Regan stared up into his red, pudgy face, her dread turning to fear. Oh please, no. Help me!
“Hurry up, mate,” the second guard said, stepping up beside his partner to leer down at her, depraved hunger burning in his blue eyes. “Shooting that mutt has made me hornier than—”
A low, savage growl cut him short.
“Aaah, Trev?” The rookie squeaked from across the lab, and even though Regan couldn’t see him she heard something close to confused terror in his voice. “Trev, the wolf’s gettin’ bigger!”
The guard grinding his dick between Regan’s thighs rolled his eyes. “It’s in a fucking cage, Hicks. What’s it gonna do? Join in?”
The wolf’s growl filled the air—louder, longer. Two sets of flashlight beams fell on it immediately and, lying trapped under the grotesque and hideously aroused Trev, Regan watched the animal contort. Twist. Somehow grow bigger. The tubes poking from its neck quivered as, with an audible pop, they tore free, spurting black liquid all over the wolf’s steel-grey fur. Regan’s heart stopped. Oh, my God…
There was a low snarl, a sharp creak and the leather straps imprisoning it in the cage snapped. Just like that.
The rookie let out a yelp.
Trev stared at the snarling wolf, too stunned to get to his feet. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he whispered. With a howl of brutal rage, the wolf burst through the bars of its cage. As if they were made of tin foil.
The rookie screamed. Blue Eyes stumbled backward. “Fucking hell!”
“Shoot it, shoot it!” squealed Trev, trying to scramble upright and grab his gun at the same time.
He didn’t make it.
The wolf smashed into him, driving him across the floor of the lab in a screaming blur of flailing arms and legs.
Regan scurried backward and stumbled to her feet, Trev’s screams and the wolf’s low, savage growls punching at her ears.
“Trev! Oh, fuck, Trev!” The rookie continued to wail, Glock completely forgotten.
“Shoot the wolf, you dumb fuck!” Blue Eyes shouted, throwing the rookie a murderous glare.
For a split second, Regan stood frozen, staring at the chaos around her. The smell of blood and piss stung her sinuses—What in the name of God is going on?—before primitive self-preservation kicked in and she turned and bolted for the exit door. Hot disgust rolled through her. She hadn’t saved one single animal tonight. Not one.
Trev’s screams, raw and wet and gurgling, rose above the rookie’s wails and the chimp’s screeching. Regan heard blood in the guard’s throat and an image of the wolf’s long teeth flashed through her head. Bloody hell, she’d caused this. Her feet faltered. She’d caused it all to—
A gun went off. Twice.
Trev howled. As did the wolf.
“Get the fucking bitch!” Blue Eyes screamed.
Regan didn’t need any further prompting. Guilt bubbling like acid in her gut, she fled the room, the image of the dead German Shepherd haunting her. I’m sorry, boy. I’m so sorry.
Another scream pierced the terrible cacophony and the chimp screeched, manic and insane. A third gunshot rang out, a fourth, and the wolf howled again—long, loud and deadly—as Epoc Industries’ high-tech security system finally activated, a shrieking Klaxon squeal shattered the chaos.
Regan tore along the corridor, bleached in flooding white light. All around her, she heard the sound of metal cages rattling and shaking as the animals inside squealed and howled and tried to break free. She ran, their terrified calls drilling into her head, her heart. Another gunshot sounded behind her, a high-pitched scream rent the air, the wolf howled one more time…
And she burst from the building, wrapped immediately in the warm night air of an Australian summer.
Blinding spotlights swam across the surrounding walkways, slashing through the darkness like blades. Regan sprinted for the back entry gate, the same one she’d used to gain access to the secured grounds what felt like a lifetime ago. If someone had discovered it ajar, she was screwed. There was no way she could scale the twenty foot razor-wire fences enclosing Epoc’s labs, no matter how loud the egging voice of her brother in her head. She looked over her shoulder, convinced she would see Trev, the rookie and Ol’ Blue Eyes coming after her.
Nothing.
