by Amy Pennza
Dom slanted Remy a look. “I haven’t forgotten. People are always frightened of things they don’t understand. We have an opportunity to change that. It might just take some experimenting.”
Remy snorted. “I’m sure you’ll get tons of volunteers for your thought experiments.” For supernatural creatures, werewolves were downright superstitious about anything remotely related to mental abilities. Dom theorized it was their animal sides’ discomfort at processing human speech.
Remy’s theory was that most wolves were bigoted assholes.
“Anyway,” he added, “even if you’re right, and I can receive from non-Telepaths, she was too far out of range.” He and Dom could transmit up to fifty miles or so, but talking to non-Telepaths was different. So far, Remy could only do it when one was in the room with him.
Dom grunted. “If she was in danger like you think, she might have managed it.”
At that little reminder, Remy’s stomach decided to drop into his feet. He glanced at the speedometer.
“Can’t you go any faster? There’s no one on the road.”
Dom’s voice was calm. “Not unless you want me to blow up the engine.”
Ahead, a green sign over the road showed the highway splitting into two sections, with the way to Burlington on the right and Lake Champlain straight ahead.
Dom put on his blinker and drifted into the right lane.
Deep in his mind, Remy’s wolf sprang to attention. The wild, urgent pressure rose in his gut.
“Go straight,” he said.
“That’ll take us into New York.” Dom gestured to the sign. “Burlington is that way.”
Remy sat up straighter and braced his hand on the dash. “We need to go straight. Move back over.”
Dom studied him for a moment, then sighed and moved to the left.
The restless pressure in Remy’s chest quieted. He settled back in his seat and stretched out his legs. Dom’s monstrosity on wheels was a gas guzzler, but at least it had a decent amount of leg room. Most vehicles made him feel like he was stuffed in a clown car.
“So what now?” Dom asked. “You’re going to approach from Asher’s Western border?”
“I don’t know.”
Dom gave him a look.
“I’m just going with my gut,” Remy said.
“Navigating by gut,” Dom muttered.
“You’re the one who insisted on coming.”
Dom was silent, but his disapproval radiated through the car. After a second, he said, “One more question. What are you going to do if you find her?”
“I don’t know. Right now, I just want to make sure she’s okay.”
“You could try using the phone.”
Remy folded his arms. “Yeah, great idea. I’ll just call Asher Benton and tell him his wife screamed my name telepathically. That’ll go over well.”
“And you think showing up unannounced in his territory is better?”
“Yeah. I do, actually.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She sounded…desperate. Like she was running for her life.”
“You got all that from a single word?”
Well, when he put it like that, it sounded a little ridiculous. Remy stared at the trees flashing by outside the window. What if Sophie hadn’t contacted him after all? She’d popped in and out of his head countless times over the past two months, and he’d been thinking of her as he watched the redhead. What if her cry for help was just his stupid sex drive working overtime? He’d seen a woman he couldn’t have, and now he’d invented an excuse to track her down.
He opened his mouth, but a wave of urgency hit him so hard the little hairs on his nape lifted. He grabbed the edges of his seat.
Dom looked at him. “What is it?”
“Pull over,” Remy said. The words spilled from him before he even realized what he was saying.
Dom slowed. “On the highway? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Just pull over.” Remy pointed to the side of the road. The urgent feeling was back in full force, like someone had put a hook through his shirt and now tugged him toward the trees on the side of the road. He released his seat belt as Dom coasted to the side of the road.
Before Dom shifted to park, Remy was out the door and headed for the woods. His heart thumped like a metronome in his chest, and his thoughts caught the beat. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.
“Remy!” Dom caught up and fell into step beside him. “Remy, stop.”
The rich, heady scent of damp soil permeated the air. White pines stood sentinel between the short expanse of scrubby grass between the highway and the forest. Remy broke into a jog as he reached the trees. Hurry. Hurry.
“Remy.”
