Destiny Unchained

by Leia Shaw

  Natalia always “missed” the first shot. A simple thought and the knife unloaded from the tree and stabbed into Cristian’s back, cutting through muscle and lodging into his spine. She struck him in the stomach with the heel of her boot. When he lurched forward she grabbed his head and twisted. A snapped neck would put a werewolf out for just long enough to get a good head start. The only thing that would kill him would be to sever his head from his body.

  If she was smart, she would slice through his neck like she’d done to so many werewolves before. No one had ever come so close to truly capturing her. And now that he knew she could manipulate metal, he wouldn’t make the mistake of wearing a belt buckle around her again.

  While he was unconscious, Natalia studied him. His scraggly blonde hair was just long enough to touch the tops of his shoulders. It matched the scruffiness of his unshaven face. He had a wild look about him that made her heart flutter.

  Her hand reached for her knife, but she stopped. With a long drawn out sigh, she slid it into her boot instead. Maybe it would be the biggest mistake of her life, but she didn’t kill him. She’d left him a clear message not to mess with her – one he would heed if he had any common sense. But she doubted very much that he did.

  She chuckled and brushed back a piece of hair from his face. “Cristian the werewolf.”

  Chapter 3

  The warm glow of the pack camp filtered through the trees. Cooked rabbit wafted along the breeze. Cristian’s stomach rumbled. Kicking up the pine needles, he sprinted the remainder of the distance to camp. He shifted as he slowed his pace, walking into the camp on two legs, instead of four.

  “Saved you some stew,” Sorin said, handing him a pair of jeans. He pulled them on quickly, not because of modesty, but because it was damn cold at night in Wyoming.

  “Thanks.” He strolled into camp, receiving respectful head nods as he went. “I’m starving.”

  The kitchen was the first building in the circle of cabins. A short, young woman with brown hair and dark eyes, and possible Mexican heritage handed him a bowl. “I’ll get you some bread, sir,” she said in a reverent tone.

  He gave Sorin a questioning look. “New cook?”

  “Claudio’s new mate.”

  “Really?” Too hungry to use a spoon, even in the presence of a woman, he placed the bowl at his lips and drained the contents. “Good for him,” he said when he finally came up for air.

  Sorin frowned. “She’s not one of us.”

  “You know as well as I do that mates don’t betray each other. If Claudio trusts her, we can too.”

  Not everyone agreed with Cristian’s progressive views on pack laws, especially about allowing human mates to live with the pack.

  Sorin, his best friend since childhood and pack Beta, had old-fashioned views about women. He grunted. “I like the old ways better.”

  When the young woman returned with a chunk of freshly baked bread, Cristian stopped himself just short of snatching it from her hand. He smiled warmly. “I’m Cristian.” He held out his hand to shake. She stared at it, her mouth hung open. He looked down and saw it was covered in dirt and dried blood. “Sorry.” He wiped his hand on his jeans then gave up with a shrug. “What’s your name?”

  “Maria.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Maria.”

  Sorin rolled his eyes. Maria noticed and dropped her gaze. Claudio must have taught her a thing or two about pack hierarchy. He really wished they would stop doing that.

  He sent an irritated glare to his best friend then leaned in toward Maria and whispered, “Don’t mind him. He’s just jealous he doesn’t have as pretty a mate as Claudio does.”

  He winked and her face lit up. She was a pretty thing. Sorin scoffed behind him, hearing the quiet exchange.

  Cristian sighed. “I better go before he gets in a truly sour mood.”

  She nodded dutifully.

  “Thank you for the stew. It was delicious.” He handed her the bowl, bowed slightly then left with Sorin at his side.

  “You’re starting to sound like an ornery old man,” Cristian told him when they stepped outside.

  His beta followed him down the rugged path. The camp was humming with energy. Low voices filled the air, competing with the sound of sharpening weapons. A large bonfire crackled in the center of camp. Small cabins surrounded it, each housing three to four men.

  “Ornery?” Sorin scowled, which showed his stress lines, confirming Cristian’s accusation. “I’m just a traditionalist. Nothing wrong with that.”

  Cristian gave him a sideways glance. “Careful or you’ll start sounding like your father.”

  “We’re in our fourth century, what do you expect? We should act like old men. We are!”

  He scoffed. “Speak for yourself.” He grabbed up the nearest stick and sparred with a young boy who beamed from the attention of the alpha. “You see, Sorin? I’m as spry as a pup.” The boy stabbed Cristian in the gut and he bent over coughing and groaning. He didn’t fool the boy though. The child laughed at the dramatic conquer. Cristian patted the boy’s head and dropped the stick on the ground. Sorin glowered the whole time.

  “Different views are good for the pack, I suppose,” Cristian said. “I just wish you’d stop terrorizing the new women. Maybe you should spend more time looking for your fated mate. There’s someone out there even for a cranky old man like yourself.” Cristian laughed at Sorin’s dubious expression. Ironic to call him old. Sorin was a vision of youth. And if he’d put his icy blue eyes and thick black hair to good use, he’d have women lining up to be his mate.

