Cold Hearted: An Alaskan Werewolf Romance

by Heather Guerre

  We’d been living in the Ranger Station for a little over a week when Margaret called with bad news. “Wade’s been attacked.”

  Caleb put his phone on speaker and we listened grimly as she explained.

  “He was following a scent trail along Splinter Creek. The strigoi caught him from behind. Wade’s going to be alright. It wasn’t nearly as bad as Elena.” A few days ago she’d let us know that Elena was fully healed—shifting into her wolfskin with no problem, and running tracks with the rest of the pack. But even so, the memory made my stomach churn.

  “How bad exactly?” I asked. Wade was in his seventies. A lesser injury for Elena, who was in her twenties, could be much more damaging for Wade.

  “He bled a good amount. Anna gave him a transfusion. He’s got some deep lacerations down his back, sliced open to the rib bones in a few places. He can still shift into his wolfskin, but he’s not going to be tracking for a few days.”

  “He shouldn’t be tracking at all!” I told Caleb after we hung up with Margaret. “Nobody should! He’s only here because of me—people I care about are being hurt because of—”

  “No,” Caleb said firmly. “Stop that. If you’d never come to Longtooth, you’d probably be sucking blood by now. The strigoi is the only one at fault here. Everybody who faces him knows what the risks are.”

  “They shouldn’t have to take the risk,” I said, blinking hard to fight tears.

  “They don’t have to. They choose to. Because you’re ours, Grace. You’re pack. And we love you. I love you.”

  I curled against him, pressing my face into his chest, and holding on to him as tightly as I could. “I love you too,” I whispered tearfully.

  Another week passed. The tension ratcheted higher and higher. Caleb and I tried to exorcise it through each other’s bodies, but it never totally worked. After the brief oblivion of sex, we lay in silence, holding onto each other, until we fell into fitful, nightmarish sleep.

  The cabin was starting to feel like a prison, especially during the long hours when Caleb was out tracking. I rearranged the cupboards three times. I scrubbed the counters and the table and the floors. I finished knitting Caleb’s sweater, then unraveled the whole thing and started over. I emptied the box of matches on the table and tried to build a matchstick house like I remembered seeing my grandpa do. I couldn’t figure out how to get it to stay together, and ended up striking matches and letting them burn all the way down to my fingers—holding them as long as I could before the pain forced me to drop them.

  Eventually, I gave up on trying to do anything. I just stood at the window like a ghost, staring through the trees down to the river. I traced my gaze over the mountain’s steep rise, trying to spot any place where Alex could be hiding during the day. He must have been nearby. Jess and Caleb had both picked up his scent in separate spots within sight of the cabin. He knew I was here.

  He didn’t come into my dreams anymore. He didn’t speak to me in my mind. Ever since that night when he’d nearly had me—when Caleb and I had finally come together—Alex hadn’t tried to reach me in that way. Was it because he couldn’t? Or was it part of some strategy? Caleb thought he couldn’t—because I was pack now, and the protection of the pack had severed his control over me. I wasn’t as sure as Caleb was, and that uncertainty ate at me.

  But the pack was a constant presence, like a warm glow at my back at all times, and when I felt the most crazed, I closed my eyes and let that warmth wash over me.

  For his part, Caleb didn’t ask why there were matchsticks scattered all over the kitchen table, or why the silverware kept moving to different drawers. He often came back from tracking with little surprises—a jigsaw puzzle from The Spruce’s lounge, two skeins of pretty red yarn from Lorraine Lance, a half-done book of crossword puzzles from Wade, a stack of essays from my sophomores, and a few different paperback books from a few different people. I appreciated them all, but I couldn’t focus on any of them.

  It was getting harder and harder to fall asleep at night. Despite the fact that he spent hours every day covering miles upon miles of mountainous terrain, I could tell Caleb wasn’t sleeping well either. We were both laying sleeplessly in bed, curled into each other, when I felt a sudden emptiness in my chest, like a piece of my heart had been plucked out. I flinched, my hand flying to my sternum. Beside me, Caleb sat bolt upright.

  “What is that?” I gasped.

