The Black Wolf

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  “What is it?” his father asked as several Weres warily gathered around.

  “I have no idea...and yet at the same time, I kind of do,” Rafe replied abstractly, moving closer to Cara as he reloaded the gun. This had something to do with her. He was sure of it.

  “Fill me in,” he said to Cara. It was clear that she knew something no one else did. He saw this in the way her eyes pleaded with him to wait, and to stand down.

  His nerves buzzed. His muscles twitched with the sudden inactivity. What was everybody waiting for, exactly? And was it a good thing, or bad?

  When Cara stepped forward, he stopped her with a hand. She didn’t look at him now. Her attention was riveted to the shadows across from them...and the slow approach of the creature that had caused such a ripple in the night.

  Chapter 34

  Cara’s heart pounded frantically as the shadows parted. She took a shallow breath, then another in anticipation of an event she had thought she’d never see.

  Her father was here.

  A warm wash of familiarity hit her square in the chest as Colton Killion appeared. The ghost wolf had left his self-induced seclusion and had quite possibly saved the day.

  It was he who had torn through the monsters like a lightning bolt of pure monster misery. No one could have equaled her father’s exemplary fighting skills or brought such abject terror to his opponents. Without the ability to speak at the moment, her father allowed them all a good look at one of the fiercest werewolves on the planet, a Were who had died to his former Were self and returned as something else twice as formidable.

  All white from head to toe and furred up like only the rarest of pure-blooded Lycans, his height and the mounds of muscle clinging to his frame gave her father the appearance of an ancient wolf god. He stood in the blinking, fading headlights of Rafe’s car like the legendary ghost everyone believed him to be.

  And they all stared.

  But he wasn’t alone, and he hadn’t been the lure for the creatures that had attacked Cara tonight. The ghost wolf, as stunning as his appearance here was, hadn’t been good enough or strong enough to garner the kind of rapt attention the vampires and demons that had been left standing exhibited.

  Her father, regal, terrible, in his colorless half-human, half-wolf form was merely the hors d’oeuvre before the main course. He was the guardian of a secret weapon that had once rendered monsters useless and had driven many of them so deep underground, it had taken almost twenty years for them to dare to emerge.

  Her father had brought his mate. Cara should have known he would, because he never so much as left her side. Rosalind also had returned to Miami...and no one was ready for that.

  The fear that drenched the clearing had its own smell and taste. One of the demons shrieked in anger. Two vampires hissed.

  “Colton,” the Landau alpha muttered with awe as Cara’s father stepped aside to make way for his bride.

  Cara felt the heat of Rafe’s attention on her. “Christ,” he said. “This is your dad?”

  Rafe’s remark faded as the headlights finally winked out, but no light was necessary for Rosalind’s entrance onto the battlefield. She came as a large wolf on all fours with her black coat glistening and her ears pricked forward. Her delicate muzzle had drawn back in a snarl until her eyes, more human than wolf, found Cara. Then she reared up on her hind legs, shook her head hard and began her next shape-shift.

  The black fur disappeared in the time it took for Cara to blink her eyes. Her mother’s skin lightened to a smooth shade of ivory. Her limbs, slender and muscularly defined, took on a human shape. All that was left of the wolf Rosalind had been seconds before was her face until that melted into human cheeks, chin and long black lashes that rimmed a pair of light, serious eyes.

  Rosalind Kirk stood before this gathering, tall and naked. Waist-length black hair infused with streaks of white partially curtained her torso as she raised a hand in greeting to Cara, then moved her arm to point at a pool of darkness beyond the trees nearest to the car. She spoke to those shadows in a deep, raspy voice. “You tried this one before, vampire. What made you imagine you would fare any better with my daughter?”

  Rafe’s hand slid to Cara’s wrist, but she couldn’t look at him yet. She didn’t dare. The dark spirit inside her was twisting its way to the surface, drawn like everyone else to the sound of Rosalind’s voice.

