The Covert Wolf

by Bonnie Vanak

  “So you’re toast either way?”

  “Burned toast.” His hard gaze met her worried one.

  “But this isn’t military, it’s a simple trip-wire booby trap, relying on the hidden element to target the victim. I cut the line, and it gets disarmed. Except for the incendiary trigger. That’s not military.” Matt gestured to the cylinders of plastique strapped to the detonator. “In this case, the plastique provides fuel to the fire. Like the C4 the soldiers burned.”

  She scanned the ground, muttering, “Has to be here, something to keep the person trapped, prevent them from running. Regular bomb blows up, torch bomb burns. Flames shoot up, person would get burned, roll to douse the flames or jump in the swamp. Not effective.”

  Sienna shuffled the ground near the device. Metal, hot and sharp, stung his nostrils. Matt hissed and turned his head. “Don’t move,” he said quietly. “Étienne, get over here. Step sharp and bring a big stick.”

  The Draicon snapped off a thick overhanging tree limb. Étienne bent down and brushed aside some leaves, then poked them.

  The sickening crunch and snap of metal followed. Sienna went pale. The trap’s triangular teeth sank deep into the tree limb.

  That could have been Sienna’s leg, mangled and broken. He whistled out a breath, regaining his cool.

  Sienna started toward him. Matt gave an almost imperceptible nod to Étienne, who caught her arm, holding her back.

  Lines of tension bracketed her pink mouth. The delicate fragrance of her mixed in with the decaying leaves scattered on the ground.

  Sulfur and acrid smoke burned his nostrils as he studied a tangle of multicolored wires. Matt spotted exactly what he’d suspected.

  There. A groove cut into the detonator and a thin yellow wire. The firing pin created the initial explosion, fueling the C4, concentrating the flames so they would shoot out like a blowtorch.

  He needed to snip that wire first. Knew these sneaky SOBs. Could smell their stench all over the yellow fire, the one they’d handled, lacing it with demon magick to make the device ignite. Matt picked up the pliers.

  Étienne gently pulled Sienna away. “Matt,” she said thickly.

  He looked up, gave a crooked grin. “Don’t worry, pixie. I can do this.”

  Throat muscles worked in her slender neck as she swallowed. “I know you can. You’re hot stuff. Just don’t become…hot stuff.”

  He smiled.

  Then she broke free, bent down and gave him a soft kiss. Her mouth felt like warm silk against the bristles on his cheek. “When you cut the wires…there is a chance it will burn, anyway. Because it’s magick.”

  Matt gently tugged her ponytail. “I know. Go.”

  They retreated to the trees. Sweat trickled down his spine, pooled in the waistband of his shorts. Matt took the pliers, carefully pulled free the thinner yellow wire, separating it from the other wires. Heart pounding like a war drum, he cut.

  Snip.

  Following the trip wire as it led from the device, he carefully opened the pliers.

  Snip.

  The device began to glow crimson, pulse with supernatural energy. With preternatural speed, he jumped up, sped to the safe zone. “Rafe,” he yelled. “Now! Destroy it!”

  The handsome Kallan raised his hands, directed a burst of energy at the bomb. It shattered beneath the impact, crimson waves floating to the surface. Then the pieces fell, dissolving into ashes.

  The ashes vanished, leaving behind only the man-made steel trap, which Raphael destroyed.

  Matt heaved a sigh, as Sienna wiped sweat off her brow. Their gazes caught and met, his filled with cool relief, hers with shining joy. “You did it!” Sienna jumped up, her ponytail bouncing. She looked exotically lovely, her oval face etched in a wide smile, a spark in her green eyes.

  “Because you helped me,” he reminded her. “We’re a team.”

  He caught her in his arms and swung her around. She felt good in his embrace, all warm female curves and soft skin. Giving into temptation, he buried his nose in the crook of her shoulder and inhaled her fragrance. Wondering how she’d taste beneath his tongue, the heady scent of her filling his nostrils as he parted her thighs oh-so-gently and put his mouth on her…

  “You disarmed it. Great.”

  The musical voice was flat and cold. Matt glanced up to see Gabriel studying them with a cool look.

