by Anne Marsh
Hell.
Dre had been the one to take off behind their female, and Landry had hung back to cover his brother. Which turned out to be a damned good thing. Mary Jane already had an eyeful. She didn’t need to see a vamp in full hunting mode coming after her. Now they had a pack of vamps bearing down on them like a one-way express train of death.
A real bad night all round.
And it had just gotten worse.
Landry hit the bank, got the Bayou Sweetie in his line of sight, and the problem there was clear as day. The boat was under attack. He felt like a total failure all over again, because Dre was muscling a vamp down to the deck, and here he was, standing on the sidelines. He’d been having his fun with Mary Jane instead of keeping an eye out for trouble, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Because, yeah, touching Mary Jane was all kinds of sweet, and he’d treasure those memories.
But what kind of brother and mate did that make him?
He needed to get in there and engage. He had shit to do, a potential mate to defend whenever the blue moon bothered to get her ass out from behind those clouds and light the woman up. He had to be ready.
He eyed the boat, gauging the distance between his position on the bank and the deck. The vamps were boarding north-northwest of him, and swinging around to their happy little embarkation point was attractive, but he didn’t know their numbers. He didn’t know if he could get a drop on enough of them to make a difference.
So a swim it was.
Shucking his boots, he slipped into the water. The noise on the deck was probably enough to mask his approach, but he needed to be smart about this. He and Dre were heavily outnumbered.
Getting a hand on the railing, he pulled himself up, nice and smooth. As soon as his face was level with the deck, he did a quick headcount. Two vamps moving towards Dre, who was holding the line between the girls and their undead visitors and grappling with vamp number three. He knew the moment Dre sensed his approach, because despite Dre’s life-and-death sitch, his brother still managed a subtle nod towards the two females. Guard duty. Got it.
Riley was cursing like a trucker, working the boat’s wheel as she got their asses the hell out of dodge. Mary Jane had her hands on a gun, but his sweet little beta wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. Ghostly pale, her face promised check-out time was rapidly rounding the bend for her. Landry either needed to wrap the fight up ASAP or get the females to safety.
Unfortunately, the Bayou Sweetie was short on exits and heavy on vamps. Fighting it was, even though he knew his wolf side wasn’t going to up Mary Jane’s happy quotient any.
He shifted, gunning for the pair of vamps moving in on Dre. Two for one. Yeah. That worked.
All male when his feet sent him airborne, he was one-hundred-plus pounds of wolf when he slammed into his first vic. He didn’t bother with pretty, going for efficiency and sinking his teeth deep into the other’s throat, tearing ruthlessly. Blood spattered, and he was certain that was Riley’s high-pitched what the fuck shrilling behind him. She wasn’t too happy with tonight’s action either.
Then he got busy with the second vamp. This one had a heads-up and was ready. He kept striking, though. One hard lunge after another, raking the attacking bastard with his claws and his teeth and then dancing away out of reach. By the fourth blow, the vamp was staggering, and Landry was ready to write the end and drop him.
The boat made a sudden hard right, like being on a horse and dropping the reins, all out of control and off course. Landry finished off his last vamp in time to get a full-on view of their surprise party guest laying hands on Riley. Fuck. The world slowed down and sped up at the same time. The vamp yanked and landed Riley over his shoulder, turning to go.
Dre pivoted, recognizing the ambush a split second too late. Christ, the regrets pounding through him...
The clouds picked that moment to open up, like the show in their theater of what-the-fuck was about to start, and sure enough, that was a blue moon shining up there in the sky. The full moon flooded the bayou and the unhappy bloodbath on the Bayou Sweetie’s deck in silvery-blue light.
And. Fuck. Him.
The blue rays made right for Riley and Mary Jane both, lighting the two of them up like angels on a Christmas tree. Those blue rays twining around Mary Jane were the prettiest, most welcome sight Landry had ever seen. Because those rays kissed her real good and then reached out—to Dre and Landry. Shit. The pair shared everything else, so it made sense they’d be sharing a mate.
