First Bite (The Dark Wolf Series)

by Dani Harper

  While the werewolf’s lupine form had been interesting, its human side was nothing short of fascinating to her. Andrei’s fine features had seemed rather elegant, but this male? Definitely mountain-man material. Not only was he physically strong, but she’d admired the mental power he’d mustered to try and warn Geneva. None of Meredith’s pack was so adept at telepathic communication, a frustrating lack when she wanted reports from the field. Was the ability more pronounced in a natural werewolf? And his force of will was evident when fighting against the spell that was dragging him into unconsciousness. The spell won, of course. Magic always wins. And so do I.

  Someday Geneva was going to concede that fact. Someday soon the stupid little bitch was going to be on her hands and knees before Meredith, admitting at last that her big sister was superior in every possible way, and confessing her utter and complete loyalty. And then she would receive the opportunity to prove that devotion by facilitating Meredith’s greatest magical accomplishment.

  But right now, she had to find the brat.

  All the trackers had been able to glean was that Geneva had gotten into a vehicle headed east. The scrying bowl had shown only the interior of an unknown truck stop, which was no help at all—they all looked alike. Meredith moved from the mirror to one of the glass walls overlooking the ocean. She adored the view. There was a forest of redwoods on three sides of the property, a paradise of delights when she ran on four legs. But it wasn’t enough, nothing she had was enough compared to the powerful magic she craved. And she would have it, with or without her sister’s cooperation.

  Effort versus reward. Meredith had spent far too much time on her troublesome sister already. There was work demanding her attention in her spell room, crafts and incantations waiting to be finished, including her beloved pet project. Fortunately, although she’d been enraged by the discovery at the time, the unmistakable scents of recent sex and bonding in the pine grove had an upside: any further labor to capture Geneva was unnecessary. She couldn’t imagine why Geneva had left the scene—the pair shouldn’t have been out of reach of each other, never mind out of sight—but it made absolutely no difference. Even if Geneva hadn’t been a willing participant, the brat’s inner wolf would be drawn back to its new mate, whether she liked it or not.

  So all Meredith had to do was wait for the little idiot to show up.

  Meanwhile, she was going to test out some of her theories about born werewolves. Blood from her pack acted as a catalyst in some of her spells. Did the new werewolf’s veins contain something stronger, more dynamic?

  “Frederick,” she said. Her voice was barely above a sultry whisper, but a balding red-haired man appeared at once in the doorway of her sprawling bedroom. Save for his pupils dilating ever so slightly, he didn’t react at all to her nakedness. He wouldn’t dare. “Have Zarita get a blood sample from our newest guest. No, better make that a pint.”

  “Would you like it delivered it to your workroom or to the kitchen, Ms. de la Ronde?”

  “Workroom, of course. I have things to do.” He disappeared, and she considered his odd question. Perhaps it wasn’t so odd…After all, she often drank small amounts of human blood, taken from new recruits before she turned them. Usually she called for it to be added to a snifter of brandy or cognac when she’d been on a project in her workroom for hours. Spell casting was a nuanced art, and once started, had to be carried through to its natural end, even if that took days. You didn’t take coffee breaks or naps or punch out at a certain hour, no matter how exhausted you were. Real magic couldn’t be hurried or interrupted.

  During one of her sessions, she’d discovered that a small taste of human blood gave her an enormous rush. In fact, it was enlivening, renewing not only her energy but often her enthusiasm. Further experimentation showed that a full glass would deliver a burst of amazing power and strength. The kitchen staff would bring it to her in a large crystal goblet as if it was the finest of liqueurs. Only she knew that it was much, much better than that. Ingesting blood had helped her to carry her latest spell-crafting project over the finish line more than once.

  Sadly, the incredible effects were short-lived, lasting but an hour or so. And as soon as her human conscripts made their first shift to werewolf, their blood became utterly useless to her as a restorative. It was as if the transformation of the body’s shape transformed the blood as well, permanently.

