Blood of the Wolf

by T. L. Shreffler

  A sudden noise reached his ears. It was soft, but there was the unmistakable click of a handle and the light creak of hinges. A door opening, then the scuff of tennis shoes against brick. Perfect—a thin smile pulled across his face. He could already smell it was her.

  Stevie waited, listening expectantly. A moment's silence... then sudden grunting, the sound of more scuffling, and a few muttered curses and groans. Crackle-schhhhh! “Stevie, this is Jones, over?”

  “I hear you, what's going on?”

  “I-I... I think I've got her... I've got her...” ckshhhh “... but I can't hold her-” Chh-schhhhhh!

  Stevie didn't need to hear any more. Leaving the car, he leapt out and headed for the back gate, opening it wide and dashing into the garden. The girl could not escape this time; they finally had their hands on her, and he wasn't about to let go.

  * * * *

  Jamie fought like a wildcat, twisting and writhing, but she knew it was useless. It had been useless from the moment the man had jumped her from behind; the short, chubby guy had crept up on her out of the darkness, taking her by surprise. She was too weak; her strength was sapped, her limbs so fragile that they shook with each step, her senses no better than human. She had hoped to slip out and make her way towards the bus stop, sticking to alleys and backstreets, but she hadn't expected to be ambushed in her own garden....

  A short, sweaty man grabbed her from behind. She fought and struggled, kicking and grunting, and she thought she might break his hold... but then the gate opened and a second figure dashed in, this one long and lanky. The second wolf grabbed her tightly by the legs, and within minutes her struggles became small and laughable, until she was barely able to move. The two of them lifted her easily and carried her past the gate, ignoring her pathetic protests, working completely in silence. She groaned in pain, but she didn't have the strength to cry out, not even when the wound stretched and split on her leg. Fuck, she was done for... she was so tired, she could barely stay conscious, let alone fight. She had been so close... somehow she had failed to consider that these two would be back. She recognized their scents from the night before, when she had been picked up from the cops. She still didn't know what pack they hailed from – definitely not Sirus's.

  Jaime winced and clung resolutely to her backpack, despite the two men that carried her; if she was going to be abducted, then she would at least bring her things with her. Who knew, maybe being captured by these two would be better than getting caught by her “future mate.” She had to stay conscious, though. No matter what happened, she couldn't pass out... she had to hold on to her senses, force herself to stay awake, not to succumb to her weary body. Suddenly an idea occurred to her – she didn't know if it would work, but perhaps it would give her an opening to escape.

  Jaime let out one final, shuddering groan and allowed her body to go limp. Her head lulled back against the short man's chest. The one holding her by the legs laughed. “Look at her — she's completely out of it!”

  “Odd, ain't it? I thought ol' Sirus got a hold of her. Wonder how she got away?”

  “Who cares? For all we know, she fucked her way free.” The tall man laughed again, this time a brief guffaw that left Jaime disgusted and outraged... but she had to conserve her strength. She concentrated on keeping her expression still.

  “I dunno,” the short one started. “I feel kinda sorry for her... that leg looks pretty bad.”

  “Shut up, Jones, and don't you dare start thinking of her as anything more than a package. We're here to make a delivery, got that? Now hold her while I open the trunk.”

  Her weight shifted and her feet were set against the ground. She heard the sound of a lock clicking, the smell of exhaust, and the low rumble of an engine. Slitting open one eye, she spotted a cream-colored Buick with smooth leather seats. The trunk was propped open along with the back doors, though it was too dark to see what was inside. They were going to put her in the trunk of a car. With a lurch to her gut, Jaime realized her kidnappers meant business... but how could she get away? She was so tired... every inch of her body ached....

  But she had to try. It was life or death. Who knew where she would end up if she allowed these two to take her? Stone cold in a gutter somewhere, most likely.

  “Ugh, dumbass!” the tall one grunted. “You left our suitcases in the trunk!”

  “So?”

  “So that's where we're putting her!”