His wolf roared to the surface, desperate to slip the confines of his human body. They could run so much faster on four legs…
“Stop.” This time, Dom’s voice was laced with unmistakable command.
The single word was like a manacle snapping around Remy’s wrist. The lick of power lashed against his skin, giving him no choice but to obey. He stumbled to a stop and whirled on Dom. “What?” He probably should have made an effort to keep the irritation from his voice, but he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t Dom see this was an emergency?
Dom’s eyes burned wolf blue—a side effect of using his authority to issue a command Remy couldn’t refuse. “You can’t just rush into the forest.”
The fuck he couldn’t. Remy pulled his shirt over his head. Buttons popped, and the sharp sound of ripped cloth split the night. He tossed the shirt to the ground and unbuttoned his jeans.
Dom watched his movements with a tense expression. “We’re a mile from Lake Champlain. These woods are probably crawling with Asher’s wolves.”
Remy toed off his shoes and stood on one foot, then the other, while he removed his jeans. “Then I’ll have to find her as fast as I can.”
“That’s your plan? Be fast?” Dom’s words were sarcastic, but it didn’t come through in his tone. Someone who didn’t know him might think he wasn’t angry at all. Remy knew better. The quiet and deeper Dom’s voice, the closer he was to losing it.
Right now, he was as quiet as he ever got.
Remy’s fangs throbbed under his gums—the first stage of the Turn. He could patch things up with Dom later. Naked now, he let his jeans dangle from one hand. “You waiting here, or what? I might need a getaway car.”
“You don’t even know what you’re looking for.”
“Yes, I do. Sophie’s out there.”
Dom’s gaze was steady. “I can forbid this, Remy.”
The quiet words struck faster and harder than his earlier command. Remy let his own wolf roll over his eyes as he took a step forward. “Try it.”
“Don’t make me. Come up with a real plan and let’s talk about it.”
Talk? Remy gritted his teeth. “I’m not one of your trainees, Dom. I’m a Hunter—”
Dom snatched the jeans from his hands and shoved them into his chest, rocking him back a step. “Then act like it for once!”
Shock left Remy speechless for a second—but only a second. As the surprise of Dom’s outburst faded, anger filled its wake. He flung the jeans to the ground and stepped into Dom’s face. “For once? What does that mean?”
“This isn’t one of your games,” Dom said.
Already so close to the surface, Remy’s wolf dropped his voice into a register a human male couldn’t make. “I’m not playing a game.”
“What is it, then?” Dom had to tilt his head back to meet Remy’s gaze, but the height disadvantage didn’t mute the menace pouring off him. He hadn’t become the second most powerful werewolf in the country by being meek. His fangs showed, and his voice dripped derision, when he said, “You’re risking your life for a woman you spent two hours with.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was a time requirement before it’s okay to help someone.”
“You’re not interested in helping her.”
Remy’s chest brushed Dom�
�s. His own fangs scraped his bottom lip. “Enlighten me, Dominic. What am I interested in?”
“You really want me to say it?”
“Yeah, I want to hear it.”
Dom smiled, but there was no humor in it. “You could have been Beta. Max would have picked you over me.”
“Great,” Remy said. He took a step back, put his hands on his hips, and looked up at the starless sky. “This again.”
Dom talked over him. “Max would have chosen you in a heartbeat if you weren’t so busy being led around by your dick.”
Remy dropped his head and looked right into Dom’s eyes. “Better that than clinging to the memory of a dead woman.”
As soon as he said it, he wanted to snatch the words out of the air.
Dom’s face froze, then he stepped back like he’d been hit.
Regret made a knot in Remy’s throat. “Dom—”
“No.” Dom put up a hand. “Not another word.”
Leaves rustled, and they both snapped their attention to the forest. Remy stared hard at the tree line, and his muscles tensed, prepared for a quick Turn. If Asher’s wolves had found them, they were in for a fight.
