Hearts Unleashed: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by C. D. Gorri

  He ignored me.

  The feral seized one of the females and hauled her to her feet. She fought him, but he overpowered her easily.

  “Hey!” My shout echoed off the stone. The feral gave no indication he heard. He ripped at the female’s clothes, tossing rags and mufflers aside. Rurik and the other male observed, their faces impassive. The female let out a hoarse cry.

  I didn’t think. I just ran toward the wall.

  “STOP.” Rurik’s command hit me in the back, the force of it like a hot whip striking my spine. I stopped and doubled over. The pack hit the ground as my eyes watered. Frantic, I reached around and felt my back through my shirt, expecting blood. But there was nothing. Even as I rubbed my spine, the pain faded.

  A pair of boots appeared beside me, and Rurik spoke. “He won’t harm her.”

  I straightened, my insides trembling, and fought the urge to cower away from him. He gazed at the wall, where the feral held the female by the shoulders. Her red hair streamed around her face. The male pushed it back and forced her chin up. After a second, he let out another growl and released her. Then he shoved her away and started back to the group.

  Confusion swamped me. “What did he want?” I said under my breath.

  Rurik looked at me. I hadn’t really meant to ask a question, but he surprised me by answering. “His mate left him. He searches for her.”

  The male approached, his fists clenched and his expression grim. His actions made more sense now, even if his handling of the female irked me. Ferals were devoted to their mates. According to Michael, those with a particularly strong bond often felt physical pain when separated.

  “He must be hurting without her,” I said.

  “Hurting?” Rurik shook his head. “His mate ran from him. It’s fury he feels, not pain. He won’t stop hunting until he tracks her down.”

  My gut clenched. I shouldn’t ask, but I had to know. “What will he do when he finds her?”

  “Make her wish he hadn’t.”

  Anything else I might have said stuck in my throat.

  The other male reached us, and then walked right past. Instead of taking up his previous position, he just kept going, his strides eating up the flat ground.

  I swung my gaze to Rurik. “He’s leaving?”

  “He’ll return. His anger impairs his judgment. Makes him less likely to sense a threat.”

  So he was blowing off steam? That made him sound almost…normal.

  “You would have intervened when he grabbed the female,” Rurik said. His golden eyes studied me. For a moment, I imagined I saw curiosity in his gaze. But then he blinked and it was gone.

  I started to shrug, then thought better of it. He didn’t seem like the kind of person—feral—who responded well to nonchalance.

  “I thought he was attacking her,” I said.

  Rurik grunted—a short, noncommittal sound. “It’s foolish to get between a male and his mate. You have more courage than sense.”

  Was that a compliment? I dropped my gaze to the dirt and gnawed at my lower lip, unsure how to respond. Or if I should. “Keep your head down and do as he says,” Michael told me. He neglected to give me advice for how to make small talk with a feral alpha.

  Silence stretched. No wind stirred, and the warm air grew oppressive. My hair was still loose over my shoulders. I longed to stuff it back into a ponytail, but I wasn’t about to do it in front of Rurik.

  But standing silent under his regard was harder than I thought. Was he waiting for something? My instinct was to lift my head and ask if he’d looked his fill. But that would have almost certainly earned me another lash of the metaphysical whip he wielded. And as much as my insides seethed at being forced to submit, I needed his protection.

  And yet, he stayed silent. His gaze was like a weight pressing the crown of my head. Sweat trickled down my back.

  I licked my dry lips.

  Unable to stand it any longer, I finally looked up.

  The alpha’s gaze was on my mouth. Even as I processed this fact, he snapped his eyes to mine.

  His expression hardened. In a flash, he bared his fangs.

  I flinched, flushing cold then hot as I anticipated his wrath.

  But there was no lash or strike.

  “Get your things, female,” he growled. “And keep up this time.” As he had at the gate, he signaled to the remaining male and walked away.

  Fear flooded me, but there was also confusion—and anger. I’d bowed my head to the alpha, and his response was a threat? A feral’s fangs were serrated. They could shred skin and veins faster than a scalpel. He might as well have waved a machete in my face.

