by J. D. Tyler
He and Nick walked the center of the trail while the others split off to the left and right of them, searching deeper into the woods. Now and then, Ryon caught the barest hint of her essence in the air, or on some brush. No sign of her, however, or where she might have veered off the path.
Until Micah called out from the left of the trail and stepped from a copse of trees, waving an arm. “Hey! Over here!”
Guys, Micah has something to the left of the trail, Ryon pushed into their heads. It was easier and more efficient than yelling.
He and Nick struck out through the trees, hurrying, the third group behind them. Micah disappeared briefly and he worried they would lose him, but it wasn’t long before he and Nick spotted Micah, Hammer, Mac, and Noah in an area where the trees thinned a bit. Micah was agitated, glancing their way, and then down at a lump on the ground. Hammer was outwardly calm, his expression unreadable.
The first fact Ryon became aware of was the stench. The putrid odor of death clogged his nostrils and threatened to send up the meager contents of his stomach. As he and Nick approached, he was damned grateful that his breakfast had consisted of little more than dry toast and some juice. Apparently, Mac, who was Kalen’s pregnant mate, wasn’t so lucky.
“Excuse me,” she croaked. “I’m going to be sick.”
Ryon felt sorry for her. The doc was a pure professional, but pregnant women sometimes couldn’t handle certain sights and smells very well. Hell, he’d almost been sick and he didn’t even have an excuse. Ryon almost went after her, but Kalen showed up and intercepted his pea green mate, leading her away from the gruesome scene.
“Fuck me.” Noah breathed. “As a nurse I’ve seen plenty of dead people, but nothing like this.”
Ryon nodded. “Me, neither. Christ.”
“Can’t tell if it was a man or a woman,” Jax observed. He coughed, holding a hand over his face. Not that it would help.
Rowan, Aric’s mate, had been quiet throughout the search, until now. “Woman,” she said, pointing. “Look how small the shoes are, and the laces are pink.”
Noah arched a brow. “That doesn’t mean anything. I have pink shoelaces.”
Ryon shot him a grin. “So it’s like that, is it? Shoulda figured.” Noah winked at him and several of the guys laughed. The exchange dispelled some of the depressing atmosphere, but Nick wasn’t amused.
“Focus, idiots. We’ve got a murder here and two more possible victims we need to find.”
Sobering, Ryon crouched near the body and studied it. God, it was torn to pieces. Hardly recognizable as human, just shredded clothing here and there, clumped with bloody flesh and muscle, writhing with maggots. A sliver of garment that used to be white caught his eye, however. Reaching for a stick on the ground, he used it to lift the white strip of cloth from the clump.
“It’s part of a bra,” he said, then dropped the stick in disgust. “Rowan’s right.”
“There’s her backpack,” Micach observed. Everyone turned to look at it. “But it’s strange that it’s not torn up and there’s no blood on it.”
Ryon stared at it, chilled. “It might not belong to the this victim.” He gestured to the mangled body.
“A companion?” Nick wondered aloud. “Or the woman who came to you for help?”
Just then, Ryon’s eardrums were nearly shattered by a high-pitched wailing noise. “Shit!”
Bracing a hand on the ground, he searched for the source of the shrieking. He wasn’t surprised to note that none of the others heard the racket. Nor was he shocked to see the spirit of the female victim sitting beside her own body, covered in blood, rocking as she wailed out her terror.
“Ryon?” Nick barked. “What is it?”
“The woman,” he said hoarsely, pointing to the ghost they couldn’t see. “She’s there, screaming. She’s rocking, too, staring at the blood all over her.”
“Christ.”
Ryon tried getting her attention, reaching out a hand. “Ma’am? Hello? Can you tell us your name? What happened to you?”
The wailing stopped briefly as she blinked at him. He hated that vacant stare. The mind that no longer was at home, working like it should. She couldn’t make sense of him.
And just like that, she vanished.
“She’s gone,” he told them. He heard someone say “thank fuck” and silently agreed. “She didn’t tell me anything.”
