by Tally Adams
Lyric's good humor faded when they neared the small strip of motel rooms.
Paoli was leaning against her door with his arms folded over his broad chest and a knee bent to rest a single foot against the wood behind him. His posture was relaxed and casual and reminded Lyric of a cat; patiently awaiting a mouse.
Seeing him there brought forth images from the night before, including the lurid dreams that had disturbed her sleep. Her chest tightened in anger. He had some nerve! Just because she'd had a moment of lunacy and allowed him to kiss her didn't mean anything else she'd dreamed of was going to happen, no matter how convinced of it he was. And he had no right to put anything in her mind, let alone those erotic scenes. She stormed toward him to inform of just that; not even realizing Emily had melted away toward her own room.
"You stay out of my dreams," she snarled, jabbing her finger at him in dire accusation.
Paoli's eyes widened in surprise. He looked at the finger nearly poking his folded arms, then back at her with a glint of humor in his eyes and tugging the corners of his mouth. "I'm not sure what I'm being accused of here," he said, unfolding himself to stand up straight. "But I haven't disturbed your dreams at all."
His words stole the wind from her sails. She scrutinized his face suspiciously, seeing nothing but honesty. "You didn't put images in my dreams?"
"Afraid not," Paoli said, now grinning devilishly. "What sort of images are we talking about here?" He took a step forward, leaning toward her.
Lyric felt heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks. Unbidden, the memory of his mouth on hers floated forward in her mind. She gripped the wooden box in her hand to distract herself and moved to slide past him. Paoli moved with her, blocking the door.
"Come now," he said with a slight chuckle. "You can't accuse a man of debauchery without explaining what's happened."
"Get out of my way or I'll shoot you with this gun," Lyric snapped, her embarrassment fueling her anger. If he really hadn't messed with her dreams—and she now realized he hadn't—that meant it was her own desire at work. Which was too concerning for consideration.
Paoli laughed; a deep, rich sound. "If you kill me, you die, too. Connected fate, remember?"
She just scowled at him.
"So," he continued, still grinning, "tell me about these dreams of yours."
Lyric's fingers bit hard into the wooden box while she seriously considered bashing him in the head with it. That would wipe the arrogant smile from his face. "In one of them, I was pounding a stake through your heart with this big hammer-" she retorted.
"Hey now," Paoli interrupted her fabrication, raising his hands in surrender while he continued to smile at her. "There's no reason to give me nightmares."
"I need to get ready for the meeting," she said caustically. "Please move."
His smile faded slightly and he stepped to the side, out of the doorway. "Remember," he said quickly as she started to pass by. "Just say the word and I can make all those dreams come true." At her startled expression, he winked and headed down the walkway toward William and Emily's room, feeling quite pleased.
He wished there'd been more time before the meeting. This would have been the perfect opportunity to try his hand at seducing her, if her own imagination was helping in his cause. It had taken quite a while to get himself back under control after their kiss. The memory of her; heated and breathless in his arms had made his body reluctant to cool down. He shouldn't have spoken last night, he realized. He should have simply swept her into his arms and continued kissing her until he was buried inside her. By giving her a moment to think, he'd made a mistake. It wouldn't happen again.
She was obviously going to be a passionate lover, and he couldn't wait to find out firsthand. If he didn't explode first. He'd sat until almost daybreak, hoping she'd come to him and end his torture. But, she was as hard-headed as she was alluring, so he'd waited in vain. Damnably stubborn chit! Still, it was good to know she'd been as miserable as he. If she left him in such a state again, maybe he would work on her dreams. The idea had merit.
He didn't even knock when he arrived at William's door. He opened it and glanced over, finding Lyric still standing right where he'd left her, watching him. He smiled to himself when she immediately turned her attention back to the door she was supposed to be opening.
Lyric could have screamed at being caught watching him again. She let herself into her room and had to fight to keep from slamming the door in annoyance; brought on more by her embarrassment than anything. She needed to stay the hell away from Paoli, there was no doubt about that. He was the most infuriating man she'd ever had the misfortune to know. She was just itching to do him harm; maybe bring him down a notch or two.