  The fat man didn't respond. Jaime chanced a look at the tall wolf and saw him standing agitatedly next to the car, looking at a massive black case that took up almost the entire space of the trunk. Two other leather suitcases were jammed in next to it. She figured the giant suitcase weighed no less than two-hundred pounds.

  The tall one let out a noise of disgust and threw up his hands. “Put her down somewhere and help me with this, and be quick,” he snapped, reaching in to grab one of the smaller suitcases. “We gotta move this stuff into the backseat... hurry, and don't wake her up!”

  Jaime made a point of being extra lifeless. Allowing her head to swing back limply, she struggled not to flinch and cry out as her leg was bumped and jostled. The fat man carried her a brief distance and then she felt her back touch rough asphalt, a strand of grass tickling her nose. The man turned and started away, his footsteps carrying him a good ten feet, at least. “I figured she'd be more comfortable cushioned by those leaves,” he said.

  “She's unconscious — she's not gonna feel anything,” the other man bit out sarcastically. “Now hurry up and lift! Argh, no, grab it there...”

  “The zipper's broken, our stuff'll spill out—”

  “Then be careful!”

  Jaime opened an eye and glanced around. She was laying in the shadows next to a large bush, surrounded by leaves and dry grass. The asphalt was grainy and rough beneath her cheek; she could smell the oil coming up from its surface. When she turned her head slightly, she could see the two men standing with their backs to her, trying to heave the giant suitcase out of the trunk. It appeared to be stuck.

  There was no time to lose. Jaime counted herself as being the luckiest person in the world and softly maneuvered to her feet, standing as best she could on her wounded leg. All that mattered was being swift and silent—and for that, she didn't need her wolf senses. Biting her lip and breathing deeply, she crept along the side of the wall, farther and farther from the two bickering voices. Thankfully the shadows in the alley were deep and dense, and she wasn't far from the main street.

  Half a minute later of struggling and limping, she finally made it to the end of the alley. She threw herself around the corner and immediately started to run, sticking to the back streets and shadows between houses. She pulled her hood up, but she still kept a sharp eye on her surroundings. She couldn't allow herself to be seen.

  Moving at a fast trot—the fastest she could go—she headed for the small bus station an hour's walk away. Hopefully there was a bus leaving soon—a bus to anywhere, to Davenport, to Rochester, maybe even to New York. She just needed to get as far away as possible, and as soon as possible... before he could find her again.

  * * * *

  Sirus pulled up outside the house and leapt out of the car before it even came to a halt. He could smell her everywhere; the air was alive with her potency. She had been here, if only ten minutes ago.

  Without wasting any time, he dashed up to the house, sniffing around the front door and the bushes, not caring if any neighbors were watching. He needed to know where she was, he needed to find her... damn, could she have left already? She was faster than he had anticipated.

  The wind shifted and he raised his head, listening carefully. Were those voices? His ears twitched and he turned to run around the side of the house, holding up a hand to Aiden and Darren, ordering them silently to stay in the car.

  The neighborhood was quaint and rustic, with small, two-story houses and the slightly overgrown look of middle-class America. He reached the alley behind the house and paused at the corner of
a wooden fence, listening carefully, hesitating to show himself until he knew exactly what was going on. He could smell Jaime stronger than ever now... and yet there was something else. Something disgustingly familiar, causing a snarl to twist on his lips....

  “I told you to watch her! I told you! How could you do this, you moron!? We were so close! Tabari will arrive in less than eight hours and you fucked it up!”

  Sirus breathed deeply again, letting the smell linger around his nose, trying to place the familiar musky scent. Underlying each wolf's individual scent was a deeper, heavier undertone that signified their pack. But this specific, tangible odor....

  Magnus.

  No wonder. They hailed from Magnus the Gray, his only rival for power The animosity ran more than just skin deep. The bastard was responsible for the hell he had gone through as a youth and his eventual life as a Tracker. Sirus bristled in anger, barring his teeth, his eyes flashing gold. So Magnus was after Jaime, too... it made sense, seeing as he had been trying to pin down her pack's territory. There had been rumors of unrest in Paxton city.

