“You’re awake.” Sam’s voice sounded from below her. “Good. Don’t try to get up yet. I’ll be right there.”
She heard his footsteps coming closer, the creak of the ladder, then saw his head appear as he came up.
“Hello,” Karen said, feeling unsure now that she was faced with him again. A familiar stranger. Her mate. And despite the injury she remembered him gaining, he was moving with the same strength and grace he’d had before it happened.
“Hello yourself. How do you feel?” He came closer, sat on the edge of the bed, and took her hand between bothf his, enfolding her in warmth with that simple gesture.
Karen took a quick inventory. “Fine.” Her surprise sounded in her voice. “I seem to remember losing the fight.”
Sam shook his head. “You helped win it, actually. You used the dagger on the leader of the group of renegades who wanted to reanimate Peter Stubbe to help them usher in a new dark age of terror. Once you trapped him in human form, I had him. And then one of the other renegades came up over the edge of the loft and bit you. My pack had arrived by then and they finished the fight, but the cavalry came too late for you.”
What he’d told her about the supposed antigen in her blood came back to her. She’d been bitten by a werewolf, and now she was miraculously healed. “Does this mean I changed?”
Sam nodded. “The attack triggered the antigen. You survived. You’ll change with the next full moon.” He watched her carefully for her reaction, as if worried this wasn’t good news.
“So, you’re a werewolf, now I’m one too, we’re mated, and the crazy wolves are dead?”
“That pretty much sums it up.”
“Cyril and his damn secrets,” Karen said, but without heat. “Would it have killed him to explain any of this while he was alive?”
“Maybe he didn’t want to have to face your doubt and suspicion. Maybe he was afraid you’d hate him if you knew what he really was.” Sam kept his expression blank as he spoke. But the intimacy of their bond told her he had the same concern.
“Sam.” Karen reached for him, scooting into his arms. “I don’t hate you for what you are. How could I? You saved me. And I don’t hate myself for surviving, either.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest, loving the scent and warmth of his skin. “Hate is the last thing I feel for you.”
“What about love?” she heard him ask, his voice a deep rumble in his chest beneath her ear.
She flashed on the urgent sexual need he’d awoken in her, followed by the yearning emotional ache. She’d felt him below her in the cabin, and that proof of the bond between them filled her with wonder.
“I thought we were fated mates,” Karen said, unable to resist teasing him. “Doesn’t that mean never having to say I love you?”
“No.” Sam’s answer came swiftly with a ring of certainty. “Not when you nearly lose your mate as soon as you’ve found her. Then you need to hear the words.”
She raised her face to his and let him see the truth in her eyes. “I love you. Kiss me again, Sam.”
He did. And it was a very long time before either of them stirred from the big bed.
After Hours
Rosemary Laurey
One
“A Pixie?” Ella Carrack had been a high school teacher far too long to believe that for one second. Pixies – if they existed, which was highly unlikely in her opinion – were not six-foot hunks wearing police uniforms and lots of heavy-looking equipment hanging from shoulders and belt. In the dark, (she’d always thought the school had better perimeter lights) the shadowy figure looked vaguely familiar. A student celebrating Halloween far too early, no doubt.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
Might as well play along before handing out a Saturday detention. “And you’re here, why?” She stepped forwards, wanting to see exactly whom she’d be writing up for trespass after school hours.
In reply, he grabbed her by the wait and threw her to the ground, his firm, powerful body landing directly on top of her as a bullet whined overhead. “Because somebody’s shooting ahead of time.”
Sounded like several somebodies but now wasn’t the time to quibble. Nor was it the right moment to fully appreciate the male body that covered every inch of hers. This was clearly no adolescent.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his breath warm against her hair.
“I came in to pick up some ninth-grade maths tests,” she muttered. Mid-term reports were due Monday. Mind you, if the bullets kept flying, she might not have to worry about getting her paperwork in on time. “What the hell’s going on?” She didn’t normally swear at a police officer but excused herself in the circumstances. “And would you please get off me.” By the pressure against the small of her back, he was enjoying the closeness a lot more than she was.
“Didn’t Mr Bryce request no one work late this evening?” the Pixie policeman asked. Not budging an inch.
“Nipping back for five minutes for something I forgot isn’t working late.”
“But just as dangerous,” he said. She wasn’t about to argue as another bullet whined overhead and pinged against the dumpster, followed by an unearthly yell. “You need to get out of here.”
She wouldn’t argue that point. “OK.” He shifted halfway off her. She still couldn’t move but at least she had full use of her lungs back. “What on earth’s happening? And what are you doing here?” Shouldn’t he be calling for backup?
“I’m here to adjudicate.”
“Adjudicate what?” A loud bang and a whoop that could have been a yell of pain sounded a few yards away. “Why the hell are people shooting?”
He gave a little gasp, as if suddenly understanding. “Damn, you’re a Mundane! What are you doing here?”
“I told you. I forgot some papers.”
He muttered something but didn’t budge much. She tried to wriggle from under him, but it was like trying to lift a car off her back. Not that she’d ever had to do that, but lying on the grimy ground of the school yard left her unable (or perhaps unwilling) to appreciate the fine male body mashed against hers.