Except the stripping, swirling spotlights and the ear-piercing wail of the building’s alarm, killing the peaceful stillness of pre-dawn.
Regan kept running. Until she cleared the perimeter, she was in danger. Even then, she couldn’t relax. The black smudges on her face may have hid her true appearance in the lab, but it made her conspicuous as all hell out on the streets. An early morning jogger may wear all black—a stupid early morning jogger—but they wouldn’t cover their faces in black shoe polish. If Epoc’s men found her, they’d know who she was.
Run faster!
Her car was parked three blocks away, tank full, engine tuned to perfection. All she had to do to get away was get through the—
“Freeze, cunt!”
SHIT! Ol’ Blue Eyes.
“Stop or I’ll fuckin’ shoot you down and fuck you as you die!”
Regan ran harder, the gate coming into sight. The open gate. Yes!
“I mean it, bitch!” Blue Eyes screeched. “The next thing you’ll feel is my—”
He didn’t finish. Regan prepared her body for the bullet but it never came. Throwing a look over her shoulder, she saw something that looked like a wolf but wasn’t—something huge—thrash Blue Eyes’s limp body about on the ground, its powerful jaws clamped around the security guard’s blood-pissing throat.
Her blood ran cold. Jesus! What is that?
Feet stumbling, she fell to the ground, staring at the nightmarish sight as though hypnotized. God. What IS that?
“Over there!”
The furious shout snapped her out of her trance. Whipping her head around, she saw them. Five armed guards running towards her.
“Over there! Over there!”
She flung her stare back to the wolf, watched it raise its massive head from Blue Eyes’s mutilated throat to regard her. Their eyes connected for a brief moment before it threw its head back and howled.
“There! There!” The approaching guards screamed. “Shit! Get it! Get it!”
They changed course, running at the wolf—the beast—instead. Guns raised and aimed.
Blood flicking from its muzzle, the animal swung its silver stare to her once more before it ran away. Disappearing around the corner of the building, the yelling, bellowing guards close on its tail.
Regan stared at the motionless body of Ol’ Blue Eyes—for exactly two seconds. Blood roaring in her ears, she scrambled to her feet and sprinted through the gate. Off Epoc Industries’ grounds. Into the darkness of the street. Heading for her waiting car.
She was speeding through the quiet streets of North Sydney before her heartbeat returned to normal. “Holy shit!” Long dark fingers of pre-dawn shadows reached out for her car as she turned the wheel and sped down a narrow lane. “Holy shit!”
Had the wolf done what she thought? Had it saved her?
Regan shook her head and tried to force some calm into her screaming muscles. Wolves were smart, possibly the most intelligent of the canine genus, but that smart?
Was it really a wolf, though?
The question flitted through her stunned mind and her heart started thumping again.
She had no answer.
Not without seeing the animal again.
Turning the wheel once more, she pulled into her short driveway. Killing the engine, she stared out the windscreen at the closed door of her garage. Everything in her studies told her what she’d seen was lunacy. Wolves did not grow that big. They did not exhibit self-sacrificing behavior, especially not to protect a human. She made her living working with animals. She was Sydney’s leading animal physiotherapist, damn it! She knew animals. And what she saw tonight wasn’t normal.
But you did see it. The wolf did draw the guards’ att
ention from you. It did save you. It did stop Trev.
A shiver raced up Regan’s spine and her flesh broke out in goose bumps. Christ, what a fuckup. She pulled a deep breath and the cloying stench of Trev’s sweat assaulted her senses. Urgh, she needed a shower.
She climbed from the car and began to cross the small patch of lawn she proudly called her front yard. She needed a shower and sleep. She needed normalcy again. In only a few hours she had an appointment with the director of Taronga Zoo. Following that a physio session with the Prime Minister’s aging dachshund, after which came lunch with Rick at his…
A low and distant howl cut her thought dead.
A wolf’s howl.
Regan spun around, expecting to see the steel-grey wolf behind her, its muzzle dripping with blood, its silver eyes burning into her soul.
