Tahlia, munching away on her own jerky, hands back a large water bottle. Tessa downs half then wipes her mouth on the back of her hoodie sleeve before taking a hunk off a cheese stick.
Hot Tamales are poured inside her palm. She tosses them back. Sweet-hot cinnamon bursts over Tessa's tongue, and she moans in ecstasy.
Finally, her hunger has faded, and she notices Laz hasn't eaten. “What?” She touches his arm. Warmth spreads underneath her fingertips.
She doesn't pull away. “Aren't you hungry?”
He nods solemnly. “Yes.”
She passes her bag of jerky to him, and he closes his hand around hers. The bag crinkles. “Not until my female is sated.”
Moisture pools at her core from his fervently spoken words. Tessa's brows come together as she swallows the last bite. “I'm not your female, Laz.”
His smile is crooked, steam rising from his mouth. “Not yet.”
Tessa's appetite is not as robust as it once was. A consumption awaits. Of her.
CHAPTER TEN
Tessa
“Thank Moon we're in a four-wheel drive.” Tessa grips the roll bar as if her life depends on it. She’s strapped in, courtesy of Laz, as they plunge up then sharply down gulleys that are supposed to be roads.
That's a full load of bullshit. They're ribbons of dirt sporting a few spots of gravel that wasn’t sucked up into the muck of the rain forest.
It's sunny outside, but no one would ever know it. The moss is deep, hanging like a fine coating of hair as it brushes past their vehicle, clinging to the sides of the car then letting them go as though the very woods couldn't abide the taste.
If Tessa was the trees, she would think a pair of werewolves and a demon guy tasted like crap, too.
“Hey!” Tessa cries as Tahlia takes a small cliff. Laz's arm snakes around her waist, though she's belted tight.
Moon, he's strong. She tells him, pausing at the ego boost it might give him, but he surprises her by stating without an ounce of arrogance, “The demonic are stronger than all species—even vampire.”
“Don't you think you're cool,” Tessa says, testing him.
“I am not ʻcool.ʼ Torture drives self-regard to unbearably low levels. Only a few of us escape the regime of the Master.” His voice is so miserable as he recounts his time in hell, Tessa's chest tightens.
The rig lurches lower. Tahlia sinks them wheel-deep in a river.
Tessa's heartbeat begins to thunder as the river rushes underneath the chassis. Cold air plows through the car, swarming the interior with iciness. Tessa shivers.
Warm air envelopes her.
Laz.
His skin has gone from a vague ruddiness to a distinctive red hue.
“Are you doing that?” she asks.
He nods.
Wow.
Tahlia downshifts. The wheels grind underneath the swirling current. “Can't go farther!” she yells over the gnashing gears and rushing water. The noises of the woods capture their racket, flinging it away from them to be absorbed by the vastness that surrounds them like a living tomb of green.
“Good thing we didn't trade the vehicle out!” Tessa shouts over the engine.
Then it stalls.
Laz acts fast, ripping the seatbelt off Tessa and tossing it away. The river swallows the fabric, sweeping it beneath the car as the chrome buckle winks into the dark swirling water.
The Suburban shifts sideways. Water sloshes inside and swarms across the floorboards.
“Shit!” Tessa screams before Laz takes her by one arm and throws her on the Suburban's roof. Tessa's talons punch through the metal, and she winces. Going wolfen due to emotion is always painful. Birthing talons through metal—agony.
She gasps, and Laz is there.
I can do this.
Tessa whips her head back and forth, searching for Tahlia. “Tahlia!” she screams.
Tahlia's head pops out the window. She struggles. “The belt's jammed!” she says, her voice shrill with panic.
To be a werewolf and drown is a horrible way to die.
Tahlia tries to stand, and the Suburban sinks hard to the left. The water rises above Tahlia's neck.
“No, Tessa,” Laz says with quiet authority, and she forgets she's on top of a sinking Suburban with a current too fast to navigate by car or body, where Tahlia is about to drown.