“Will you get off me so I can go home?”
He paused as if pondering that possibility. The weight on her back eased, as if he’d moved, when he muttered, “Too late, I’m afraid.” There were shouts and running feet coming toward them as he leaped up, grabbed her by the arm and lifted her up against his body, her face rubbing his shirt and his badge pressing against her left eye. “Don’t say a freaking word,” he whispered.
Speak? She was lucky to be breathing the way he held her. She was starting to worry about the health of her ribs, when he lifted her off her feet, took a few steps back towards the building and opened the door she’d just exited. How the heck did he do that? It didn’t open from the outside and she knew darn well she’d latched it properly. No outside door was ever left unlocked in this neighbourhood.
Only the emergency lights lit the hallway. Ella couldn’t see much in the gloom and being half slung over his shoulder didn’t improve her line of vision but it was enough for her to see he had blond hair, a bit tousled after their roll on the ground, and he was minus his hat, no doubt left outside with her left shoe.
“What now?” She found herself snapping.
“I get you away before someone scents you.”
“What?” His breath didn’t smell of drink but he was certainly acting that way. “You just got me in here. I want to go home.” That sounded a bit pathetic. “How about you put me down?”
“OK.” She was almot vertical, toes brushing the ground when he muttered, “Shit,” as shouts and yells came towards them from a hallway to the right. He pushed open the door to the gym and pulled her in. “They’re going to be coming this way any minute. Quick.”
She blamed the shriek on nerves, as he ran the length of the gym dragging her with him. He paused at the end, pushed a door open and slammed it behind them.
“Don’t make a sound!”
To la
te for that, as she stumbled and sent a drum set crashing. Someone turned on the gym lights and in a shaft of light from the transom, she looked into the face of her insane police officer.
No wonder his voice sounded vaguely familiar. It was their DARE officer. “Officer Willard? Leigh?”
He stared at her. “Miss Carrack? Ella? Sweet heaven! What the heck am I going to do with you?”
“Let me go home and finish my report cards?” Just a suggestion. With luck she might just manage to reason her way out of this.
“If you go out there, you’re dead. They’re never going to let a Mundane like you walk away to tell.”
There was a way out of this. Had to be. This was Officer Willard. A sensible man. A reasonable man. OK, a sexy man, but that was irrelevant right now. An officer sworn to uphold the law. Or he had been last time she saw him. “What the blazes is going on out there.”
“A turf war between the Vampires and the Wolves.”
Two of the local gangs. The fact they were fighting wasn’t surprising. Sad, worrisome, troubling, but not surprising. “Why are they fighting in the school building?”
“We try to keep them on school property. Easier to clean up afterwards and we have the area cleared to avoid the possibility of involving stray Mundanes. Usually,” he added with a frown clearly aimed at her.
“And what is a ‘Mundane’?”
“Someone like you. A plain, ordinary human with no special gifts.”
“No special gifts? I’ve survived teaching here for ten years, when half the new teachers quit before Christmas.” Bit of an exaggeration that, there were always a few who made it to spring break before throwing in their lesson plan and books.
“I’ll concede that but you’re still a Mundane. No special gifts.”
“I don’t know about that. I’ve run a marathon; have you?” He visibly bristled at her challenge. What made her say that? Stress at being imprisoned with a cop gone insane. A cop who’d claimed he was a Pixie but Pixie or madman, he had a gun on his hip, a pair of handcuffs dangling from his belt, and who knew what in his pockets.
“Ella, if I were you, I’d keep very, very quiet.”
It sounded more like advice than threat but, either way, she followed his suggestion. He still blocked the only door, so she sat down on a stack of instrument cases and looked at her captor.
She’d always thought Officer Willard good-looking. He’d always seemed committed and down to earth, even sane. She’d obviously been misled by a nice exterior, a dark uniform and the scent of leather.
“If there’s a gang war going on, shouldn’t you call in backup and get out there and put a stop to it?”
He stepped away from the door and squatted to be eye level. “I told you. Best if they fight it out among themselves in a contained area. And yes, I should be out there, but if anyone found you, they’d eat you or tear you to pieces.”
“Officer Willard. I’ve faced down a lot of recalcitrant students in my time. I don’t scare easily.”
“You’ve never faced rampaging Vampires at night or a Werewolf during full moon.”
She gulped; he was definitely devoid of sanity. Had to be, but face told her otherwise. He was serious and believed what he was saying. “Give me a break!” Vampires? Wolves at full moon? Sheesh, werewolves! Honestly! The stress of being a cop must have turned his brain. “So they come into school and fight it out regularly?”
“Every couple of months or so and only at full moon. The Wolves like to be able to shift.” He gave a tsk of exasperation. “Why the heck am I telling a Mundane this?”
“Because you’ve got me prisoner and we’re making conversation.”
“Quiet!” There was a noise, shouts in the gym, then a scream as the door slammed and silence for a few seconds until the uproar started again
“What happened?”
“Sounds as though someone got smashed in the door.”
“Wait a minute. You’re serious, right? The Vamps and Werewolves really are fighting out there.”