So, she'd dreamed about him.
So, what?
It had just been too long since she'd dated and her hormones were on the rampage. It didn't mean he was right, and she was fighting a losing battle.
In a fit of irritation, she threw the box on the bed with enough force to make it bounce and marched to the corner of the room where her small suitcase was settled. She considered her clothing options; deciding on a pair of jeans and a shirt that was loose enough to conceal the gun she was going to carry at all times, starting tonight. Maybe she'd load it with non-silver ammo and use it to shoot Paoli. The idea held appeal, and she amused herself while she dressed, imagining scenarios of shooting him in various body parts.
By the time she left her room to meet up with the rest of the group, she was feeling quite cheerful. Nothing like mental images of torture and pain to lift a girl's spirits. She didn't even complain when Paoli got into the passenger's seat beside her; instead smirking in his direction while the image of shooting him in the knee flashed through her mind.
He lifted a tawny brow in question, but she didn't respond.
It wasn't until she was seated in the same spot at Jonathon's table that her hour of daydreaming began to wane and she paid attention to what was happening around her.
"The pack has decided to remain neutral," Jonathon informed William and thus, their party.
Lyric felt Paoli stiffen beside her and realized that wasn't what they'd hoped to hear.
A very heavy silence stretched out where everyone in the room seemed to be sizing up everyone else. Lyric glanced around and noticed Emily's hands were clenched in her lap; a small muscle was ticking in Empusa's jaw; and Sekhmet was watching the wolves with a scowl.
"As we discussed yesterday, that may not be possible," William pointed out reasonably, but even she heard the bite of impatience in his words.
Jonathon gave a slight nod of agreement. "We've taken steps to protect our pack members with human companions, as well as those with low pack ranking. I'm aware you were hoping to find more support here, but you must understand we can't join a war that doesn't concern us. My first priority is the safety of my pack."
Paoli leaned forward and gazed intently at the alpha. "If this becomes a war, it will concern everyone," he said. "And there will be none left untouched if we don't stop it before it's too late."
A slight whine that sounded more wolf than human escaped the man beside Jonathon; who gave him a sharp look, causing him to fall silent at once. "I'm not saying I disagree with you," he said when his attention returned to them. "But there are many factors to consider. Less than half my wolves would stand against Lycaon's dominance, and that's only if he wasn't really trying. Those who might have a chance, carry the responsibility to protect those who don't. I can't, in good conscience, order my wolves to their deaths, regardless of my personal feelings on the matter."
"What are you planning to do when Lycaon comes calling?" Empusa asked harshly. "Because it's only a matter of time."
Jonathon gave a heavy sigh. "As I said, we've taken steps to protect the wolves who are most at risk. As for the rest of us," he glanced around with a resigned expression. "We intend to do our best to escape the meeting with Lycaon peaceably."
Sekhmet scoffed aloud and leaned
back in his chair when William sent him a warning glare, but not before he gave Jonathon a very condescending look.
"I know the odds of peace are slim, but we have to try everything before we resort to violence. Some of my wolves' grasp on humanity is..." Jonathon glanced again at the men seated around him, seemingly searching for the right word, "tenuous," he finished. "I'm not sure how well they'd hold up in the aftermath of battle."
Lyric thought about that. What did he mean by 'grasp on humanity'? She glanced over at Empusa who was seated beside her, considering him. Did that mean werewolves lost their grip on their human forms at some point and became all wolf?
Empusa noticed her gaze and gave a very slight shake of his head. Meanwhile, Paoli had reached out and taken her hand in a warning grip that she found just a little insulting. It was as though they both thought she was too thick to realize the seriousness of the meeting.
"We respect your decision, of course," William was saying. "Naturally, we wish you'd reconsider your standing. If anything happens to change your mind, please contact me." He slid a small card across the table and Jonathon picked it up and gave a nod of thanks. "Your pack would be a real asset."
