by L. A. Banks
“Then this is also his wife’s, my grandmother, who then gave it to my mother . . . just as this is my grandfather’s, who gave it to me when I became pack leader. He never relinquished it to my father.” Max turned away and pushed up. “He was a beta male, I recently learned.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “You’re not. I’ve seen you in action. What’s more, your spirit is so good, Hunter.” She pressed her cheek to his warm back, listening to his breathing, feeling the huge width of it expand and contract beneath her cheek. “Mine,” she added quietly, trying to make up for the previous verbal stab, as she hugged him around the waist.
His hands covered hers slowly. “You sure?”
She nodded and kissed his back. “I’m sure.” She released a sigh. “Why can’t we just enjoy it without labeling it?”
“Definites are a part of the shadow culture. It’s all I know. This is . . . new. Let me get used to it.”
“Hunter, I care about you and have your back. I can’t explain it, but the full Monte scares me. Still, a part of me says ‘mine’ each time we’re together.”
He let out a long, weary breath but said nothing for a moment. “Even with werewolf taint?”
She closed her eyes and hugged him tighter, cringing inside from having wounded him more deeply than she’d understood. “Yes . . . mine.” She clasped his hand and placed another kiss along his shoulder blade. “Yours.”
He leaned into the kiss with a cautious sigh, but didn’t answer. However, the way his muscles relaxed told her that he finally believed her.
“Your grandfather gave you the stones of a mated pair that are very strong and go back in your pack for generations,” she murmured against his skin. She could feel him relax even more as he turned and nodded, and then cupped her face with his huge, rough palm. “Show me.”
“I never wanted to commune with the dead,” he said quietly, taking her amulet up in his palms. He placed his in hers, facing her and sitting yogi style before her now.
She matched his sitting position and held his stone. He placed his free hand on her opposite shoulder, and again she matched his positioning.
“I was strong enough to hold my own behind a door, and I trusted you when you came for me,” she said quietly. “Trust me now.”
“The things of the shadow lands, Grandfather says, can be more damaging to the mind than what can happen to the body behind the wrong shadow door. I have never ventured there.”
“Then I’ll stay with you and you stay with me as we run,” she said, squeezing the bulk of muscles at his shoulder. “This is where I’m strong, just as you were stronger and more prepared in the physical shadow we escaped from behind the demon door.”
She waited, hoping he would have confidence in her. What she’d said was all she could think of to put him at ease. She didn’t know it to be fact, just went on a hunch. But the one thing she knew from all the training she’d received was that going into a battle with one’s head screwed on tightly, being in a victory frame of mind, could decide an outcome. She was going for the win, even if she had to talk trash and posture a bluff.
Slowly, his shoulders relaxed and she watched his eyes begin to drink her in. She could literally feel his skin heat to an almost uncomfortable burn beneath her hand as beads of sweat began to form on his brow. Soon his entire body was sweat slicked. It was the most amazingly erotic thing to watch, the incremental transition that occurred right under her palm as the amulet heated up and glowed in her other hand.
His eyes held a faraway look in them, pupils opened so wide that only a thin rim of glowing amber remained of his irises. His breaths were slow and becoming ragged now and he intermittently licked his lips as though battling with some force within him that was stronger than his will.
“Call your wolf,” he breathed out on a low murmur. “Call her just under your skin. Don’t let her transform you physically, so you can stay in your human mind . . . but you want all the instincts of your wolf close at hand.”
Easier said than done. Her wolf wasn’t that easy to control, or at least she didn’t have as much practice doing it as he obviously did. But she concentrated, determined, watching him and feeling a thick, desirous pull to him as her skin began to heat rapidly. It made her pant quickly and out of control, the sensations were so immediate. But she felt his grip tighten on her shoulder.
“Control your breathing. Don’t let her run ahead of you.”
She tried to steady her breaths and licked her dry lips. Aw, hell . . . her wolf was running, dragging her through mental shadows, awakening inner emotions, sending the intense need to be held through every cell—and the next thing she knew, she was gone.
