“I’m good at my job. The Society knows I’ll tell them the truth.”
“The Society?”
“The organization I work for. The full name is Society of Protectors.”
She nodded, pretending she understood. Though she found the name reminiscent of a college fraternity, she thought the group itself might be much more dangerous.
“So if I get you the transmitter, you’ll call in and make the report. What will you tell them about me?”
He stared, his mouth a hard line in his rugged face. She stared right back.
When he didn’t answer, she decided to give him the words she wanted him to say. “You could tell them I deserve to be left alone.”
His mouth twisted. “I could, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“I thought you said they’d know you told the truth.”
“It’s too early. They know I wouldn’t make a full assessment so soon. Also, I’d never tell them a Feral deserves to be left alone.”
“But that’s what I want,” she cried. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again, and willed her voice to sound calmer. “What about what I want? Don’t they take that into account?”
“No. As far as they’re concerned, there are two choices with Ferals.”
“Ferals?” Another new word. “What do you mean?”
“Ferals are shifters that live outside the norm.”
“Like me.”
“Like you,” he confirmed. “And there are two kinds of Ferals. Those that can be rehabilitated and those that cannot.”
She didn’t like the sound of this. “Rehabilitated? Explain.”
“Assimilated into society.”
Something in his voice…Outraged, she glared at him. “You mean trained? Like a pet dog?”
“Not at all,” he began, but enraged, she wouldn’t let him finish.
“Okay, I get that part. But what about the others, the ones who cannot be rehabilitated? What happens to them?”
When he looked at her, his eyes were flat and cold, his mouth once again a hard line. “We have to kill them. They’re exterminated.”
The instant he said the words, Simon knew he’d made a mistake. Though he’d only told her the truth, she wasn’t anywhere near ready to hear it.
She recoiled, her wide sapphire eyes turning frosty. “Exterminated? Just because someone doesn’t fit into your precious society, you kill them?”
Put like that, it did sound rather heartless. He thought back to his conversation with his friend and fellow Protector Beck and grimaced.
“Most of them are dangerous,” he said softly. “I’ve seen several go mad and attack humans and other shifters.”
“How can you lump so many individuals into a group? Surely you have to look at them one by one.”
“That’s what I do. Investigate the Ferals and assess them. I rarely meet one who isn’t a menace to himself or others.”
She snorted, her eyes flashing blue fire. “Humans are dangerous, too. Look at the terrorists. But they don’t have organizations to go around and kill them.”
“Terrorists?” Her statement intrigued him. “How do you know about terrorists?”
“I can read,” she scoffed. “I try to keep up with current events. Once or twice a year, I hike down into Boulder for supplies. I pick up the papers, magazines, whatever I want.”
This surprised him. The more she talked, the less Feral she appeared. “Really.”
“Really. Don’t you think I’d get bored, living up here with nothing to do but hunt, eat and sleep?”
“Where do you get the money?”
“I have no money.” She lifted her chin, her look daring him to chastise her. “I steal when I have to. I’ve gotten pretty good at Dumpster diving, too. And a lot of time, people have more than they need, so I borrow the extra.”
“You know, that is what brought you to our attention. Some people reported the thefts.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I did what I had to.”
He decided to ask something else that he’d wondered about. She was beautiful, clean and, he grudgingly admitted, sexy as hell. A complete contrast to every other Feral he’d ever investigated. “What about hygiene? Baths, brushing your teeth and such?”
She laughed. “Do I smell?”
Swallowing, he shook his head. In her human form, she had a scent like flowers or meadow grass. And woman.
“I’m not a complete savage.” Climbing to her feet, she went to the back of the cave and returned with a large plastic storage tub. “I keep a regular supply of soap, toothpaste, shampoo and all that in here.”
He wondered about her monthly flow, but decided not to ask. No doubt she had feminine hygiene products, as well.
“This is more like an extended camping trip than some savage, half-wild existence, isn’t it?”
Her smile grew wider, making him want to smile back. But he remembered how she seemed to hate his smile, so he kept his face expressionless.
“To you, maybe. But I have to fight to survive. I chose this life. Maybe I should give you your transmitter. You can make your report, tell them I’m civil and clean and not a danger to anyone. I’m already…rehabilitated.” She stumbled over the word, grimaced, and then continued. “Once you tell them that, they—you—can leave me alone.”
They’d never let him do that. He’d tried to tell her, but apparently she wasn’t ready to listen. They’d never leave her entirely alone. Not until they were one hundred percent certain she wasn’t insane. Not until she’d proved she could live a normal life.
One of the things he hated about being a Protector was their absolute, unshakable tenet that their way was the only right way. Live Our Way or Die should have been their motto rather than Protect and Defend.
His thought shocked him. Until that very second, he’d never allowed himself to even think a single criticism of the Society. When had he become so cynical? His thoughts sounded more like the sentiments espoused by Beck. The same bitter sentiments that had made Simon realize his friend was due for a long, calming holiday.
Apparently, so was Simon. Maybe he needed a break worse than he’d realized. Witness his slower than usual healing time. When he returned back to base, he’d make sure and schedule one, preferably someplace tropical and warm. A few weeks there and he should return to normal.