  “Alpha is going to be pissed,” the shorter one wailed.

  “That's why we don't tell him!” the other snapped. “We'll just pretend nothing happened... when Tabari arrives tomorrow, it's a fresh start, got that? Magnus never needs to know that we let his mate get away... again....”

  Sirus bit back a sharp growl. His eyes narrowed, anger and suspicion rushing to the surface, along with the primal hatred of one Alpha for another. Magnus the Gray had been on a rampage for decades now, sweeping across middle America and slaughtering pack after pack; his territory had become immense. Jaime's fate was not such an unusual one. Families were being decimated left and right, pups abandoned or lost, territory squandered in the aftermath. It had happened to Sirus as well as thousands of others; their families and homes ripped out from under their feet. No wolf was meant to control so much land. Sirus had heard of countless uprisings against Magnus, but the Alpha had a strong bloodline and so far he had been able to extinguish any and all rebellion. The old wolf wouldn't lay down and die. He was relentless in his pursuit of power.

  And finally, after years of struggling and fighting, Sirus had gathered a small pack of outlaws who were willing to follow him, to fight with him against Magnus. If he mated with Jaime it would give him legitimate claim to the Paxton territory, which was almost half of Magnus' land. Perhaps he could turn the Alpha's own pack against him. But his draw to Jaime was more than that. Deeper. He could feel their connection in his blood....

  And he couldn't imagine that evil bastard laying a finger on her. His mate? Unacceptable. His mind made up, Sirus rounded the corner at a casual stroll, deciding to let his presence speak for itself. No more need to hide. The two wolves detected him immediately and turned, eyes wide, hair on end.

  “Alpha,” the smaller one muttered, obviously stunned.

  “Don't call him that!” the taller one spat. “He's not our Alpha! What do you want, shit face? You're off your territory now.”

  Sirus stopped about five feet away and stared at them until they looked away, a natural sign of submission.

  “You boys were saying something about my good friend Magnus,” he said, his voice like ice. “So I'm wondering what your Alpha wants with my future mate?”

  The two men shared a glance, then looked back at him nervously. Sirus raised a brow, waiting.

  “N-none of your business!” the smaller one spoke up unexpectedly.

  “Yeah, now get outta here, we're busy,” the other grunted, trying to look tough.

  Sirus sighed. He'd been hoping to do this the easy way. With exaggerated slowness, he leaned down and reached into the side of his boot, pulling out a long, wicked knife. A Tracker always came prepared.

  “Now, you can tell me exactly what you're doing here,” he said softly, standing back up. The two men stared at him warily. “Or I'm going to take your shoes, your wallets, and your skin.”

  The two men shared another glance, this one long and meaningful. Sirus grinned, letting his lips pull back from his fangs; apparently they had heard of his reputation – it was well earned. He would get the information from them in any way he had to, then follow the girl's trail. It was obvious to him now that she had escaped.... Unsurprising, given the quality of these two kidnappers. Pathetic.

  Sirus turned his face to the wind, taking in a deep breath, already catching hints of her trail along the alley wall. She was no longer trying to hide her tracks, which meant she was desperate. He could already guess where she was headed. There was only one place she could go.

  The men trembled before him, looking pale and uncertain; pack loyalty was a powerful thing. Ah well, making them speak would be a fun distraction. Sirus could remember the last time he had been forced to slice up an enemy — cornered in a dark building, his assignment gone terribly wrong, nothing but him and the man he had been sent to kill....

  “Well?” he murmured. “Who wants to go first?”

  Chapter 6

  Jaime loped into the deserted bus station at roughly a quarter past eleven — or so the digital clock said that hovered above the ticket booth. The station was small and quaint, a singular open building filled with benches and a glass ticket office. A notice board was posted outside showing the latest bus schedule, but as she stumbled past, something caught her attention. Jaime turned, focusing her tired eyes, a trickle of dread seeping through her. A familiar picture stared back at her.

