by Nina Croft
Time seemed to slow as he watched the finger tighten on the trigger. Jon wanted to shout to Alex, tell her how he felt, but it was too late for that. Too late for anything.
The man’s face erupted, and the laser pistol dropped from his lifeless fingers. He was definitely dead this time, but whoever had shot him was making sure. The laser beam persisted as the body began to smoke, filling the air with the stench of scorched flesh. Finally, the beam stopped.
Jon twisted his head and watched as Alex crept out from behind the desk. She’d dropped the medical kit, but a laser pistol was clamped so tight in her right hand that her knuckles were leached white. The pistol, still aimed at the sergeant, shook visibly.
“He’s dead,” Jon said.
At the sound of his voice, she swung around and raised the pistol. The shock and panic faded to be replaced by wonder. The pistol fell to the floor.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.” He nodded at the dead man. “Thanks to you.”
She hurried over to where he lay. Outside in the hallway, he could still hear spasmodic shots. He hoped the good guys were winning. The adrenaline was fading from his system, everything hurt, and shivers rippled through his body as Alex crouched down beside him.
“Oh God. Oh God,” Alex muttered under her breath, her hands shaking as she tried to unravel the chains from around him. She sounded in a worse state than he was.
“Alex, I’m fine—really, I am. Calm down.”
Finally, the chains were undone, and she unwrapped them from around his neck and chest before sitting back on her heels. Her gaze suddenly fixed on his hand, her eyes widening. Looking down, he saw the knife still stuck out of the back of his hand, fixing him to the chair arm. He’d forgotten about it—just one more pain in a big jumbly mass of pains.
“Pull it out,” he said through gritted teeth.
She swallowed, bit her lip, and wrapped her hand around the knife hilt. She tugged once, and the blade came out easily, blood pulsing from the wound.
“Don’t go anywhere,” she said and scrambled to her feet.
“I won’t.”
He dragged himself half up to lean against the desk. The effort was almost too much, and he closed his eyes as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. It was a side effect from the drugs—he was coming down from the high, though high wasn’t really the right word.
Alex hunkered down beside him with the medical kit next to her and stared at the contents as though she didn’t know what was what—and likely she didn’t. In the end, she picked up a bandage and wrapped it around his hand. At least he wouldn’t make a mess.
“Painkillers,” he said.
Her gaze flashed to his face, and she nodded. “Off course.” She pawed among the contents. “I don’t know what a painkiller looks like.”
“Give it to me.”
She slid the kit across the floor, and he studied the contents, located the strongest. “The codinex,” he said.
She picked up the syringe and studied it.
“Stick it straight in the muscle on my thigh,” he said, but she still looked dubious. “Darling, one more hole in me at this point is not going to add much to my injuries. It’s the quickest way, and right now, I’m hurting.”
That obviously clinched it for her. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, lifted the syringe, and stabbed it into his right leg. The relief was almost immediate, a delicious numbness spreading through him. For a moment, he sat back and savored the sensation.
“Now a stimulant.” He pointed at a second syringe. This time Alex didn’t hesitate, just picked it up, removed the cover, and jabbed him in the left thigh.
Jon took a deep breath and rested his head back against the cool metal of the desk while he waited for everything to work. He could sense Alex watching him.
A few minutes later, Rico’s tall figure appeared in the doorway. He took in the bodies on the floor and Jon propped against the desk. “Hey, you look great.”
Jon choked back a laugh; he didn’t think he could take that amount of movement right now. Instead, he took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
Rico grinned. “I bet that hurt more than any amount of torture.”
“You don’t know how much.”
Rico wandered over, his gaze running over Jon, assessing the damage. “Anyway, I didn’t come back for you. I came back because Alex would have made my life a misery if I hadn’t. Like a yapping little dog.”
Jon glanced sideways at Alex. She shrugged.
“Are you okay to get out of here?” Rico asked.
He nodded. “I’ll shift as soon as I can stand up.”
“Good, because we have about five minutes to get clear before the place is overrun with Skylar’s friends.”
Skylar and Tannis appeared behind him. “Are we ready to go?” Skylar asked.
“Just about.”
Tannis peered down at the headless body of the sergeant, still smoking. “Dayam.”
Jon grinned. “Alex did that one.”
Alex scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off. She closed the lid of the medical kit and stood fidgeting from one foot to the other. “Are you okay? Do you need anything else?” she asked.
“Don’t fuss,” Rico said. “He’s fine. A bit of bruising, that’s all.”
Again, Jon would have laughed, but it hurt too much. Checking himself over, he reckoned he could make it to his feet now. With all the drugs inside him, he felt like his body didn’t belong to him. That would clear once he shifted. He pushed himself up and balanced with his good hand resting on the desktop while he decided whether he could stand alone.
Everyone was watching him. It wasn’t in werewolves’ nature to shift in front of people, a hang-up from the old times of total secrecy on Earth. But what the hell, they’d come back for him, he could hardly tell them to get out. Well, he could, but he found he didn’t want to.
He stripped off his shirt. Nakedness didn’t bother him. Usually. But now he hesitated. Three sets of female eyes watched him, two with curiosity, but Alex just looked worried as though he might crash to the floor at any moment. Tannis caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow.
