by Moira Rogers
After a tense moment, the man dropped back, disappearing around the building. Dylan kept walking as if nothing had happened. “Tell me about the vampires. What happens to someone who gets bitten?”
“My mentor said a vampire’s bite can kill a wolf slowly, like a poison.”
He seemed to mull that over as they passed two more houses and slipped into the alley between the motel and the general store. “Is it a physical thing? Like actual poison? Or something magical?”
She wished she knew. “I’m not sure. It could be either. I’ve never seen—”
Her breath cut off as they came out of the alley to face a gathered crowd. Sasha fixed her gaze on the bar’s door and tried to ignore the wolves’ chilly stares. They didn’t trust her, but it wasn’t personal.
It didn’t make it easier. The crowd’s distrust evidenced itself in prickly power that flowed from the strongest ones. Dylan’s hand came up to rest against her lower back, and his power was steady and unwavering.
He kept her moving forward as he prompted her to continue talking. “You’ve never actually seen a vampire? Or just never seen someone who’s been bitten?”
It took her a moment to speak through the fear closing her throat. “I’ve met vampires, and I’ve seen bitten humans. Just not wolves.”
Maritza’s voice echoed in her head as they pushed through the door and made their way to the back hall of the bar. A vampire can feed on a werewolf’s magic, but the beast will usually fight it. It makes them feverish, sick. They often die.
A throbbing wall of tense magic spilled out of the office, and Sasha stumbled. “I can’t—” She swallowed her own words and gripped Dylan’s hand.
“It’s okay.” Dylan rubbed his thumb over her fingers in a soothing gesture before tugging a little on her hand. “It’s just Gavin and Sam being pissy at each other.”
“Okay.” You can do this, Sasha. “Okay.”
An anguished moan met them in the doorway. Joe Mitchell stood at the end of Gavin’s desk, restraining a pretty, petite blonde lying on the desk.
Sasha had expected blood and rent flesh, some sign of a struggle or fight. Instead, dozens of rows of small puncture wounds marked the insides of the woman’s arms. Her stomach turned, and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Had the woman let herself be bitten? “What’s going on?”
Samantha turned, and the friendly, encouraging look Sasha had come to expect from the older woman was gone. Fury stood plainly in her face, and her entire body was rigid. “They’ve had her since the day after Matthews died. Five weeks. Justine’s been my contact inside the Helena pack for more than a decade, and someone wanted to find out just how much she knew about us.”
In spite of her fear, Sasha stepped forward and touched the raised welts on Justine’s arm. The bites were infected and hot. “What could a group of vampires want to know so badly?”
“Not a group. One vampire.” Sam returned her gaze to Justine, and power twisted dizzily around the room as the alpha reached down and cupped Justine’s cheek with a whispered word. The power soothed the woman momentarily, and her struggles reduced to soft whimpers. “She’s been in and out of consciousness. I can’t keep her calm,” Sam whispered. “This is the fourth time I’ve had to quiet her. I want you to bind her to me so it isn’t so difficult.”
If Sam hadn’t spent the last few weeks telling her over and over to trust herself, Sasha would have stayed put. Instead, she moved to the end of the desk and laid her hands over Justine’s chest. “Step back.”
Joe let go of the woman’s shoulders, but Sam barely edged out of the way. Sasha waited until Sam let go before bending her head and calling forth the magic that slept inside her.
The calming spell was simple, one of the first an apprentice could master during her training, and she whispered the words confidently now. She felt it begin, the swathe of comforting, quieting magic that would grow and envelop Justine.
The spell complete, Sasha straightened and shook her head. “You can’t bind yourself to this woman. She’s dying.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. “I can give her more time. Maybe enough time for someone to find a way to save her.”
Sasha glanced at Gavin. “It’s dangerous. If the bond isn’t broken before—”
“I’ll do it,” Gavin interrupted. “I’m stronger.”
“Barely!” Sam took a deep breath and moderated her tone. “You may be a little stronger, but you’re the alpha and we’re at war. You’re not expendable.”
“Damn it, Sammie, neither are you!”