  * * *

  Rafe wanted to rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly, but doing so would have meant letting go of his hold on Cara. Legend didn’t begin to cover the pair of Lycans that had entered the clearing. He could not possibly have conceived of anything like this in his wildest imagination.

  Still, Cara was his only concern. Cara’s welfare. Her thoughts. What she might be feeling now when everyone here had gotten their first look at her parents.

  At first, Cara seemed to be okay with the surprise appearance and the possibility of being reunited with her family. However, tiny quakes shook her arms as her gaze rested on the vampire that floated out of the darkness. Rosalind had called this old bloodsucker from its hiding place, and it was a bastard he and Cara had met before.

  Still, Rafe kept his attention on Cara, whose shaking was getting worse with each passing second. He dropped her wrist and put his arm around her, able to feel how cold she was, thinking that odd when they had just exerted themselves and the night’s temperature was soaring.

  When her skin below the sleeves of her shirt began to darken, Rafe experienced a bobble in his stance. As the features of Cara’s face began to rearrange, he fought the urge to shout for everyone to give them some space.

  Rosalind was the most formidable presence he had ever experienced. The air in the clearing seemed to caress her, as if she had the power to call the smallest breeze. Colton, looking like a wolfish phantom, was a close second. And yet neither of Cara’s parents could hold a candle to the daughter they had sent to Miami to find a mate. Because Cara had slipped away while he held on to her, and in her place was the dark thing that had glared at him from the tree in the park.

  Exhaling a slow breath, Rafe looked this entity in the eyes, tightened his arm around her and said, “We meet again, Banshee.”

  Several things happened at once. The old vampire that had heeded Rosalind’s call flew at Cara and the spirit that had taken hold of her. Rafe moved in front of her to ward off the first blow the vampire issued. He supposed a Banshee didn’t require any assistance, and that as the right hand of death, she was the scariest, most dangerous creature here. But that assumption didn’t take Rosalind and her many talents into account.

  Cara’s mother slid between Rafe and her daughter. Her pale lips parted for a whisper of sounds, the meaning of which Rafe couldn’t comprehend. With a free hand, Colton caught hold of the bloodsucker’s coat and spun it around. The old vampire was slower than its younger companions and in need of a meal that its age prevented it from getting.

  This vampire wanted the dark spirit for itself. Rafe understood quite clearly that if that were to happen, vampires would no longer need to hide. With a vamp leader in solidarity with a Banshee, all bets for human survival would be off.

  He fought with all his strength to prevent that from happening, even though he wasn’t sure if such a union was possible. Vampires were undead creatures, and the Banshee called the living to their deaths. Besides, Cara would die before letting the spirit go.

  Colton was there with him, beside him, tall, huge, all wolfed up and mean as sin. Colton had the thing by its scrawny neck and, with a growling heave, simply tossed the bloodsucker away. When it came flying back, along with a few undead friends, Rafe felt Colton’s hand on his shoulder. He was torn away from Cara before he realized the predicament that left her in.

  He couldn’t get back to Cara fast enough. He saw Colton step away from her, leaving way for three vampires to flood in. Rafe’s heart stopped.
Although he couldn’t catch his breath, Rafe hurled himself toward his lover, determined to end this once and for all.

  He should have realized that Colton had backed off because he knew Cara wasn’t in danger, and that he needn’t have worried. All four vampires stopped before reaching her. In confusion, they stared at two exact replicas of the dark spirit in corporeal form. There were two Banshees, each as darkly threatening as the other. It was like seeing double. So which one was the real death caller?

  This might have confused the bloodsuckers, but Rafe suddenly got it. Rosalind, with her talent for shape-shifting and adopting the form of whatever creature she got close to, had become a Banshee. The Banshee? Maybe it was a glamour that Rosalind had used to fool them. Perhaps her abilities were advanced enough to actually become a copy of the dark spirit that she had once hosted. No one could tell which of the dark duo standing there was the real thing. The tables had turned. Instead of Cara having that thing inside her, she was now inside it.

