter tugged at Arlene. “Now. We run now.”
Holding her hand, he fled east, letting the demon blood in his veins pump cold energy into his limbs. At first, Arlene stumbled beside him, struggling to keep up, but soon she flew along at his side. With just their hands touching, they raced through the forest, leaping logs and jumping streams. A strange, unknown feeling filled him. Was it joy? He wasn’t sure, but despite all that had happened he found himself grinning. And Arlene was with him. Keeping up and laughing wildly. They ran like they knew each bump in the land, each deadfall, each moss-covered boulder. The smells of wolf and bear were left behind and all that called to Peter now was to get to the high places, to show Arlene the wonders of what she had become.
And of course, she needed food.
They were already a few thousand feet up into the mountains, when they startled the stag. He froze the magnificent creature with a word and broke the warm neck with a single twist of his hand. He felt that familiar moment of sadness as the life disappeared from those beautiful dark eyes. Arlene stood nearby, shaking with hunger. He was amazed by her self-control until he saw the horrible agony that filled her. He ripped open the neck and when the hot blood fell to the ground, he saw her self-control disappear. The demon rose in her eyes and something else too—the bear. He could see it as a pale shadow around her and in the gold shimmers that streaked through her silvery-bright eyes. She landed on the animal and ate the meat raw.
When her hunger was sated, he led her to a stream where they both washed. The cold water would have chilled a human despite the warm night, but she seemed to relish it. She crawled into the rushing water, and lay on the exposed stones, letting the cool current cover her and splash around her shoulders. Her eyes were more human now, her face softened and familiar. The moonlight lit her skin and the tee shirt she wore clung to her breasts, her nipples dark and pointed beneath the thin fabric.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe I did that.”
He tore his gaze from her breasts, surprised by her amused tone.
“I don’t even like my steak raw.”
He gave a soft laugh, shocked by the power of his relief. He knew the madness wasn’t gone forever, but to see her come back to him… He hadn’t even known how scared he was.
Oh, Timothy, if only I had known how to save you too.
He reached out and touched her chin—he knew it was a bad idea, with his own lust rising in him like a flood pushing against a dam, but her smooth skin begged for his fingers, and his hand moved before he could resist. He cupped her face. “It will get better. I promise.”
A frown turned her lips, and she tilted her cheek against his hand, rubbing against the rough pads of his fingers. “You don’t think I killed those hikers, do you? Please say I didn’t.” The shadow of doubt that crossed her face tore at his heart.
“Of course, you didn’t,” he said with force. “Listen to me. You didn’t. I would have smelled human blood on you the next morning.”
She stared at him. “Could I have? Could I have done that?”
“You didn’t.”
“But I don’t remember…”
He saw the despair gathering behind her eyes, and he couldn’t bear it. He pulled her forward and kissed her sweet lips. She tasted of deer and…honey. He took her mouth and held her with his hands cupped around her face. The dam broke and his own hunger washed over him in a rampaging torrent. He gave in and pulled her wet body from the stream, cradling her on his lap while his mouth plundered hers. He pushed his tongue against her teeth, and then into the warm nectar of her open lips, darting forward and then back. Her hands dug into his hair, and tugged him closer.
Around them the breeze whispered through the pines and the stream babbled over the rocks, and far away there came the howling of wolves. Peter felt Arlene press against him, the nipples beneath her wet tee shirt begging to be caressed and her bottom wiggling on his lap. He wanted to throw her down right there on the pine needles and moss and have her—do what part of him had wanted to do from the moment he had met her.
But that wasn’t how he wanted their first time to be. She needed more than just a fuck on the ground. She deserved more.
He broke their k
iss, and her small cry of disappointment made him smile. “Not here, sweetheart. Let me show you something first…”
“Silly boy. I want you now. How long are you going to tease me?” She grabbed his ears and pulled him down once more to kiss her, her sleek little tongue darting into his parted lips and causing a firestorm down his belly and into his crotch.
“No.” Centuries of self-control gave him the strength to gently push her back. He didn’t let go completely though; he held her arms and drew her up. “First, we run. Run with me, Arlene. Let me show you that there is more to our transformation than the need to eat flesh. Come.”
He pulled her along with him and soon she sprinted at his side, up through the trees, over boulders, and glacier-cold streams. She laughed as they leapt a crevice, and then scrambled right behind him up the side of an old rock fall. Her lithe body was even more agile than his, and soon she was leaping from stone to stone ahead of him.
The moon had set and the stars were fading when they reached the high, alpine meadows of the upper slopes. Under the violet-tinged sky they walked lightly over the soft grass, the blue lupine brushing their legs and the patches of Indian paintbrush glowing pink in the dawn’s first blush. She turned to smile at him, her hair dry now and flowing gold over her shoulders and her eyes the same color as the wild lupine.
“I love it up here. Why does the air feel so good?”
“The thinner the air the better for us,” he answered, enjoying her wonder. “Keep going. I have a place I want to show you.”
She nodded and brushed her fingers over the flowers. “Have you ever considered living in Nepal? I feel wonderful up here…”
He laughed. “Actually yes. I probably could make a good living as a mountain climber, guiding rich men up the slopes. But I…I guess I like the Cascades. These mountains are where I was born, and I feel at home here.”
She rushed back to him and took his arm, smiling, her eyes sparkling. “Where are we going, Peter? Tell me. You could just make love to me here, in the meadow. What could be better than that?” She pressed against him, her breasts soft and her lips parted.
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