Alpha Pack 7 - Chase the Darkness

by J. D. Tyler

  They were bonding their hearts as well.

  He could feel it and wondered whether she could, too.

  Yes.

  His thoughts were so transparent. But her answer touched someplace deep inside him, a barren landscape that had been lonely for far too long. She brought color and light into his dark gray world and awakened him. Gave him hope.

  Their pace quickened until they couldn’t hold back any longer. Going over the edge, they shattered together, holding tightly to each other until they were spent and breathing hard. After they recovered some, he gently lowered them to the soft ground and gathered her close while they let the afternoon wane.

  And later, if he finally convinced her coyote to let his wolf have his way as well?

  There was nobody but the birds and squirrels to bear witness.

  Nine

  The two weeks following their mating were, without a doubt, the happiest time of Jacee’s life.

  The one blight on her sunshine was having no family to share it with. Staring out the window at the early morning, hands wrapped around a mug of hot coffee, a shaft of longing pierced her at the thought of being able to sit with her mother and sister, chatting about Micah, mating, falling in love. Boys in general. Maybe her sister would have found someone special by now, too.

  They used to tell each other everything. Fight like cats and dogs, then make up and whisper long into the night, well after their parents had ordered them to go to sleep. They’d told ghost stories, gossiped about the other girls and boys in the pack, talked about their dreams for the future. There was nothing quite like the bond with a sister.

  All of that wiped out by one vicious act. By misplaced hatred and cruelty.

  “What did they do to you, sis? Did you even get a burial?”

  No sense in going down that road, again. It only led to more heartbreak. Quickly, she busied herself in the kitchen, getting out some eggs and putting on a package of bacon to fry. Micah could eat a lot, and he’d be hungry after last night’s activities. She smiled a little at the memories, each day and night better than the last. The man made love as if he planned on making up for every lonely second from before they’d met.

  That was great by her, since she was doing the same.

  A few minutes later, Micah strolled in sleepily, scratching his bare chest. “Christ, what smells so damn good in here? Bacon? You’re a goddess!”

  “I know.” She giggled as he wrapped her in a hug from behind and nuzzled her neck. “Careful, don’t get popped with hot grease.”

  “It would be worth it just to stay right here forever.” He ground his half-hard cock into the small of her back, cuddling for a few. He didn’t try to take things further, apparently enjoying the snuggle. “Want me to man the eggs?”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind.” Her mate had proven himself to be handy in the kitchen.

  “I’ve got this. I make a mean egg. You like scrambled or fried?”

  “Either way.”

  Stepping away, he took over. He went to the fridge, rummaged around, and came out with some onions, green and red peppers, and cheese. “Any objections?”

  “Are you scrambling eggs or creating a masterpiece?” she teased.

  “Both.”

  Grinning, Micah set to work chopping the veggies while melting butter in the skillet she already had out. Once they were diced, he tossed the onions and peppers in the butter and began to sauté them, and the delicious aroma made her stomach rumble. After those were tender, he added several eggs and folded them in to the mix.

  “Oh, that looks and smells wonderful,” Jacee said, sniffing.

  “It’s easy. Why have plain eggs when they taste so good spruced up a bit?” He shrugged but she could tell he was pleased by the compliment.

  They worked companionably. Before she knew it, they had a feast that could feed perhaps three or four shifters instead of two. They loaded the table with the eggs, bacon, and toast, and sat down to enjoy. Micah shoveled his food with enthusiasm, and the mound disappeared so fast one thing was certain—she would have to buy food in bulk to keep the man full.

  “What?” he asked, finally setting down his fork.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone enjoy their meals quite as much as you have these past couple of weeks. It’s such a positive change from before.”

  Before, when he’d been sick. She was so damn lucky to still have him around and healthy.

  His cheeks flushed some. “I’d forgotten what it was like to feel good and be hungry. Everything tastes so awesome, I’m going to be a fat wolf with a gut before you know it.”