  In fact, all the Robichaux clan was standing closer, their expressions a little too aloof for his liking. Hell, he’d just disarmed the UXO, and they acted as if he’d planted it there.

  Not you. Sienna.

  The thought flitted into his mind like mist. Matt lowered Sienna to the ground, kicked dirt over the hole.

  “Interesting how you knew exactly what kind of bomb it was, Sienna.” Hard speculation, not respect, shone in Étienne’s gaze.

  The same thought shot through his mind. How had Sienna known so much about this type of bomb? And what did that mean?

  Sienna stared at her outstretched fingers. “I dreamed about it last night. I saw the bomb exactly as it was in the ground, saw them planting it, laughing as they rigged the detonator.”

  “Mighty convenient timing,” Raphael drawled.

  “Where were you last night, Miss McClare?” This from Rémy. Usually friendly, but the Robichaux Alpha was now demanding and arrogant.

  Gabriel’s nostrils flared, as if he were trying to scent a trace of demon on her body. They surrounded her, making her look small and defenseless. The pack mentality, banding together against an outside threat.

  Enough of this. Matt slid a protective arm around her waist.

  “Sienna’s a guest here. We arrived together and I was with her all night. Lay off. Or do I have to remind you of that famous Cajun hospitality you’ve forgotten?”

  The Robichaux males didn’t lose their speculative looks. Sienna looked troubled as they headed back for the house. She glanced at him, moss-green gaze huge.

  “Thanks. I thought for a minute they might snap off my head.”

  “They’re just protective of their family, and wary.”

  And even though he knew they’d spent the night together, Matt had his own suspicions.

  For a Fae who was terrified of pyro demons, she suddenly had plenty of knowledge about how they operated.

  Chapter 9

  Matt leaned his hands on the porch railing. He’d showered and changed into a gray polo shirt and khaki cargo pants. His broad shoulders tensed as he studied the children playing in the yard. On a lawn chair, a grim Étienne watched over them. The other male Draicon were in the forest, patrolling the land to ensure no demons slipped past their notice.

  Even though he’d defended her, she could see the mistrust shadowing Matt’s eyes. She was Fae, with a murky past.

  He turned, folding his arms over his powerful chest. “I need to find out how the demon gained access to our land. How could it slip past the warding?”

  Her gaze whipped to the yard. “Your brother-in-law seems to think I had something to do with it.”

  “Étienne has suspicions, because he’s worried sick about his children. He’d strangle whatever demon planted that device. I would, too.” A furious flush suffused his face. “They could have killed one of the kids. The bomb was planted last night, because I took that path yesterday and there was no trace of it, or the kill.”

  The fact made him pause. “They’re targeting me. But how did they trace us?”

  “Who else knows where we went besides your C.O. and Sam?”

  “No one. Even they don’t know our full itinerary. I’ve kept that on the q.t.” He fished out his cell phone. “I’m calling Shay.”

  She walked off to give him privacy. When she returned, he looked speculative. Hard.

  “Tell me about your dream last night. You said it was connected to how you knew how to diffuse the bomb.”

  Her fingers curled around the post, feeling the solid wood. Strong and sturdy, like Matt. Pulse skittering, she watched him withdraw a knife
from a sheath on his waist. The tip of the blade dug into the railing’s worn wood. Bits and pieces flew as he traced a carving.

  “I don’t even know if it was a dream. Maybe a lost memory.”

  Sharp and cold, his gaze swept over her. “You’re telling me you’ve diffused incendiary devices planted by pyro demons?”

  She felt frustrated by the black hole in her memory. “I don’t know. I wish I did! All I know is the dream felt so real, as if I’d been there before.” She could still smell the scent of burning earth, hear the hiss of the flame as it spewed out, taste the charred ashes.

  The knife sank deep into the railing, quivered there a minute. After jerking the knife free, he turned, muscles flexing smoothly beneath his jeans and tight shirt. “Been there before? As in helping a demon plant a bomb? Level with me, Sienna.”

  Sienna’s heart lurched. He looked cool and lethal, a man who could kiss you one minute and break your neck a minute later if you crossed him.

