Willow didn’t ease her assault as she grasped its ear and yanked on it. The Savage screamed, and its other hand encircled her throat. Its fingers digging into her windpipe cut off her air as she tore its ear away and tossed it into the dirt.
She didn’t pay any attention to the putrid blood spilling down her fingers to soak her arm; it didn’t matter if they could track her by the scent of it…. They already had her.
And if this thing had any say in it, he would tear her windpipe out before draining her or taking her prisoner. The possibility of being locked away until she became one of them fueled her desperation to get away.
Scooping up a handful of earth, she threw it over her shoulder and into the bastard’s face. The Savage released its hold on her throat to clear the debris from its eyes. When it did, she planted her hands on the ground and thrust up with all her strength.
Thrown off by the movement, the Savage shifted to the side. The blood-red eyes of a man who was no longer a man met hers as Willow turned and grasped a handful of its hair to rip it off her. She gritted her teeth and tore its hand free of her hair. In the dim moonlight filtering through the trees, she spotted a handful of her hair in its grasp.
She was reaching for a stake to destroy it when the approaching howls of its friends stilled her hand. There wasn’t enough time to finish this thing. She scrambled to her feet and fled into the woods. She ignored the unforgiving beating the branches delivered to her as she ran.
Everything became a blur to her—the past, the present, the middle, the end. Memories of her siblings and her family drifted through her mind. She heard their laughter, saw their tears, and felt their joy and sadness as she recalled their hugs, punches, kisses, and smiles. They surrounded her in a cocoon of love, one that she left behind to make this world a safer place.
They’d been her rocks her whole life, and now she was adrift in a sea of terror and there were no rocks to save her. She had to live for them. She had to live for…
Declan.
She had no idea why his name popped into her head. She hadn’t seen him in months, and she’d only seen him a few times before he left the compound. That didn’t stop him from haunting her dreams almost every night.
She couldn’t recall the number of nights she dreamt of running her fingers through his thick, dark auburn hair while those impossibly silver eyes held hers. Despite the beauty of those eyes, she’d sensed a sadness behind them the few times they encountered each other, and she longed to ease it from him.
The dreams always caused her to wake aching for more and with the feel of his mouth on hers. Sometimes, she swore she could taste him, but since she had no idea what he tasted like, it couldn’t be true.
And now, with the thud of feet pounding after her, he was on her mind again. She wished she’d gotten the chance to see him again, if only for a minute. No matter how badly she craved those dreams becoming real life, she never would have acted on her feelings. Getting involved with a member of the Alliance was a BAD idea, but she still would have liked to have seen him one last time.
The rushing sound of water filled her ears before she spotted the river. It was moving fast, too fast, but she didn’t have any other options. The idea of drowning wasn’t appealing, but it wouldn’t kill her, and it would wash the blood from her.
The jagged boulders rising from the rapids and the chilly May night didn’t make her hesitate before plunging into the river. Her breath sucked in, and her body screamed against the icy bite of the water. Her lungs seized, and for a full minute, no air entered her chest. Her extremities went numb as the water sloshing around her sprayed her face.
She made it almost halfway into the river before the strong current swept her off her feet. Willow didn’t fight it but allowed the flow to carry her as far from the Savages as fast as it could.
Trying to brush her hair out of her face, Willow spit water from her mouth and tried to keep her eyes cleared, but it was nearly impossible as the water spun her around, bounced her off rocks, and propelled her onward like she was a pinball bouncing off the paddles.
A large boulder loomed out of the dark. The water crashing against it sprayed outward in a sea of white that soaked her face before she smashed against the rock. The blow knocked the air from her lungs, and when she tried to inhale, all she got was a mouthful of icy water.
Unable to see and breathe, and feeling like a bug against a windshield, she placed her palms against the cold, smooth surface. Her muscles strained against the powerful current, but she shoved herself off the rock and shot out into the middle of the river again.
More howls reverberated through the night, but she couldn’t tell how far away they were. And then, the cries were drowned out as the river sucked her under again. Water flooded her nose and throat; bubbles floated past her eyes as she clawed at the water like it was a climbing wall. Except, there was nothing but cold and death for her to grab.
Her lungs burned, and just when she didn’t think she could hold her breath for one more second, the punishing water released her, and she shot up to the surface. Water filled her mouth as she gasped in air; she spit it out and inhaled a greedy lungful of wonderful oxygen.
She had only a few seconds to enjoy her reprieve before she hit another rock. The water turned her to the side as her foot caught under the rock. For what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a minute, her foot remained trapped while the river pulled the rest of her along.
Her leg and ankle were not supposed to stretch that much. Her leg was not supposed to bend in a way that made fire burn through the muscles and bones in it. Then, her leg lost the fight with the water. With a crack, she felt, more than heard, her ankle twisted to the side and she came free of the rock.
As the water swept her further downstream, she tried moving her foot, but when she did, the bones in her ankle grinding together set her teeth on edge. She bit her lip to suppress a cry and went limp to avoid jarring it further. However, the river didn’t care about her discomfort as it relentlessly battered her ankle.