Nothing.
As if there would be! Get a grip!
She stood still, ears straining to hear…
Nothing except the gentle roar of Bondi Beach half a mile away and the soft warbles of a nearby magpie out searching for breakfast.
Shaking her head, Regan climbed the steps of her porch and unlocked her front door. She entered her home, closed the door behind her and headed straight for the shower, stripping as she went. It was time for normal life to resume.
For her, at least.
* * * *
The early-morning sun streamed into her bedroom through the open side window like a stroke of brilliant gold paint, casting everything in a warm hue and turning the dust motes on the air into dancing points of white-gold light.
Eyes still closed, Regan stretched, arms extending up and out, back bowing into a deep curve. Rick Deluca—a vet she’d known since her university days and had dated off and on for the past three months—had commented more than once how cat-like she looked when first waking. Regan took it as a compliment. She liked cats. They were creatures of grace and feline beauty. If she had to be compared to animal, a cat was fine and dandy with her.
A gust of warm wind blew through the window and the organza curtains billowed, brushing against her bare legs and tummy. Groaning low, Regan opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Why did her body ache like she’d been hit by a bus?
Her tired mind drew a complete blank.
For a disoriented second.
“Oh, bloody hell!” She smacked her palm to her forehead and dragged her hand down her face. “Epoc’s lab.”
Shit! What a complete cock up.
An image of a sad and dying German Shepherd filled her head and guilt flooded through her. She’d failed too many creatures this morning. The shepherd’s brown eyes grew light, cooler, and suddenly it was the wolf’s silver gaze staring at her. The wolf that saved her.
Saved her by ripping out the throat of a human.
A twinge of cold apprehension fluttered in her stomach and she swallowed. The guard, Blue Eyes, was never going to be a potential Nobel Peace Prize recipient, but no one deserved being mauled to death by a wolf, no matter how hideous they were.
Squinting against the bright morning sun, wishing like hell she could turn back time, Regan peered at her alarm clock.
Six twenty-seven.
She groaned again. “You’ve got to be kidding!” She’d only been asleep for two hours? What the hell woke her?
For a moment, Regan listened to the call of slumber beckoning her again: Another thirty minutes, that’s all. C’mon, y’know you want to. She wiggled on the sheets, the cool cotton caressing her bare skin like soft kisses. Oh, how tempting…
Her stomach however, had other ideas. She had after all neglected it for the last twelve hours. Now it grumbled loud enough she expected the neighbors to run from their homes screaming “earthquake”. With a very unladylike snort, she shook her head. There was no way she was going back to sleep now.
She climbed from her bed and padded barefoot across the polished floorboards of her bedroom, heading for the small but very cozy living room. Sydney wasn’t the cheapest city in Australia to live. Finding an affordable place halfway decent had been almost as draining and traumatic as her regular lab raids. Her home, tucked high on the northern hill overlooking Bondi Beach, may be the size of a postage stamp, but it was hers, not the bank’s and she loved it. Big enough for her king-size bed, third-hand sofa, old TV and a terrarium in the corner for Rex when he wanted to soak up some heat-lamp rays.
She studied the living room, wondering if the adult frill-neck lizard was waiting for his breakfast.
Nope.
A small grin pulled at her lips. He was probably sulking under the fridge. “Let me get my caffeine fix first, Rex!” she called to the absent lizard, shuffling toward the kitchen and its already percolating coffee machine. “Then I’ll get dressed and tell you about the nightmare—”
A low whine stopped her dead.
With a frown creasing her brow, Regan turned.
And saw the wolf.
Chapter 2
Nathan Epoc stormed across the expansive floor of his opulent bedroom, his head aching with enraged agony.
Fucking do-gooder, animal-rights activists.
ActivIST, Nathan. ActivIST. There was only one. A female. A single, unarmed female.
Hot blood pulsed through his head like a molten trip-hammer and he scowled, running his palms over the smooth dome of his scalp. One little bitch. One little do-gooder, animal-rights activist bitch causing all this trouble. He glared out the glass wall of his bedroom.