  “What do I want a mate for? Needy, emotional, irrational creatures.”

  “What do you want a mate for?” he repeated, his brows raised. “To mate with!”

  His lips curled into a smirk. “Well, there is that. But it’s not like I’ve been a living saint in that regard. Maybe some of us aren’t as lucky as you. Maybe we don’t all find our mates.”

  If Cristian hadn’t known his friend for so long he would have missed that one fleeting moment of insecurity.

  “You had a few decades with your mate. You’ll always have that.”

  His heart still ached from the loss, though it had been a few centuries. “You assume a lot, Sorin. Haven’t you ever heard the age old question, is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”

  Cristian quickened his pace, his bare chest covered in goose bumps now that they’d left the fire behind. His cabin was behind the first row, past the larger family cabins, just in front of the tree line. Though it seemed far removed from the rest of the community, he’d picked that spot purposefully. Raised up on a slight incline, he had a view of the entire camp and the forest around them. It was a spot to protect, and the first line of defense.

  “Well?” Sorin said, impatiently. “Is it?”

  “Would my answer change what you do?” It was an odd conversation to have with his best friend in the middle of the night. Maybe they should be painting each other’s nails and crying into tissues.

  “No.”

  “Then what does it matter?” He walked up the steps that lead to his cabin. Sorin waited at the bottom. “You can come in.”

  Cristian pulled on a long sleeved shirt and wool socks. God damn he’d never get used to the cold after shifting. Fall came too quickly this year, and it was only September.

  He’d have to send someone to fetch his boots and clothes from the spot where he’d woken with a headache and bruised ego. He had shifted immediately, hoping to pick up the vampire’s scent. But the trail had gone too cold. He’d been unconscious for almost an hour. The little shit. He wanted to ring her neck, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop a smile when he thought of their verbal sparring. Vampire or not, she was a sharp-tongued, quick-witted thing.

  “How are the men?” he asked Sorin. When he’d shot the vampire, he’d called in a team to bring the injured to camp.

  “They’ll heal. They’re eager to see the vampire come t
o justice.”

  He nodded. “Well, they’ll have to wait. I don’t have her.”

  Sorin’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t have – don’t tell me she got away.”

  He tried unsuccessfully to hold back a small chuckle remembering their curious exchange. A woman tied to a tree and demanding answers from her captor? It was so absurd and uniquely intriguing he almost wished she’d stuck around, just for the chance to figure her out.

  “I hardly think this funny,” Sorin said disapprovingly.

  Probably not. “No, but she bested me fair and square.”

  His eyes widened. “You were bested by a vampire?”

  “That’s what I said.” He grabbed a pair of boots from his closet and slipped them on. It was so silent behind him he thought Sorin had a stroke.

  “Okay. Here’s what we say. You interrogated her ruthlessly and found out she’d been informing other vampires about the wolves’ blood so you killed her on the spot. Everyone would agree it was justified. I won’t say otherwi –”

  “It’s no secret, Sorin,” Cristian said. “I’m not ashamed. She was a good fighter.” Tough as nails on the outside yet she’d let him live when she could have killed him. In fact, she’d promised to kill him. But words meant nothing without action to back them up. And that vampire was a walking contradiction.

  “Don’t be a fucking moron,” Sorin said bluntly.

  He laughed. Cristian could always count on him for the God-honest truth.

  “Of course we can’t let the pack get word you’d been bested by a vampire. It would ruin your credibility.”

  “Why? I’m not invincible.”

  “They need to think you are, man!” He gave him an incredulous look. “Do you want every dominant male in this place challenging you for rank?”

  He opened his mouth to answer but Sorin cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Let me handle the PR.”

  Cristian nodded. He trusted his beta with his life. And in these scenarios, he was often right.

  Sorin looked him over, his lips curving into a smile. “I can’t believe you got your ass kicked by a vampire. And a woman, no less.”

  “Being a woman had nothing to do with it. And I didn’t get my ass kicked. I just underestimated her.” It wouldn’t happen again.

  Sorin held a hand over his mouth. His shoulders shook.

  Cristian sighed. “Go on. Might as well get it out.”

  When he removed his hand, he burst out with a deep belly laugh. “Sorry,” he said.

  He didn’t sound sorry. Cristian grumbled.

  “So what did she do to you? Did she give you puppy dog eyes and say ‘you wouldn’t hit a girl, would you?’” He roared with laughter.

  “Very funny.”

  “No, I know…she distracted you by flashing her breasts, right?”

  “Enough.”

  “Or maybe –”

  “I said enough.” Cristian jabbed at his arm and Sorin dodged it, shifting on the balls of his feet.

  “You wanna fight?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “You may be alpha but I can take you.”

  He ducked Sorin’s half-hearted swing. “That’s what you said when we were kids. And how did that turn out?” They wrestled playfully for a few minutes before Cristian trapped him in a headlock. “Yield,” he commanded.