Sick of the water and the beating she’d taken from it, Willow wanted out of the river but, unable to run, she let it carry her. Teeth chattering, ankle throbbing, and inhaling as much water as air, she was exhausted by the time the river bounced her off a rock and spun her toward shore.
Gathering her dwindling strength, she used her numb arms and good foot to swim toward shore. She was almost there when she hit another rock. Her fingers tore at the boulder as every muscle in her frozen body protested the movement. Despite her exhaustion, she pulled herself over the top of it and fell onto the rocky shoreline.
Her calves and feet remained in the water while she lay on the stones, gasping for air and fighting the chills causing her entire body to shake. Barren tree limbs stretched over her head as stars shone overhead, and a crescent moon hung low.
The leaf buds forming on the branches were usually a sign of hope for her, but she didn’t feel any tonight. Hell, she was so cold she couldn’t feel anything. She didn’t have the energy to move, but she couldn’t stay here.
A howl echoed across the land. It was far closer than she’d expected after her journey in the river. If they’d tracked her to the water and knew she’d gone in, they would be here soon.
CHAPTER 3
With renewed energy and a groan, she turned herself over and, digging her fingers into the loose rocks, pulled herself the rest of the way from the water. Her arms trembled, but she managed to get her hands under her and pushed herself to her knees.
Bones grated, and her ankle screamed in protest when the movement caused her weight to shift onto it. The thing was going to throw a bitch fit when she rose.
Taking a deep breath, Willow braced herself before rising. She bit back a scream when she put weight on her broken ankle. Hobbling toward the woods, the mid-May breeze caused goose bumps to break out on her flesh. Usually, the breeze would be refreshing, but now she cursed it as much as the Savages and her ankle.
When ano
ther howl pierced the night, she turned her head toward it. They were getting closer, and there was no way she could outrun them.
Tipping her head back, she studied the trees surrounding her before hobbling toward a gigantic pine tree. A pine tree was not her ideal tree to climb, but with no leaves on the other trees, she didn’t have any other options. At least the scent of the pine would mask her odor.
The only problem was, the lower branches of the pine had all died from lack of sunlight, which left her with nothing to climb. Not being able to catch a break, other than the one in her ankle, was really beginning to piss her off!
Shifting her attention to the maple near the pine, she studied its sweeping branches as they rose higher into the sky. About halfway up, the maple’s branches nearly touched the pine tree. It was not the ideal climbing situation, especially with a broken ankle, but she didn’t have any other choice.
She was grateful for her five-ten height as it made gripping the lower branch of the maple a lot easier, and she pulled herself onto the bottom limb. She held back a scream when the motion jarred her ankle, but she managed to rise and, standing on one leg, stretched above her, pulling herself onto the next branch.
She moved faster than she’d anticipated with her broken ankle, but if having nine siblings taught her one thing, it was how to find a hiding place when she wanted to be alone. A lot of times, that was in the trees.
She loved all her brothers and sisters, but sometimes they got on her every last nerve, just as she knew she got on theirs. It was the job requirement of siblings to irritate each other, and she was a pro.
Pulling herself higher into the tree, she reached the place where the pine and maple met. If she didn’t have a broken ankle, she wouldn’t have a problem crossing between the trees, but running across the branch and jumping into the boughs of the pine was not an option right now.
Instead, she got on her hands and knees and crawled across the maple. The branch thinned and bowed beneath her weight as she moved. Biting her bottom lip, she prayed it didn’t break before she made it to the pine. If she fell now, it would all be over.
Come on. Come on. Almost there. The prickly bark dug into her knees and shins as she edged further and further out. And the maple bowed more and more until a small, ominous crack sounded, and the branch dropped a little.
Her breath hitched as she lunged forward and enclosed her hand around prickly pine needles. She expected the maple branch to give way beneath her, but after that small drop, it held steady.
Gripping the pine branch with both hands, she didn’t give herself time to think about what would happen if the limb broke before she swung out of the maple and into the pine. The pine branch sagged as her legs dangled over open air.
Don’t break. Don’t break, she pleaded as she swung hand over hand into the thicker bowels of the branch. The needles jabbed her, and sap clogged her hand, but the limb didn’t break. When she was close to the trunk of the tree, she wrapped her legs around the branch and pulled herself around to sit on it.
She yearned to curl up against the trunk and huddle there, but she had to go higher. Rising onto her good foot, she stood like a flamingo as she leaned out to grasp the next highest branch. She climbed steadily higher until the thick canopy of needles near the top of the tree surrounded her.
The bark bit into her back when Willow leaned against the tree trunk and closed her eyes. Exhaustion clung to her, and the swelling of her ankle caused it to press against her boot as it throbbed with every beat of her heart.
The one good thing about the icy river was its numbing effect on the break. However, she was still freezing, but that effect had worn off. Her wet clothes cleaved to her, and her drenched, lightweight, puffer jacket provided no warmth. Hopefully, when the sun rose, she would dry out and defrost. Until then, she would remain a shivering, icy mess, but she was an alive mess, and that was what mattered.
