Coveted

by Shawntelle Madison

  Suddenly, the pain retreated. The wolf took over, preventing the human inside from cringing away from the mud and brush I crawled through. My claws sank deeply into the grass as the lust for revenge seeped in. My slow pace increased. I moved closer and closer to the light. From between the trees, I spotted Thorn ahead. Shirtless. In less than a minute, he’d discarded his shirt and shoes.

  One man in particular stood taller than the others and his stance exuded power. Slick black hair flowed down his back. His eyes glowed light green in the darkness. That had to be Luther, the Long Island pack leader. Why would he come all this way? Something about his face tugged at my memories. I always remembered faces. I’d seen that chin before. That sneer. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on past acquaintances.

  Luther gestured to his men. Their stench filled my nose. From the shadows under a set of bushes, I could make out the fine details in Luther’s clothes.

  The Long Island pack leader approached my father. “It’s been a long time, Fyodor. Far too long.”

  Luther gave a sinister grin before he stepped on Alex with a steel-toed boot. My brother groaned in pain and my body jerked with the urge to run to him. Not yet. I had to wait for Thorn.

  I didn’t need to be close to smell the wave of rage from my father. His wide shoulders resembled a tightly strung bow waiting to be released.

  “You should’ve stayed in Atlantic City,” Luther said. “I would’ve found work for a cold-blooded killer like you.” Through the rain, I could barely make out his whispered words. “Especially one with a mate as beautiful as Anna.” He added weight to his foot and I strained to move. I could question my father later about his past transgressions. The time to act was now. What the hell was Thorn waiting for? My mouth watered with the possibilities. Claws extended, I could take Luther out and end the conflict tonight. From the far right, I saw golden eyes blink in the shadows. Thorn was ready.

  “If I didn’t want to kill that sweet little daughter of yours, she would’ve made a fine pet.” Luther laughed. “Perhaps I should seek her out all by myself for an up-close-and-personal introduction?”

  My father lurched forward, but caught himself in time as the silver-threaded ropes bit deeply into his skin.

  Luther approached my father. Close enough to taunt him into jumping again. “I could just as easily kill your son instead of your daughter, but that won’t give me what I want from her. Will it?”

  “Take me instead of them. My life has more value than theirs.”

  Luther laughed again as his cell phone rang. Before he picked it up, he said, “You have nothing to bargain with, Stravinsky. I’ve heard plenty about you. Enough to know that once I control this area, both you and your boy will belong to me.”

  The Long Island pack leader turned his back to them to talk on his phone.

  C’mon, Thorn. Stop pissing around!

  As he snapped his phone shut, Luther barked at his men. “Stay alert, boys! I have more urgent business.” Then he smirked at my father before disappearing into the brush. Disappointment turned into rage. I’d waited too long and now Luther had escaped. Six were now five. Thorn wouldn’t wait too long. And when he struck I had to be ready. Ready for the chance I’d been seeking to make them pay for their attack at my home. Their attack on me and Aggie.

  The wind whipped through the trees to my right. Everything in the forest came alive. The time had come.

  The trees parted. Thorn burst out, leaping through the air. I sprang a half second later toward the two men holding my father. They’d sensed our arrival. Thorn lashed out at the two men he’d crashed on, tossing one into the trees behind him and breaking the other’s neck.

  But the carnage wasn’t over yet. The two werewolves I confronted were far larger than me. They both scrambled from underneath me and tried to pounce. Their blows were both fast and brutal—no mercy for a female. My head snapped back as one punched my face. Hot blood ran down my cheek. Since I was still in human form, the pain was amplified. But I didn’t falter. I didn’t pause. I lived in the moment—I lived for freeing my family. The only option was to win—to kill.

  Meanwhile, Thorn had released two of my cousins from their bindings. With two more Stravinskys at our side, I continued to fight the two Long Island werewolves while my cousins sprang into action. One raced toward my father, while another ran to free Uncle Boris.

  Another werewolf confronted Thorn. Derek. That bastard had stood back and let the lesser wolves attack while he waited with the prisoners. Hisses and barks filled the air as they clawed at each other.