  She laughed. “No, you’re not. Shifter metabolism is way too high for that. But I’d love you even if you were.”

  “I believe you.” He looked at her sort of funny and went still. Then he blinked slowly. “You’d still love me? You . . . love me?”

  Shoot, that had slipped out way sooner than she’d meant for it to. Scooting her chair close, she wound her arms around his neck. Kissed his lips. Then she looked into his stunned face and said, “I’m falling hard for you. It can’t be that big of a surprise.”

  “No, it’s just . . .” Just as her heart was starting to sink, he beamed at her. “I’m falling for you, too, my pretty coyote. God knows what you see in me, but for my sake, I’m glad you’re blind as a bat.”

  “Ha, you’re so funny.” She kissed him again, thoroughly, tracing the scars on his cheek with her fingers. “Want me to show you just how well I really see?”

  “Yes,” he breathed.

  She did exactly that, which meant a long, leisurely lovemaking session in bed. First, she kissed and caressed the length of his body from his face to his chest, down his stomach, then skipped his groin to knead his calves and love each foot. Who knew the feet could be an erogenous zone? At least they were for Micah.

  Then, once she had him writhing, she took pity and sucked his cock, licking and stroking until he nearly came before even getting inside her. But he was having none of that, and gently disengaged, laid her back on the pillows, and slid inside her welcoming heat as though he’d been doing it for years.

  They found their release together, clinging, and then drifted for a while, ignoring the rest of the world. Eventually, however, moving couldn’t be put off any longer.

  “Shower?” She nuzzled his chest.

  His arms tightened around her. “Sounds great. Would be even more fun if I didn’t have to go anywhere.”

  “Duty calls.” It wasn’t a question.

  Their two weeks were nearly at an end, along with the lazy idyll they’d enjoyed. He had to get back to the compound and the Pack, and in truth she knew a big part of him was eager to go. His brothers had been on a couple of missions without Micah, and she’d seen how staying behind had almost killed him. In truth, she had to get back to work, too, though she was much less eager.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” he said ruefully. “This time together, lazing around with you and making love, has been heaven.”

  “But you’re not a lazy kind of guy. It’s okay. I get it,” she reassured him, “I understand your need to get back to work.”

  He shook his head, then kissed her lips. “I’m a lucky man, in so many ways.”

  “But?” She’d heard a strange note in his voice.

  “Nothing. Except I’ve still got to find out who’s got a grudge against me. It’s been way too quiet these past two weeks—”

  At that precise moment, his cell phone started buzzing on the nightstand. Rolling to his side, he picked it up, stared at the display, and groaned. “It’s Nick. I knew better than to say that out loud.”

  As he answered the call, Jacee got up and walked to the bathroom to start the shower and give him a little privacy. The noise of the water drowned his words, but it couldn’t hide the urgency and anxiety behind them. That ramped up her own worry, and she fretted until he finally joined her, giving her a quick hug.

  “Is everything all right?”

  �
�Not really.” He stepped back and gave a heavy sigh. “Two campers were attacked last night, a father and his nineteen-year-old son. The father is dead, the son barely hanging on.”

  “Oh, no.” Her heart went out to them. “Do they have a suspect?”

  “No. Like the woman from a couple of weeks ago, they were attacked by something or someone with either sharp claws or a weapon like a knife. Nick said the sheriff is betting on the first, though, because they were both really messed up.”

  “That’s terrible.” She shook her head. “Nick hasn’t seen the victims?”

  “No. The Pack is on the way to the scene, and I’m supposed to meet them there. Jax is going to try to get a reading off the man’s body while it’s fresh. With the previous victim he didn’t get the chance, so hopefully we’ll learn something.”

  Jacee shivered. “I don’t envy Jax. Seeing grisly past events is one talent I’m glad I don’t possess.”

  “Me, too. Though it’s not all bad, the stuff he sees. It’s just unfortunate for him that when something terrible has happened is when we need his help to figure out who’s done it and why.”