Normal was good. After all, his occupation was his life. He could no more separate Simon from Protector than he could stop breathing. What he did for a living was right and necessary, he knew this deep within his heart.
The Society of Protectors had existed for centuries. Their methods, though not universally agreed upon, worked. Shifters were safe, their existence secret from most humans. The pack society functioned well on so many levels, enabling them to retain all their history and unique qualities, while appearing to blend with humankind.
If their laws seemed a little harsh, who was he to question what worked? The laws of nature were no less savage.
Clearing his throat, he forced his attention back to the present. Normally, he wasn’t one for esoteric mental rambling.
The Feral, Raven, still watched him. He wondered if she would really give him his transmitter. He’d actually gotten strong enough to retrieve it himself, but he needed to keep the appearance of helplessness long enough to finish his evaluation of her. If he wrestled with her over his transmitter, she’d know he was well enough to leave.
The prospect of wrestling with her held far more appeal than it should have. Furious at his lack of self-control, Simon banished the image from his mind. Mating with a Feral was the ultimate taboo. Even considering such a thing made Simon feel dirty, unclean.
He wouldn’t allow such thoughts ever again. He had a job to do. One thing he’d always prided himself on was the quality of his work. He did his job well. He could wait a little longer before making his report.
Over the years, he’d investigated hundreds of Ferals. He’d brought some, quite a few, actually, back into society, guiding them through rehabilitation
with a firm hand. Others, he’d had no choice but to exterminate. Some, like the rabid Feral who’d gone so mad he killed anything that came near him, had been easy decisions.
This assignment was different, true. Raven was nothing like any Feral he’d ever seen. Not only was she beautiful, but intelligent and not the slightest bit savage.
Assessment. What he’d seen so far seemed extremely promising. She appeared less and less Feral the more she talked. Easily rehabilitated, if only he could get her to agree to at least consider giving society another try.
Blinking, he realized he’d drifted off again. The transmitter. They’d been discussing the transmitter. “Will you give me my transmitter?”
“I don’t know.” She swallowed, the movement of her long throat graceful. “Honestly, I’m afraid.”
“Of my report? I’ve already told you I can’t make a full assessment so quickly. What I tell them now will be taken into consideration, but the final report is what matters.”
“What would you say?” She dragged her hand through her hair. “I really am already rehabilitated.”
“You’d have to prove you could live among humans.”
“I can.” She lifted her chin. “I have. I simply choose not to.”
“Maybe you need a vacation,” he suggested gently. “Go into town for an extended stay.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why would I want to do that?”
Careful. “For proof. Documentation. It might be good for you, you know. Soften some edges, break up the routine. Give the humans another shot.” He gestured around the cold, bleak cave. “Imagine getting to sleep on a soft bed, to take long, hot showers.”
Unfortunately, as he spoke, he got a mental image of her naked, standing under the showerhead, water running over her full breasts and down her taut, flat stomach. His body responded, going instantly hard. Shit.
What the hell was wrong with him? When had he become so depraved?
Though she had to be unaware of his arousal, her nostrils flared as though she scented it. “I like my life the way it is,” she repeated stubbornly. “I won’t pretend to be something I’m not.”
Speaking of scent, he could almost swear he could smell the musky scent of female desire. It had to be a trick his own mind played on him, wishful thinking. Had to be, but still his traitorous body, already engorged, thickened.
Hellhounds. Lurching toward his sleeping bag, he kept his back to her as he climbed back inside. “Tired,” he muttered for effect, pulling the down-filled bag up around him and trying to focus. Job. Task. At. Hand. Rehabilitation. Then a nice, long vacation for him. Some place far, far away. No mountains, no snow, no cold.
No Raven.
“I don’t want to live in town,” she repeated. “No, thank you.”
“Just think about it,” he urged, sounding as though he’d swallowed broken glass. “Not as a permanent thing, just as a short break. You already said you periodically go down into Boulder. So why not try staying a few weeks or a month?”
“You don’t understand.” Her breathless tone only succeeded in exciting him further. “I don’t want to be domesticated. I like my life exactly the way it is.”
“Domesticated?” Latching onto the word, knowing he had to focus or risk drowning, he forced out a laugh. “You make it sound as though I’m asking you to become someone’s lapdog.”
Lapdog. Bad choice of words. He instantly pictured her doing a sexy lap dance on top of him.
For hound’s sake, this nonsense had to stop.
Completely unaware, she stared at him. Was it a trick of the light, or had her pupils become larger, darker?
“What else would you call it? I’d have to stay in human shape. Living in human society, you have to abide by their rules. I couldn’t become a wolf whenever I wanted to.”
Trying like hell to picture the last Feral he’d worked with, a wrinkled middle-aged woman with yellowed, chipped teeth and rolls of fat, he nearly missed what Raven was saying.
“You’re worried you wouldn’t be able to change?”
“That’s exactly what I meant.” She gestured with her graceful, long-fingered hands when she got excited.
“Of course you can change,” he scoffed. “We all do. We just have to make sure no humans see.”