The woman on the desk didn’t react to the surge of power in the room, but the other wolves did. Sasha caught Dylan’s gaze, and she could feel his tension clear across the room. “Isn’t there someone else?”
It was clear from his expression that he didn’t know. “Keith’s not completely healed yet, and Cindy—” His tiny hesitation made her remember the doctor was his lover. He wouldn’t want to put her in danger. He cleared his throat. “She’s busy trying to keep Abby sane since she won’t bind herself to anyone else. And Joe’s got his hands full with Brynn.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sam said, her quiet voice cutting through their conversation. She spoke to Sasha, but her gaze stayed locked on her husband. “Gavin knows there’s no one else, but he doesn’t deal well with me putting myself in harm’s way. So I’ll compromise. One week. If we can’t find a way in one week, I’ll let her go.”
Justine might have a week left, if she could draw on Sam’s strength, but it could take months of research to find some esoteric spell or therapy to help her.
Still, Sam was willing to risk it. Sasha closed her eyes. “This will hurt.” With those words, she drew Sam’s energy toward and into herself, shuddering when the full force of it hit her.
It was intoxicating, this magic, but it felt foreign in her body, and it wasn’t hers to keep. She murmured the incantation and laid her hands on Justine’s head.
The pain must have been intense, but Sam did nothing more than grunt softly as the bond settled into place. The scrape of boots on the floor and a muffled curse were the only sign something more had happened. Sasha opened her eyes in time to see Gavin catch Sam as she listed forward, deep lines of pain etched on her face.
Dylan appeared at Sasha’s shoulder, so close she could feel the slightest hint of his aura even though he wasn’t quite touching her. “Are you all right?”
She fought the urge to lean into his strength. “I’m fine. But I need to get to work.” She needed to get upstairs to the library, to the collection of records and histories Gavin had been telling her about the last few weeks. “Can I do anything else, Gavin?”
He waved her away, one arm still holding his wife. “Joe and I will take care of Sammie and Justine. Dylan, can you?”
It didn’t seem to be a full question, but Dylan answered it nonetheless. “Yes. Of course. Should I stay here tonight?”
The alpha was already headed for the door as Joe gathered Justine in his arms. “If you’ll bring Sasha home when she’s finished.”
“Of course,” he repeated. His hand fell away and he hurried to open the door before Gavin reached it.
Sam stopped walking and turned to meet Sasha’s gaze. “Are you okay here with Dylan?” Her voice sounded hoarse and exhausted, but she ignored Gavin’s impatience. “We can have the books brought to the house if it will be easier.”
Sasha gave her a reassuring smile. “Dylan and I will be fine. Don’t worry so much. Just go rest.”
“Okay. And Sasha… I won’t blame you if you can’t save her. But I would have blamed myself if I hadn’t given you a chance to try.”
The pained promise made the hair on the back of Sasha’s neck lift. “I’ll try like hell, Sam. I swear.”
Gavin nodded once, his normally light eyes dark with worry, and hurried out. Joe followed close behind him, though he spared a gently encouraging look for Sasha.
When she and Dylan were alone, she rubbed her hands over the t
hick fabric covering her arms. She began to shiver, a delayed reaction to the loss of the energy she’d expended. “How are you at speed-reading, Dylan?” she tried to joke.
“Actually, I’m good at it.” He reached down and tugged his navy blue sweatshirt over his head, revealing a plain white T-shirt and a leather shoulder holster. “Put this on until I can see about warming it up upstairs.”
“No, you should keep it. It’s not—” Her teeth chattered. “It won’t help. It’s the magic. It drains me, and I just have to rest.”
Dylan held out the sweatshirt. “I may not be as obnoxiously overbearing as Joe or Keith, but I’m not going to be able to concentrate with you shivering and looking miserable. So humor me while we find you some food and build up a fire. Please.”
Sasha bit her tongue and pulled the warm fleece over her head. “I’m not hungry, but thanks for the shirt.”
