by Lynde Lakes
Victoria led the way through the soft, muted colors of the night. Even within the radiance of moonbeams, she believed that slipping through the dark shadows and tangled bushes provided sufficient cover. Night sounds of crickets and hissing snakes perked her ears erect. Not yet fully unaware of the depth of the risk they’d taken, she sniffed the air and caught the scent of sweaty men—the scent of trouble. Her animal eyes picked out shapes of humans. Then she heard male shouts. They’d been spotted. She suddenly realized with their coats, glossy in the moonlight, they were moving targets—especially her snow white sister.
Instinct and the knowledge that scientists were capturing wolves for ungodly studies alerted her to escape the area. Wanting to remain silent, she gestured with her muzzle to her sister to follow her. But when she went left, Valerie went right. She had a moment of indecision, wondering if she should circle back and follow her. Then it was too late. She’d lost sight of her more vulnerable, easy-to-see, white-coated sister. She prayed her sister would find a cave to hole up in.
* * * *
One of the hunters aimed at Valerie. Before he could get a good bead on her, a gigantic black wolf knocked him down. The shot went wild, but had come close enough to stir the air by her ear. She ran like the wind and escaped the men, but now the majestic black wolf was on her tail. He let out a low, fierce growl and kept nipping at her hind legs, forcing her to run faster and faster. With growls and nips, he forced her into a circle of boulders and cornered her. She stood upright on her hind quarters and returned his fierce look. His raised hackles around the neck and shoulders revealed that he was at least twice her size. Although trembling like a frightened mouse, she issued a low, throaty growl, splayed her ears sideways, and prayed her show of increased defiance would discourage him.
He stood tall, and deadly still. He tried to intimidate her with his prolonged humanlike stare. She lifted her head higher. His deeper growl gained intensity. He snarled, showing the fiercest incisors she’d ever seen. Then with more nips and snarls, he forced her muzzle down.
Her heart pounded, terrified at his intentions. He seemed to be a healthy wolf, no foaming at the mouth. Her dad had told her when wolves acted aggressively like this they were either in heat, suffering from an illness, such as rabies, or had been mistreated. None of those possibilities made her feel any safer.
* * * *
From Victoria’s hiding place among the granite boulders, she watched the four wolf hunters tramp through the brush and heard them talking about catching wolves for Dr. Lazar. Determined not to be their catch of the day, she whirled around and sprinted for home, hoping her sister had done the same.
The moonlit darkness was alive with danger. Victoria smelled the scent of the sweaty hunters getting closer. She angled into the shadow of a tree. Above her, she heard a whoosh and then a cage drop over her. As it hit the ground, the floor locked into place, almost catching her feet. She growled. Almost instantly, her bronzed and shirtless captor appeared from the deeper shadows. He stared through the bars at her with a gotcha glint in his eyes. Then he turned and walked away, probably to brag to the others about his catch.
With her sharp hearing, she heard something thud softly into the dry grass. She extended her right front leg through the bars and clawed at what she recognized at once was a cell phone. She drew it closer until she could tumble it into the cage. Of course, it would be useless to her. Even if she lucked out and caught a signal in this hilly area, which wasn’t likely, she didn’t know how to use the phone in her wolf state. Even if she managed to tap out 911, the police were looking for the werewolf who tore out Madam Nola’s throat and would want her as much as the evil scientist who’d hired this muscle-bound pretty-boy and his three ugly cohorts to catch her. And she wouldn’t dare call Mom and Dad. They’d restrict her for all eternity for leaving home without permission.
With sharp teeth and claws, she chewed and scratched at the steel bars. Her heart pounded and she had an urge to pace, but the area was too confined. She clawed at the solid lock without success. The trap was inescapable. What would her sexy, lemon-blonde sister do if she were in this mess? Use her wiles, of course. Okay, Victoria decided, if her only chance to escape was to seduce her broad-shouldered captor, that’s exactly what she would do. But first, she had to morph back to her human state.