Laz is huge. His form has changed. A light scarlet reddens his shimmering skin to the color of soft rubies. Eyes like ice dipped in a vat of aquamarines study the situation, and Laz's blond hair has morphed to a reddish-gold.
Seconds of perusal is all Tessa gets, then Laz grasps her arm. “Roll when you fall, Tessa,” he says. And then she's airborne.
Tessa spins in an ungainly pile of wolfen muscle and short fur.
Still aching from the speed of the change, she lands on the shore in mud and water.
She lands hard, without rolling as Laz instructed. Tessa yelps, feeling her ribs bruise. She gasps, trying to look toward the vehicle escaping down the river. Holding her ribs and still opening and closing her mouth without the benefit of oxygen, Tessa stands.
She stumbles toward the bank.
Laz is nowhere. Her eyes swivel to the roof of the Suburban.
They're underwater!
Her legs are swept from under her, and Tessa lands backward. What little wind was returning rushes out of her lungs.
Her ribs don't heal. Too many demands.
Tessa clutches her neck in the universal sign for choking.
I'm going to die!
Three sets of upside-down silver eyes regard her. Wolfen. All-male.
Lanarre.
With the last of her strength, Tessa points to the sinking rig behind them.
Three faces turn toward where she's pointing.
A body lands beside her.
Tahlia.
Low growls roar above her. Tessa's talons sink into the ground, and she heaves herself upright. A sheet of hazy white falls over her vision.
Need. Oxygen.
The wolfen back up.
She throws herself beside Tahlia. The girl’s lips are blue, and she’s not breathing.
Tessa is struck in the back in precisely the spot she needed. Air surges through her lungs, and she coughs.
Tessa sits up on her knees, not bothering to see who hit her, and laces her fingers together. Putting the knot of her hands on Tahlia's chest, she begins CPR, rhythmically pumping up and down.
Live.
Water shoots out of Tahlia's mouth, and her beautiful bluish-violet eyes slam open. She grabs Tessa's wrists, vehemently shaking her head. “Tessa!”
“I'm here,” Tessa says, landing on her ass in the mud.
Tahlia sits up, and they pant together. “You're wolfen,” she says.
Tessa nods. Nothing like stating the obvious.
Tahlia's eyes widen.
Tessa whirls to see what's behind her.
Laz is on his knees, steam pouring off him. The wolfen have him. The one who stands beside him raises a shining sword toward Laz's neck.
Tessa crouches then leaps as though her life depends on it.
Two wolfen heads swing in her direction, clear surprise etched on their faces.
Not soon enough, fellas. She makes her body a ball mid-flight and takes out sword-wielder neatly.
They tumble together into a heap, and he raises the sword above her head. She throws her forearms over her face defensively.
“I do not hurt females,” he says as though deeply insulted.
Tessa drops her arms. “But you'd kill the guy that saved us!” she yells in a hoarse shout. And forget the fact that she had to figure out saving Tahlia.
Not a proactive group of Were.
He turns, and Laz is walking toward them.
Naked.
Oh. Oh. Tessa's mouth opens and closes without the excuse of oxygen deprivation.
His blond hair glows in the ambient light allowed through the thick wet canopy of green that hangs in tendrils
that nearly touch the ground. His broad cheekbones frame eyes so black, they look like holes in his face. Steam vaporizes behind him as he walks, eaten by the green of the forest. He comes to stand before them.
His erection hangs in glorious bare glory between heavily muscled legs. They should be stocky, but because of his height, they're the perfect complement to the rest of his body.
His tail rises behind him, and Tessa's gaze shifts to the wolfen.
They're laid out.
She blinks, spying blood at the hammer-head end of his appendage. Laz told a bold-faced lie when he said he couldn’t use that thing in battle.
Of course, Praile's was a flail.
Tessa backs away, her wolfen form wavering. She’s suffered too much injury, too much—everything. Despite her valiant efforts to remain wolfen, she melts to quarter-change.
Just then, the enemy appears, jumping at them from the creepiness of emerald forest. Tessa couldn't be more spent.
The wolfen beside her stands, stepping in front of her protectively.