  That confusion was all it took for Rafe, Colton, Rafe’s father and his packmates to spring into action. Working together in a coordinated series of lunges and growls, they sent all of the vampires and demons in the clearing to their final spiraling oblivion.

  When the fighting was over and the air was thick with ash and smoke from the leftover flames of demon fire, Rafe looked to the Banshees with his senses wide-open and his heart drumming. Cara was in there somewhere, and his ravenous hunger for her hadn’t weakened one bit. If this night had taught him one thing, it was that one sorrow didn’t have to piggyback on another. He would work hard to make Cara happy if she’d stay. Hell, she had to stay, because of those chains that bound them to each other.

  Didn’t she?

  He could feel the love Colton and Rosalind shared. That love beamed from them. Following the awareness of that was the key to Rosalind’s disguise. Turning to face one of the dark spirits, sure he had to be right, Rafe said, “You must see now that our lives depend on trust, honor and the need for friends. Please come back to me, Cara.”

  Rafe’s second request was to the dark-eyed thing that had taken hold of his lover. Searching for Cara in the intense and wavering gaze of that entity was like looking into the realm of death. Gathering his courage, he said, “You must allow this. If you do, it will ensure your protection and our fealty for the next several years. This, I swear to you.”

  * * *

  Cool fingers feathered over hers. Cara shuddered again. Rafe’s voice reached her in spite of the dark spirit’s rise. Its familiar soothing quality made her heart skip. She wanted to return to Rafe. She had to. If she did, she would never leave him again. “A vow. My promise to you, Rafe.”

  Cara tried to send that message to him.

  “Dark spirit. Help me.”

  The icy chill remained. It was possible she had gone too far and had been too lenient in allowing the dark spirit her freedom so many times in a row. She felt the spirit expanding. Freedom was what every species craved. “I understand that. I do.”

  Did she hear Rafe speaking to her? Her heart raced faster.

  “Please come back to me, Cara.”

  “I will. I want to. Rafe, can you hear me?”

  There was something more in the distance, a faint whisper that had to do with fealty and protection. That whisper wasn’t directed to her.

  She spoke internally to the Banshee. “I have done my part. My family has done theirs. Now you must listen to me and return my freedom.”

  Did the dark spirit listen? Had she understood? Like a running tap that was suddenly turned off, the burst of power she had felt began to recede. The flow became a trickle. Then a drip.

  And when the final vestiges of the Banshee retreated, at least for the time being, and she could again breathe without pain, Cara opened her eyes.

  Chapter 35

  Rafe’s breath hitched as Cara flung herself into his arms. Or maybe it was the other way around and he was the one who had rushed to gather her close. Either way, they were holding each other, their bodies pressed tight. His prayers had been answered by whoever had been watching this night play out, and for that he would be grateful for the rest of his days.

  His lips hovered above hers. He was so very hungry for Cara and for the future he could perceive. He didn’t give a damn about the others who were present—his packmates, his family and hers. This was what both families had hoped for. This pairing had been their plan all along, and rather than feeling used or manipulated, he was elated that it was going to work out. Cara had promised him that. He had heard every word.

  As his mouth closed over hers, he heard his father say, “Thank you, Colton. It was you who placed the body near our wall, wasn’t it, to alert us to demon presence? You’ve been here, watching over Cara from the start?”

  Cara’s lips parted. No sound came out.

  In the hazy distance, his mother said, “A demon made the kill. If so, that poor human, good or bad, stood no chance.”

  Rosalind was there, too. Her presence was a powerful one unlike any other, living up to the legends surrounding her. She was so like Cara, only more so.

  That thought also faded as Rafe deepened the kiss, needing to devour and reclaim what he had very nearly lost. His hands explored Cara’s body, sliding over her back, her hips, her thighs. She growled softly to encourage him, and for a hungry wolf like Rafe, that was the ultimate seduction.