“I don’t think the kitchen upstairs is stocked,” he said as if he hadn’t heard her. “But I know where Olivia hides the cookies down here. And I haven’t had anything but crackers since lunch.” He grinned at her, crooked and a little mischievous. “Come on. Ransack the pantry with me.”
“Okay, but…” She glanced at the desk and the pile of items that had obviously been swept quickly off of it and onto the floor. “After that, you’re helping me with research.”
“Until you pass out,” he promised. “Hell, until we both pass out.”
Sasha followed him out into the darkened bar. She knew from her time in Red Rock that it wouldn’t normally close down, even after an injured refugee showed up looking for sanctuary. “Did Olivia go home?”
“Guess so. People were starting to leave when I went to get you. Anything that freaks Sam out is scary enough to terrify the shit out of the rest of us, I guess.” He smiled again, this time in obvious encouragement. “Except you. But you know more about this stuff than we do.”
“I’m scared.” The second she said the words, she wanted to take them back. Weakness was embarrassing under the best of circumstances. With wolves, it had almost cost Sasha her life.
Dylan just shrugged one shoulder and pushed open the door that led to the bar’s kitchen. “Smart people usually are. We know how bad things can get.”
“But we can’t stop those bad things from happening.”
“Not yet.” He moved past the large stainless-steel refrigerator and reached up to open a cupboard high above the industrial sink. “But we keep trying. There’s a lot to be said for that, you know, Sasha. It’s easy to keep trying when you’re Keith or Abby and don’t have any other choice. The rest of us have to work at it.”
“So I keep telling myself.” A stool stood in the corner, and Sasha pulled it closer to the counter and watched him. “You don’t scare me.” It shouldn’t have been surprising; the energy radiating from Dylan was gentle, constant. It rarely flared, and he’d always been careful not to upset or alarm her. “You don’t scare me at all.”
“Good.” He pulled a battered tin from the top shelf and pried off the lid to reveal a stack of chocolate-chip cookies. “I’m not all that scary anyway.”
Sasha touched the raised pink lines traversing her cheek. “I guess not.”
He glanced up at her, his gaze focusing on the scars instead of her eyes. The edge of the cookie tin bent under his fingers, but his voice stayed steady. “Hey. I’m here, and I’m armed. No one’s going to hurt you, okay?”
It had been weeks since the last attack on Red Rock…and the night Alan Matthews had threatened her. The bruises had faded, and she’d managed to stop flinching so damn much. But what stayed with her, hazy but unmistakable, was a snapshot of memory: Dylan, walking through the streets with her cradled in his arms.
Now, his distress made her chest ache. “That’s not what I meant.” It hadn’t even occurred to her to worry that Dylan couldn’t protect her if something happened.
“We’re not all monsters.” Dylan sounded like he might be trying to convince himself more than her. He set the cookie tin on the counter in front of her in obvious, silent command before turning to the refrigerator. “Tell me more about vampires. I still can’t believe they actually exist.”
She took a cookie because he expected it. “There’s not much to tell, really. They’re as different as wolves, or people, for that matter. I’ve met some vampires who were perfectly civil, and others who were feral. They mostly just drink blood and live a long time.”
Dylan disappeared behind the fridge door and she heard him shifting things around on shelves. “That’s nuts. Man, I told Abby there weren’t any vampires. I guess that teaches me not to act like I get this shit even after ten years.”
He looked to be in his midtwenties, about her age. If he’d only been a wolf for a decade, he probably wasn’t much older than that. “I got the idea from Gavin that the Helena pack wasn’t focused on educating new wolves.”
A snort answered that question. “Depends on your definition of ‘educate’, I guess. Guys like me, we’re around for tithes and cannon fodder. The only thing my pack tried to teach me was my place in life as everyone’s punching bag.”
The ache in her chest deepened. “I’m sorry, Dylan.”
He finally resurfaced from the depths of the refrigerator with enough cold cuts to make a dozen sandwiches. He shrugged as he kicked the door shut. “Could have been worse. I could have been Abby or Brynn. Or Justine.”
Just because others had suffered didn’t mean he hadn’t. “Maritza—my mentor—said we’d have to work with the wolves to make sure people like Alan Matthews were taken out of power. The alpha who had her killed disagreed.”