Sasha looked back as her wolf peeled away from her human form as a silver gray mist. She could see her and Max still sitting on the bed yogi style, facing each other, but was fully aware of also being separate from that. Suddenly a warm breeze passed her, and a dark image of a male wolf slid by her, nuzzled her, and then bounded out the hotel window.
Instantly she followed him, but when her paws hit the ground, they were in a mist-filled, shadowy place with moss-covered earth. Deep forest in the late fall; the rich, musty scent of fertile soil and decaying leaves completing the cycle of life entered her nose. The dark shadow of wolf beside her began to trot to the edge of a clearing. He looked back once and then began to run.
Her body became a fast-moving blur. She was aware of running but then not. It was as though just being in the strange shadow land pulled her with a force all its own. She could feel his panic. Hunter was trying to reverse and stop their momentum as the ground became covered in snow and the wind became freezing daggers of pain. Snarling, fighting, struggling against the place they were hurtling toward, she called out in a baleful howl to let him know she was there with him, no matter what had panicked him.
He stopped fighting. They dropped to the snow. Hunter threw his head back and howled. It was the saddest, loneliest, most mournful call she’d ever heard. The desolate tone set her teeth on edge. His eyes glittered with unspent tears as a battle in the underbrush suddenly crashed through before them. A gorgeous silver she-wolf was locked in bloody battle with a werewolf. Badly lacerated, growing fatigued, the upright beast slammed her to the ground on the next lunge. Propelled by instinct, Sasha leaped at the attacker, trying to give the pregnant female a chance to withdraw. But the demon went right through her as though she weren’t there, and as the she-shadow made one last attempt, her entire abdomen was gored.
Horrified, Sasha repeatedly attacked, not understanding why Hunter turned away, until the beast began eating. Winded, nauseated by what she saw, her eyes scanned the trees until they landed on a male shadow wolf that would not come out. Yet another werewolf leaped into the center of the carnage and both beasts snapped and growled at each other as they began to fight.
Awareness came in slow, painful increments. Instantly circling Hunter, she shielded him from seeing, blocked him with her body, and pushed him from this place. As she used the force of her wolf body to lean against his, she looked back to see a small struggling sack of flesh— then looked up into the sightline of a shotgun . . . the hunter had tears streaming down his face. The silver shell went through the center of her head, parting her hair, burning her scalp, and then she felt them moving again into the suction of the vortex.
They were in a lab; a man was strapped down to the table. He had on prison clothes. He was raging, screaming. Doctors and technicians were scurrying. She recognized Doc. He was younger, much younger. Two people looked familiar, she’d seen them in pictures—Sasha froze.
The thing on the table was in transition. She bared her teeth and barked, her wolf voice trying to send a warning as the restraints snapped. Hunter’s huge black wolf tried to force her back to block her sight, but she had to know and fought him to see, then turned her head, howling . . . her mother, her father, all the men in the lab. It was pure slaughter.
She began running
aimlessly, aware that Hunter was by her side. She just wanted to get to a place of peace, of calm. They were back in the moss-covered mist again. Sobs racked her body and soon her human hands covered her face as she sat on the warm ground facing Hunter. Tears had wet his face, also, and she reached out and wiped them away as he wiped hers.
“We had to come through the dark shadows to here . . . Only once you come back to your humanness can you ask the questions, Grandfather warned me. But many get lost in the wolf and cannot return.”
She nodding, catching her breath. “I’m ready to ask the questions.”
He held her face. “You didn’t leave me . . . you even tried to fight my demons for me when it was futile,” he whispered.
“How could I leave you to be trapped in that? It was terrible—no one should have to see . . . Oh, Hunter, I’m so sorry I brought you here. Forgive me.”
She covered his hands with her own for a moment before he pulled her into a warm embrace.