  “Daniel,” he said, flinging the covers back and surging out of bed. “He’s… he’s gone.”

  That’s what the emptiness was—a missing pack member. I got out of bed too, searching for clothing. “What’s happened? Is he okay?”

  Caleb caught me in his arms, stopping me from pulling on my jeans. “I’m going to find out, but you have to stay here.”

  I’d never been alone in the cabin during the night. I glanced at the drawn curtains. “Please, Caleb, let me come with. If you’re with me—”

  “I can’t risk it, Grace. You’re safer here than anywhere else—especially outside. I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s going on. But I have to go to my sister’s house and make sure everything’s… I have to go see.”

  I nodded, choking back the frantic plea rising in my throat. Already my hands were shaking at the thought of being alone. Selfish coward, I scolded myself. Something was drastically wrong with Daniel—now was not the time to be thinking about myself.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I get there.” Caleb pressed a kiss to my forehead. I sat on the bed and watched him disappear down the ladder. The door opened and closed, and then he was gone.

  I was alone.

  It was the middle of the night, but I couldn’t get back to sleep. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and one of Caleb’s t-shirts, then crawled back into bed and listened to the silence.

  A few minutes after he’d left, I heard Caleb scratch at the door. Had he forgotten something? I climbed down the ladder and pulled the door open, looking down to where his head would be in wolf form. But there was no wolf there.

  “Hello, my love.”

  Alex stood before me, poised on the threshold. In his arms, he held Daniel Gray’s limp body.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Fresh, wet blood coated Daniel’s throat and stained the front of his shirt. His skin was sickly pale. A scream rose up in my throat.

  “You’ll be quiet,” Alex said softly, “if you care about the boy.”

  The scream died. I stared helplessly at the horror in front of me.

  Alex shifted his arm so that he could close one hand around Daniel’s throat. “He’s not dead yet, but he is very, very close. If you want him to have any chance of living beyond this night, you will invite me inside.”

  I worked my mouth, but sound wouldn’t come out. I swallowed, tried again. “Come in.” My voice was the faintest rasp, but it was enough. Alex smiled beatifically and crossed the threshold.

  Once inside, he dropped Daniel like a sack of garbage. I gasped as the boy’s head cracked against the floor and dropped to my knees beside him. Before I could touch him, check for a pulse, a cold hand closed around my throat, jerking me back. His touch burned like dry ice, and I felt that cold pain splintering through my veins.

  “Leave the mutt,” Alex hissed in my ear. “On your feet.”

  I staggered but did as I was told. Alex spun me around to face him, keeping his hand around my throat. I hadn’t looked him in the face in a long time. He was even more painfully beautiful than I remembered. His eyes were inhumanly blue. His face was all sharp angles and shadowy contours. His nose was as straight as a blade, and the mouth underneath it was sensuous and full.

  He was wearing the sweater I’d knitted for him. It was the first sweater I’d ever knitted after I finally moved on from hats and scarves. It was an ugly thing compared to what I was capable of doing now, made from a cheap black acrylic yarn that had been on clearance—because I hadn’t wanted to spend too much on something that might not turn out. And it hadn’t turned out. No
t very well, anyway. It was littered with twisted stitches, one sleeve was several inches longer than the other, and the collar was wide enough for me to slip over my entire body. But Alex had treasured it—apparently still treasured it.

  “Ah, love, I’ve missed you,” he said fervently. His piercing eyes seemed to soften as he gazed over me. “All of this… this disagreement between us has been nothing but a misunderstanding. I should have explained things to you sooner. I realize that now. But I didn’t want to move too quickly. And I’ll be honest, the taste of your blood is exquisite. I was loathe to turn you and lose that delicious vintage forever.” He smiled fondly. “But if turning you means having you at my side forever, then I will happily give it up. Perhaps the two of us, together, will find a replacement who is just as delicious.”

  “Please,” I said hoarsely, trying to appeal to the twisted affection he felt for me. “Don’t do this. I don’t want to be a strig—”

  He tightened his hand around my throat, cutting off my air. His beautiful face had turned terrifying, stark with fury. “That is their filthy word. Their lies. They told you I am a monster, didn’t they?”