  She suddenly felt very small and defensive. Sienna threw her hands out.

  “It was a dream, but it felt so real. I can’t explain. I know how this looks. But, Matt, I’d never plant a bomb, no matter how I felt about Draicon wolves. That’s not me. I would never hurt your family, certainly not risk your nieces and nephews.” Sienna bit her lower lip. “You’ve got to believe me.”

  Because no one else does.

  But why should he trust her? He was a wolf and wolves stuck together. They were a pack, loyal to the core, and distrusted outsiders, just as Fae did.

  Matt glanced at the other males who’d returned from the forest. Gathered on the lawn, they aimed her sullen looks. Emotion knotted her throat. The Robichaux family had aligned against her. Oh, the women were still friendly, but she’d seen their uneasy glances.

  “Please, Matt. I’m telling the truth.”

  A heartbeat of silence quivered between them. Then he turned his back to the males. “I believe you. I don’t know what’s going on, but I believe in you.”

  Relief rushed through her. She felt giddy from it. “For a moment, I thought you would throw me to the wolves. Or the demons.”

  “My family is just being protective of their own. As for the demons…” A flash of sharp canine showed as his upper lip pulled back. “The pyro demons aren’t getting past me and getting to you or anyone else.”

  The SEAL looked ready to take on a whole legion of demons. Not just for his family, but for her, the stranger, from a race he distrusted. Overwhelmed, she pressed her hands against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me,” she whispered.

  Sienna stood on tiptoe, meaning to kiss him in thanks. She slid her arms around his neck, and the kiss turned urgent and demanding.

  Matt wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his chest. So solid and firm, he smelled delicious, pine mixed with his own spicy maleness. Rough bristles slightly abraded her cheeks as he slowed the pace, lazily kissing her as if they had all the time in the world. She breathed in his scent, dragging it into her lungs.

  When she broke the kiss, he smiled down at her, his gaze filled with erotic heat. He pushed a hand through her hair, the touch leaving a sizzling current in its wake.

  Sienna traced a line over his wet, firm mouth. He was so different from anyone she’d ever known, a wolf who aroused her with touch, his scent so spicy and enticing…

  Scent. “The demon, why didn’t it leave a scent? It left a scent in the witch’s house.”

  Interest flared in his eyes. “You noticed. Your wolf half must be emerging. Demons can easily cover their scent, especially in open, natural areas like the bayou.”

  “Sometimes I wonder which half of me is Draicon.”

  “The better half,” he teased, tweaking her ponytail. “Have breakfast with me.”

  “Sprouts and green beans?”

  He playfully tugged her ponytail again. “Breakfast in the kitchen, not the pasture. Real food. Bacon, eggs, sausage.” Warm breath lifted a stray lock of hair as he bent close. “It’s what wolves eat. And you, pixie, are half wolf.”

  A fact she could never live down. Or ever forget. Because back home, her family would never allow her to forget.

  The realization saddened her. Even if—no, when—she brought them back the Orb, they’d still regard her with suspicion. Always wonder when the wildness would emerge, the beast would claw its way to the surface.

  Matt had a home and a loving, bossy family.

  Sienna wondered if she could ever have the same. Because right now, she wasn’t certain where she fit in.

  Anywhere.

  A hot shower helped cleanse Sienna’s confused emotions.

  Sienna felt hopeful for the first time in years. Last night’s dream indicated her long-buried memories were awakening.

  But once she returned to the Fae, Matt would erase her memory of these past few days.

  The Robichaux males were downstairs, discussing how pyro demons could have gained access to their powerfully warded land. She wanted to join their tight group. Show them there was nothing to distrust about a mixed breed. Prove she didn’t have anything to do with the bomb. Maybe she could help them discover how it was planted.

  A twist of gray Spanish moss lay on the pine bureau. She picked it up, cradling it in her palms. It had covered the bomb and Matt had taken it to try to track the demon down, though it proved fruitless.

  It was time to try testing her full powers. The Fae could glean memories from the earth, using the energy the land emitted. From an early age, her aunt had taught her how to “read” an aura. “Anyone can do it,” Chloe had insisted. “We Fae are more centered with the earth, so it comes more naturally to us.”