With the reality of rejection heavy amongst them, their group stood to leave. She could tell by everyone's tight expressions that Jonathon's refusal had come as a real blow, though the full significance was lost on her. When they reached the outside door that led to the parking lot, however, the somber mood changed dramatically.
Chapter Nineteen
William reached for the handle of the door and halted. He cocked his head to one side, clearly listening for something. Then, without speaking a word, his face went distant, cold, and utterly blank. When Lyric noticed his eyes, she realized with a gasp they were shining a bright, inhuman gold. Everything took on a surreal; almost slow-motion quality and she took an involuntary step back.
Controlled chaos seemed to break out in the small confines of the hallway. Paoli pushed her behind him protectively and everyone began producing weapons. She was buffeted toward the back of the group; who stood at the ready when the doors burst open and werewolves descended on them, snarling and leaping ferociously.
Paoli was somehow beside William at the front; a small sword in his hand. The two men stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the doorway, both moving so fast she could only make out short glimpses of movement from their blades. Seeing them in battle was terrifying; but they were a truly spectacular sight. They worked together almost instinctively, with no verbal communication. It seemed they were reading one another's body movements and simply adjusting as needed.
William was large and cold, his double hand-sickles perfect for two-handed action. Paoli was athletic and graceful; his single blade moving with deadly accuracy. She watched his form blur with speed no human could have managed, and couldn't help but marvel at the sight. He seemed perfectly relaxed and composed, with no movement wasted; his whole attention focused on the beasts coming through the door.
Sekhmet stood behind them, a crossbow aimed carefully through the space between the two men, firing one arrow after the next into the night with a whistle. Empusa was beside him, a thin blade held in each hand. Emily was slightly behind and between them, her bladed staff at the ready. Unlike the men, her face looked anxious and scared. She shifted from one foot to the other, unable to stand still.
"William," a deep voice barked urgently from behind them, and Lyric vaguely recognized it as Jonathon. She turned to see two werewolves closing in from the other end of the hallway. For an instant, she thought it might be Jonathon's wolves, coming to help. Then she glanced up and saw he was still flanked by all three of his men and the werewolves coming toward them did not look friendly.
"Emily," she cried, her voice close to a shriek.
Emily turned and saw the wolves coming toward them. In the space of a single step, she changed from the petite, black-haired beauty Lyric knew, into a dark red wolf almost the size of a Kodiak bear. Her eyes had changed into the same shining gold of William's, and black leathery-looking wings folded against her sides from just behind her shoulders all the way to her flanks.
Her staff hit the floor with a dull clank. She moved to crowd Lyric behind her. Lyric allowed herself to be guided backward, and was now between Emily's enormous wolf form and the men, who were still fighting the incoming group in front of them. Something whizzed past her ear and she heard one of the wolves facing Emily yelp before it collapsed; a single arrow protruding from right between its eyes.
"How many of these beasts are there?" Sekhmet demanded viciously, loading another arrow into his crossbow.
A vicious snarl and a male groan sounded from the front of the line, and hands were suddenly around her waist, lifting her. Her head whipped around to find Paoli behind her. He was covered in blood and his face was set in uncharacteristically rigid lines; so serious as to be almost unrecognizable. His eyes shone a bright, blood red. She stiffened and swallowed hard at the sight, but he took no notice. He settled her quickly atop Emily's wolf, her knees just in front of the giant wings.
"Get her out of here. I'll cover you through the front," he barked to Emily, who immediately turned away from the hall and took two giant bounds.
A dense cloud of black fog streaked past them and for the briefest fraction of time, Lyric caught a glimpse of Paoli's face; contorted and monstrous, in the center of the fog before it rushed ahead. A memory from years ago flickered through her mind. A memory of his face looking just the same, looming over her while she grew weaker and weaker as her leg wound continued to gush blood all over the highway.