And that mate was their very own Mary Jane.
Whoever Riley belonged to, she wasn’t theirs.
That changed everything. She was a mate, and he’d bet everything he had that she was meant for one of his Pack. He needed to make a call, share that good news—as soon as he recovered her from the vamp who’d laid hands on her.
Dre roared, launching himself towards the pair.
The vamp laughed and cleared the railing, the moon disappeared back behind the clouds, and Landry lost Riley in the sudden darkness.
Fuck.
Chapter Seven
The woman fought Kar all the way. His first leap cleared most of the bayou, but they fell short with a splash and she went under, trying to fight to the surface and failing. He held her under for long seconds, until panic twisted her limbs. When he finally brought her up, she was choking and crying. Yeah, she liked breathing even better than fighting.
He’d teach her to obey him. Later. Because right now he needed to get the hell out of dodge before he had both Breaux brothers riding his ass. He’d sacrificed four vamps to get in and get out with the female, but she was worth it. The werewolves would follow.
“Please,” she begged, but hatred shone in her eyes. He dragged her head back by the hair. Her ponytail barely brushed her chin, which was unfortunate because there was nothing he enjoyed better than fisting his hand in a female’s hair as he dragged her mouth to his cock. Hair grew, though, and he’d have plenty of time with her.
She opened her mouth and let out a shrill scream, her gaze darting left and then right in pure panic. There was an answering roar from the boat deck, but that Breaux had himself another problem. He still had a shipload of Kar’s sacrificial vamps, so Kar had himself some time.
He tightened his grip in the female’s hair. “Shut the fuck up.”
She panted, fear overriding her brain as muscle memory kicked in, leaving her all fight-or-flight. He had her secured, though, and no way would she outfight him. Letting her go—just to catch her again—would have been fun, but he didn’t have that kind of time tonight.
Later. Medieval Europe, now those had been the best years, those long-gone centuries before he and the wolf boys had ended up here in Louisiana. Plenty of raiding, and although he’d still been ass-deep in mud back then, the acrid tang of blood and the noise had been his constant companions. God, centuries later and he still missed the fucking screaming. Good times. He ran a hand over the ass of the woman laid out on his shoulder. She made a nice handful, but those had been easier times. Times when the strongest man took what he wanted and that was that.
The Breaux boys had just been dealt a losing hand, because he was tonight’s big winner. Truth be told, he hadn’t known until the blue moon came up and did her light-up-the-bride number that either of these women were a potential pack mate. He’d figured it didn’t matter much. The werewolves clearly believed one or both was a blue-moon bride, and that was good enough for him. Being possessive, grumpy sons-of-bitches, the wolves would come charging after anyone who laid a finger on one of their pristine would-be mates.
And he’d be waiting.
His captive moaned. One hard clip to the jaw and she’d quiet right down. Sure, she could only take so much abuse—and he planned on dishing out plenty starting later tonight—but he was also on a timeline.
Before he could make up his mind, she shut up.
Some women, they liked diamonds. Others, it was the offer of a job and the chance to score a payday. The di
amonds would have been simpler, but he’d done what needed doing. He’d found a small company that owned leases on several oyster beds deep in the bayou. Buy the company, force a few vacancies at teeth-point, and voila. The two gals he’d had his eye on had dutifully sailed right for him.
Time to get the show on the road.
He leaped, scaling rapidly to the top of a hundred-foot cypress tree. Spanish moss poured off him like water, settling back on the branches as he bounded to the next tree and then the next. Crossing the bayou by treetop was quicker and more efficient than making his way along the warren of twisting banks. Plus, the werewolves would find his trail that much harder to follow. With each leap he took, the head of his human captive banged against his back. Perhaps he should exercise some caution. No. He didn’t need her alive for long. A few bruises, a little head trauma—as long as she could scream, he’d be more than pleased.
###
Getting Riley Jones back was critical, and not only because Landry was feeling his inner gentleman. Hell. Who would have thought both women would be blue-moon brides? He should have considered the possibility, but he hadn’t.