He nodded. “I told you, two local gangs. You must have heard of them.”
“Of course I have but I thought they were just names. Not the real thing.” Especially since Vampires and Werewolves didn’t exist but then, of course, neither did Pixies and she was talking to one. Or so he claimed. “So, Pixies referee the fights?” Humour him. Only thing to do.
“Adjudicate. We make sure they stay within the permitted area and count the dead and injured when it’s over.”
“There’s a bunch of you.”
He nodded. “Twelve to cover the entire building. We’re not all cops. Just Pixies.”
Honestly. He really expected her to believe all this. “I thought Pixies had pointed ears?” His were smooth and pink with ear lobes close to his head.
“That’s Fairies!” he said. Then he muttered, “Mundanes!” as he shook his head.
“Sorry,” Ella replied, “my mistake. How am I supposed to know the difference?” He ignored that. Probably just as well. She could guess what his one-word answer would be.
Pity really that he was off his rocker. In better circumstances, she might have suggested they go out for coffee. Now she was beginning to wonder if she’d live long enough to have another cup.
A cacophony of yells and screams from the gym brought him to his feet. Faster than her eyes could follow, he was standing back to the door and mouthing, “Be quiet” at her.
She was tempted to yell for help, but the screams that gave new meaning to blood-curdling didn’t inspire any hope of rescue. There was a growl. Definitely animal. More shrieks and thuds. And gunshots as a spray of bullets hit a wall.
“No guns in the gym!” a deep voice thundered. “Penalty! Penalty!” Followed by an awful scream.
Good rule that. It followed school board policy. The scream went on and on until it faded to a whimpering gurgle. “What did they do to him?” she asked.
“By the sound of things, they cut off a vampire’s arm as a penalty.”
“Sheesh!”
“Don’t worry. It’ll grow back. They always do.”
She was going insane. Had to be. Because he was beginning to make sense.
The door burst open and Officer Willard lurched forwards, then leaped out of the way and spun to face them.
Ella decided to be as unobtrusive as possible.
It didn’t work,
Half a dozen definitely unfriendly faces focused on her. “She’s Mundane,” a pale one said. Yup, fangs. He hadn’t been kidding about vampires.
“She’s ours! Rightful target!” another, even nastier, one said. The gleam in his eye matched the diamond in his fang.
She couldn’t move anyway. She was already flat against the instrument cases. Besides, she’d never in her life backed down in froof a student. On the other hand, Washington High’s worst thugs were fluffy kittens compared to this lot.
Of course if Officer Willard were right, some of these creatures were their worst thugs. She glared but sensed it was a total waste of effort. As a cluster they surged forwards, eyes glittering and fangs shining. There was even a hairy face among the mob. This was her reward for trying to get her paperwork in on time.
Officer Willard stood right in front of her. How the hell did he move like that? Of course, he was a Pixie.
“This Mundane is mine!”
Two
They backed off. A bit. Heck, at that tone she would have if she hadn’t already moved as far from the door as she could.
“She’s not yours,” one of then said, sniffing the air. “She’s not marked!”
“Yes! Fresh Mundane!” another said and stepped forwards. “Unmarked Mundane!”
Trails of cold sweat ran down Ella’s back. She had to be dreaming. That was the only way it made sense. This mob was the stuff of nightmares after all. One pushed himself forwards and, dear heaven, he had a bloody stump at his shoulder. “I claim her as consolation.”
“No!” They backed up again. But nowhere near far
enough for comfort. “She is mine. If you hadn’t blundered in like a lot of drunken Werewolves, she’d have been marked by now.”
“You calling us Wolves?” one asked, sounding direly insulted.
“I’m saying you’re acting like them. “Get out and don’t bother me!”
They obeyed, with a variety of unfriendly snarls and hisses. Officer Willard, slammed the door behind them and, for good measure, blocked it with a cabinet. A large metal cabinet, which no doubt was filled with stacks of sheet music and weighed half a ton. Then brushed his hands together and turned to her. “They won’t be back but we’ll have to make good on my claim if you’re to walk out of here alive.”
Ella swallowed. Still stunned by his strength and way he’d routed those monsters. “They were Vampires?”
He nodded. “Nastier on the whole than the Wolves but Wolves tend to be tougher.”
Information she could happily have lived without. “Hey!” He’d unbuckled his belt and set it, and all the bits clipped on to it, on an empty music stand. “What are you doing?”
“Taking my clothes off,” he replied, as he lifted his foot and untied his shoe.
“Why?” Dumb question. There was only one reason she could think of why a man took off his clothes when alone with a woman. “Now, wait a minute.”
He took off the other shoe and looked at her. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any time to waste if you’re going to survive the night. The only way you’ll get out of here alive is if I mark you as mine. Claim you. They won’t bother you then. They wouldn’t dare.”
“I see.” That was a lie if ever there was one.
“Look,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt, “I know this isn’t exactly what you want. Can’t say I’m precisely thrilled about it myself, but it will keep you alive and my credibility with that lot hinges on you walking out of here with my spoor on you.”
The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance Page 27