Tessa rolls her eyes. He finally gets his act together, and it's Laz, who wouldn't hurt her. That she knows.
Ask her how she knows that, and she couldn't say. But Were live by their instincts. And hers have saved her more times that she can count.
She clenches her eyes shut, asking the Moon to forgive her, and rolls to her side, punching the wolfen in the crotch.
“Ah!” he bellows, folding to the forest floor, where the deep moss catches his body.
Tahlia hops over the downed wolfen and rushes to her. She sees Laz, all demonic and naked, and slows, making a wide birth.
He hisses as if to say, “Don’t screw with me.”
His mouth is vaguely gray.
Tessa shudders. She kissed him, tongued him—and thought about doing more.
A heck of a lot more.
“Need to go,” Laz says.
Tessa shakes her head. She saved Laz. She wants Laz.
But this?
She looks at his form again. Every hard inch of his muscled body is encased in red skin, his mouth is gray, and his teeth are a pearly white. His black eyes narrow on her as he reaches for her.
“I'm weak, Laz. Please, just go.”
His hand drops, and he shakes his head. “I cannot just go.” Anger makes his voice vibrate.
The guy she whacked in the crotch groans. He'll heal.
Moondammit.
“Listen, Laz. You're…” Hot, virile, a sexual typhoon. This is so not the right time for this conversation.
His brows come together. All that muscled flesh momentarily distracts Tessa. The subtle vapor of heat covers his skin.
“You're an attractive—” His dick draws her eyes like a magnet. Tessa swallows, Moon, he's so perfect, it hurts to look at him. “Male,” she manages.
Tessa can't believe she's breaking up with Laz in the middle of a rainforest with a pile of beaten wolfen at their feet before they even got together.
Laz puts his hands on his hips, drawing her attention to—Yeah.
Tessa hangs her head.
“Hate to interrupt all these deliberations,” Tahlia says, her voice shaking.
Tessa's nostrils flare. “More are coming.”
Laz scowls at her, then his hand is at the back of her neck. He tears her from the sodden earth, ignoring the mud that covers her and ignoring his nudity, and smashes his lips to hers.
Tessa groans, moving into his arms. She fits so perfectly against him, she’s forced to hold back a sob of semi-relief at the contact.
His cock presses between them as though it's seeking entry. Laz hikes her up, and her legs wrap his waist.
His length presses against her entrance through her yoga pants.
He shoves upward, and she cries out—in agony and ecstasy. Clutching his neck, she moves her lips against his. Heat blooms in her core, and like a brush fire, it moves outward, seeking.
It slams into Laz, and his face tips back, breaking the kiss.
When his head lowers, his eyes flash to black.
“I don't want you,” Tessa says, having never spoken a lie as large as that one in her lifetime.
Laz runs his hands down her side, and she shudders. As he sets her on her feet, his gaze returns to a pale gray.
Wolfen circle the area.
Tessa feels as though her heart is in her throat. She can't breathe through her emotions.
Laz's face closes down. His body grows opaque. And like a ghost, he vanishes.
Tessa blinks. “Laz!” she screams, her heart leaking out of her pores. Then in the next breath, her mind justifies the lie in her rejection of him. I did the right thing.
Laz would have never survived the Lanarre.
Tessa looks around at the Lanarre surrounding them, noting they're downed brethren. Tahlia and Tessa wrap their arms around each other.
They won't hurt females.
With a flare of their nostrils, they identify the one thing Tessa wishes she could have kept to herself.
“Heat,” one says.
The others smile.
Unclaimed is what Tessa hears. Tahlia turns nervous eyes to Tessa.
“Tell them,” Tessa says.
Tahlia turns to face the wolfen. The number of males in the party makes Tessa uncomfortable on principle, to put it mildly.
Laz’s absence makes it worse. Tessa's been alone for a long time. She doesn’t need Laz. And he was demonic. She hangs her head.
She can admit to herself he was more than that.
“I am Tahlia, Princess of the Lanarre pack from the Redwood.”
Confused, they regard one another then their attention razors on her like sharp slits. The one with the abused crotch stands, slowly shaking his head, giving Tessa a hard glare.