  The wolves I fought wrestled me to the forest floor and stomped on my back. I had a lifetime of drive and spirit, but two against one were too many. And my rain-slick poncho didn’t provide any protection. Their claws ripped right through the thin material. One grabbed the back of my neck and slammed me into the damp ground. The other tried to subdue my kicking legs. As I tried to free myself, I could make out the sounds of struggle. Fists flying. Wolves growling and whining. Could Thorn defeat Derek?

  In a flash, the wolf on my back vanished. A second later the other yelped as hands grasped and shook him violently. I looked up to see my father standing over me, the limp bodies of the two werewolves in his fists. He tossed them to the ground and offered his hand. When I couldn’t get a firm grip, he pulled me up by my shoulders.

  “Well done, daughter.” He touched his forehead to mine.

  The fight was over.

  Uncle Boris and my cousins tried to free Alex from the enchanted ropes, while a short distance away, Thorn checked on the fallen Long Island werewolves. Best to make sure we didn’t have any stragglers to throw a surprise our way. Five bodies lay silent on the wet forest floor. There should’ve been six, but I’d take five for now.

  The rain had trickled to nothing, but drops of water continued to fall from the trees. My entire body ached. Every movement, every step, resulted in sharp pain. I touched my bruised lips and tried not to think about what had happened. Whose blood I had on my hands.

  I limped to my brother’s side. From the way the men were struggling, it would be a while before Alex was free.

  “Looks like we got a tight spell on these. Damn warlocks.” Uncle Boris spat on the ground. “My shitter’s got more purpose in life than those bastards.”

  Finally, they yanked off the muzzle. I peered at Alex’s swollen face. Purple bruises marred his eyes and cheeks. What the hell had they done to him?

  With gentle hands, I knelt next to him and touched the delicate skin on his ear. One of his eyes twitched. I traced my fingers lightly along a bruise on one cheek. He didn’t wince or draw back. He knew my touch was meant to soothe.

  “I’d ask why they did this to you, but that’s a dumb question.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what’s the damage?”

  A set of ropes dropped away. Alex hissed in pain. “Well, one of my ribs is broken. They broke it to slow me down. I think my ankle’s sprained too.”

  I managed a painful grin and tried to think of a less painful topic. “I heard you made an honest woman out of Karey.”

  “Yeah. It was time.” His face turned serious as the others worked around him. “I had a talk with Grandma about it.”

  “Grandma? Why not Dad?”

  “Dad’s pretty easy to figure out. I wanted a woman’s perspective.”

  I feigned a hurt face. Not too difficult since I had blood running down it. “So why didn’t you ask me?”

  “I think you need a consistent dating record before I come your way with life-changing questions.” I flicked his forehead with my finger. He chuckled with clenched teeth.

  I couldn’t resist looking for Thorn. He sat propped against a tree nursing a wound to his shoulder. He gazed out into the forest, with thoughts I wished I could see. After everything that had happened tonight, the only things I knew for sure were that my brother was safe—and that the Long Island werewolves were still coming for me.

  Chapter 16

&nbs
p; Aggie grumbled, “I want to choke this DJ. Who in their right mind would think it’s a good idea to play ‘Singing in the Rain’ over and over again?”

  The rain continued to fall for the next two days and made everyone miserable. Thank goodness I had the weekend off to recover from the kidnapping. Of course that didn’t stop me from checking in at work. Aggie had tagged along for the drive.

  “It’s the best radio station in the area,” I replied.

  “You mean it’s the only station you want to listen to.”

  “That too, but their commentator has years of experience.”

  “Years, my ass. He’s as boring as a hot date between two tax lawyers.” She pulled one of those miniboxes of cereal out of her pocket. I found it rather disturbing to watch her munch on it like it was potato chips. “Did you see the note from Nick?”

  We’d forgotten about poor Nick after Alex’s kidnapping. He’d left a note to say thanks for the ride on my back.