He looked away, straight at Skylar. Amusement glinted in her eyes as though daring him to continue.
What the hell?
Keeping his gaze locked on Alex, he kicked off his boots, peeled off his pants, and stood naked before them.
Alex winced, and he glanced down. His body was a mass of bruising and burns. They would heal. He searched inside himself, released his wolf, and sensed the rightness as the change flowed through him.
…
His beautiful body was battered and bruised. They’d hurt him so badly. For a moment, she’d known real hatred and rage. When she’d killed her attacker the other day, she hadn’t felt hatred…just something that needed to be done for her own survival. This time she had wanted them to die for what they had done.
Alex kept her gaze fixed on Jon, but out of the corner of her eye she could see the smoking corpse of the man she’d killed. He’d been taking aim at Jon and such a fury had built inside her that she’d pointed her laser pistol at him without thinking, just needing to obliterate him. Then she hadn’t been able to stop, even when she’d known he was dead.
She still felt light-headed with relief. When she’d first caught sight of Jon, she’d been sure he was dead and such a mixture of emotions had beset her for a minute she hadn’t been able to think. When his eyes flickered open, relief had poured through her.
Now she watched him shift, and it was like magic—the change flowing over him, remaking him. When complete, Jon stood on all fours—huge, glossy, dark coat and glowing amber eyes.
“Wow,” Skylar murmured.
“Hey, it’s only a big shaggy dog,” Rico replied. “Now do you think we could get out of here?”
The wolf approached Alex, coming to a halt in front of her. The top of his head reached her shoulder. She stretched out her hand, dug her fingers into the sil
ky fur, and a tingle like magic flowed up through her arm.
In that moment, she knew things were going to be fine, and despite her doubts, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks.
Jon padded beside her as they headed out of the house and back to the speeder. His movements were stiff as though he was still feeling some of the pain that had been so obvious in his human form. He settled into the back seat of the speeder, rested his head on her lap, and closed his eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
Alex spent the journey to the ship expecting to hear the sound of pursuit as the Collective came after them, but they got back without incident.
The engines roared to life as soon as they were on board El Cazador. They hurried to the bridge and strapped in for takeoff. Daisy shifted from the pilot’s seat to copilot, and Rico sat down and started the takeoff procedure. They were off the ground in minutes. Alex could sense the subdued panic, tightly restrained. Even Skylar appeared on edge. She got up as soon as they were in the air and started checking the console readings.
“Nothing behind us yet,” she said, flicking through the screens. “But you know, they’ll be after us.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” Tannis snapped. “I really thought since we’d got away again they might just forget all about us.”
Janey appeared in the open doorway, limping slightly, but otherwise she didn’t look too bad. Her eyes widened as she took in the huge wolf sprawled at Alex’s feet.
“How are you feeling?” Tannis asked.
“Fine, no pain at all. What do you need me to do?”
“Can you extend the normal scanning range? Give us a bit more time to get away if, or rather when, they finds us.”
“No problem. It will take power, but we’re juiced up. The Trog refueled in port.” She nudged Skylar out of the way and sat down at the bank of consoles. A moment later, her fingers were flying over the boards. “Nothing yet,” she murmured.
“Good,” Tannis replied, searching the bridge as if needing something to concentrate on. Her gaze came to rest on Alex and the huge wolf curled up at her feet. He was sleeping now, his breathing even and deep. Occasionally, a slight tremor would ripple through his body.
“Go and get him some clothes,” Tannis said, frowning. “You know, we’d better start earning some money soon—I’m betting our boy over there isn’t cheap to keep. His clothes bill must be enormous.”
A warm feeling stirred inside Alex at the words. Tannis was talking as though Jon was staying with them. Of course, that didn’t mean he would, but at least if Tannis had accepted him, there was a chance.
“You might as well go,” Rico said. “He’ll be out for a while. It’s the best thing for him right now. He’ll heal and be as good as new when he shifts back. Well, maybe not as good as new—he took a battering, but he’ll be okay.”
Alex nodded, then took a last look at Jon and hurried away. She found clothes in his room before going to her own cabin, where she showered quickly and put on a fresh jumpsuit. Standing in front of the mirror, she studied her face. The bruising was gone and she didn’t look different, but inside she was changed beyond anything she could imagine.
She was in love. Not falling in love, but already there. She’d known it the moment she thought Jon might be dead.
And he had feelings for her, though he was fighting them. He didn’t want to feel, and one day she hoped he would tell her why.
Clutching the bundle of clothes, she ran back to the bridge, but Jon was still asleep. She lowered herself to the floor beside him, rested her hand on his head, and closed her eyes.
…
Something woke her. She’d been in the middle of a great dream, and she kept her eyes closed, hoping to recapture it, until someone nudged her with a boot. Daisy loomed over her, holding out a steaming mug. Alex took it and realized at the same moment that Jon was gone.
She scanned the room and honed in on him immediately. He’d shifted back and was talking quietly with Tannis and Skylar. When he caught her gaze, his expression was wary, lines of strain bracketing his mouth.