Empusa now stood in the doorway in front of William, who was bleeding profusely from a wound in his thigh. He was leaning against the wall, using his belt as a tourniquet to tie off the injury; his jaw clenched against the pain.
Emily followed the dark fog that was Paoli into the parking lot. Lyric glanced behind them and saw a similar fog streaking toward the other end of the hall toward yet another group of werewolves who were fast closing in on their party. As she watched, she saw Jonathon and his men step out from the doorway and take their wolf forms to stand between them and the new attackers. Then she lost sight of what was happening in the building as Emily crouched down and launched them skyward.
She gripped with her knees and grasped Emily's thick neck for support, burying her face and hands in the dense, soft, fur. On either side of her, massive wings snapped open and began to beat, raising them higher and higher. She squeezed her eyes closed, not wanting to watch the ground disappear and risk vertigo. It would be just her luck to get dizzy and fall off into that mess. After an incredibly short time, Lyric realized they weren't moving any longer and opened her eyes to see that Emily had landed on top of the building.
She peered down on the scene and saw the black fog streaking through the wolves' ranks, leaving bloody splashes behind as it moved from one to the next. Her eyes followed its progress, unable to look away. Once or twice, she could have sworn she caught a glimpse of gleaming, blood-red eyes in the midst before it moved on again.
There had to be close to fifty wolves or more. They filled the entire parking lot in a sea of massive, snarling teeth. Toward the back of the wolves stood a solitary man. The light from the streetlamp cast him into clear view, and she knew without a doubt he was the one in control, even from this distance. A streak of silver shone against the black of his hair. As she watched, he looked up, toward Emily. The hackles beneath her knees raised in response, and Emily let out a blood-curdling howl that made Lyric clap her hands over her ears and cry aloud. Almost as one, the wolves returned the sound; as if compelled to do so. It added to the terrible noise and Lyric couldn't help wondering how far the sound would carry and if any humans would be able to hear the racket.
The man remained unmoved. He continued to stare up at them, his lip pulled back in a threatening snarl. Emily's sides vibrated with a return growl, and she continued to hold the man's gaze, refusing to look away. Lyric could have s
worn she felt waves of power emanating all the way to where she sat. Which reminded her she had power of a sort, as well. She didn't have to sit as a passive observer. While she might not be able to change her body into something else, she was packing what she termed human power.
If war was like chess, this man was clearly the other team's king.
Take the king and the game ends.
Chapter Twenty
She swung her leg from Emily's side and slid clumsily to her feet, clutching at the fur to keep from toppling off the slanted roof. Emily didn't seem to notice; her attention still on the human form among the mass of werewolves.
"I have an idea," Lyric said, not at all sure if Emily could understand her, but needing to speak aloud to calm her own nerves. "If I can hit the man, it may help."
Lyric settled herself down right beside the giant wolf, her feet planted to keep her butt from sliding. Her mind was determined and focused. They were vastly outnumbered and their leader was wounded. While she couldn't do much about the sheer numbers they faced, she could, at least, give the werewolves something else to focus on.
With steady fingers, she found the gun at her back and slid it free, taking a moment to get used to the weight of the metal in her hand and the idea she was about to shoot a living person. It didn't bother her nearly as much as she thought it should. Then again, when that person is controlling an army that's hell-bent on death and destruction, it makes the idea of shooting them far easier to stomach.
Cautiously, she inched toward the edge of the roof for a clear line of sight and tried not to look directly down. Her eyes sought the black fog to ensure Paoli was far enough away to be in no danger from her. She took aim on the man. Her first shot went wild and missed by several feet, hitting nothing more than the branches of a tree some distance from her target.
Rather than getting flustered, she took a deep breath and looked for a calm place within herself. Her first instinct was to rush into the next shot, but she breathed it away. There was no hurry. She and Emily were safe from attack in their current location. A little readjustment, and her second shot rang out; still missing, but coming far closer. Taking heart from this, she moved the gun just a little more and fired for a third time.