  I choked for air, clawing at his hand. He eased it marginally, allowing me to draw in a desperate, thready breath.

  “They are jealous. And frightened of what they do not understand. This is an exalted life I am offering you. This is immortality. An eternity filled with unstoppable power and infinite pleasure. I am a god, love, and I will make you my goddess.”

  “Alex,” I pleaded breathlessly. “I don’t—”

  He tightened his grip just long enough to silence me again. “You’ll see,” he promised softly. “Once you’re turned, you’ll understand what a priceless gift I am giving you. I don’t have the time to convince you right now. The boy is near enough dead that the other beasts won’t be able to sense him, but they won’t leave your little hideaway unguarded for long.” He sighed. “I wanted this moment to be beautiful. I wanted to shower you with pleasure as I bestowed immortality upon you. I wanted our bond to be sealed in ecstasy. But the time has passed for that.” He tilted his head down, regarding me solemnly. “If you accept my gift gracefully, I will make it very good for you. If you fight me, it will hurt. And when it’s done, I will make you finish draining the boy for your first meal as an immortal.”

  My heart stopped. “No—”

  “But if you are good, we will leave the boy to fate. Maybe he will die, maybe the other dogs will find him in time. The choice is yours, love. Do you want him to have a chance? Or do you want to kill him yourself?”

  Tremors wracked my body so violently that, if it hadn’t been for Alex’s hand around my neck, I would have fallen to the ground.

  “Time’s ticking, love. Will you fight me, or will you be good?”

  My vision blurred with hot, burning tears. “I’ll be good,” I answered hoarsely.

  Alex leaned in, brushing his lips against my ear. “There’s a smart girl.” He adjusted his hold on me, shifting his grip to the back of my neck, and then his lips were on my throat, colder than ice. I heard the parting of his lips and then the sudden punch of his teeth through my skin. I gasped at the pain.

  “Shhh…” Alex soothed. And then his lips sealed around the wound he’d made, and he began to feed. I felt my blood siphoning into his mouth. My stomach churned and cold shivers chased over my skin. He swallowed a hot mouthful, and then his lips were on me again, drawing the life from my veins. Over his shoulder, I could see Daniel laying still and lifeless in front of the open door.

  I began to grow light-headed and staggered backwards, crashing against the table. Alex moved with me, steadying me as he continued to feed. The wet sounds of his mouth working against my throat filled my ears. The light-headedness turned into swirling vertigo. Black spots appeared in my vision, prickling and dancing. I put a hand behind me, bracing myself against the table. My hand skidded over some debris, and I almost fell again. But Alex wrapped an arm around my back, holding me against him as my knees gave out.

  The black spots sparked and grew wider. I lost sight of Daniel as my head lolled back. My hands felt cold and numb. I lifted one idly, clumsily, as Alex continued to drain me. Something was stuck to my palm. I squinted. My vision was fuzzy and dark. It took me a few seconds to figure out what I was looking at.

  A matchstick.

  I’d left them scattered across the table. My heart leapt, and my vision seemed to sharpen briefly. With numb, cold fingers, I slowly maneuvered the match so that I was gripping it by the base. My vision was fading back out again. Everything was getting so dark. And I was so cold. My arms had no strength. I dragged the match across the edge of the table, but it was too slow to do anything.

  Alex shifted his grip on me as he bit into me again, releasing a fresh flood of blood. He cradled the back of my head—bringing Daniel back into my dim view. I drew on all of my fading strength and flicked the matchhead hard along the rough edge of the table. I smelled the sulfur before I saw the flame. With a wobbling, clumsy hand, I pressed the lit match to Alex’s sleeve.

  It took a second for his sleeve to catch, but once it did, it went up quickly. Alex’s lips suctioned wetly as he pulled back from me, making an inarticulate sound of confusion. Without his support, I crumpled to the floor. I felt my own blood as a wet gush down my neck. I lay limply, splayed like a rag doll, watching as the flames licked up his sleeve.