  She almost dropped her backpack. It was her face, looking bruised and haggard, from an older picture taken back when she had lived in Denver. Damn, she should have realized... hadn't the cop said that they had sent out notices from here to Rochester? Of course they would post them at bus stops, and probably airports and post offices too. But then how was she supposed to get on the bus?

  She would figure something out. For now she had to use the restroom and clean up her appearance; she looked exactly how she felt, and she didn't need to draw any more attention to herself. She was certain her Alpha was on her trail, but a she scanned the small bus station, she was relieved not to see him or any other pack members. For the moment she was still safe; with any luck, the bus would leave before he arrived. She finally spotted the public bathrooms, easily accessible a few dozen yards away from the main building. Perfect.

  As she made her way toward the bathrooms, she took stock of the surrounding bus stops. Out of the six available spaces, two buses were fueling up, preparing to leave. Wonderful, she had a few different choices. Maybe she could throw the Alpha off her trail.

  Jaime kept to the shadows between the streetlights until she reached the public restrooms; luckily they were twenty-four hour. She yanked open the door, dragging herself wearily inside. The bathroom was empty, though she wasn't too surprised. The station usually wasn't busy, really.... She dressed quickly and wiped off her wounds, bandaging herself the best she could with paper towels and medical tape. The gash on her leg looked like it needed stitches, but she couldn't think of that now; she would have to wait until she got to a bigger city.

  Jaime pulled her hood low over her face, shouldering her backpack. Now to buy her ticket and hope that the buses were leaving soon. She bit her lip, overcome by anxiety. The ticket sellers were no doubt on the lookout for her. Should she wear her sunglasses? That was even more suspicious at night. How was she supposed to hide her appearance? She was 5'5” and undeniably curvy, to the point where she couldn't even hide her hourglass figure beneath the floppy sweater. She was obviously a teenage girl out at a suspiciously late hour. It was hopeless.

  Maybe she could just sneak aboard a bus? And how was she supposed to do that? It was exactly how they had caught her last time. Jaime exited the bathroom and hesitated, glancing towards the buses. One was idling, already preparing to leave. Damn, she didn't have a lot of time left.... She had to make a decision.

  She started toward the ticket booth, making sure to conceal the handcuffs up her sleeve. It was the only thing
she could do; at least this way she stood a chance of escaping notice. Maybe the ticket seller was lazy and didn't care, or hadn't noticed the flier. She couldn't risk being caught on the bus without a ticket.

  She started across the open cement, hands shoved in her pockets, shoulders hunched. A cold wind blew, brushing through her bangs. She was just entering the light from the street lamps when she heard the sound of swift footsteps, almost silent, heading in her direction. She half-turned, surprised, but was suddenly overtaken by a large figure.

  There was no time to react. Someone grabbed arm, propelling her forward. Jaime let out a small shriek of surprise, not expecting the sudden surge of momentum. She stumbled.

  “What the-!”

  “Hello, sweetheart.”

  That voice. Her blood froze, her heart stuttering with shock. She bit back a gasp and staggered; her wounds didn't allow her to walk any faster, despite his iron grip on her arm. He pulled at her mercilessly. “Come along, now. No sense pretending we don't know each other.”

  She was too stunned. He was here, next to her, his presence as strong and solid as it had been at the police station; she was abruptly reminded of his heat, of his body thrown over her, shielding her from the bullets. She wondered if he still had his gun... and why he hadn't used it so far.

  He wasn't looking at her, though his hand was still tight on her arm; rather, he walked toward the ticket stand purposefully. She stumbled after him, trying halfheartedly to pull from his grip, but she was still too weak and sick with shock. He had just... appeared. No warning, no sound. How had he tracked her so quickly? It was as though he could read her mind. And where were his underlings? His pack? She glanced around, trying to catch a glimpse of them, but the two other werewolves were nowhere in sight. Just him. Alone.