by K.N. Lee
“They are, and now they aren’t. She doesn’t qualify for the new clinical trial. I’m just so bummed, you know? There’s promise out there, but not for her, and it aggravates me. I want to help her.”
“You can only do so much.”
“That’s why I want us to team up,” Tracey begged. “Just think about it. I know you’re… what… two years into your research?”
“Yep.”
“And you haven’t made much progress—”
Zelda winced. Unfortunately, Tracey was right. But maybe with werewolf blood, she might be able to do enough studying on the properties that made them different. If she could isolate out whole strands of DNA from the blood of each of the werewolves to learn and distinguish their properties and variances from humans… and if she could get her hands on wolves’ DNA as well… that might just lead to the breakthrough she desperately needed.
“Won’t you please consider it?” Tracey was asking.
“Of course,” Zelda said. She meant it, too.
Just after she figured out if Magnus was sick.
“Thank you,” Tracey said cheerily. “Look, I gotta run. Talk to you later!”
Zelda grinned the rest of the drive home. She felt more grounded after her talk with Tracey. Yes, no one was normal. Maybe that explained why she didn’t want to let Magnus and the whole werewolf thing go. She was crazy in a way herself.
Thankfully, no one followed her, and that creepy feeling of being watched had dissipated. She’d taken a long route home, and maybe she’d just been paranoid.
No. She was certain someone else had been there. It wasn’t just nerves. Or maybe it had been. I really am going crazy.
After she made herself a quick meal, she was ready to get back to work.
If Tracey was a germaphobe, Zelda had a tendency toward perfection, and while she didn’t have near the amount of equipment that the lab did at the college, she had some. Not enough to isolate DNA from blood, though, so she returned to her car and drove to the veterinarian’s office. Sometimes, they had to do work ups on samples for the pets, and given that the office hadn’t shut down for the night yet, she wasn’t alone. If a werewolf was trailing her, hopefully they wouldn’t come forward here and now.
Maybe that stop at her house in between hadn’t been the smartest, but too late now. She’d been freaked out and driving on autopilot to some extent.
Her working on research there wasn’t outside the realm of norm, so no one batted at eye at her, and she set about making her solutions and centrifuging samples. As she worked, she realized she hadn’t mentioned Magnus to Tracey. Why not? She could’ve left out the whole werewolf part and said she’s met a guy.
He’s not going to pay a permanent role in my life.
How could he? He was a werewolf. She was a human. Humans weren’t supposed to know about werewolves. Their being together would only endanger her, and it might make things worse for him, not that things were going well as it was.
And besides, they might’ve talked some, but did she really know him? No. Not at all.
If she weren’t wearing gloves, she might’ve touched her lips. That kiss had been amazing. She shouldn’t have pulled away, and she shouldn’t have slapped him. Then again, did he really want to kiss her, or had he been playing her? Maybe his time spent as a lone wolf made it so that he had been too apt toward bonding to whoever crossed paths with him.
She snorted. Yeah, he’d bonded with those werewolves really well. Bonded them to death.
Zelda turned around to grab a tray when her elbow slammed so hard into the corner of an open drawer that she started to bleed. Magnus’s comment that werewolves couldn’t be created made her wonder just what would happen if human blood and werewolf blood mixed.
So she secured samples of her own blood and added it to that of werewolf A and then werewolf B. The bloods did not congeal, staying separated as if they were oil and water, incompatible and incapable of mixing.
But when she added her blood to Magnus’s, the bloods merged until she could not differentiate hers from his. Her blood had been absorbed. What in the world could that mean? Did that suggest that Magnus might be able to make werewolves after all?
Chapter 13
Each parked car that Magnus passed by caused him to think twice about this walking bit. He knew how to hotwire a car. He could easily be driving along, cruising away toward… where exactly he still hadn’t decided.
To some extent, maybe he was dawdling. Why? He wasn’t near Zelda. There wasn’t a hope of him running into her. And it wasn’t as if he could expect any of the Nightstar Hunters to come along either. Leviticus had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome, and not even Jackson would want to get on his alpha’s bad side.
He was careful to make sure no one was trailing him, Nightstar Hunter or Blood Warrior alike. The last thing he needed was to wind up in another fight. Why hadn’t the Blood Warriors already attacked the Nightstar Hunters? They knew where they were. Maybe they had scouts seeking them and only just learned of their hideout when those two had come across Magnus.
Honestly, he wasn’t really dawdling. He was moving slowly, yes, but it wasn’t by choice. The poison was slowly leaving his system, he could feel it, but enough remained to affect him. For one thing, his legs were sore. Werewolves hardly ever felt muscle aches. Pain wasn’t something they often felt either. Adrenaline fueled them too often, and by the time that rush would come down, their bodies had generally healed enough to overcome any injuries they had sustained.
Stupid poison. He hated that he didn’t feel up to snuff. Until he was a far enough distance away, he wouldn’t feel comfortable, and likewise until he felt like his normal self. If the Blood Warriors found him, he’d be dead.
But with each footstep, he grimaced. He went from place to place, not staying in any one place long. He never made friends because it would only be a matter of time before he realized he wasn’t the only werewolf around.