  She couldn’t imagine being burdened with visions of the past or future, as Nick was. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.

  They stepped into the shower together, and though they managed some soapy fun and a few laughs, Micah was a bit pressed for time. She knew he hated that, knew he would rather have stayed and played, but it couldn’t be helped. Once they were out of the shower, they dried off and dressed quickly, which was a shame. But she told herself he’d be home soon, back in her arms.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, pulling her close. Then he kissed her thoroughly, leaving her senses reeling, drenched in his amazing scent.

  “Hurry home.”

  “I will.” He shot her a lopsided grin and was out the door, heading down the sidewalk to his motorcycle.

  As it started up and roared away, she couldn’t help the chill that settled around her heart. Their time together had been too peaceful. Too perfect. And in her life, that typically meant the other shoe was getting ready to drop on her head.

  Shaking off the dread, she went to search for something clean to wear to work.

  * * *

  Jacee’s little house got smaller and smaller in the distance, and Micah hated every second of leaving. Through sheer force of will, he focused his mind on the task ahead.

  And struggled to ignore the ever-present craving in his veins. The need for the numbing effects of myst that had been suppressed by the calming effect of his mate came creeping back in like a thief to steal away his carefully constructed peace. His sanity.

  His mate had no idea he was barely holding it together. He’d been so careful to shield his emotions—the fear and the disappointment that he hadn’t yet defeated this thing—because he didn’t want her to worry. Nor did she have any idea about the bottle of pills stashed in the leather saddlebag on his bike, the ones he was supposed to have thrown out. They had enough hanging over their heads right now. She didn’t need one more thing to stress over.

  Winding his way down the roads through national-park land, he was struck by how close this murder scene was to their compound. Like the other. Another taunt? Something else was niggling at the back of his mind, and by the time he rolled up and parked next to the sheriff’s vehicles and Pack SUVs, he’d managed to put his finger on what it was.

  Shutting off the ignition, he set off toward the activity taking place just out of sight among the shelter of the trees. As he approached, he spotted Nick, Jax, and John right away. They were talking with Sheriff Deveraux, and Micah’s gut tightened at the sight of the man. Jesse wasn’t a bad guy. No, he was a good lawman but gruff. Short on friendliness.

  Who cared, though, as long as he got the job done and was on the Pack’s side?

  “Sheriff,” Micah said in greeting, walking into their circle. Jesse nodded, face grim. Then Micah looked at his team, and they didn’t appear any happier. Jax in particular eyed him warily, and guilt speared Micah’s chest. He still hadn’t cleared the air with Jax after going berserk on the man, and he couldn’t blame him for thinking Micah was a serious head case.

  Jesse nodded, held out his hand. “Chase.” They shook, and the sheriff got down to business. “Now that you’re here, we can show you the scene, get your take on what’s going on, and wrap things up here.”

  Dread slid over Micah. “You were waiting on me, in particular?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “Okay, that’s downright alarming.” He glanced around at the serious faces.

  “It should be.”

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “Should you be?”

  Typical damn cop answer. “Not that I’m aware of. I don’t know anything about what happened to these poor men out here any more than the woman from the other day.”

  Jesse ran a hand through his hair. “Well, that’s where someone begs to differ. A lot of times we know more than we realize, deep down.”

  Dig deeper. The person after him was someone from his not-so-distant past. Wasn’t that his mother’s warning?

  Taking a deep breath, he said, “All right. Show me what you’ve got.”

  The sheriff started off, and Micah followed, catching some shared glances between his teammates. Apparently they’d already seen whatever awaited him, but didn’t care to enlighten him before they got there. He tried not to let that bother him, but it was a fight.

  As they approached the area, Micah could see a couple of deputies standing around. The pair looked up at the group’s approach and moved off to the side. At first, all Micah saw was . . . gore. And lots of it.