Dylan dumped the food on the counter and studied her face. “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to, but I don’t mind listening.”
She wondered what he would say if she did open up, if she told him how she’d watched Maritza die, how the wolves had told her she was next. If he knew how many scars she carried under her clothes.
She bit her lip. “Another time, maybe, with beer and pretzels. We have work to do tonight.”
“That we do.” He leveled a look on her that was every bit as stern as Sam at her worst. “And you’re going to eat before we do it, because I know how hungry expending power makes me. You’re just going to have to humor me.”
There was something almost pleading beneath his stubborn expression, and Sasha caved. “I like corned beef and Swiss cheese.”
Relief flashed in his eyes. “Get ready for the best sandwich you’ve ever had.”
***
When Dylan lifted Sasha, she stirred and looked up at him, her dark blue eyes unfocused. “What is it?”
“Shh.” He’d tried to ease her out of the chair without waking her, but now he swung her up into his arms. “You need some rest.”
She didn’t argue. “I can walk.”
He didn’t doubt it, but it felt nice having her snuggled against his chest. Not necessarily in a physical way, though a certain male appreciation was inevitable, but nice on a deeper instinctive level. Taking care of Brynn had felt right in the same way.
He shifted her closer as he started toward the apartment’s small bedroom. “I can put you down if you really want, but you promised to humor me. Consider it a lesson in soothing werewolf instincts.”
“Okay.” Sasha rested her head on his shoulder. “Did you find anything?”
His chest felt tight, and that stabbing guilt returned, along with Cindy’s angry words. He shoved them away and tried to concentrate on her question, and not on how good it felt to simply hold another person. “Not much more of use. I’ve put aside a few books that look hopeful but aren’t in English. I think one might be Gaelic. Another is definitely Latin, and my Latin was never very good.”
One small hand curled around the back of his neck. “Mine is decent. Does Gavin read Gaelic?”
“We’ll have to ask him.” Her hair smelled like the shampoo Sam used, but Sam always smelled like wolf and the woods and Gavin underneath
it. Sasha smelled like old books and a little bit like Dylan himself, thanks to the sweatshirt she’d spent the evening in. The scent stirred something a lot deeper than friendly companionship. Shit. Rein it in. Rein it the fuck in.
“Mmm, tomorrow.” Her breath tickled his neck. “Thank you for being here, Dylan.”
He was so beyond screwed. “No problem, honey. Listen, I’m going to tuck you into bed, and I’ll be out on the couch if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.” She laughed softly. “You’re always carrying me places.”
“Uh-huh. I’m your very own knight in shining armor.”
He lowered her to the bed, and she gazed up at him with gentle eyes that held no humor or mockery. “All you need is a gallant white horse.”
Dylan covered another of those painful twinges in his chest with a teasing smile. “Werewolves and horses don’t get along so well.”
“Guess you’re stuck carrying me, then.” She sat up and brushed her coppery hair back from her face as she kicked off her shoes. “Good night.”
“Night, Sasha.” She seemed awake enough to get herself under the covers, but he knew he’d be checking back to make sure. Just like he’d watched her all evening for signs of hunger or fatigue. Like how he’d looked forward to finding some scrap of interesting lore in the books he’d been reading, just for the chance to watch her eyes light up.
So very, very screwed.
He backed out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind him. A quiet cough drew his attention, and he turned to find Gavin leaning against the open doorway. “Sammie was worried, so I told her I’d check on you two.”
He was over thirty, and too damn old to blush because he’d gotten caught tiptoeing out of a woman’s bedroom. “Sasha’s exhausted. And I’m sleeping out here, on the couch.” Yeah, that doesn’t sound defensive at all.
Gavin just shrugged one shoulder. “Where else would you sleep?”
Dylan tried to figure out if Gavin was teasing him, but the alpha’s face was inscrutable. “Better than the floor,” he said finally, opting for a cautious route. “I was going to find a walkie-talkie in the office and let you and Sam know.”
