The Vampire's Wolf

by Jenna Kernan

  Keep your humanity, she had said. What did that even mean?

  “How did you find us?”

  “I can smell...” She turned to the one who waited to murder her, the scent of wet fur and wolf heavy in her nostrils. She could still scent the other, his scent closer, more earthy. She motioned with her head toward the black werewolf. “I can smell them. The werewolves. Scented them last winter and then when those things found me, I remembered what Nana said. So I came back here.”

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  “That werewolves kill vampires.”

  That stopped him. He exchanged an inscrutable look with the beast and then locked back on her as if he were sighting her through a weapon.

  “I hoped the werewolves might protect me from them.”

  He made a harsh sound in his throat that wasn’t quite a laugh, for it lacked all humor. “Them? You must be crazy.”

  “I had no choice. They would have caught me otherwise.”

  The soldier leaned in, his nose nearly touching hers. “You had a choice, Princess. But you like to play the long odds. So your plan was to use the werewolves to protect you from the males that are on you like dogs after a bitch in heat?”

  Her skin tingled and those gnats were back. This man frightened her again.

  He moved in close, like a lover, but his expression stayed hard as iron. She could feel the warmth of his skin and the tang of his soap.

  “And when the males were dead, who did you think would protect you from the werewolves?”

  His shirt flapped open revealing deeper wounds on his shoulder. He saw the direction of her stare and tugged the edges of his shirt closed, leaving a long bronze strip of flesh still visible.

  “I hoped to find help.”

  He sneered.

  She held his gaze, wondering why her powers weren’t working on him. By now he should have been smiling at her. But he wasn’t. He was the first man who didn’t get that dazed look in his face when at close range. Why didn’t they work? He seemed just as cynical and suspicious as when he first set eyes on her.

  She tried a gentle suggestion. “Why don’t you let me go?”

  He curled his lip and actually snarled. That black wolf behind him knelt at his side.

  “Don’t worry, Johnny. She’s got nothing.”

  The werewolf huffed and rested his hairy knuckles on the dirt before her.

  She expected the man to defend her, but he didn’t. Just watched her.

  Then he thumbed to his left at the black wolf. “You want help from him? He’d as soon kill you as breathe the same air.”

  “You can call him off,” she whispered. “Please.”

  “It doesn’t work on me, sweetheart.”

  How did he know that, and why didn’t it work on him? She needed to understand what was happening to her. This man could give her answers. She felt it.

  “Then you could protect me,” she whispered.

  “Not me, darling.” He spun her so she rested back against the hard wall of his chest. His breath brushed her ear, his whisper like a caress. “They send me to kill things like you.”

  He wrapped one arm about her waist. His other hand threaded through her thick hair, drawing her head to one side, exposing her neck. She lifted her gaze to see the black werewolf snarling, long glistening teeth deadly as daggers. A whimper escaped her lips as she recalled what it had done to the vampires. So it was all for nothing. They’d kill her anyway.

  Her body shook and she wished she could pass out instead of facing her death wide-eyed and trembling. Instead she seemed immobilized by the shining yellow eyes of the werewolf.

  Mac tried to ignore her perfect body pressed back against him like every man’s dream. He had planned to render her unconscious so he could safely secure her without risk of her slipping through their fingers. Instead, he inhaled the sweet floral fragrance as his lips brushed the pure satin perfection of her skin. A tremor went through her.

  The bellowing roar came from close by and then he realized it was him, fighting the change, the animal side beckoning, seductive as any mistress. Was that her power, working on his human half? His hands slid from her. Johnny roared and lunged. Mac saw a blur of light as his captive disappeared, then dark fur as his grenadier pursued her.

  Mac sprang to his feet too late. Why had he let her go?

  He could still see her, legs flashing like pistons as she leaped across the yard fast as a mustang before vanishing. A moment later she appeared on the top of the two-story concrete building.

  Damn she was fast as a streak of light.

  Not a woman, he reminded himself. Not human.

  * * *

  “Damn it!” Mac roared, knowing the escape was his own fault. Johnny had lunged only when his grip on this captive had slipped. Mac glanced up at the thing on his roof. He was tempted to get his rifle and start shooting. But that would be a waste of bullets. To capture her, he first had to catch her.

  “How’d she get up there so damned fast?” he asked Johnny.

  The corporal shrugged, and his silent accusation stabbed at Mac: Why’d you let her go?

  “Did you see her move?”

  Johnny never took his eyes off her as he gave one slow shake of his head.

  “So how do we get her down?”

  Lam gave him a baleful look and sighed. Then he drew his index finger over his own throat.

  “No. We catch her and then we call the colonel.”

  Johnny growled.

  “She used us to kill those bloodsuckers. Now she’s got what she wants, she’s going to fly out of here. Unless we can stop her.”

  His corporal lifted one brow, open to suggestions.

  “I know. Maybe I should have killed her.” Mac rubbed his neck, knowing that even with all his training he couldn’t. “They don’t affect us, right?”