Only one place had he been for an entire month and never saw or smelled a sign of another werewolf—a quaint little place in Virginia. The countryside hadn’t provided a lot of looks or a steady job or friends. It had been even more isolated and lonely than anywhere else.
Wolves weren’t meant to be alone, and that went double for werewolves. He really had hoped that Philadelphia might be where he could finally settle down, but not only had he found other werewolves, but they belonged to the two packs he least wanted to see.
There had to be somewhere in the world he could go and be free to live his own life.
Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be anywhere close to Zelda.
Right from the start, he had felt protective of her, which was ridiculous. She wasn’t a damsel in distress. She’d taken care of herself. It was because of how quick thinking and brave she’d been that he’d risked opening up to her.
Because it had been a risk, and one he didn’t regret.
I’m glad I got to know you.
A cab slowed down and let out a man. The driver eyed him. “Need a lift?” he asked.
Magnus shoved his hands into his pockets and turned them out to show they were empty. “I don’t have a cent on me,” he lied. He wasn’t about to waste his money on a ride.
Then again, maybe he should spend some. He needed to get away, and the faster he left, the safer he would be.
Before he could reach for his stash, the driver waved him over. “My shift is over, but if you got a place to go within five miles, I’ll take you for free. Get in.”
Magnus didn’t have to be told twice. He rushed over. “Take me to the airport, if that’s all right.”
The driver rubbed his goatee. “Sure. You flying, man?”
Without luggage hung in the air.
“Maybe,” Magnus said.
A silence descended, and even though the airport was more than five miles away from where the driver picked him up, the guy was good for it. When he pulled alongside the departure terminals, the driver parked. “Here you go, man.”
“Thank you.” Magnus again reached for his stash.
The driver held up his hand. “If you get the chance to pass it forward, that’s all I need. Good night.”
And he sped away before Magnus could say anything.
Maybe there were some good people in the world.
He snorted. Of course he knew that already. Zelda was good. She deserved better than the chaos that was his life.
The werewolves were the ones who weren’t cut and dry, who weren’t always good or always evil. They were the ones he was running from.
Magnus started toward the doors when the wind shifted, and a strong scent caused him to turn tail.
But it didn’t matter.
There were werewolves on either side of him, blockading him.
Magnus swallowed hard. Blood Warriors. Just who he didn’t want to see.
He could try to run, but they would catch him easily. They were stronger and faster, given his slowly healing state. Plus, despite the late hour, there was still a lot of traffic moving throughout and into the airport. Too many innocents. He couldn’t risk turning and fighting them.
The two flanked him. The taller one, who needed green skin and purple shorts to be identical to the Hulk, grabbed his elbow and punched hard. “You gonna come quietly?” he growled.
“I can be quiet. Sure. Although I have been told that my voice has a tendency to carry—”
“My fist tends to have a mind of it’s own,” the shorter Blood Warrior said. His massive fist hovered inches from Magnus’s nose. “And my fist likes blood, so…”
“Keep quiet and keep moving,” Hulk demanded, jerking Magnus along.
They directed him to a sleek, black car. Magnus was forced to sit in the back with Fist Guy. They didn’t bother to tie him up, and Hulk slammed on the gas. The car leaped forward and away they breezed out of there. As soon as they cleared the airport behind them, Fist Guy’s fist met Magnus’s temple, and he knew no more.
Pain. That was the first thing Magnus was aware of the moment he regained consciousness. He was in a brightly lit room, shackled to the wall. The room was lit as if the sun rose within it, and he blinked, trying to orient himself and to regain his bearings. Where was he? How did…
Oh. Damn. The Blood Warriors.
Magnus hung his head. The movement was small, but it must’ve been enough because Hulk approached, almost like an apparition creeping out of the shadows, unhooked the shackles from the wall. Magnus’s wrists remained bound, and without a word, Hulk led him forward. Gradually, Magnus’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he became aware and with it enough to realize they were in a warehouse. The walls were blank, and there were a lot of collapsible chairs set up in rows. Almost like a meeting room.
Without any fanfare, werewolves entered the room and stood in front of the chairs. None sat. They were almost military-like in their display. If they wanted to intimidate him, they were doing a pretty good job, although he didn’t want to admit it.
At the far wall of the warehouse, there was a rectangle metal table, not table cloth, and another chair. Hulk forced Magnus forward and then hooked his shackles to the leg of the table closest to the chair.
A minute passed. Another. Nothing happened. Magnus looked at Hulk, but the werewolf faced the others, his expression a mask. The other werewolves always wore masks. Most wore black or brown pants, and their shirts were also dark. Kinda creeping. Like they wanted to blend into the shadows. Their silvery eyes glittered in the darkness, shining.
Magnus had just started to count their numbers when another werewolf approached from the left. With a cocky swagger, a snarl that would make anyone think twice, there was no doubting this was their alpha. From his silvery-green eyes, his small, thin lips, his full face, and his blond-almost-white hair, there was also no doubting this was Kyle, Colin’s brother.