Nick blew out a breath. “Okay. We’ve either got a crime scene or a grizzly bear mauling, but it’s going to take experts to tell which one. I’ve got to radio Sheriff Deveraux, get the county folks on the way. Then we’ve got to find Miss Bradford before we run out of time.”
At the reminder of the missing biologist, Ryon stood. Sniffed the air. At first it was hard to smell anything but the awful odor from the body, and he began to doubt he’d be able to pick up her trail again. But then it was there. Her sweet scent, beckoning him on.
“Daria was here,” he told them. “I’m positive. Her scent is all over the backpack. I think it’s hers.”
They waited as he made a circuit of the area. Frustration grew as the scent faded in and out, weaker in his human form. His wolf snarled again, demanding to be unleashed. His companion could track her much faster, and he was getting hard to control.
He turned to Nick. “I need to let my wolf out. Tracking is too dicey in this form.”
“And if the humans see you?”
“You can say I’m your pet. A wolf-dog hybrid. Please, we don’t have much time to debate about it.”
Nick hesitated, but gave in. “Fine. Put your clothes in your pack, and someone will carry it.”
He heaved a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
Undressing quickly, he shoved his clothes into the pack and immediately dropped to all fours. The shift happened in a blink, leaving him disoriented for a second. Never had it been so fast, and he knew the woman was the reason. Vaguely, he heard one of the guys exclaim over the speed of his shift, but he lost the comment amid the overwhelming scent of the female his wolf sought.
There was nothing now but her. The need to find and protect the woman. She wanted him, had come to him. No one else. He had to find her, to know why.
Forgetting about the body, he honed in on Daria’s scent and bolted in the opposite direction of the trail, farther into the forest. She had discovered the body, and had run. He understood that something had frightened her into taking off, causing her to move in the wrong direction. Something more than just finding a corpse.
The tangible prickle was still in the air. Stronger now than before. He ran, the pain of his own injuries a distant memory, of no importance. Not when he was on the precipice of losing something monumental, something he couldn’t name. And if she didn’t survive—
No. That could not happen. He wouldn’t allow it.
He ran so fast, he almost tumbled headlong over the edge of the ravine she had told him about. Skidding to a halt, he scrambled back from the edge and then peered over. Stared into the gorge and wondered how far she had fallen. Where could she be?
Pacing the lip, he put his nose to the ground and searched. Up and down, again and again. Until finally, he found where she’d gone over. He felt her then, her life fading. Heartbeat slowing. How was this connection possible?
Sitting on his haunches, he let out a long, lonely howl. Then he plunged over the side and hit the rocky slope, sliding, aware of shouts from above. He almost lost his footing once or twice, but managed to control his descent. He was nearly to the bottom when he saw her.
Daria was lying wedged in a tight crevice, her arm sticking out at an impossible angle. Her clothing was torn and bloody. Scratches marred her arms and what he could see of her face. Long raven hair covered much of her features, billowing slightly in the wind. She didn’t stir as he rushed over. Didn’t move at all as he nosed her good hand, licked her face. Whining, he huddled as close to her as he could, his wolf taking charge of the man for the first time in his memory. In a heartbeat, in the wake of h
er suffering, he was lost to the beast within.
Daria. Hurt.
The wolf heard the calls from above, and tensed, growling softly. A menacing warning to those who approached. They would not get near her. He would not allow it. She suffered, and he along with her.
“You found her!” a dark-haired man said, moving closer. “Good work. Let me—”
Baring his fangs, he moved to place his body between the man and his female. Crouched, ready to spring, and rumbled a warning deep in his chest. Hurt. Mine.
“Shit. Ryon, it’s me, Nick.” Holding out a hand, the man edged closer. “Ryon, get hold of your wolf.”
Mine! He snarled at the man called Nick and the others who crept up behind him, wide-eyed.
“We know, buddy. But she’s hurt and needs medical attention, remember? We can’t help her if your wolf won’t let us near her.”
“Christ, has he gone feral?” someone asked.