She spied a moon poppy just outside the cage. She’d read on the Internet during her research on werewolves that devouring the moon poppy, which bloomed only in the night, could possibly ward off or prevent the dreaded transformation for the night. But that consuming moon poppies in the right quantity while in the werewolf state could possibly end the affliction forever. In any event, she believed the poppies had temporary powers to reverse lycanthropy symptoms. She jammed it into her mouth and chewed quickly. They tasted like raw spinich drizzled with poppy oil.
She crossed her fingers, deciding to combine the promising temporary cure with another tidbit she’d gotten off the Internet. It was a reversing mind-over-matter skill she and Valerie had practiced in their room. She concentrated and processed each step in reverse. She curled her lips and counted backwards as agonizing pain radiated through her body. With all of her strength, she fought the pain and the pull of the full moon. Then all hell broke loose inside her. It was as though she were trapped in an anticyclone with its high pressure center with winds rotating and spiraling in the opposite direction. Chilled and terrified, she let out a long howl. Her eyes pooled with tears as the attacks of pain came in waves, each surge sharper than the last. She curled into a fetal position and convulsed and writhed upon the cage floor while she fought to hold back sobs.
With her newly enhanced wolf-sharp hearing, she heard a twig snap in the distance and then the crackle of the nearer underbrush. Her captor was coming back and she wasn’t completely morphed. Her already pounding heart speeded. If he found her in this vulnerable condition, she’d be lost.
She prayed for God’s help, his mercy. Then, slowly, like magic, the throbbing muscles throughout her body began to relax and the pain lessened. She raked her fingers through her wild, onyx mane. The swirling fog lifted from her mind and her brain strained to gather its humanness. When her feral instincts eased, she wanted to laugh like crazy.
Then in the luminance of the orange moon, she saw him striding through the brush, his bare chest glistening like sun-kissed steel. The ceiling of the cage was too low to stand, so she affected a sitting pose. Nude, womanly, and trembling behind the bars, she watched her captor reenter the secluded bushy area. He drew what she hoped was only a stun gun—Lazar wouldn’t pay for dead wolves. She still had a chance.
“Wait!” she shouted.
He froze, looking confused.
She slid her tongue over her lips, hoping her slowly shrinking incisors didn’t protrude. “Please, handsome god-of-a-man, give me one last taste of passion before you zap me with that thing.”
His confused expression darkened to lust. “How the hell did you get in there and what did you do with the wolf?”
“What wolf? Maybe you smoked a little too much weed. What do you want with a wolf anyway?” She lowered her voice to what she hoped was a sexy purr. “I’m wilder than any untamed beast. I have this feral thing I do that drives men wild. You’ll feel the afterglow for all eternity.”
He glanced around as if to be sure the others weren’t nearby. Apparently satisfied that they would be alone long enough, he opened the cage and said, “Okay, sweetheart, make it hot and fast.”
She ran her hands through her still thick, wild onyx hair and crawled toward him, slow and slinky, the way she’d seen strippers do in the movies. She surreptitiously closed her right hand over the cell phone, and when she cleared the cage, she drew back and let the phone fly into the bridge of his nose. Then she leaped, knocking him down, and bit into his throat, not deep enough to kill, just enough to knock him out. When he lost consciousness, she raced for home.
Without slowing her pace, she melted into the shadows and ran,
crouched low, through the brush, silent as the night that was pressing down on her. She could scarcely breathe. If she continued in a direct line, the fanned out and approaching hunters would catch her. With a gripping sense of rising panic, she turned toward the highway that snaked down from the pinnacle of Mt. Baldy. Even following the road was taking a tremendous risk.
She heard the roar of a motorcycle coming around the bend leading from the mountain resort. She dashed into the underbrush, naked as a jaybird and shivering from the cold.
Like a fury in a flash, he drove right up to the bush where she crouched and stopped. His headlight fell over her like a glowing snare. “Can I help you, miss?”
Recklessness played in his smile, his glinting eyes, and in his powerful movements.