“No . . . I needed to come here all my life. Forgive you? I should thank you.” His arms held her tightly as he kissed the crown of her head. “I’ve never loved anyone like I do you.”
For what seemed like a long while they sat in the shadows holding each other, recovering, allowing all the hurt to drain away with each calming breath. Soon their solace was broken as soft footfalls could be heard. They looked up at the same time, then quickly stood.
A beautiful Native American woman with luminous dark eyes and ebony hair dressed in traditional ceremonial clothes stepped out of the shadows. Her doeskin dress was intricately woven with silver and turquoise and amber beads. Eagle feathers and beads crowned her hair, and Sasha immediately felt Hunter pull away from her, yet hesitate.
“Go to her,” Sasha murmured. “She has been waiting for you for a long time.”
She felt a shudder of pain claim him as he walked forward and then stopped. The woman met him, walking the rest of the way, and slowly opened her arms and hugged him.
“My son . . .” she said quietly, closing her eyes. “You have given me peace.” She pulled back and wiped his face. “I am so proud of what you have become. You have grown strong and noble. Ask anything of me and I will answer, I am your guide who has always been there for you.”
Sasha turned away and hugged herself. The moment was too private, too intimate, and she felt she had no right to be there. As deep, booming male sobs echoed behind her, she moved deeper into the forest; she had to get away. His hurt was so personal that his dignity deserved space. As she cried for him, tears wet her face, and she walked for a while blindly, but stopped as she came upon the back porch of a home that seemed vastly out of place. A familiar woman came out and sat down on a wicker chair and beamed at Sasha and then waved. She was young and whole and excitement brimmed in her eyes as she stood and walked to the edge of the porch.
“Oh, please come home for just a little while, Sasha . . . look at you, baby. Look at who you are, I never knew.”
All of a sudden she was running, bounding up the steps, falling into the embrace of a woman she’d never known. It was like looking at herself in the mirror, but with so many layers and textures that it was surreal.
A tender hand patted her back. Gentle guidance brought her into a house that slowly filled with more and more people, and without them having to tell her, she knew they were family.
“You’ve got people, baby,” her mother said, kissing her face. “And we’re all here to help you. Ask your questions.”
SPENT, SHE MET Hunter in the clearing. He was sitting with his back to her as she approached. Her life made so much sense, now . . . her mother had been a seer from New Orleans, that’s why she’d been in the lab that fateful day. She was more than military; Catherine Trudeau had come from a long line of women with special vision and had passed on that gift. New tears filled Sasha’s eyes as she absorbed the depth of spiritual experience. Now she better understood why she had such an unfailing gut instinct and had been able to pull as much from her vampire contact as perhaps he had from her . . . as well as why she could so gloriously sync up to Hunter’s inner vision.
She watched his proud, strong back and the way he calmly took in and released slow breaths. “Did you get your questions answered?” she murmured, speaking before she touched him, not wanting to startle him.
He nodded but didn’t turn. “Did you?”
“Yeah . . . I know what we’ve gotta do when we go back.”
Again he nodded. “As do I. Call your wolf.”
THEY GASPED IN unison as they returned to their bodies. They were still facing one another, still sitting with one hand on a shoulder, the other clasping an amulet . . . though their eyes had aged with wisdom. She closed her heavy lids and felt his breath on her face and a gentle kiss on each eyelid. She returned the tender gesture as their embrace deepened. Healing touch soothed away harsh memories, selflessly offered pleasure as the antidote to residual pain.
CHAPTER 15
THE STORM WAS raging outside when they stirred. They didn’t even have to discuss it; they made quick work of getting dressed and gathering weapons.
“My spirit people died in the labs, down at NORAD, so they could see what happened there, just like yours died on Ute lands and saw the double-cross there. We need to go back.”
“We need to go back with evidence, so we’re not shot on sight.” He pulled his fingers through his damp hair after shoving a nine-millimeter into a shoulder holster.
“Yeah. Damned vampire blocked and diverted the call to Doc—shoulda known when he showed up by the pay phone.”