Magnus wasn’t one to be scared easily, but now, shackled in the presence of at least fifty Blood Warriors including the one who must wanted him dead, their all-powerful alpha, well, Magnus was afraid.
Just a little bit.
Kyle Gracier glowered at Magnus, hatred burning in his silver eyes.
Magnus jutted out his chin and smiled, standing as tall as shackles would allow. Given how tall he was, he was forced to be hunched over some, unfortunately, although maybe it was better for him not to be stretched to his full height. He had a good two inches on Kyle.
“How are you?” Magnus asked.
Kyle’s punch was direct to his jaw, harsh and powerful. Blood filled his mouth, but he didn’t spit it out, not wanting to give Kyle the satisfaction.
“Not too happy to see me, I take it.”
This time, when Kyle swung, Magnus thought about ducking. He would have enough time to jerk out of the way so the alpha would miss. Instead, he took the blow upside his head, figuring that making Kyle look inadequate would only serve to infuriate the already incensed alpha.
“You will not speak,” Kyle said in his deep rasp.
Magnus lowered his head.
“For your crime against us, the mighty Blood Warriors, for your murder of—”
He couldn’t stop his snort.
Kyle’s eyes flashed. “What was that?” he roared.
“Sorry.” Magnus made a show of sniffing. “My allergies are acting up.”
Kyle’s glower would cause milk to spoil. “For your murder of my brother, my second-in-command, you will pay the ultimate price. You will be put to death.”
Chapter 14
Zelda couldn’t be more baffled. Her blood mixed with Magnus’s. Why? Was she right that he could create more werewolves? Create and not be born…
What other properties did werewolves possess in addition to being able to shapeshift into a wolf? Did they have superior eyesight and strength, even when a human? What about smelling? It was possible that all of their senses were heightened.
She hadn’t brought along any samples of the poison, so there wasn’t a chance she could identity it, but Magnus had been certain he would heal… eventually.
He was out there, somewhere, injured, and werewolves were hunting him. Any way she looked at it, she didn’t see how she could disentangle herself from him, not yet. Because those same werewolves might be hunting her still, too.
But what could she do? If Magnus were smart, he would be far away by now. She had no idea where he was. As much as she wanted to be sure that he was all right, to ask him more questions, to let him know that he might have been wrong about werewolves creating more of their kind, she had no means to locate him.
She should’ve gotten his number. Did he even have a cell?
Feeling frustrated, Zelda backed up her things and made her way back home.
He light to her apartment was on.
What in the world?
Zelda backed right out of the parking spot but had to slam on the brakes. A man was standing behind her car.
Another stood by her front door. She could see the outline of him against the white plastic bag covering her window.
Should she run the guy over? Could she? Magnus wouldn’t hesitate, but he was a wolf. He lived in a world of violence, where it was kill or be killed. There was no place for her in such a world. Her gun withstanding, she wasn’t a woman of violence.
Her gun. She really should start driving with it behind her back.
Before she could decide what to do or drive backward or reach for her gun, the bag was gone, and the man leaned down, his arms bracing against the frame of her pickup. “How are you doing, little lady?”
He looked vaguely familiar. Who was he?
Her eyes widened. The night before she met Magnus. The guys who had acted as if she were a prostitute. She hadn’t had her truck that night because she’d let Tracey borrow it. When a craving for ice cream hit her, she wasn’t about to ignore it because she didn’t have her truck. Driving through Philly actually wasn’t something she enjoyed. She hadn’t thought twice about going for a walk to get her treat, although of
course she brought her gun along with her. And the brown sundae she ate had been delicious, with hot chocolate and nuts dusted on top. Add a caramel drizzle and a cherry plus peanut butter ice cream, and she had been in Heaven.
Tracey didn’t have a car. Most of the time, she relied on pubic transportation. When her mom realized Zelda was staying far away from her, in another state, her mom insisted she buy Zelda a car, only Zelda insisted on the pickup truck.
Yes. The more she looked in the guy’s dark silver eyes, the more certain she was that he was one of the brutes who’d approached her then.
Silver eyes. A werewolf trait? She hadn’t noticed the silver the last time, but because of how mesmerizing and beautiful Magnus’s eyes were, she now found herself looking for it.
“I’m kinda in a hurry,” Zelda said, her heart hammering. She hated being afraid, but she was.
The other guy rounded her car and came over to the passenger side window. “Where you off to?” he asked, his tone edgy.
Zelda glanced at him and then the first guy. Without hesitation, she slammed her foot down on the gas, jerking the truck backward.
Her spare tire didn’t appreciate it. It didn’t go flat, but it wasn’t driving well, but she kept on going, making her way back out of the lot.
She glanced into her rear view mirror. She couldn’t see the guys. Where had they gone? Her gun. She should—
There was a loud popping sound, and then her back left side of the truck lowered. Another flat.
Another pop, and now the entire back now dragged along the road.
Zelda looked through her broken window. A dark blur was running alongside of her.
A werewolf. In his wolf form.
Keeping her foot pressed hard against the gas, Zelda tried to reach for her gun, but the tire nearest her went flat, and the truck started to swerve. No matter what she did with the wheel or the brake, she couldn’t get the truck under control.