A lone wolf emerged from the trees, its sides heaving. It lowered its head like it couldn’t catch its breath. A dark shadow covered its left flank.
Remy squinted. Something was wrong. The shadow…glistened. A second later, the sharp, metallic scent of fresh blood hit his nose. The smell blocked any other scent he might have picked up, making it impossible to identify the wolf.
Except… Memory tugged at him, like someone pulling a thread in his mind.
The wolf lifted its head and locked gazes with him. Its body swayed.
Sophie.
The air rushed from his lungs, and his body moved before his brain realized what was happening. He hit the ground on both knees and caught her as she fell. Tawny fur brushed his arms, his chest, his legs. Blood coated her right side and hip. Her eyes were bright blue in wolf form, but recognition slammed into him as she met his gaze.
“Sophie?” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed gravel.
She held his stare. Then, slowly, she blinked once. Her chest heaved one last time, and she closed her eyes.
“Oh god. Oh Jesus.” He cradled her to his chest and rocked, lamentations spilling from his lips. The blood in her fur was so thick, it squelched against his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut. A mourning howl warbled in his throat, but his human lungs and vocal chords couldn’t give it release.
A warm hand landed on his shoulder. “Remy.”
He tightened his grip on Sophie’s body and growled low in his throat.
“Remy,” Dom said, his voice a little sharper. “She’s not dead.”
Remy opened his eyes. “She’s…”
“She’s not dead.” Dom knelt beside him and pointed. “The wound isn’t as bad as it looks. Her breaths are shallow, but she’s breathing.”
Sure enough, her chest rose and fell in a slight rhythm—almost too tiny to notice. Relief flooded him, the rush of it so strong he felt dizzy. If he hadn’t been holding Sophie, his hands would have shaken. He curled over her, his forehead against the thick ruff of fur around her neck. A faint but steady pulse fluttered against his cheek.
“She was running from something,” Dom said. “Her legs are cut to pieces.”
Remy kept his head where it was. As long as he could feel her heart beating, he knew she was alive.
“We’ve got to get her back to the Lodge,” Dom said, an odd note in his voice.
The Lodge. She’d be safe there. Remy lifted his head but kept his eyes on Sophie. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “I’m afraid to move her.”
“She needs a Healer.”
Dom was right. They couldn’t stay here, not with Asher on the other side of the lake. Taking her to a human hospital was out of the question. The Lodge was the best place for her.
“All right,” he said. “All right.”
With his gaze on Sophie, he felt rather than saw Dom’s stare. After a long silence, Dom said, “Remy?”
“Yeah?”
Dom’s voice was gentle. “If we’re going to take her to the Lodge, you’ve got to stand up.”
Right. That made sense. “Okay.”
“Here,” Dom said. “I’ll take her.” He stretched a hand toward Sophie’s head.
Red descended over Remy’s vision. He snapped his jaws an inch from Dom’s fingers. “You’re not touching her.”
Dom jerked his arm back. Shock flared in his eyes.
As fast as it had come, the red haze dissipated. Remy stared at Dom’s hand. Where had that come from? He drew in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I just… I’ve got her.”
“It’s fine.” Dom stood. “I won’t touch her. I’ll just help you up, okay?”
“Okay.” Sophie’s weight was more than manageable for him, but he didn’t want to jostle her any more than he had to. He tensed when Dom touched him, but the violent impulse didn’t return.
“Let’s get her to the car,” Dom said.
The distance between the forest and the SUV seemed a lot farther the second time. Every instinct urged Remy to run, but he forced himself to keep a sedate pace.
Dom walked beside him, stooping to pick up Remy’s discarded clothes as they went. When they reached the SUV, he popped the passenger door.
Remy nudged past him and climbed in.
“What are you doing?” Dom asked.
Remy settled on the seat. Watching Sophie’s face for any sign of discomfort, he shifted her so her head rested in the bend of his arm. “What’s it look like?”
“She’ll be more comfortable on the seat.”