He’d dressed in the black leather pants and shirt she’d brought him, but his feet were bare and his hair hung loose to his shoulders, giving him a disheveled appearance.
Alex wanted to go to him, but she forced herself to remain where she was. Let him do the chasing, she cautioned herself.
Daisy was back in the pilot’s seat, and Rico was nowhere to be seen. He appeared a moment later, waving a silver flask in his hand. Alex watched through narrowed eyes as he crossed to where Jon stood and lifted the flask.
“Hey, dog-boy, you look like you need a drink.”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
Jon cast her a last quick glance then shrugged and followed the vampire. Alex rose to her feet, meaning to go after them, but Tannis stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Let them go. He needs some time.”
Alex took a deep breath and sank down into the chair behind her, staring at the space where he’d disappeared. “What if we don’t have any time?”
…
Jon followed Rico into the main meeting room, spacious and airy with a number of chairs scattered around. Like the rest of the ship aside from the bridge, there were no portholes and the decor was the standard black and silver.
Rico crossed the room, sat down, and placed the silver flask on the table in front of him. From under the table, he drew out two crystal glasses and placed them next to the flask. When he saw Jon still hovering in the doorway, he gestured to the seat opposite.
Jon had no clue what Rico wanted. Maybe to tell him they’d made a mistake and should have left him to rot on Trakis Five. But he didn’t think so.
The metal floor was cool and smooth under his feet as he crossed the room and sank into a chair. Resting his head on the back, he stared at the pattern on the ceiling. He felt eons better, but nowhere near perfect. His stomach still churned with nausea, and he couldn’t imagine ever feeling warm again.
“So how are you feeling?” Rico filled the two glasses and handed one to Jon.
“Like shit.” Jon lifted the glass and studied the contents. The liquid was golden, slightly viscous. He sniffed it dubiously but couldn’t place the smell. Maybe Rico had decided to poison him after all and hand his body over to the Collective as a sign of good faith. “What is this crap?”
“Whiskey,” Rico replied. “It’s not poisonous, though it was banned back in the twenty-first century as deleterious to health.”
“Perfect.” Jon drank the liquid down in one gulp, then sat back as the fire burned right down to his belly. “Jesus.” He held out the empty glass, and Rico grinned and refilled it.
Jon sipped the drink this time, the warmth radiating out from his stomach and warming him from the inside. The shivers that racked his body slowly subsided, and he relaxed against the chair back, closing his eyes.
He remembered Alex’s expression as he’d walked out. She would want to talk. Women always wanted to talk. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? What did he want from her? What was he capable of giving in return?
He was bad news and always had been. But maybe he could change. Maybe he’d already changed.
Shit.
He couldn’t cope right now.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that his glass was empty and held it out for a refill. Rico raised an eyebrow but emptied the silver flask into the glass. He shook the empty container. “I’ll go get a refill.”
Jon nodded absently. Why was he worrying about anything? Chances were, the Collective would catch up with them any moment now and that would be the end. They would all die. He wasn’t quite as full of self-pity as to claim that was his fault. No one had forced them into breaking him free. But he was glad they had.
Maybe he should have made Alex stay with that Sister Martha woman and go back to the Church. Though actually, thinking about it, she’d probably be better off dead.
Rico came back and placed t
he flask on the table between them. “Alex wants to know what I’ve done with you. You know, I don’t think that girl trusts me. Actually…never has.”
Jon sat up straight. “And why’s that? What did you do to her?”
“Absolutely nothing. Didn’t lay a finger on her. Or a fang. Anyway, I told her to go to bed. You’d see her tomorrow. She looks almost as bad as you do.”
“Yeah, it’s been a rough few days.” He sipped his drink. “Why did you come back for me?”
Rico stretched his booted legs out in front of him, resting them on the table while he considered the question. “Because you’re crew.”
“Since when?”
Rico shrugged. “Since the captain decided you were. But I’m guessing back on Trakis Two, when you saved Alex from Bastian.”
“I didn’t save her. I was just first on the scene.”
“No, we were too far behind; she would have been dead by the time we got there.”
“Maybe. It doesn’t matter. It was a reflex thing.”
“Yeah. I bet it can be really inconvenient.”
“What?”
“That reflex of yours. The need to save everyone.”
Jon gritted his teeth. “I don’t need to save everyone.”
“Come off it—you’re an alpha werewolf. Yeah—you’ve got to be a good fighter, better than the rest, but the real thing that makes an alpha is the need to protect, to look after the pack.”
“Well, it turned out I wasn’t too good at that.”
Rico topped up his glass. “What happened?”
Jon pursed his lips, but maybe Rico had a right to know. This was his ship and Jon was now crew. Apparently. For however short a time they had left. “My pack was slaughtered. I didn’t protect them.”
“Was it the Church?”
“Indirectly. They didn’t actually kill them, but they got the locals riled up into a frenzy of hatred against us. We lived on one of the outer planets. We were fine until the colonists came, and even then, we were okay for a long time—we kept to ourselves. But the humans bred like fucking rabbits. We needed space to run, and they wanted more land.”
“Where were you when it happened?”