He’d been too busy sniffing around Mary Jane. At least his intense attraction to her made sense now, even if it still scared the hell out of him. She was his. Theirs, if he and Dre played their cards right. He wanted to howl, to laugh, to grab Mary Jane and spin her around in a loopy dance.
He wasn’t doing any of those things, however, until he knew where the vamps had taken Riley.
“You take Mary Jane out of here. Back to town. We got ourselves three, maybe four hours until the sun comes up, so you hunker down and call the Pack.”
“Got it.” Dre clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Good. He’d do what needed doing, no questions asked. Of course, he was probably equally eager to spend some quality time with Mary Jane, but Landry was trying not to think about that too hard. He told himself he should be glad his brother was getting his shot. After all, Landry had had his.
He could still taste Mary Jane, and damn, she’d been sweet.
Unfortunately for his brother, Mary Jane didn’t seem to have weathered her face-to-face with the vamps too well. She’d drawn her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself, a small ball of unhappy behind the wheelhouse. She’d tried. He’d give her that. She was a beta and a submissive at heart, he was almost certain of that, but she’d done what she could in their fight.
He respected the hell out of her.
She smelled like gunpowder, with telltale black streaks on her face and hands. Empty shell casings rattled on the deck as the Bayou Sweetie rolled with the tide. She wasn’t one for violence, and right now his need to hurt—to defend—was paramount.
“You goin’ after Riley?” Dre pitched his voice low, low enough that Mary Jane wouldn’t hear them.
“That moon, she lit them both up some,” Landry said slowly. “I’m thinkin’ that Mary Jane is ours—”
His brother’s growl cut him off, the “Fuck yeah” loud enough to bring Mary Jane’s head up.
“—and that Riley’s a match for someone else. You get the boys on down here, let them know we’ve got a mate waiting for someone out there in the bayou.”
Landry hesitated. He wanted to go to Mary Jane and kiss her. Mark her. She was still all lit up, so pretty in the blue moonlight, but her face was pale, and he could see the tremors making her body shake. Leaving her wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he was the better tracker, and the vamp was undoubtedly already up in the trees. So he dropped down beside Mary Jane, ignoring her small flinch.
Abandoning his plans for a goodbye kiss because he was clearly part of the big bad in her mind right now, he settled for dragging his thumb along her jaw. Time was burning. He had to go.
“Hey,” he said. “You look at me for a minute, Mary Jane.”
She flinched again, then her head came up. “You get the hell off my boat, Landry Breaux.” She surged to her feet, slapping her hands against his chest, and shoved. Their Mary Jane was even prettier when she was angry. He’d make sure to rile her up some in the future, just to watch her expressive face, savor that little bite of spirit.
“I’m goin’,” he said.
“After Riley,” she ordered. “You swear to me she’s going to be okay. One of us has to make sure she’s not out there alone. I’ll do it or you do it.”
Christ. Imagining her taking off into the bayou—and she would, because that was her friend and crewmate out there—had his blood running cold.
“You have my word, sha.” He made her that promise with everything he had in him. “I’m goin’, but Dre here, he’s goin’ to take you back to shore. Find a real good place to hole up for the night.”
She shook her head, hair falling around her face. When he smoothed away a lock, she growled at him and pride filled him. She was hanging in there real good.
“You both go. Now. Bring back Riley and then consider yourselves fired. I don’t hire wolves.” Her voice rose, and that was his cue to leave before she broke. End things on a high note.
“I go. He goes with you somewhere safe. If that vamp comes back and grabs you, that doesn’t help Riley come home any faster.” He nodded over his shoulder at Dre, his brother stalking silently forward, his big arms wrapping around her. She fought for a moment, then sobbed quietly, turning her face away from them both.
Well, hell.
Dre looked helpless, like he’d rather be ass-deep in vamps, with a blade in both hands. Landry snorted. Mating was going to take some adjusting on all their parts. In the meantime, though, his brother would take care of their little mate. It didn’t matter how much Landry wanted to stay, because Riley needed rescuing, and he wasn’t leaving anyone, human or wolf, in the hands of the damned vamps.