  I clenched my fists. The bastard moved down the wall, clearly confident I would hurry after him. “Female” he’d called me, the word coated in disdain.

  Recklessness gripped me, and I called out. “Or what? You’ll hurt me again?”

  As one, Rurik and the other male stopped. The watchtower’s flames snapped overhead and bathed the ground between us in a sickly green glow.

  My heart thudded like a drum. Stupid. I was so, so stupid.

  Slowly, Rurik faced me. Even with shadows and distance between us, his golden eyes burned bright. The other male turned, too, his eyes a pale silver.

  I held my breath, frantic thoughts tumbling through my head. Michael was right. It wasn’t safe beyond the wall. And I just put myself in even more danger. Worse, I jeopardized my whole mission. If Rurik killed me, the governor’s wife died too.

  He stared me down, his predator’s eyes pinning me like the dusty, fragile butterflies on the mats in the museum. He said nothing, but his response was deafening all the same.

  Yes. Yes, absolutely, he would hurt me again. Instantly. Effortlessly. I was in his world now, on the wrong side of the wall.

  Somehow, I managed to drag in a breath. “I’m sorry.” Remembering Michael’s speeches and lectures, I bowed my head and added, “Alpha.”

  More silence. It went on forever, leaving me helpless to do anything but stand there and wait. I kept my gaze on the dirt, my eyes burning as I forced myself not to blink.

  Something scraped the ground, and then booted footsteps drifted back to me.

  I jerked my head up. Rurik and the other feral moved into the night. As I watched, the crunch of their boots faded, and their steps became soundless.

  They let me hear them.

  It was Rurik’s reply. And a warning.

  He’d hurt me, all right, and I’d never see it coming.

  As I went to my pack and lifted it with shaking hands, I knew it was the only warning I was likely to get.

  Chapter Three

  The ferals set a rapid but manageable pace that took us swiftly away from the wall. We passed the remains of the Gateway Arch with its two charred, broken bases jutting toward the sky, and then made our way across the broad trough of fissured land where the river once flowed. Lightning flashed in the distance, thick bolts crisscrossing the sky like a web. Thunder vibrated the ground. Moonlight shone over the burnt and blackened remains of buildings, most of them reduced to a charred outline marking the foundation. As we moved farther from the wall, the rubble became rock, and the land was an open expanse of cracked earth and dead brush.

  Not once did Rurik or the other male check to make sure I followed. They faced straight ahead, never stumbling or veering off course, not even slowing when the third male emerged from the shadows and silently took up his previous position.

  We didn’t see any other ferals, and the males gave no indication of sensing a threat. If I ignored the pack’s strap digging a furrow into my shoulder, I could almost pretend I was on a sightseeing hike.

  Not that there was much to see. The exterminations of The Fall had seen to that. Anything left had been wiped out by decades of wildfires.

  At first, the city’s walls were a constant presence at my back—a reassuring sight I could glimpse with a glance over my shoulder. As time wore on, however, the watchtowers grew smaller, and their
soaring lightning rods shrank to toothpicks. After the first hour, the green flame snuffed out. A half hour later, we crested a low hill covered in scrubby grass. I stopped and looked back.

  The city was gone, its walls out of view.

  My chest tightened. I couldn’t go back now—not even if I flung the pack aside and sprinted. The iron gate would stay closed against me for at least three days. But something about standing on the plain with nothing but rocks and barren ground in view made two icy fists squeeze my lungs. My heart raced, and my skin felt tight—like it was stretched thin over my bones. A dull ache had formed between my eyes. Dehydration, probably. Some doctor I was, setting off for the Alterlands without water.

  Although, my escort hadn’t given me much choice.

  Someone shouted behind me, and I swung back around as lightning struck immediately to my right. I flinched and shielded my eyes. When I lowered my hand, blue floaters danced in my vision, and Rurik barreled toward me.

  “A storm approaches. Move!” He grabbed my arm and pulled me into a run so quickly I didn’t have time to protest. The others fell in beside us, their boots pounding the dirt. As if summoned by Rurik’s words, the wind picked up and an eerie pressure filled the air. The ferals ran faster, carrying me along with them.