  Could a death caller sense the pleasure moving through him, or classify it? Maybe he’d let her know.

  Get used to it, Banshee...

  He kissed Cara without letting her up for air, because every damn fiber of his being demanded it. And she kissed him back with a fervor that rivaled his. There was nothing tame about two werewolves mating. They would make love in human form tonight, and in a few days’ time when the moon was full, they’d mate as wolves.

  He was never going to take this for granted. It was enough, for now, to savor her taste...or so Rafe told himself.

  Cara’s body trembled as she leaned into him. An internal beat of pressure in his chest spurred him on. There was more about Cara to discover. There would always be more.

  The sun was rising at last. Pink light edged the treetops, and there was new warmth in the air. In the back of Rafe’s mind was a reminder that there would have been another death yesterday. The Banshee had predicted this, and Cara had let him know. Thank God his family was all here, and most of his friends were accounted for. So who was it going to turn out to be?

  “A Were,” Cara said when he gave her breathing room. “I don’t recognize this one, and I’m sorry, Rafe. He fell near the edge of the trees before we arrived. Maybe he was watching the area? Someone from the hospital?”

  He was sorry, too. Damn sorry that there had been a casualty here when the results of this fight had seemed so promising, and that it could have been someone he knew. He messaged that information to his father, who nodded with sadness.

  There was nothing he could do about that death now. He would have to help his family tend to it later. He was finished with fighting for the time being, and with death and foreordained plans. Life lay ahead. He reached out to grasp it with both hands.

  It was impolite to leave the others who had come to help in this fight, and to ignore both the latest victim of this battle and the keen observation of both sets of parents...but Rafe’s emotional state demanded it.

  Cara was hurting. She was alive and she was everything to him. Before he did anything else, he was going to prove that to her.

  So he reluctantly took her hand. Then he turned, nodded an apology to everyone there, and ran.

  * * *

  Rafe had no idea how much time had passed as he rose from the comfort of Cara’s naked body, panting from exertion and covered in sweat. Sometime during their wild, prolonged lovemaking session, daylight must have come and gone again. The night was quiet and
almost eerily calm. Not even a breeze stirred the silence. Above them, the moon shone with a silver gleam, but it wasn’t full, and nowhere near as powerful as what he held in his arms...

  “No,” Cara said, putting a finger to his lips to interrupt the sensations he was experiencing. “It’s their memories you’ve tapped into. You’re seeing the end of this through Colton and Rosalind’s eyes. The spirit is showing you that picture, and it’s nothing but a view of old memories, Rafe. We have to make our own.”

  Rafe blinked back his surprise. Hell, it had seemed so real. But he and Cara were backed into a corner of Fairview’s chain-link fence, and not on the ground. The sky was still pink with a new dawn, and they were still hungry for each other and half-dressed. It turned out they hadn’t even gotten to the best part yet.

  Another thing to be grateful for.

  “Keep your damn images to yourself,” he muttered to a distant Colton Killion. “It’s our turn.”

  A slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. As Cara’s eyes met his, her face lit up with a beautiful smile that showed no gleam of fangs. And it was one of the best things he had ever seen.

  He laughed out of pure joy. As she laughed with him, Cara’s green eyes danced with a mixture of longing and mischief. Yes, he loved her. Rafe loved everything about her. And with that acknowledgment, the next phase of their life began in earnest, punctuated by the sound of Cara’s zipper on a slow, downward slide.

  This mating was going to be no simple thing. Their love would have meaning for their pack’s future, and also for the future of the werewolf species. If Cara bore a child, the dark spirit would again be passed on and a new breed of werewolf would continue to be loosed on the world. And the world would change.

  Cara knew the ramifications and responsibilities of housing the Banshee, and like Rosalind, would be able to help her daughter to prepare if he and Cara were to be blessed with female offspring.

  Maybe this Banshee had a say in determining the sex of a child in order to preserve herself and her hiding place. If she had a say, did that make the Banshee a selfish entity, or merely a survivor?