  Johnny gave him a long look as if he’d just shown some sign of madness.

  “I know, I know. She’s not some damned lost puppy. She kills guys. Guys like you and me, at least like we used to be. I get it, but...”

  His silent partner stared him down.

  “Damn it!” He glanced to the roof where she stood staring at them, like an angel with the sunlight pouring down on her as if the light loved her best in all the world.

  Reports said they could fly, so why hadn’t she?

  Johnny huffed.

  “They’ve never captured one. Never even seen one close up.”

  Johnny rocked from side to side in a restless gesture that told Mac he’d had enough.

  “You can’t kill her. That’s an order. Got it?”

  Johnny saluted, holding on and forcing Mac to return the damned thing. He thought they’d gotten past this, but the salute was Johnny’s way of saying both I’ll do it and Fuck you.

  “I’m going up after her. You run a tight parameter. See if there are any more.”

  Johnny turned and took off at a fast run. Mac knew his gunner could sustain a thirty-miles-an-hour speed for a considerable distance.

  Mac returned his attention to the adobe building, which had been used for so many training ops that the stucco was riddled with bullet holes and much of the roof had been blown away.

  “Come down,” called Mac.

  She turned to face him.

  “Is it gone?” she called, the her voice ringing with urgency bordering on hysteria.

  Mac rubbed the back of his neck and wondered if he should just let Johnny climb up there and scare her back down. But chances were good she’d disappear on him, and he wasn’t sure the crumbling roof would hold Johnny.

  “That roof isn’t stable. Come down before you fall.”

  She angled her head in a way that told him she wasn’t a complete fool. It was an idle
threat. He didn’t think she could fall, because they could fly or something damned close to it. If she really was ignorant of her powers she might not know that. But then again she might be just playing him, and she had managed to get onto the roof before he could even stand up.

  “He belongs to you, doesn’t he?” she asked. “He’s your hound.”

  They were more brothers than hounds. He hoped Johnny hadn’t heard that. Chances were good that he had because his hearing was excellent.

  “Come down or I’ll send him up.”

  She looked about at the crumbling roof. “Not until you promise not to let him hurt me.”

  “We won’t kill you.”

  “Promise?”

  What was he, twelve? He made the appropriate gesture over his bare chest. “Cross my heart.”

  She regarded him in silence for a moment. Why didn’t she just run? They’d never catch her, even in wolf form. But perhaps there were more vampires hunting her. That would be reason to stay.

  She nodded her acceptance. “All right. I’ll come down.”

  He waited and she didn’t move.

  “Well?”

  “How do I get down?”

  “The same damn way you got up there, except in reverse.”

  “I don’t know how I got up here.”

  “You flew.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  He pointed to the ground. “Down!”

  “Well I’m not doing the reverse.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “I’m not scared enough.”

  Which made no sense at all. Mac laced both hands behind his neck and stared up at her. He’d been kissing her neck when Johnny had charged her. Only that had roused him from her spell.

  Maybe Johnny was right about her. She was too soft, too lost and too alluring. Everything they’d been taught said that since the attack, he couldn’t be tempted by her kind. So why the hell had his body gone into a near seizure of lust when she threw herself into his arms?

  Just a potent cocktail of lust and loneliness, he decided. If the colonel found out he’d let her go, he and Johnny would both be back in the brig. Johnny wouldn’t give him up. That much he knew. His comrade might be pissed at him. Might disagree with him. Might even want to kill the captive on the roof, but he was first and foremost his friend. They’d walked through hell together, and that made them closer than brothers.

  “Probably because you’ve been out here in the woods too damned long,” he muttered.

  “Too long for what?”

  Had she heard that from way up there? Even her voice appealed to him. And her body—ivory skin, coppery hair, ocean-green eyes. Just the sight of her punched him in the guts. She looked more like a sea nymph than an assassin. He recalled those wide innocent eyes staring up at him and his gut gave another twist. Damned dangerous—very.

  “There’s a ladder attached to the back of the building. Use that,” he called.

  She glanced behind her to where he knew the ladder must be, then returned her attention to him. “Call off your hound.”

  Mac searched the trees, looking for vampires, because he knew Johnny wouldn’t disobey a direct order. “He’s gone. Come down.”

  She disappeared. Mac rounded the building. When he reached the base of the ladder, she was halfway down, giving him a mouthwatering view of her ass as she felt her way from one rung to the next. Lord have mercy, he certainly admired the view. It wasn’t until she was nearly at ground level that he took his eyes off her backside long enough to see that she was breathing fast and seemed to be having trouble holding on to the rungs. She moved one hand to the next on the same rung, shaking her free hand, as if the ladder itself were too hot or too cold to touch. There had been a dusting of snow last night and an icy slush clung to the shady spots in the yard. He reached out to touch the metal rung, finding it cool and dry.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Hot. Burning,” she said and shook her hand in the air as if to cool it, then lost her grip with the other.