Shit.
“The chosen has arrived ahead of Drek. We do not know who you are—but your impersonation of the chosen will not be met with tolerance.”
Tahlia's mouth drops open.
What? Tessa turns her stunned expression to Tahlia.
His eyes move to Tessa's. “And your cavorting with a horned one?” His smile lacks warmth.
Tessa's cheeks heat. Hell, she'd punched him in the dick and had a demonic in tow. She wasn’t winning any popularity contests.
Like ever. “He's gone now,” Tessa whispers, hoping Laz will stay gone, Redemptive or not.
The Lanarre’s grin is toothy, though the smile never reaches his eyes.
Tessa scents Tahlia's confusion and, underneath that, her fear.
Amen.
“But that doesn't matter. The demonic was here, escorting two Were females”—his gaze flicks to Tahlia—“one a Lanarre—on her own.” His eyebrows rise significantly.
“So what? Females can't travel together?”
He shakes his head. “A Lanarre female of any repute would have male escorts or if she were royalty—her family guard.”
His chin lifts. “You are not she.” His slick black eyebrows drop over molten-silver eyes. “But we will get to the bottom of who you really are.”
“I am Tahlia,” she seethes. “You ridiculous Lanarre, can you not scent my purity?”
Uh-oh.
He rushes her.
Bravely, Tahlia plants her feet wide. She has obviously never felt the hand of a male against her.
His nose goes to her crotch and Tessa blanches.
Tahlia chops her hand on the back of his neck in a hard stroke of such instinctive quickness, he rolls to the side.
He kicks her in the stomach, and she yelps, hands to belly as she falls slowly to the forest floor.
Tessa steps forward and chin-checks him against the side of the tree.
The Lanarre close in.
It takes six males to subdue them. In the end, they do more than that. They steal Tessa's hope.
The Lanarre of the Hoh region isn't a sanctuary.
It's a prison.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Drek
Drek lands steps from the
healing Were on the ground.
He barks. Explain.
Drek watches understanding flow over the Alpha's features. The Alpha knows Drek is Lanarre royalty after one inhaled chuff.
“Forgive me, prince,” the Alpha grovels.
A ripple of power, stolen from the moon, tears through Drek. He pushes it over the Alpha, blanketing him in Drek's will.
The Alpha flattens on the dirt. Only a thin layer of skin covers the pulsating wounds of his stomach. Drek's lip lifts, and a low growl hums through the space between house, driveway, and barn.
The horned one whirls, looking as though he'll come for Drek.
Bowen moves through the assembled but scattered Singer population, and the horned one steams from the holes of his evil body, but he does not draw nearer. Clever creature.
He cannot take two full werewolves. He's decided to cut his losses.
Drek allows Bowen the lead so that he might change into wolfen. He scents that Tahlia's fragrance is no longer fresh. Staying in werewolf form offers him no benefit. Drek rises on his hind legs, melting the things of wolf to the part-form of wolfen. He tamps down on the relief of shifting in reverse, which is always easier and less painful than becoming his beast. He ignores the murmurs from the Singers and levels his attention on the horned one.
“I have no quarrel with you, Lanarre,” the evil one hisses. He swings a mallet-like tail above his head.
Drek takes in the spiked appendages at its end. He is a fearsome creature, but Drek is unafraid. He and Bowen will prevail.
Drek has not come face to face with a demonic in many years. That he has today, with Tahlia in such close proximity, causes a profound unease to creep over his skin. In the presence of evil only a few yards away, the fine silver hairs of his wolfen stand on end.
“We have no quarrel yet, horned one.” Drek feels the potential simmering between them.
The red horror of the demonic grins, his black teeth causing his mouth to appear as a yawning hole inside his face. Low vapor rises, sucked by the light breeze of night succumbing to dawn. He throws his head back, laughing.
Drek does not see the humor.
“I have business here that has nothing to do with our cousin, the Lanarre.”
Drek jerks his jaw back, voicing his displeasure in growling words, “We are not relations, demonic.”
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