“Try again from here. We’re long gone anyway, so who cares if they trace it? We’re coming back in.”
Sasha went to the phone and dialed the number and then protocol code to put her directly into the war room. “Put me on speaker. This is Lieutenant Trudeau calling in with vital intel.”
“Sasha, where are you!” Xavier Holland said, his voice strained from lack of sleep and nerves.
“I’m up in Vancouver where I tracked a target. Who is in the briefing?”
“Colonel Vlasco, Lieutenant Colonel Waters, Major Adams, and General Griffin, of U.S. Special Ops Com, by teleconference. All at clearance levels. You may proceed, if you are secure on your end.”
“Good, sir, I am, sir,” Sasha said, pacing with the phone close to her ear. She glimpsed Hunter. Yeah, she was secure. “First I’d like to offer my condolences for the tragedy that befell General Wilkerson. But I have some things to tell you that no one is going to like.”
“Proceed swiftly, Lieutenant,” General Griffin barked over the telecom unit.
“Yes, sir,” Sasha said, looking at Hunter across the room. “As you know, the general was interested in doing further experimentation with the werewolf virus. Initially, his goal was to weaponize it. However, as you know, the technology is just not there yet to ensure that the DNA would bond to the human spiral without incident. The project was bombing, lives were being lost, and the general had to salvage the investment.”
Silence crackled on the line. That’s when she knew she had ’em. How could she be lying when she was giving them intel that only those in the highest inner circles of brass would know? They were in “don’t confirm it, don’t deny it, and simply listen” mode.
“But it appears that in levels way above NORAD, sirs,” she said, seizing the moment to press her point, “there was talk circulating about creating a vaccine, since the genetic-weapon use of it was so unstable. This is where General Wilkerson became imperiled.”
“I don’t understand—who could argue against the merits of that worldwide benefit? A vaccine that could be given to children, adults, to be sure that anyone who was attacked would never get this plague, would be—”
“An affront to the vampire food chain, Doctor,” Sasha said, cutting off her mentor. “Vampires get sick if they drink werewolf-tainted blood. The more humans have it in their systems, the smaller their hunting grounds. If generations pass and our blood a
ctually mutates to have a natural immunity to the werewolf scratch or bite, then vampires are screwed, to put it bluntly, sir. Those entities, apparently, take a long-term view—given the centuries they’ve been on the planet.”
“That’s phenomenal,” the doctor murmured. “More than we’d hoped . . . A vaccine that could potentially stop both infections, or at least one virus, from the werewolves as well as attacks from vampires?”
“Yes, sir,” Sasha said quickly.
“But how could they know our objectives and secret meetings?” General Griffin raged. “This was only discussed at the top cabinet levels!”
Sasha looked at Hunter and struggled to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Old humans from the cold war era were so naïve. “I don’t know, sir. They got intel from somewhere.” To cover her tracks she gave up a dead source. “When I got here, my guide took me to a gym in a warehouse. If you check with Canadian authorities you’ll learn there was a helluva gunfight, sir. That was me. We extracted the intel I just gave you from a halftransitioned subject before it was necessary to terminate him. It appears that he and his smugglers had been gobetweens for the vampires, had been promised immortality or something, and got infected. But once we subdued him, he led us to the vampire, who appeared out of thin air asking questions in a wharf bar.”
With a nod, Hunter indicated there was no way that she could divulge it all. Firstly, the men sitting at the polished mahogany war room table at NORAD still weren’t up on all things that went bump in the night. Those guys needed hard evidence, and she could prove her whereabouts by leading them to a destroyed wharf, which gave credibility—since there would be no werewolf body, or vampire bodies, if they caught any. Those things went up in cinders. One day she was going to have to set up entirely new protocols for evidence gathering, because the current human models simply didn’t work. She was just glad that she’d never had to have that conversation with Doc. He was already up on the subject, had known of wolf differences long before she did.