“No,” Nick said quietly, eyes never leaving the wolf’s. “He’s protecting his mate.”
“His what?” A pause. “Oh, fuck.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Mate? Mate. Mine!
Nick raised his voice, speaking urgently. “Ryon Hunter, do you hear me? Make your wolf stand down now or she’s going to die. Your mate will die. Do you understand?”
Your mate will die.
Ryon struggled to gain control over his wolf, but forcing him into submission wasn’t easy. The beast was so enraged by his female’s suffering it was damned near impossible. But gradually, he exerted his will over the snarling beast and won the battle.
Mate. Nick had said . . . the woman was his mate? She would die?
Sitting back, he let the shift flow and in seconds found himself in human form, blinking at the others. “Nick? What the hell is going on?”
“Later. Right now we’ve got to make sure she survives. I’m going to be honest and tell you there’s only one way to do that.”
“Which is?” He had a feeling he knew what his commander was going to say. His serious expression said it all before he even spoke.
“If you want Daria to live, you’ll have to bite her.”
With those simple words, Ryon’s life was changed forever.
Three
I f you want Daria to live, you’ll have to bite her.
Ryon stared at Nick, heart thudding in his chest. “You mean claim her.”
“Yes. Give her some of your blood first, then the bite. If she’s going to survive, you have to hurry.”
There was no time to sit around debating how this one act was going to completely alter his life, and the beautiful young woman’s as well. No time to fear how much she’d resent him for playing God, not a second to lose agonizing that she’d hate him forever.
There was no choice, really. Because no way in hell was he going to let his mate die.
Working carefully, he helped Nick and Jax extract Daria from the crevice and move her to level ground, on her back. She was too still, her tanned face gray, lips turning blue. The biologist was clinging to her life thread with every ounce of strength she possessed, and her core of inner strength gave him hope.
He wasted no time in shifting one finger into a claw, using it to slice open his wrist while Nick pried open her mouth. Blood welled and he placed his wrist to her lips, squeezing to hurry the flow. The crimson liquid dribbled between her lips, a macabre sight and yet a lifesaving measure. If only her body would accept the offering. Embrace it. Heal.
“Come on, honey,” he encouraged. “Drink this.”
For several long moments, nothing happened. Ryon stroked her throat, encouraging her to swallow, to no avail. Despair began to weigh heavily on his heart, much greater than the sadness of not being able to save a stranger. His wolf howled inside him, forlorn.
Ryon and his wolf had scented their mate. If Daria died, so would they.
“Daria, please,” he whispered. “Work with me. Live.”
She twitched, her head moving slightly to the side. Then she coughed and swallowed. He let out a sigh of relief as she repeated the action, licking her lips to get the life-giving blood that had spilled there. Her eyes remained closed, but he felt it. A spark flared within her, a tiny light of hope that reached out to him tentatively, seeking an anchor. Meeting the light halfway, he pulled it into himself, holding on tight.
A hand landed on his shoulder. Nick’s voice was urgent. “Bite her now, Ryon. Bind her to you, or she won’t survive.”
“Where? She’s hurt all over.” Desperate, he scanned for a good spot.
“Anywhere. Her wrist will do for now.”
He’d been alone for so long, had never dreamed he’d find a mate. A wave of disappointment washed over him that it must happen here, like this, in front of his Pack brothers, as he fought for her life. Then he shoved down the self-pity. There would be time for intimacy later. He should be grateful fate had sent her into his world.
Gently, he lifted her good arm and brought her wrist to his lips. His fangs lengthened and his wolf growled in anticipation. Reining in his aggression and possessiveness wasn’t easy, but he managed to sink his canines into the tender flesh without ripping or clamping down too hard.
Instantly, his tongue was flooded with ambrosia. He had a mere five seconds or so to marvel at the rush that quickened his pulse before his world detonated into a brilliant solar blast that almost knocked him backward. The thin light that had been threaded between them when she accepted his blood was anemic compared to this. A thick golden bond arced from his body to hers, crackling with electricity and then detonating like a supernova. His fangs slipped from her wrist and he felt himself fall backward, into a strong embrace.