  But the blood of a natural werewolf…Meredith made a thoughtful little moue at the mirror. That just might be worth sampling. She’d planned to utilize it in tonight’s spells, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little pick-me-up while she worked.

  SIXTEEN

  Beneath his prickly fortress of hawthorn, Baker’s sense of security evaporated when one of Meredith’s trackers picked up on his presence. A grizzled black-and-gray wolf was close, so close that Baker could see its nostrils flare as it studied his scent—and he was certain the creature must be able to hear his heart hammering. Strangely, however, it didn’t raise the alarm. Instead the tracker moved on to cast about for smells elsewhere. Must be searching for someone else. Apparently, trussing up the golden wolf like a holiday turkey wasn’t enough for the bitch queen.

  Baker didn’t move, or even take a full breath, until his senses told him that all the wolves had left. And then he waited a long time to make damn fucking certain they were gone. Finally he crawled out from the thorny thicket, slowly and painfully. It was going to take some work—and no doubt some bizarre contortions with this animal body—to draw out some of the spines that were embedded in his hide, but the task would have to wait. Better to get the hell out of here first.

  He’d taken note of the direction the bitch queen and her horde had gone, and he made sure to head the opposite way. Baker decided to shadow the highway from the cover of the woods that lined it. There was plenty of brush to hide him, but not so much that he had to push his way through. Which suited him fine, since it was a toss-up as to whether he had more hawthorn spines in his ass or in his muzzle.

  He passed a pickup truck, abandoned by the side of the road. Too bad he couldn’t figure out how to return to his upright-with-thumbs form. Unless the truck was out of gas, he could fix almost anything, and he wasn’t above borrowing the vehicle. Strange how his priorities had shifted. It wasn’t like he’d made a habit of stealing other people’s cars in his past life—in fact, he’d have never done such a thing.

  Now, however, everything was a matter of survival. His and Riley’s.

  Leaving the pickup behind, Baker followed the highway for another couple of miles until a flatbed rig hauling a pair of muddy backhoes slowed to a stop. Since it was headed the opposite way, he gave it only a fleeting glance—until the passenger door opened and it appeared that someone got out. Baker could see nothing with the truck between him and the passenger, and for reasons he couldn’t identify, he stood still until the rig pulled away. Just before the person was revealed, a strange new sense hit him between the eyes. Or rather, between the nostrils. Conditions had combined—wind, temperature, hell, even barometric pressure, probably—to bring him a single scent. Werewolf, like him. In human form. And female.

  More important than any of that, he knew exactly who she was before his sight confirmed it.

  The truck slowly sped up and reentered its lane on the highway, but Neva watched it disappear without really seeing it. Her animal senses were on hyper alert, reaching out for any sign of Meredith and her thugs. Neva could definitely smell them, but only faintly. Of course, the wind was from the wrong direction—and Travis had lectured her on staying downwind of enemies. Unless she wanted to broadcast her own presence, she needed to make her approach from a slightly different direction. At least she’d had the sense to ask the truck driver to drop her off a couple of miles from the pickup that she and Travis had left behind. If she crossed to the same side of the road as the vehicle and walked down to it using the cover of the woods, then she wouldn’t be detected by her enemies. She hoped.

  It was a lo
nger hike than it looked, however. Thankful there wasn’t much traffic at this time of night, Neva crossed the four lanes of pavement without encountering any vehicles. She had to veer around a flattened raccoon on the center line, however. The ew factor was bad enough, especially with a Changeling’s intense sense of smell, but she had to admit that the creep factor was worse. The spillage of blood and guts reminded her too much of things she wished she could unsee from her time at Meredith’s mansion.

  The gravel shoulder led to the steep edge of a wide ditch, and of course there was water at the bottom. Crap. She was soon picking her way through cattail clumps and starting every time a frog jumped out of her way. She’d soaked her shoes for the third time when a car slowed down. It sped away quickly after she gave the driver a smile and a thumbs-up. Probably didn’t reassure them, she thought. I’ll bet they left because I look like a crazy woman. Heaven only knew when she’d last brushed her hair.