She shook her head violently. “Go away.”
He removed his helmet, attached it to his handlebars, then gestured toward her nudity. “I can’t leave you on this dark, snaking road like that. If someone doesn’t hit you, you’re a rape waiting to happen.”
She sized him up. Except for the lock of bad boy hair that fell across his forehead, his strong Jag-type features reminded her of a young David Elliot, clean shaven and gorgeous. But the rest of him was definitely a bad boy hard-body and the kind of slightly older, experienced, long-haired guy her dad and Uncle Hugh had warned her to avoid. “You expect me to get on your motorcycle and ride nude like Lady Godiva? That should be a real trip for the other motorists.”
He was already taking off his leather jacket and blue, long-sleeve shirt. His wide shoulders and scrub-board abs were highlighted breathtakingly by moonlight. He started toward her.
She made a palms-up stop gesture. “Don’t come any closer,” she snapped, hating the tremor in her voice.
He broke off a long stick from another bush and hooked the shirt over it and shoved it toward her. “At least put this on. You look like a giant goose bump.”
She grabbed the shirt and slipped it on. It was still warm from his body heat. “Thanks,” she muttered.
He tossed her his jacket. “Put that on, too.”
She snuggled into it. More heat wrapped around her, along with his enticing male scent. An involuntary shiver went through her, this time not from the cold.
He met her gaze. “What were you doing out on this road nude, anyway?”
“You writing a book?” she quipped.
“Nah. Just an incurably curious guy.”
“That could get you in big trouble, friend.”
“I’m used to trouble. But I’m glad you see me as a friend,” he said, grinning. “You can trust me.”
She inhaled the foul scent of the hunters closing in. “All right,” she snapped. “But don’t even think of trying anything or your flashy Road King Classic will end up in a heap at the bottom of one of the ravines.” She was amazed how tough she sounded.
“You know motorcycles?” he asked, amusement glinting in his eyes and his comeback as jaunty as if they were old friends.
Her heartbeat quickened at his flirty raised brow and the deep, rich tone of his voice. “Not really. I’ve never ridden one.” If she had, she sure as heck wouldn’t have ridden nude. “But my Aunt Kat’s longtime boyfriend, Deeto, has one just like it.”
Hearing the hunters’ voices getting closer, she said, “Look, let’s go—now! We can gab later.”
He grinned, his eyes crinkling and his probing gaze as intimate as a kiss. “I’ll hold you to that. By the way, I’m Rick.”
Although her heart was pounding like crazy from looking into his thickly lashed eyes, she didn’t have time for guy-crazy emotions or chitchat. “I’m Victoria. Now go!”
“Terrific,” he muttered. “Another bossy chick.”
He mounted the bike like a pro, agile, in control. Mr. Gorgeous was probably an expert at mounting all sorts of things…even females. She hiked her leg over the centerpiece and eased into the seat, wincing when her delicate genitals met icy leather. Forcing herself not to cry out, she tucked the shirt under her rump and thighs the best she could, wondering if he’d ever had a nude woman on his bike before.
Her sense of vulnerablity heightened as the powerful, high-gloss machine seemed to absorb her. It was even more frightening that the fascination and susceptible sensation she experienced extended to the bike possessor’s trim-waisted, wide-shouldered bod.
Possessor. Interesting word choice, she thought. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it would be like to be possessed by a wilder, more exprienced guy like him.
He handed her the helmet. “Put this on and cling tight to me.”
She fought to ignore the heat that ignited between them as their fingers touched. Oh, God, I’m in real trouble here.
Straddling the cycle with muscular legs, he flipped up the kick stand with a heel. He turned the key and hit the kick-start pedal.
Victoria lowered the helmet shield and wrapped her arms tightly around his cold, bare, trim waist. It was a good thing they were only a short distance from her home for a number of reasons, including her nearly out of control desires and the fact he might freeze off his balls in the mountainous chill.