  As a SEAL, he’d seen bodies torn apart by bombs or gunfire. Such was the way of war, horrible though it might be. So the dead man before him on the ground was nothing he hadn’t seen before—except his death was completely out of place. He was dressed for camping in jeans, a flannel shirt, and well-worn boots. He’d been a fairly fit man for his age, which Micah guessed to be in his forties.

  No, the man shouldn’t have been dead on the forest floor, glazed eyes wide and horrified, mere feet from the cheerful remnants of his campfire and the hot dog picnic he’d obviously shared with his son, who was now fighting for his life.

  The man had been slashed and torn to pieces, with chunks of flesh missing from his limbs and torso. From his chest. Wide swaths of flesh and muscle simply cut away cleanly, but by something . . .

  Micah squatted and peered at the body. “A knife didn’t do this. The furrows are too large.”

  “No,” Nick spoke up. “You’re right. The wounds weren’t caused by a knife.”

  “Animal,” Micah guessed, looking up. He met Jax’s eyes. “Or a paranormal creature. Did you do a reading?”

  “Right before you got here. The man didn’t see what attacked them because it came from behind him—and from above.”

  That gave Micah pause. “Above?”

  “Yeah. The weapons were big claws, like talons.”

  Standing, Micah let that sink in. “So, what type of creature are we talking about here? A demon? A vampire? They can shift into another form.”

  “The lack of feeding suggests it’s not a vampire,” Nick said. “Besides, I don’t know a rogue who’d pass up a good meal.”

  There was a morbid thought. “True. A large bird, then? A dragon shifter? Hell, do we even have those for real? Or something else.”

  Nick stared at the unfortunate man. “I wish I knew. I’m getting nothing right now.”

  “I still don’t get what this attack has to do with me.”

  “This.” From his inside jacket pocket, Jesse retrieved a plastic Baggie. Inside the Baggie was a small square of cream-colored paper. Without removing the note, he handed the Baggie over to Micah, who read the writing through the clear plastic easily enough.

  SS-509: I am what YOU made me. They may have created me, but you trained me. This blood is on your hands.

 
“Oh, my God.” Micah thrust the bag into Jesse’s hands and leaned against a tree, panting for breath. He was going to be sick.

  The sheriff’s voice was quiet. “Nick said you could shed some light on the meaning.”

  It took Micah a long moment to find his voice. He hadn’t wanted to talk about this again, ever. Especially not to anyone besides his Pack brothers.

  “What a fucking nightmare.” Micah closed his eyes. There were shuffling sounds, but the others gave him time. Finally, he opened his eyes again and faced the music. “I’m SS-509. Lab subject 509 in the Super Soldier project, to be turned into a weapon of destruction answerable to a new, corrupt government—had things gone the way Malik and Bowman intended.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Jesse muttered. “I don’t suppose anyone wants to start at the beginning of that story?”

  Nick gave a humorless laugh. “Over a few beers sometime.”

  “What this means is, the killer blames me for what happened when we were prisoners,” Micah explained, staring down at the poor, hapless victim. Guilt had bile rising in his throat. “He’s someone I tortured into madness on Bowman’s orders. Now he’s burning for revenge, and is crazy as hell. This is my fucking fault.”

  “No,” Jax said firmly, stepping up to him. “It’s not. Whatever you did, you didn’t have a choice. Besides, you were tortured within an inch of your life, same as the others, and you didn’t turn into a killer. This isn’t on you. Whoever is doing this, he snapped.”

  “He blames me. In his mind, I’m responsible.”

  “Which means he’s twisted and wrong.” Jax clamped a hand on Micah’s shoulder. “He’s tipped his hand, bro. He’s narrowed down our search considerably, and we’ll ID him now. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “But how many people will have to die before we find him?”

  That, they didn’t have an answer for.

  “The note isn’t the only warning,” Micah told them. “The proximity of the murders to the compound is another one, I think. Both killings took place just outside the perimeter that Kalen has warded against intruders.”