Sydney Harbor sprawled before him, so blue it almost hurt to look at—a cerulean blanket bejeweled by the dazzling dawn sun and gleaming white boats. The bone-white arcs of the Sydney Opera House curved up and over the horizon to his right, a defining monument of architectural brilliance for a young country. Money could not buy the view afforded through every window of his home, only power. Absolute power. And he—Nathan Epoc—had absolute power. Had it. Wielded it. Was it.
He turned from the window, the sight of the arching Harbor Bridge in the distance catching his attention. The construction spanned the rippling channel dividing North Sydney from the commercial epicenter, another marvel of man’s engineering genius.
Huh! If the world knew what he had achieved, these pitiful man-made constructions would be scorned for the triflings they were. If the world knew…
He ground his teeth. If the bitch who invaded his lab last night spoke of what she saw the world would know, well, begin to suspect, and that was not acceptable. He’d worked hard to present an immaculate, benevolent image to the people of this country and one little bitch could ruin it all.
A low growl rumbled in his chest and he felt his canines lengthen, digging into his lower lip. A ripple passed over his flesh. Fuck! Just thinking of the cunt and the trouble she could cause and he was close to shifting.
The drilling fire in his head flared and he growled again. Not at the pain, but at the thought of the female and the grief she could bring down on him. If she took photos while in the lab… If she had evidence…
He spun about, glaring out the window at the sublime day. “Fucking do-gooder bitch!”
He hadn’t been this angry since Aine’s death. Since the night the Onchú clan butchered her. The night his sweet lifemate was lost to him forever.
Bitter rage ripped through him, as fresh and biting as it had been over two hundred years ago. That night began a war unlike any the lycanthrope clans of the world had seen. A war led by him. His rivals had caught him off-guard once. They wouldn’t do it again. He wouldn’t let them. Any of them.
But now… Now this human…
He had to find her. Find her, find out what she knew and silence her.
And the second she was no longer a problem, find Declan O’Connell again. He wasn’t done with the Irish werewolf. The conriocht. Not this close to success. Not this close to punishment.
He crossed to his personal bureau and jabbed at a key recessed in the rose-cedar surface, impatience coursing through his veins.
“Yes, Mr. Epoc?�
�� a husky voice sounded from the wall speaker above the bureau, both reverent and submissive—the way he expected all his staff and pack members to be.
“I want the bitch brought in,” he said, canines growing longer, thicker with each word. “And I want her brought in now.”
* * * *
Regan’s heart hammered.
The wolf lay on its side, taking up most of her old sofa, its eyes closed, its rib cage rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. Dry blood smattered the grey fur on its neck, cracked and thick like black mud. The cushions of her sofa bowed and compressed under the animal’s massive bulk and, as she had in the lab, Regan wondered what species it was. None she was familiar with.
How can that be?
She frowned. She was at least passingly familiar with just about every species in existence—she had to be in her line of work. How could she not—
The wolf whined again, softer, weaker, and Regan’s puzzlement vanished.
In a heartbeat she crossed the room and crouched by the wounded animal, skimming her hands over its body. A wave of awe rolled through the cold worry knotted in her chest. It was unwell. Its limbs trembled and each breath seemed weaker than the last, yet its feral strength was undeniable. She’d thought it a creature of primitive power back in Epoc’s lab but now, here in her room with its corded muscles under her examining fingers, its mana seemed almost tangible. “What genus are you, my friend?” she whispered, running her hands over steely quadriceps much bigger and longer than any wolf species she knew. Quadriceps turned to femur, femur to pelvic bone.
Regan frowned, confusion squirming in her gut. The animal’s pelvis felt wrong, like some sick bastard with a Doctor Moreau complex had taken to it with a bone grinder in an attempt to reshape it into a human hipbone. “What have they been doing to you, mate?” she murmured, tracing the distorted bone. “My God, how can you even walk?”
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