  I gingerly touched a sore spot on my back where one of the Long Island werewolves had kicked me repeatedly. “Yeah, I hope it’s the last time a man thanks me for a lift.” I gestured back in the direction of The Bends. “I can’t believe Bill told me that the neighborhood kids don’t look as beat up as I do right now.”

  She patted my knee. “You don’t look beat up.” She snorted. “You look like you got your ass handed to you.”

  Should anything that came out of Aggie’s mouth surprise me anymore?

  “You don’t look as bad as this one drunk chick I used to know at NYU. Picked fights all the time with other drunk folks. She looked horrible. And she still never took an ass kicking as bad as yours.”

  Even PETA had more tact.

  “I just wanted to go in to check on things. After all this time I thought he wouldn’t mind if I looked a bit under the weather,” I said.

  Even though I was driving, I could sense Aggie rolling her eyes. “Why do you care? It’s only a few days.”

  A few days for me meant pure torture in terms of “what-ifs.” What if some idiot had messed up our stock? What if one of the clerks—a chain-smoking fire witch—had finally managed to burn down the joint?

  We pulled up to Aunt Olga’s place. Once in a while Grandma spent the day here instead of at my parents’ house.

  I groaned. “Why did I come here with you again?”

  “Because if you stayed home you’d be asking for a second helping of kick-ass quiche.”

  “I’d be fine. If they really wanted me dead, they would’ve come in with guns blazing.”

  Not that guns mattered. Werewolves rarely used them. Instead of a .45, the Code told us we should use our bare hands.

  “You think of everything, don’t you?” Aggie laughed. “If I obsessed over things as much as you do, I’d become a stockbroker.”

  “OCD does not mean I have savant-like mathematical skills.” I snatched the only umbrella before she had a chance to take it.

  Before I left the car she asked, “So is there anything good about it?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that. Every day, with every decision I made, I faced my condition. If there was something good about having my disorder, that perk had better show itself soon.

  Since I wasn’t welcome at work, I followed Aggie up the sidewalk to my aunt’s town house. My aunt lived close to my parents’ home to allow her to easily walk back and forth, since she was Grandma’s caretaker during the day.

  We trooped up to the door, and I knocked.

  But Aggie just reached for the doorknob and waltzed on inside. “She told me I didn’t need to use the doorbell.” She shrugged at my surprised expression. “It’s not like she wouldn’t hear us come in.”

  “With the Long Island werewolves roaming about, I don’t think it’s safe for her to—” I paused when I saw the sawed-off shotgun on Aunt Olga’s coffee table. Whoa. I guess the Code didn’t apply at this house today.

  From the kitchen, she called, “Make yourself comfortable, girls. Alex is resting and Mama’s watching TV. I’ll be out with tea soon.”

  Aunt Olga had a flair for the dramatic. Other than the rough edges of the shotgun perched on the ornate table, her home displayed a well-kept European elegance. I locked the door as Aggie entered the living room and we both greeted my grandmother. She sat on one of the cream-colored couches with her hands in her lap, watching some trashy morning show. With gentle hands, she gingerly touched the bruises on my face.

  “You need to be careful,” she whispered.

  “I always try, Babushka.”

  I hadn’t visited my aunt’s place since I was a young girl, but not much had changed. Compared to my mother’s practical home, with its lived-in furniture and cheap-looking plastic plants, my aunt had the home of a woman with style. Unfortunately, the style was stuck in 1980s’ Soviet Russia.

  Aunt Olga entered the room with a tea service. She placed the tray on the coffee table and began to fill the cups. I had to admit, she moved with a grace I rarely had. Her chestnut-colored hair with strands of white fell to her waist in soft waves. With narrow wrists and feminine hands, she handed each of us a cup. Aggie spied the slices of coffee cake and promptly helped herself.

  In a thick accent, Aunt Olga whispered, “Two more people to join in the fun will be nice. Won’t it, Mama?”

  Grandma nodded between sips. The backdrop of people yelling and arguing on TV took the tranquillity of the tea away.

  “Aggie said you wouldn’t mind if I stopped by for a bit,” I said, standing up to go in search of my brother. I didn’t even need to ask which room he rested inside—my nose led me to the second bedroom.