  Sienna closed her eyes, seeing the booby trap as she had in her nightmare. Feeling the crisp edges of the fallen moss, smelling the dank earthiness of the bayou.

  The ugly demon planting it, eager to wreak havoc. Only this time, the murky swamp was a clear, mirrored lake, the sky overhead a sullen winter gray. Icy cold stung her bare skin as she watched the demon laugh.

  The scenery felt familiar, looked familiar.

  Study the enemy. Get to know him as intimately as you know yourself. What drives him?

  Matt’s words echoed through her mind. Remembering the mottled gray flesh of the demon who’d tried burning them in the witch’s house, she concentrated.

  Sand in her lungs, burning sand. So many tiny granules. Once she’d been powerful and feared. Now, a dry dust of herself. No one remembered her, no one cared. She was dust on the wind, part of the rocky, pebbled earth that blew red against the sun.

  Hungry, so hungry, craving fear, needing it to feed. Even though her throat was parched, she managed to take form. The form was wizened, barely enough to take shape and blend. But she blended, dredging up every last droplet of energy to mingle with those who hated and killed. The killing was good; it felt wonderful, feeding on the blood and fear.

  Stronger now. Hatred boiled inside her, driven to hurt and score flesh, burn those who’d imprisoned her, the paranorms who thought they were invincible. She was the invincible one. Track the SEAL to his home ground. She felt a mix of rage and cold, lethal purpose. And then, as she sped through the air on a warm wind, she felt herself being stopped by a cold, invisible barrier, like a giant hand. Magick. The land was shielded. Frustration glowed inside her, feeding the rage as she bounced along the magick wall.

  Near the swamp, she sensed a weakness where magick of the Draicon flowed into the dark, natural magick of the murky bayou. Natural magick. Natural…like smoke.

  There.

  A low, harsh cackle, like the screech of a banshee on the night wind, came from her throat. She would burn, and burn….

  Sienna’s eyes flew open. She gulped air, shivering at the nasty images swirling in her mind. Talk about getting into form…this kind of pure concentration, absorbing the mindset of the enemy, was dangerous. But here in the attic room, with the bright blue-and
-white quilt covering the bed and the sprigged rose wallpaper reflecting the sunshine flooding the room, it didn’t feel real.

  Excitement surged. She knew what had happened. Sharing it with the Robichauxs would surely help defray suspicion from her. Sienna didn’t know why she felt this was important, but she was going with her instincts.

  She walked down the staircase, feeling hungry, starving almost. The hunger was almost a living thing, demanding and growling.

  Her muscles felt weaker as well as she clambered down the steps.

  Hearing the sounds of laughter and deep male drawls, she brightened. Wait until she told them what she’d learned. No, maybe it could wait until after breakfast. She was starving.

  The hunger intensified. Her fingers itched, burned a little.

  Power flowed through her, hot, dark and sweet, magick that stank of sulfur and yet tasted delicious in her mouth. A little scared, she hit the landing, holding her hands out.

  Horror arrowed through her. The once-elegant fingers with their neatly pared nails, were long and spindly. Blood raced through her veins, hot and pulsing with magick.

  This isn’t me, she thought desperately. What have I done?

  At the landing, she saw a mirror next to a bright red umbrella stand. Sienna raced to it, staring in dumbstruck astonishment.

  A grimace stretched the red slash of a mouth. Her nostrils were flat holes, her skin gray and sickly. Burning crimson replaced the forest green of eyes that once sparkled. Now those eyes burned with hate.

  Ugliness settled in her body, creeping through her like sludge, thick and vicious and nasty.

  Someone help me. Please.

  No Fae magick could fix this glamour. It had sunk its claws into her skin, refused to leave. She needed real power. Draicon magick.

  Matt.

  Sienna crept down the hallway, peeked into the living room. Matt’s family sat in comfortable armchairs or sprawled on the carpet, talking and laughing loudly. All but Matt. He stood alone by the window, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. In a room filled with family, he stood alone. Solitary. His indifferent manner was a suit of armor, but beneath, she glimpsed a sense of bleakness.