He swerved onto the highway and hit the gas. She gasped and her knees locked tighter around the bike as an unbelievable surge of icy wind pounded her body. She pressed against him, searching for heat, excited by the in-control authority emitting from him and the power of the cycle vibrating between her thighs. She felt like an icicle with a boiling volcano about to erupt inside of her raging-hormones body.
He glanced back. “You’re going to feel as exposed as you were while nude in the bushes, but inertia, centrifugal force and the bar behind you will hold you in place.”
He failed to mention her steely hold on his solid middle. “I’ll be okay.”
She clung tighter to his torso, memorizing its David-like contours and Goliath strength. She hoped she was pressing some of her warmth into his icy, exposed skin.
In seconds, they rounded a curve and blended with the night. With her superior hearing, she caught the angry shouts of men near the edge of the road where they’d parked only moments ago. She breathed a sigh of relief. Now she only had her sister to worry about. And the exploding fireworks when Rick dropped her off at home—naked.
Chapter Seven
Damon paced the girls’ room while Angela stood on the terrace, staring out into the night. He didn’t just identify with her dread; he took it on and added it to his own. Often he absorbed the mirror neurons that activated her brain, sometimes without him even realizing it until his mood suddenly went through a radical change. Unfortunately, feeling the double agony didn’t ease hers.
He glanced at the clothes on the floor. There was no doubt the curse had hit full-bore. Now his twins would be tormented by the same secrets that had kept him a prisoner for so long. Unless he found a cure, the girls’ agony would repeat at every full moon. Dear God, where were they? He had to find them before they harmed themselves or someone else. What if the wolf hunters were out tonight? He couldn’t even seek help. It would be dangerous for anyone to know about his girls’ affliction. Finding them rested solely on his shoulders. To save time, he had to figure out which direction they might have headed. He paused when he heard a motorcycle coming up his driveway. He rushed downstairs and glanced out the window. The full moon highlighted a bare-chested man and a scantily dressed girl wearing a helmet. His gut knotted. Although not in lupine form, the slender body gave him hope that it was one of his girls.
* * * *
Victoria felt a stab of fear as Rick steered his bike up the curved driveway to the mansion. It was a bad sign that all the lights were on. As Rick eased to a stop, her dad tore out of the house like an enraged bull, her mother following, her face tear-stained.
“Where’s your sister?” he demanded.
“I don’t know.” She wished she did.
“Do you see that full moon? Did you forget you girls were confined to your room?”
She figured he’d seen
their clothing shredded on the floor and that was the reason he hadn’t asked why she was wearing just a man’s shirt and leather jacket.
“Get off that bike now!”
There was no graceful way comply with his demand. She balanced herself with the left foot on the ground and hiked her right leg up and over the rear storage compartment that rested over the fender area.
Her mother gasped.
Dad glanced at Mom, transmitting one of their secret messages with his look. Then, in a no nonsense tone, he growled, “Victoria, go inside with your mother and try to explain your way out of this situation. And be prepared for a second grilling when I come in.”
She squared her shoulders and stood firm. “First, I need to thank Rick for the ride and give him his shirt and jacket back.”
“I’ll take care of this biker. You go inside. Now. You can send his clothes out with Kyle.” He pressed the remote control to the single door of the triple car garage. “Rick, is it? Follow me. We have some things to discuss.”
Victoria grabbed her dad’s arm. “Dad, no. Please don’t embarrass me. This guy is just an innocent bystander.”
“It’s all right,” Rick said. “If I were your father, I’d have a few questions, too.”
* * * *
Inside the garage, Victoria’s father introduced himself. Rick had heard of Damon Lamont and knew the man could play hardball. He could feel a tic at the corner of his eyelid and wondered if Lamont noticed it. What the hell was he worried about? As long as he dealt straight with him they shouldn’t come to blows.
Lamont got down two bar stools hanging from the wall. “Have a seat. So, what’s your last name, Rick? Ricardo?”
“No, sir, it’s Tanner. I’m half Indian.”