“But I don’t have to worry about that now. Here in the mountains, I’m free. I can go where I want, do what I want, with no one watching over me. If I want to be wolf, I become wolf. No rules, no boundaries.”
Simon felt a stab of envy, which he quickly squashed. “That’s not entirely true. Rules exist in nature, just as they do in society. You have rules. You said yourself you were careful to avoid hurting humans.”
“Common sense. Kill or hurt something that’s higher up in the food chain, and all the others come looking for you.”
She leaned close, bringing him a whiff of her scent, feminine and alluring. Why the hell had he touched her to begin with? He knew better than that.
But he’d only been trying to offer comfort, not bring on this inappropriate desire. Damn. He’d just about wrestled his damn arousal to the ground. Now, it surged back, twice as strong.
He forced himself to concentrate on his end of the conversation. “Even in a wolf pack, one has to learn to consider others. You might be Alpha, but you still have to look out for the rest of them.”
She shook her head, sending her long, tangled hair flying. “By choice, not because someone makes me. True, I’m Alpha. They defer to me and in exchange, I look out for them. I’m happy here and I won’t abandon them. Make your report and then leave me alone.”
His regret was genuine. “I can’t.”
Raven cursed, surprising him. “I don’t understand. I’m not bothering anyone.”
“You’ve stolen from campers a lot over the years. There’ve been many reports, so many that you risk having your wild pack hunted.”
“That’s against the law!”
“Is it?” He raised a brow. “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever had a Feral argue with me.”
“Don’t call me that!” The ferocity in her voice lashed at him.
“What? Don’t call you what?”
“Feral. I’m beginning to hate that word. I’m not Feral, not at all. I’m just me. Raven.”
Reaching for him, she gripped his arm. “Tell me honestly that you wouldn’t rather have my life. Look me in the eye and tell me that. Maybe then, I’ll believe you.”
Simon stared. Far too busy trying to calm the raging inferno of his desire for her to answer, he shook his head. He both wanted her to let him go and to come closer.
She came closer, until her nose touched his. He bit back a groan. He wanted to kiss those full, parted lips. He knew she’d taste sweet, like wild berries fresh from the vine.
This had to stop. If he let himself do even one of the things he imagined doing with her, he’d turn himself in immediately. Expulsion from the Society, court-martial, all of these would be in his future then. And he’d deserve them.
Him. Simon the Terminator. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe something had happened when he fell. He certainly had knocked all the sense from his head. Hopefully after he got a good night’s sleep, he’d return to normal.
He had to.
When he didn’t answer, she flashed him a triumphant smile. “Your life sucks,” she said with much satisfaction. “No, thanks. I’ll pass.”
Sucks. Another evocative word. Hellhounds. He pushed the thought away. “You have no idea what my life is like.”
“I do,” she insisted. “You forget, I’ve lived in society, among them. I’ve tried it. Didn’t like it. I’ve got everything I need and I much prefer this.”
“You were in a cage,” he pointed out. “Not exactly normal living.”
“Before that. Growing up. I never fit in anywhere. Here, finally, I do.”
To his relief she leaned back, away from him, and gestured at her small cave. “This, and my wolves, is much better than the cruelty
of humans.”
Cruelty. The professor. Blindly, he grabbed on to the one thing that might be able to keep him from yanking her on top of him and ravaging her mouth.
He swore under his breath.
“What?” she asked, eyes wide and impossibly blue.
Again he felt that jolt of lust. There had to be another reason. Maybe the need to make a report had him unsettled. That had to be why his reactions were so off. Though he didn’t understand how he’d become such a slave to rules and routine, his inner clock, something he’d always been vaguely aware of, insisted he contact the Society and do it now.
Yet the Feral—the woman—Raven—had his transmitter and showed no sign of wanting to return it. She didn’t know that if too much time passed between contacts, they’d send someone looking for him. Another Protector would come and, believing Simon’s life to be in danger, he’d be authorized to kill the Feral on sight.
To kill Raven.
He glanced at her again, trying to decide how to explain the situation to someone who’d have no idea what he meant. Again, her beauty startled him, again the powerful attraction rocked him to the core.
“I need to report in,” he rasped.
As if preordained, the transmitter let off a shriek. Simon jumped, as did Raven. She turned and stared at the back of the cave, which must be where she’d stashed his backpack.
“I thought I turned the damn thing off,” she said.
“Not possible.”
“I see that.”
The transmitter shrieked again.
“What does that mean? Low batteries?”
“No.” Expression grim, he pointed. “That’s the alert signal. I haven’t reported in and it’s been forty-eight hours. If I don’t respond within ten minutes, they’ll send someone else.”
Chapter 5
“B ut seriously, I turned it off.”
“I told you, you can’t. Even if you switch the power to Off, there’s an internal battery that keeps the homing device working.”
Now she cursed.
“Let me have it.” Then, seeing her furious expression, he softened his order with a “Please.”
“Against my better judgment,” she retorted, rising and stomping to the back of the cave. She retrieved the backpack, digging out the yellow electronic device before stowing the pack away.
Wild Wolf Page 6