Shifting, she managed to undo her belt from her waist. She removed her weapons from it and tucked them into the inner pockets of her jacket before using the belt to tie herself to the tree. As she worked, she discovered her phone was gone, but after her plunge into the river, it would have been useless anyway.
Once she was secured, she drew her good leg up against her chest to try getting some warmth back into her body. It didn’t work.
Her teeth chattered, and shivers racked her. She didn’t bother to examine her broken ankle; it would heal, and removing her boot would only irritate it more. Plus, she couldn’t stand the idea of her bones shifting and grinding while she pulled off her boot.
As the night wore on, the howls echoed through the woods. Resting her cheek on her knee, she tried to ignore her misery as the Savages’ hunting cries grew closer. It was nearing dawn when a group of Savages ran beneath her tree.
Everything within her stilled as their feet thudded across the land, and their laughter resounded in her ears.
CHAPTER 4
Declan stepped out of the car and tilted his head back to take in the imposing façade of the mansion. Some found it ugly with its high turrets and gargoyles on towering peaks, but it was his home, and after being gone for months, he smiled as he took it in.
When he volunteered to go with Logan to Mexico to work with Alejandro and his group of hunters, he hadn’t expected to be gone for so long—a month, maybe two at most—but they were away far longer than he anticipated.
While there, the two of them helped Alejandra develop a working relationship with the vampires he recruited. Those vamps still weren’t residing in the same compound like the Alliance and hunters did here, but they were working together to combat the growing Savage population in their area.
A growing population that did not bode well for any of them. Things had been quiet since they killed the demon and escaped the bunker in Maine five years ago, but they were starting to ramp up again now, and he didn’t like it.
When they left Mexico, the hunters and vamps still weren’t as close as the Alliance, but Declan felt confident enough in their ability to continue working together to come home. He’d missed his brothers in the Alliance, his family, while he was away, and he was looking forward to seeing them again.
Declan closed the driver’s door and opened the back door to remove his bag before slinging it over his shoulder and shutting that door too. Logan walked around the back of the car to stand beside him.
After Declan turned Logan into a vampire to save his life, he was surprised by how much he wanted him to thrive in this world. In the beginning, he mentored Logan when it came to feeding and controlling his more volatile instincts.
As a turned vamp, Logan didn’t have to deal with the incessant urges male purebreds endured when they stopped aging, but he was a turned hunter, which made his transition and the aftereffects more difficult than normal. He also had to learn to deal with a vampire’s thirst, and that was always a challenge.
“Home sweet ugly home,” Logan muttered, and Declan chuckled.
“Already missing the señoritas?” Declan inquired.
“I do love those señoritas,” Logan said with a sigh.
“Let’s go.”
Declan started for the door, but Saxon sauntered out of it before Declan could take more than a couple of steps forward. Saxon grinned at him, and Declan returned the smile. When the two briefly embraced, they squeezed Saxon’s eight-month-old daughter, Madison, between them.
Madison giggled and tugged at his hair while her arctic blue eyes searched his face. Her sandy blonde hair stood on end, and a small, pink bow was clipped onto some of the strands. Having left shortly before she was born, this was the first time Declan was meeting her in person, but ever the proud father, Saxon sent him pictures every day.
Saxon and Logan briefly embraced before Saxon focused on him again. “How was Mexico?”
“Warm,” Declan told him.
Saxon quirked an eyebrow. “Just warm?”
“And good tequila.”
Saxon laughed and slapped h
im on the shoulder. “You’ll have to tell me all about that tequila when you get the chance.”
“I brought back some bottles for us to share. We’ll tell you all about it tonight.”
Saxon’s smile faltered, and the turmoil churning beneath his happiness over seeing him caused Declan to stiffen. “What is it?”
“We might have a problem. Come on.”
Declan and Logan followed Saxon into the mansion. Declan set his bag down on the gray and white marble floor in the foyer. When Saxon shut the door behind him, the ensuing silence hung heavily on the air.
Declan hadn’t expected a party when he returned, but if everything were okay, more of his friends would have been here to meet him. And once Lucien found out about the tequila, he wouldn’t have waited until tonight before breaking opening it. Whatever was happening wasn’t good.
“What kind of problem is it?” Declan asked.
“Lucien took a group to Maine to check on the abandoned bunker and tunnels. He was supposed to report in last night; no one’s heard from him. Ronan and the others are in the library trying to decide what to do. I came out to get you when we saw you arrive.”
A tendril of dread crept down Declan’s spine as he recalled his time in those tunnels, the creature they found lurking inside, and the hundreds of Savages living within that underground hellhole.
“Why did they go up there?” Declan inquired.
“Some of the cameras went down, but they always do, and this time they went out during a thunderstorm, so it was supposed to be a routine thing.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No, it’s not. Come on.” Saxon clapped him and then Logan on the shoulder. “They’ll be happy to see the two of you; I know I am.”
“I’m happy to see you too,” Declan said.
“I was happier before we learned something was wrong,” Logan said.
Their boots thudded against the floor, and Madison gurgled as she slapped her father’s shoulders and bounced in his arms while they strode toward the library. The doors were already open, and voices drifted out as they approached.
Bound by Torment (The Alliance, Book 5) Page 2