  Above the rotted-vegetable smell of stagnant water and the tangy mix of rubbery asphalt and fuel and dead raccoon from the highway, the scents of Meredith and her pack continued to dissipate. Her sister had definitely been in the area, but she had just as definitely left. Neva thought she could detect Travis’s scent, but it, too, was faint. Why?

  Neva slogged up the opposite side of the ditch in squishy shoes and set out for the forest beyond. Road maintenance crews kept a hundred-foot swath cut down and cleared along this section of highway. The stiff, dry stubble of brush was maybe six inches high—enough to stab mercilessly at her ankles—and she remembered when she’d foolishly insisted Travis help her Change back to human form. She’d ended up shoving her way through the bushes that lined the trail, naked and barefoot. He’d been pissed at her, but he hadn’t left. Instead, he’d stayed just out of sight, only to come running when she needed him. And his wolf—the great tawny wolf that lived within him—had been oh so gentle with her poor bleeding feet.

  It’d be great if Travis popped out of the brush right about now. She’d be genuinely glad to see him, even if he was a pain in the ass at times. She trudged into the cool, dark shelter of the trees with relief. A well-worn game trail beckoned, undoubtedly smoothed by countless herds of deer over the years, and she took it gratefully. Her thoughts were divided between missing Travis and contemplating removing the wet shoes that were even now rubbing blisters into her feet. Suddenly the path before her sprang to impossible life. Heaving up from forest floor, the path buckled and shed leaves and earth as if a full-grown tree was emerging. Instead, a huge wolf shook itself free of the debris and faced her, its drawn lips exposing merciless teeth that gleamed in the shadows.

  Travis’s stomach lurched as dizziness threatened to send him reeling back into unconsciousness. He held himself motionless, breathing through his mouth, fighting to stay awake as if trying to keep his head above water. Finally the vertigo receded and his equilibrium settled. He opened his eyelids to scant slits in case he was being watched, and heaved a sigh when his wolfen senses assured him that he was alone.

  There wasn’t else much to be relieved about.

  Travis was lying on a metal bench in a smooth concrete cell. There were no windows, only a small grate set at eye level in a heavy steel door. A tiny fluorescent light buzzed and flickered in a cage set into the twelve-foot ceiling. He didn’t know where he was, but he was certain of who was responsible for his captivity. Neva’s crazy-ass sister, Meredith, was behind this.

  Christ. The only way this could be worse was if Neva was a prisoner, too. Just as he’d gone down beneath the hostile pack, Travis had tried to warn her. He had no idea if the message had gotten through before he’d been hit with—

  He frowned. Magic. He’d been hit with the genuine article, impacted as surely as if someone had clubbed him with a fence post. And it certainly wasn’t the clumsy work of an amateur. Just another little detail that Neva had failed to mention. In a world where true magic had become scarce, her sister wielded a stunning quantity of raw power with ease and finesse. Might have been good to know. That, and one other tiny piece of info that hadn’t been revealed to him:

  Meredith wasn’t just Neva’s sister. She was her fucking twin.

  He’d made the biggest confession of his life, laid his soul bare, not to the woman he was falling hard for, but to someone who was most likely his worst nightmare. Goddess help him, not only did it turn his stomach to think of this vicious lunatic knowing his most intimate secrets, but he knew damn well this was going to bite him in the ass one way or another.

  He had to get out of here.

  As he sat up, another wave of dizziness washed over him, and he gripped the edges of the bench until his knuckles whitened. Eventually his head cleared—then a new realization had him ice cold and sweating at the same time.

  I was a wolf when I passed out. Why the hell am I waking up on two legs?