“Gotcha,” Jax said in his ear. “You okay?”
Was he? He blinked into the cloudless sky, taking stock. Nothing hurt. In fact, he’d never felt better in his life. Even the pain left over from the vampire attack seemed pushed so far into the background as to be almost nonexistent. All that remained was the fiery glow that spun between him and Daria.
“Yeah. I think so.” With Jax’s help, he sat up and studied the woman anxiously. “She looks better, doesn’t she?”
“Her color has improved.” Nick patted his shoulder. “You’ve given her a chance she didn’t have before. Now get dressed before Jesse sees you naked and thinks something really kinky is going on.”
“Would serve him right, the grouchy bastard.” In spite of the seriousness of Daria’s situation, he smiled a little. Sheriff Jesse Deveraux knew their main secret and had kept it well, even if he didn’t much like it. Bastard or not, it was good to have a human ally in law enforcement.
Ryon almost felt sorry for the sheriff. Whatever was going on in the Shoshone, the man was going to have his hands full real quick.
Nudging Ryon aside, the medical team—minus Mac, who was forbidden by Kalen from descending the steep hill—went to work hooking up the biologist to an IV and a heart monitor. Melina and Noah straightened her broken arm as well, causing the woman to moan in agony even in her unconscious state, and making Ryon’s wolf very unhappy again. But he kept a leash on the beast.
Once the arm was in a sling, Daria was declared fit for transport. Carefully, with Nick’s and Jax’s assistance, they transferred their patient to the basket, strapped her in, secured the basket to the pulley and ropes, and began to guide it up the incline. It was a long, tedious process that had them all sweating by the time they reached the top, and everyone was relieved to start the journey back to the Huey.
Ryon remained glued to her side as his friends carried the basket toward the trail. Her color did appear better. She was far from healed, but she would be. He couldn’t wait to get to know this woman who had reached out to him, and in doing so, had set them on a path that would alter their destinies.
Would she be shy and kind? Or brash and loud? She worked alone, at one with the nature around her. She loved wolves. That had to be a positive sign, right? And she apparently tre
ated herself to a bit of the hair of the dog once in a while—no pun intended. The recollection of the little bottle of whiskey made him smile. Getting to know her might be fun.
And maybe he wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.
When they reached the clearing where they’d found the mutilated body, Ryon wasn’t surprised to see the entire area crawling with park rangers, the county cops, the medical examiner’s people, a crime scene unit, and Deveraux himself, standing tall among the ordered chaos, a thunderous expression on his rugged face.
“Westfall!” He strode toward Nick, a man on a mission. “Why is it that every single time things go to shit in my county, you and your band of misfits are smack in the middle of it?”
“Good to see you, too, Jesse. Hey, are you putting on weight? Don’t worry. You carry it well.”
“Don’t fuck with me, friend. Not today.” He jabbed a thumb in the general direction of the remains. “What do you know about this?”
“Not a damned thing, nor do I want to,” Nick replied drily. “That’s why I called you. I think you’ve either got a rogue grizzly, or a serial killer. Neither of which are my problem.”
The sheriff’s gaze went to Daria. “Yet this injured biologist is your problem? How does she fit in with the killing?”
“I don’t think she does, except I’m speculating she found the body and something scared her into running. We’re going to find out, though.”
“Then I’ll need to question her,” Deveraux persisted. “You taking her to the hospital?”
“No, to the compound.” Nick pinned the other man with a steely glare. “I need you to keep her whereabouts quiet.”
“Goddamn.” He blew out a breath. “As much as you fuck me up the ass, I ought to start keeping lube handy.”
Nick fell silent for a few seconds, a faraway look in his eyes. Ryon recognized it, having witnessed it before, and no doubt so had the Pack members present. Their commander had “seen” an event, something vital to their future.
Whatever the vision was, Nick shook it off. “Come to the compound when you’re free. I’ll explain as much as I can.”