He vaulted over the side, making for the bayou bank. While he eyeballed the area, he stripped off. The vamp had stuck his landing, Riley’s added weight driving the male’s footprints deeper into the muddy surface of the bank. Then the footprints vanished.
Landry dropped his jeans on the ground, and shifted. The world exploded into deeper, richer shadows, his lupine eyes seeing more than his human half ever could. Behind him, the Bayou Sweetie disappeared up the waterway, and he tipped his head back, loosing a howl. Gone. The sense of loss stunned him, tugged him briefly back towards the bank before he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
Above him, moss still stirred near the top of a stand of cypress trees. The vamp had indeed gone up, and now the bastard was moving fast, despite the human prey he carried. Riley’s scent barely registered, a faint trace of lemon and motor oil and something uniquely feminine and sweet. Four quick steps brought the wolf to the place on the bank where she’d clearly gone down, the mud bloodied and cut up. That unmistakable mark of a struggle sent fierce rage pouring through the wolf. Hurt her and the vamps died slow and painful. No mercy.
Moving swiftly, he set off through the bayou, following the faint trail.
Both wolf and man refused to think about what condition Riley might be in when the Pack caught up with her.
###
Dre tied the Bayou Sweetie up fast in the small town fifteen miles upriver. The place was nothing big, but there were boats and folks enough here to lose themselves briefly. A handful of bars spilled music and light onto the bayou, the noise mingling with laughter and the clink of beer bottles. There was even a Motel 6. The place was slightly seedy and not where he’d take his mate under normal circumstances, but he wanted her under cover, and he wasn’t making the long trip back to the Pack’s camp in the dark while the vamps could follow. As soon as the sun came up, however, they’d haul ass.
He’d keep his female safe.
He pocketed the keys to the boat—although he was betting she knew damned well how to hotwire the Bayou Sweetie—got his fingers around her wrist, and did a little steering until she stood inside the Motel 6 office with him.
The desk clerk’s knowing smirk as Dre peeled off a wa
d of twenties didn’t improve Dre’s mood any. Dre wanted to pound the other man for what he was clearly thinking, but Mary Jane’s lost look held him back. She was in shock. Before leaving the boat, he’d wrapped her in his flannel, and now her fingers curled into the hem. The way the desk clerk was eyeing her long, bare legs where the hem stopped mid-thigh, the bastard liked what he saw.
“You all have a real good night now.” The clerk tossed them a single room key, and Dre caught it. Five minutes max and he’d have Mary Jane under cover. Then, he’d somehow fix what was wrong with her, and he’d call out the Pack. Hell. He didn’t know where to start with Mary Jane, but he’d never lost a hunt before, and he damned certain wasn’t starting tonight.
He punched buttons on his cell as he guided her back outside and up the stairs. The Motel 6 was a U-shaped stack of rooms placed around an open courtyard. If he had to, he could get out the front or the back. He wouldn’t be trapped in a corridor if tonight came down to a fight.
She woke up some when they hit the hallway, like she saw the inevitable end coming and had decided she needed to make a stand. The fighting suited her better than trailing along in his wake like a zombie. He liked the self-preservation she was showing because, yeah, female alone in a hotel room with a male was a certain recipe for disaster. He was bigger and stronger, and if he’d been human, her only chance would have been to kick up one hell of a ruckus in a public place. Seeing as how he was a werewolf with teeth, however, noise wasn’t going to be enough to save her.
He didn’t give a fuck about public embarrassment, and he definitely moved faster than she did.
“You can’t do this,” she insisted, looking like she was working up to a scream or a good, hard kick to the balls.
Dre absolutely could. He would.
“Feel free to stop me,” he suggested and the pulse in her throat picked up, jumping frantically against her skin.
“What have I done to you?”
“Nothin’. Yet. I already told you, I’d give you a shot with that knife of yours once I get you inside.”