  Changelings didn’t revert to human in their fucking sleep—that only happened in old B movies. His wolf wouldn’t leave him vulnerable like this, even if it could. In fact, he had the opposite problem, a wolf that was too damn protective. Travis reached deep, searching, calling. The creature he’d shared his existence with since he was born was AWOL.

  The threat hadn’t fully registered in Neva’s mind before she was baring her own fangs at the giant wolf. She hadn’t called on her alter ego, but in the face of danger it sprang instantly to rampant life. In less than a heartbeat, she was on four feet, her dark fur bristling to make herself look larger than she was. Her human side was incensed at the intruder, and shouted at him as loudly as she could in mindspeak: What the hell do you want?

  To Neva’s surprise, the big wolf looked uncertain of himself, although he was far bigger than she was. She waited, but he gave no answer, only continued to snarl and growl at her. Her heightened senses told her that, thankfully, the creature was alone—and holy crap, she’d met him before.

  She snapped her teeth in his direction. You. You’re one of Meredith’s new batch, aren’t you? Barry? Barney?

  He shook his head, opening and closing his mouth. Faintly, tentatively, a word sounded in her head. Baker.

  Okay, Baker, you can stand down now. What’s up with scaring the bejesus out of me? To her surprise, the big gray wolf again showed his long teeth, the heavy ruff around his thick neck and the fur along his spine standing on end.

  I know who you are. You’re the bitch queen’s sister. I should kill you right now. His words were more confident now, stronger, as if he was just getting the hang of talking mind to mind. But you’re useful, so you’re gonna come with me. He took a menacing step forward.

  Neva was shocked even as a long, low growl escaped her throat. Me? What the hell did I ever do to you? I just escaped from my lunatic sister myself!

  Only her wolf’s instinctive reaction saved her from Baker’s sudden lunge. As it was, she left a mouthful of fur in the savage teeth as she dove right between his front legs, spun out to the side, and ran for her life.

  Travis supposed he should be flattered that Meredith sent no fewer than a dozen guards to fetch him. And even without his alter ego’s help, he managed to bloody a few faces before they drove him to the floor and shackled him hand and foot. Walking was more than a little awkward after that, but he had burly guys on either side of him holding him up, their meaty hands hiking his armpits to his ears. Seemed familiar—he was fairly certain he’d allowed a couple of bouncers to escort him from their club like this once.

  Key word there—allowed.

  This was different. He didn’t know where he was going, and he certainly didn’t have any choice in the matter. The cuffs and ankle restraints he should have been able to shatter with little effort were holding him fast. Even the links of the chains had no give at all in them. Had his Changeling strength failed him? What had happened to his wolf? With difficulty he brought the cuffs near his nose as he shuffled fast to keep from being dragged by his captors, but his senses detected no silver in the dark metal. What he did detect was the faint b
ut unmistakable mingled scents of blood and death.

  Magic.

  Not the earthy kind that his grandfather had practiced with gratitude and reverence all his long life. Not the happy greet the dawn and make offerings to the four directions and build bonfires to celebrate the turn of the year kind of stuff at all.

  Travis was well and truly amazed now that Neva had ever managed to escape her sister’s grasp. Because what Meredith was practicing was deep, dark, and dangerous. His stomach turned over as he realized exactly where she was getting all her power. His grandfather had warned him about such things. But he had been a stupid kid at the time and thought it was just a scary story, the kind you tell around campfires and then everybody screams and laughs and passes the s’mores.

  He so did not feel like laughing.

  They came to a stop in front of a glass elevator just off a massive circular lounge. The room was centered around a fire pit big enough to roast an elephant. The entire house was on a scale that boggled Travis’s mind—and filled with sumptuous furnishings, exquisite artworks, and everything a millionaire (better make that a billionaire) could possibly want. It was obvious that Meredith already had a great deal of money. Nobody bought this kind of stuff with a garden-variety plastic card. She had followers and supporters—willing or not. And if she was a Changeling, then she already had a fountain of youth, so to speak.

  So what’s the end game? What the hell else could she possibly want?