  There was a burst of light to our left, and sparks and dirt exploded as if someone hurled a bomb. The ground shuddered. Ozone clogged my throat. The storm wasn’t approaching—it was here. I’d seen lightning turn an airship into a ball of fire with one strike. Without the city’s lightning rods, we were fleshy targets.

  Rurik’s big hand gripped my elbow, and he hurtled us forward so fast my feet nearly lifted off the ground. The pack bounced hard against my hip, but I hardly noticed. My chest burned, and a stitch pinched my side. My legs couldn’t go any faster.

  Light flashed again. Another boom, and my ears were ringing. Smoke and fire. Rocks pelted my face. I stumbled.

  Strong hands swept me off my feet, and then I was tucked against a rock hard chest. Rurik put on a burst of speed that snatched my breath, leaving me helpless to do anything but hold on for dear life. My world became smoke and pounding feet. Wind tore at my hair and streamed over my face, making my eyes burn. I clung to his neck and squeezed my eyes shut.

  Rurik slowed, and my eyes flew open. He climbed a hill, his muscles bunching as he carried us upward. Light flashed over his shoulder, showing me brief images of dirt and smoke.

  All at once, we plunged. My stomach pitched, and a scream lodged in my throat. Rurik squeezed me against him and slid, his boots scrabbling over loose rock. On either side, the other males did the same, our descent sending up a plume of dirt.

  Rurik hit solid ground with a jolt that forced a grunt from my lungs. The other males thumped to the ground next to him.

  Everything went still. We were at the entrance of a cave. To our left was the ridge we just slid down. To our right was more open, barren plain. Lightning forked in the distance as the storm passed us. By some miracle, the pack still dangled from my arm.

  Dust swirled and shot straight up my nose, making me cough.

  Rurik tightened his grip. “You’re all right?” His dark brows pulled together as his gaze searched my face.

  “Y-Yes.” I coughed again, then pushed at his chest. Or tried to. It was like nudging a boulder. “You’re holding me too tight.”

  He loosened his arms but didn’t put me down. He just stared at me as dust settled around us.

  I became aware of several things at once. My arms were still twined around his neck. My breasts were mashed against his chest, which heaved as he caught his breath. The tips of his fangs showed between his parted lips. His arm under my thighs was like a band of iron, and his forearm nestled right under my ass.

  Wind howled down the side of the ridge. It whipped through my hair and swirled around the rocks, kicking up more dust.

  The silver-eyed feral growled. His gazed fixed on me, and his lips peeled back from his teeth, revealing white fangs with needle-sharp points.

  The other feral looked at me, too. His nostrils flared. Then his eyes—a glowing blue—narrowed.

  Fear scrabbled down my spine.

  “Her scent,” the blue-eyed feral said.

  Rurik’s muscles bunched, and suddenly I was hoisted up his chest and his nose was buried in my neck.

  I arched away. “What are you—”

  His big palm cracked against my ass.

  Stunned, I stopped squirming. He’d hit me—actually hit me. But I’d have to worry about my stinging backside later, because his lips grazed my neck as he nosed through my hair and breathed deep. My heart pounded, and a flurry of sensations rippled through me.

  Fear, heat, fear, heat. My body flicked back and forth as his mouth brushed the sensitive skin under my ear. At the same time, I tensed, waiting for fangs to pierce my skin.

  A low growl vibrated from his chest.

  The other males echoed it, the eerie sounds trilling up and down.

  The heat fled, and nausea burned my throat. What was their problem? What had I done?

  In a flurry of movement, Rurik set me down, stripped the pack off my shoulder, and dragged me against him. His eyes blazed with anger, and his voice was a snarl that seemed to scrape my skin. “You smell of another male. Didn’t Hessen tell you to wash before you left the city?”

  “Wh-What?” I tried to step back, but his hands were like manacles on my arms.

  “You were aroused recently. A more dominant male catching your essence mixed with another’s will try to claim you.” He jerked his head toward the others. “They’re both mated, but the plain is crawling with enemies.”