  On the way I spied some of Aunt Olga’s belongings that I hadn’t seen in a while: the cabinet full of her gleaming beauty pageant crowns, right next to her expensive china. Weathered ribbons curved around plaques and photos. I remembered one distinctly: “Miss St. Petersburg 1979.”

  From past conversations between family members, I knew pageants in Russia were held in high regard. We’d watch tapes or satellite feeds of the Miss Russia Pageant when I was a young girl. Aunt Olga would drone on and on about how the girls lacked poise or sophistication. “Look at that dress! What kind of mother would allow a nice girl to dress like that on the stage? Still, I bet she wins and heads on to Miss World.”

  I didn’t bother to knock, simply opening the door to peer inside. Tucked in Aunt Olga’s guest room, my brother lay under heavy quilts, lightly snoring. The guard, Rex’s brother Pete, sat next to the bed with a motorcycle magazine and an open can of beer. Nothing like a brewski and half-clothed dames on bikes to pass the time.

  Pete looked up from his magazine, grunted, and then went back to his entertainment. I didn’t know whether he made much of a guard, but Thorn wouldn’t have chosen him unless he was someone my family could trust.

  From a free spot at the side of the bed, I checked my brother. He looked just as bruised as he had a few days ago. The boyish features that made him so handsome now appeared worn and frayed. Just looking at him made me want to get back at the Long Island werewolves for what they’d done to him. Even when I’d been closest to a breaking point, Alex had always been there for me, supporting me. If there was anything within my power—however limited it was—that I could do for him, I would.

  He shifted under the covers and I left him to his rest. From outside the room, I could hear Aggie enjoying Aunt Olga’s food while my aunt entertained both her and my grandmother with her long, drawn-out tales.

  As I sat down next to Aggie, I grabbed a napkin and a small piece of cake, taking only a few nibbles since it hurt to chew anything bigger. My aunt grumbled to me, “Unlike your hungry friend here, you appear to have impeccable manners.”

  Through a mouthful of cake, Aggie mumbled, “But it is quite good, Olga. I mean, you baked this knowing I have a soft spot for the stuff.”

  Aunt Olga ignored Aggie and glanced my way. “Legs crossed at the ankles. Good. Your back is stiff as a board, which gives you height.
But there is something else about you.” She frowned.

  I peeked at myself, not realizing I’d been put on the spot as if I were some kind of pageant participant. Bruises and all.

  “You need to act like the confident woman I see on the outside.” Our eyes locked for a moment and I turned away.

  “No!” she snapped. “Never turn your eyes away from someone unless they have proven their superiority to you.”

  Well, that was easier said than done. I’d run into far too many werewolves who shoved their superiority down my throat. Like any respectful girl who knew her place within the family, I’d assumed Aunt Olga was my superior within the pack. But to my surprise, this pageant addict had put me in my place. In an unexpected way. She wanted me to believe in myself.

  Before I could ask why she’d said what she did, I sensed footsteps outside. A familiar scent, a member of the pack. Pete emerged from the second bedroom and opened the front door.

  “Were you expecting company?” asked my aunt.

  “Just got a call that I had some chow coming.” The door swung open to reveal his drenched youngest brother, Melvin, clutching a grocery bag in his arms. With only a nod and a mumble of thanks, Pete took it and shut the door. I hoped Melvin had managed to snag some food, since Pete evidently lacked the manners to offer any. Seemed like “asshole disease” was contagious in town.

  Pete made a beeline for the bedroom, but of course, with someone like Aggie in the house, he didn’t make it far.

  “So you planned to eat all that food and not offer any?” Her nostrils flared. “You’d be a little more hospitable and less of a dickhead if you shared.”

  Perhaps Pete thought Aggie had filled herself up with Aunt Olga’s coffee cake, but he should have known better. Before he could reply, Aggie took a bold step forward and snatched the sack. Aunt Olga stood and followed Aggie into the kitchen. “That does smell good. I think I’ll help myself as well.”