  She was fifteen feet up when she fell. He watched her descent, expecting her to fly away or right herself like a cat, but instead she plummeted, rotating so she would land on her back. Mac raised his arms to catch her. She was small, but the momentum of her descent rocked him, nearly buckling his knees. Somehow he held on.

  She gave him that wide-eyed look again. If it was an act, it was a damned good one. His body’s reaction was instantaneous. Mac’s skin tingled at the contact, and lower down his body went hard. He held her under the knees and behind her back. She felt just right against him. If he moved his hand a little he could feel the swell of her breast. Mac gritted his teeth and set her down.

  Her kind needed sex. That was what made them so damned good at their jobs. The longer they went without sex, the more deadly they became. How long had it been for this one? Intelligence said that the vampires had kept some in isolation for years before releasing them on their targets. One night of bliss and then the payoff. A massive coronary, stroke or aneurysm. Simple, neat and undetectable.

  Had she escaped them or was this a mission? Who was the target? Not him, certainly. Maybe the colonel. His commanding officer was working with werewolves. If they knew, that made Lewis a target.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Anytime,” Mac answered, reminding himself that the desire he felt was not caused by her magic. Couldn’t be. He wasn’t susceptible to her kind. But he was susceptible to this woman. Could military intelligence be wrong?

  Mac held her high in his arms, becoming familiar with her weight and the long curve of her neck, the tempting hollow at its base and the riot of red curls that danced about her lovely face.

  “Um, you better put me down.”

  Damn it, he could. Mac looked about for a place to lay her. He was immune to her killing gift, which meant he could enjoy her charms without paying the check.

  Mac stilled as their eyes met. It was the very first time since this whole fuck-up that he’d forgotten about his friend, and that was not cool. Johnny came first. Mac’s job was to keep him safe and as happy as a man could be who was trapped in the body of a monster.

  Now the first female who wandered into Mac’s sights made him forget all of it. She wasn’t an ordinary female, but still...

  He released her legs so fast she startled and pressed against him. He went hard as wood; his body was still on seek and destroy even as his mind bugled retreat.

  She pushed off his chest with her forearms and tried to step back only to be stopped by his hand, which was still pressing to the center of her back. Mac captured a wrist to prevent a second escape.

  He studied her face, concentrating now on those lovely lips, pursed as if for his kiss. The woman lifted her free hand and blew on it. A shiver danced over his skin at the sensual action.

  “You need to step away from me. It’s not safe for you.”

  She was worried about him? That was a laugh. But then he realized that she must think he was human because she didn’t know he was the gray wolf by the road. He maintained his grip on her and damned if he’d let go.

  “Really,” she insisted. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  She flexed her hands and winced. He tore his attention from her face, glancing instead at the palms of her captured hand. A cold icicle of horror slip between his shoulder blades. Red-and-pink blisters covered the pads on her hands from fingertip to heel. Some had burst and now wept clear fluid.

  He clasped her other wrist and held her hand for closer inspection. “Is that from the ladder?”

  “It’s a burn. I’m allergic to some metals.” She motioned with her head toward the ladder. “That kind, apparently.”

  Iron, he remembered. It was part of the folklore
they had studied. But they’d been told her kind avoided only silver and that it didn’t kill them, just pissed them off. It was a way to catch one, a silver pike pinning them to the earth. So that one was true, only iron worked better. Why?

  He thought of the steel blade of his knife. That had iron in it, didn’t it?

  “I’ve got a med kit inside.” Mac held her wrist. “You got a name, Princess?”

  “Yes, it’s Brianna Vittori. Bri.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Vittori?”

  He glanced again at her milky-white skin, now taking on a luminescence in the sunlight, and that riotous red hair. She looked about as Italian as a leprechaun.

  “Northern Italian on my father’s side. My mother...” She trailed off.

  Yes, they both knew about her mother. A seductress, just like Brianna Vittori.

  “Staff Sgt. Travis Toren MacConnelly. Mac,” he replied restraining himself from coming to attention though part of him already was.

  “Irish?” she asked.

  “American,” he corrected.

  “I meant the derivative of your name.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  “Sergeant? So you’re an army officer?” she asked.

  He winced. “Marines. Leatherneck, jarhead, devil dog. You’re in our training center.”

  There were those wide eyes again. “Yes, Marine Mountain Training Center. I saw it early this morning.”

  “This way, Miss Vittori.” All business now. If she affected him this way dressed in a modest T-shirt and full-length jeans, what would he do if she stripped out of those wet clothes? His pulse jumped as his heart began a useless pounding. He felt himself engorge. But he wasn’t going to need that blood, thank you very much. He clearly wasn’t immune to her sex appeal. He hadn’t been with a woman since before he shipped out. Now that dry spell was coming back to bite him in the ass. Her fragrance drove him crazy. He exhaled and it was still there.

  Wanted. Needed. Couldn’t have, he reminded himself.

  He’d get her inside. Call the colonel and get rid of her.

  * * *