  My thoughts whirled. Aroused? The only male I’d been around was—

  Realization hit me, and I gasped. “I kissed Michael before I left.” And desire had stirred low in my belly, but I wasn’t about to tell Rurik and the others that.

  Except it didn’t seem to matter. They could smell it.

  Heat entered my cheeks.

  Rurik glowered at me. “You put us all in danger.”

  “It was a goodbye kiss! I didn’t know this would happen.” That kissing my fiancé counted as mixing my essence with his.

  The silver-eyed male growled again. “She needs to get rid of that scent. She stinks of norm.”

  My hackles rose. “I don’t stink.”

  His glare was like an iron brand that seared my skin.

  Rurik swooped and grabbed the pack. Then he took me by one arm and hauled me toward the cave’s yawning entrance.

  I dug in my heels. “Where are we going?”

  In response, he continued dragging me into the cave. Darkness swallowed us, and panic jumped down my spine. Blind and flailing, I clawed at his hand on my arm. “Let me go!”

  “Silence.” The command scraped my skin.

  Somehow, the stinging flick was worse when I couldn’t see. “Stop doing that!” My voice bounced off the low ceiling as he pulled me through the cave. My boots skidded over loose rock that kept me off balance, and my panting breaths and frantic shuffling echoed off the walls. Meanwhile, he moved with sure, steady steps, his feral night vision letting him see as well as he did during daytime.

  “Stop resisting.” His tone was almost mild, as if he wasn’t dragging a twisting, hissing woman through a pitch black cavern. He spoke like he had every confidence he would get his way. That he would ultimately triumph and I would lose. Badly.

  The infuriating thing was, he was right. I was no match for his strength. Worse, he didn’t have to flex a muscle to enforce his will. How could I fight back when he didn’t even have to touch me to land a blow?

  I couldn’t. At least not physically. And I was wasting precious energy trying.

  Setting my jaw, I ceased struggling and let him maneuver me. If he noticed, he didn’t let on. He just gripped my arm and pulled me along as easily as if we strolled down the St. Louis streets. But we weren’t in the city, and he wasn’t a norm male raised to show a woman co
urtesy and respect.

  The air grew clammy, and I sensed we entered a larger space.

  At last, he stopped. Something thumped the ground, and then he placed my hand on something solid and rough. “Don’t move.”

  As if I could. The blackness was absolute. I clutched at what was obviously a rock pillar. His boots rang out, followed by shuffling sounds and a loud crack. Light flared, yanking me out of the dark so quickly I gasped and squinted.

  Rurik tossed a blazing flare to the ground. Its flame illuminated a massive cavern with soaring ceilings and thick pillars like the one I clung to. My pack with its precious serum lay on its side on the ground. But that wasn’t what drew my attention.

  Just steps away, a sandy bank led to a deep, clear pool with a surface as still as glass. My jaw dropped, and I stared. It was like a swimming pool. No, a lake. The lakes in books looked like this. Mesmerized, I took a step toward it.

  “Strip and get in,” Rurik said.

  I jerked my gaze to his. “Excuse me?”

  “Now, female.”

  There was that word again—almost as abrasive as his whiplash commands. I lifted my chin. “I have a name.”

  He went to the pack and shook it open. Clothes and foil packets fell to the dirt. Rations spilled out. Tiny glass vials scattered.

  “Stop!” I rushed over and went to my knees. “You’ll destroy the serum!” I scooped vials into my hands. Foil packets rained around me as he continued shaking out the pack.

  He flung it aside, then picked up a foil packet and examined it.

  I stilled, my hands full of serum. Dozens of silver squares spread around me, each one stamped with a serial number from the pharmacy in St. Louis. What the hell? Why would Michael stuff the pack with drug packets?

  Rurik thrust the one he held in front of my face. “This is medicine?”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind?”

  Wary of another command, I stood slowly. “Amoxicillin. It’s an antibiotic.” Why was he so interested?

  His gaze sharpened. “It’s good, this medicine?”

  “Yes. It can cure infection.” Not Lykos-D, but there wasn’t an antibiotic—or anything else—that could do that.