  “What have you done?” he gasped, beating at the fire. “No!” He tried to pull the sweater off, but he only succeeded in spreading the flames. His torso went up like a January Christmas tree. He staggered backwards, letting out an ear-shattering scream that sounded neither human nor animal, but something unearthly and wrong.

  He thrashed and flailed, trying to put the flames out, but they only roared hotter and higher as they consumed his body. He stumbled against the kitchen counter. The paint caught fire immediately, and the old dry wood beneath it followed suit. Alex’s screams continued to shatter against my eardrums, but I watched it all happen from deep inside my head, lost in some cold, dark, faraway place.

  “Grace!” His voice shrieked from within the blazing inferno that had consumed him entirely. “Grace!” he screamed my name for what seemed like forever, until his voice twisted away into a shrill nothing. His body slumped to the floor, just a big, motionless, burning mass.

  In the distance, a howl sounded. Then another. And another. They were so far away.

  The world was so dark now. I could hardly even see the fire. But I knew it was spreading, its heat raking over me. Dimly, I sensed the glow of flames licking their way along the kitchen cabinets, climbing the wall. They spidered across the floor from Alex’s body.

  I was so cold. And so tired. My eyes drifted shut. Or maybe my vision failed entirely. I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t really care, either.

  “Grace!” A new voice—a familiar voice. Why did I know that voice?

  I blinked hard against the darkness, but I couldn’t see anything. I could hear other voices, but none of them stood out to me like that one.

  “No! No, no, no no, no—Grace! Gracie? Please, honey—wake up.” My heart pinged weakly as I finally recognized that voice. Caleb. The agony in his voice tore at my soul, but there wasn’t enough of me left to try and comfort him.

  I tried to speak—tried to at least say goodbye—but the world tilted beneath me, and then the darkness ate me up entirely.

  Chapter Thirty

  The world was empty and white. I blinked, and the whiteness resolved into a grid of speckled squares. It took me a few seconds to understand that I was looking up at a drop tile ceiling. I shifted my gaze downward. I was laying in a hospital bed, still in the clothes I’d been wearing at the Ranger Station. They smelled of smoke and blood and body odor. I wrinkled my nose.

  Next to me, I heard a low growl.

  I turned and found Caleb, sprawled in an ugly armchair, head angled awkwardly, sound asleep. Not growling—snoring. Behind him, bright morning light st
reamed through the window. I shifted, trying to sit up, and found an IV plugged into my hand and taped to my wrist. A drip bag hung from the pole next to my bed, filled with clear fluid. There was another bed in the room—and Daniel Gray lay in that one, eyes closed. A russet-colored wolf was curled up in the chair next to his bed. Our gaze met, and she stared back at me with eyes that gleamed a familiar gold. Daniel’s mother—and Caleb’s sister.

  I stared at Daniel for a long moment, until I was satisfied that I could see his chest rising and falling with his breaths. He was alive. He was safe.

  And Alex?

  I gripped the bedrails, trying to sit up. Pain flared in my neck and I let out a little hiss, pressing my hand there. My palm landed against a thick bandage taped to my skin.

  “Grace?” Caleb asked groggily. A split-second later he woke to full alertness, leaping out of his chair and looming over me in the bed. “Grace,” he breathed, his eyes burning with emotion. There was a faint tremor in his hand as he reached out to touch my cheek.

  “I’m okay. I think,” I said, laying my hand over his and pressing my cheek into his palm.

  “God, Grace,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t—I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry isn’t enough. If I had just listened to you—if I had just taken you with me…” He closed his eyes, his face a rigid mask of shame.

  I didn’t need or want apologies. “You were trying to save your nephew,” I said, and that was the end of the conversation as far as I was concerned. “But… Alex? Is he…?”

  Caleb opened his eyes. They gleamed with feral rage. “He’s ash now. You finished him.” He leaned down, resting his forehead against mine. “He won’t bother you ever again.”

  “Good.”

  We stayed like that for a moment, until the sound of a throat clearing in the doorway caught our attention. Teekkonlit Valley’s doctor Anna Daaldinh, a tall, thin woman with steel-gray hair and a lightly-lined face stood in the doorway.