“Not happening.” He took his eyes off Sophie so he could stare at Dom. He didn’t have a mirror handy, so he had no idea what his expression looked like, but he hoped it was something like “you’re not getting me out of this car without a SWAT team and a couple of tigers.”
Dom studied him a minute. “At least put some clothes on.”
“I’m not moving her again.”
“If we get stopped—”
“Don’t break any traffic laws, and we won’t.”
Dom looked like he might argue, but then he tossed Remy’s clothes on the seat and shut the door.
In the cocoon of the SUV’s interior, Remy shifted so Sophie’s head rested more fully on his arm. Her heartbeat was a barely-there pulse. The coppery scent of blood rose all around him.
Don’t think about it.
He couldn’t let himself dwell on how badly she was hurt. Panicking wouldn’t help anything. She was breathing. That was enough. Werewolves might not be immortal, but they could heal just about any wound. Her body was already repairing itself. Once they got her to a Healer, he could find out who the hell had done this to her.
Fury flooded him, singeing his veins.
He tightened his arms around her. Yeah, fury was a whole hell of a lot more useful than panic.
Dom got in and started the car. Before he pulled onto the highway, he swiveled and met Remy’s eyes.
“Any idea what she was running from?”
“No. But I’m going to find out.”
“I’ll call Max. We’ll need help once we get to the Lodge.”
“No.”
“What?” Dom narrowed his gaze.
“I don’t want Max to know. Not yet.”
“Are you out of your mind? You have the wife of a territorial heir in your arms.” Dom leaned to the side and pulled a phone from his pocket.
A growl warbled low in Remy’s throat. Tiny firecrackers popped in his head as his fangs punched through his gums.
Dom froze. Blue fire rolled over his eyes. Voice low, lips barely moving, he said, “Think very carefully before you challenge me, Remy.”
That was funny, because Remy had no interest in a challenge. His wolf was another story. It wanted…
Remy frowned and closed his eyes. What did it want?
An a
morphous thought drifted through his head. Safe… The wolf wanted—no, needed—to make sure Sophie was safe. Protected. In his mind’s eye, it paced, frustrated at the metaphysical bonds his human half placed on it.
“Remy—”
“Shh, I’m thinking.”
Dom growled—a human sound rather than a true wolf’s snarl.
It took a few tries before Remy could speak. His human vocal cords didn’t want to work, which meant the wolf was perilously close to the surface. He opened his eyes.
“Look,” he said, the wolf making his voice sound like he just swallowed sand paper. “I don’t want to challenge you. I just…”
Safe…safe.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “I get it.”
Dom frowned.
“Let me take her to my place,” Remy said. Dom’s frown deepened, and he rushed on. “Twenty-four hours. Give me a day. Let her wake up and tell us what happened.” Yeah, the wolf liked that. Deep within, the beast slowed its pacing.
“Twenty-four hours,” Dom said. Judging from the tight set of his mouth, he didn’t like it. But he hadn’t said no.
Remy nodded. “It’ll be less traumatic for her than waking up in a Lodge filled with Hunters. She can heal and then talk to Max.”
Dom looked at Sophie in Remy’s lap. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
The wolf relaxed, which drained some of the tension from Remy’s shoulders. He stroked a hand down Sophie’s muzzle as Dom put the SUV in gear and pulled onto the highway.
Sophie stirred, and Remy hugged her tighter against his chest.
He had no idea what he was doing. But at least he’d bought some time to figure it out.
5
The dream was always the same.
In it, she lay on her side, even though she slept best on her stomach. She always stayed on her side now. It was the only way to keep an eye on the door.
Because he was quiet, and the only way to tell he was near was to watch for a shadow in that narrow space where the bottom of the door met the plush carpet.
At first, she’d thought he was just a natural predator—the kind of wolf who slunk through the forest like a shadow, never crunching a leaf or snapping a branch. The trappings of human life never seemed to tame wolves like that. They were just as soundless inside four walls.