  “You know, seeing you from this perspective, I just noticed how fat you’ve gotten.”

  Cristian tightened his arm around his throat until he coughed and rasped, “All right, man. I yield.”

  Cristian clapped him on the back when Sorin stood, red-faced but laughing. “Come on,” he gestured to the door. “I want to visit the other victims of the little hellion.”

  Sorin tossed him a scornful look. “You almost sound affectionate about her.”

  He froze. Did he? He shook his head. “I have to call her something.”

  “I can think of a few things.”

  “Eh. Her name is trivial.” Natalia. “I won’t hurl insults at insignificant vampires.”

  “I know.” He sighed. “You’re far too honorable to be alpha.”

  Cristian laughed. “You want the job?”

  “Hell, no! I see what you have to put up with. You’ve got to be crazy to want to be alpha.”

  “Then how ‘bout you let me do my job?”

  They walked most of the way to the infirmary in silence. Just a few yards from the door, Cristian stopped Sorin with a hand on his arm. “The answer is yes,” he said softly. “The love was worth the loss.”

  Chapter 4

  Baby blue eyes, almost too big for her head, stared up at Natalia from the missing child poster. Light blonde hair was swept up in messy pigtails. Pink lips formed a wide smile with two missing teeth. Abigail Freeman had been missing for five days in the small town of Rider’s Landing.

  Five days. Natalia’s icy heart clenched. Survival wasn’t likely for the little girl. She’d tracked the Silver Slayer – so named for the color of his coat in wolf form – from Louisiana to the rugged plains of Wyoming. The bastard had been taking children from their families and –

  She almost retched thinking about what he did to them. With a deep breath she pushed back her emotions – a weakness, as all emotions were – folded the flyer into a small square and tucked it into her coat pocket. She scanned Main Street, almost empty at nearly one in the morning.

  Her phone vibrated. Phone service, out here? She sighed when she saw the caller ID.

  “Hello, Moira,” she said into the receiver.

  “Where are you? It’s been over a month since we’ve had a report,” her royal bitchiness snapped.

  “In Wyoming. Service isn’t good out here.” She only wished it were true that night.

  “Well? Have you caught the Slayer?”

  “You’d be the first to know.”

  “This is the longest you’ve ever taken.”

  Natalia let a low growl echo in the receiver. “Do you want to trade places, witch? I’ll sit there in your nice little cottage, all cozied up by the fire, and you can come out here and freeze your ass hunting this sick motherfucker. I hope you like watching bodies pile up cause that’s what you’ll be doing.”

  It was silent on the other end. She looked at her phone. She still had three bars. Pity.

  “No, Natalia, I don’t want to trade places,” Moira answered in a calmer tone. “The sorcerers are riding me hard. Our alliance is shaky at best. It’s a difficult time for every –”

  “I know what it is.” The supernatural world had been sitting on the edge of a knife for the last few decades. The Underworld fought with the sorcerers. The Unseelie fae fought with the Seelie fae. Witches and werewolves made their alliances based on money and favors. The conflicts were fueled by centuries of hate and centered around power. It would all come to a head soon. And it was going to get bloody.

  Natalia worked for the witches, yes, who worked for the sorcerers, but she was nobody’s errand girl. She thought she’d made that clear already. “Tell the sorcerers they can get their fucking asses out of Wales if they think they could do a better job. Otherwise, leave me alone and let me do what I do best.”

  “Yes, of course.” She sighed. “Call me when it’s done.”

  “I always do.”

  Hesitantly, she added, “Good luck, Natalia.”

  Natalia hit “end” and shoved the phone back in her pocket. Moira Amcott confused the hell out of her. Bitchy and demanding one moment, trusting and kind the next – like she was in a constant fight with her witchy DNA. The Amcott’s tempers rivaled the werewolves they assigned her to hunt. Marrying a reasonable warlock and producing three magic-laden children softened Moira at least. Not like her grandmother, who Natalia remembered all too well. She had children and turned into Medusa.

  “Didya’ hear?” A voice jolted her from her thoughts. “Another grizzly attack up north,” an older man said from across the street.

  “Oh, yeah,” another voice said from behind her. She spun around. A middle
aged fellow dressed like an iconic cowboy stared past her to the man across the street. “That’s two this week. It’s a shame but they’ll have to put the beast down.”

  “Where?” she asked. “Where was the attack?”

  The wannabe Clint Eastwood looked her over, his gaze lingering on her breasts. She rolled her eyes. If she weren’t so eager about the lead, she would’ve had a smart-ass remark for the dirty, old man.

  “Stone Falls,” he answered. His lips curved into a smile that may once have been handsomely seductive. “Need a ride?”

  She arched a brow then produced the keys to the Kawasaki Ninja parked next to the sidewalk. With a satisfied smile she hopped on her bike and took off, heading north, straight for Stone Falls, Wyoming.

  Chapter 5

  “Who told you about the wolves?” Cristian asked the trembling vampire, catching his chin in his hand. He was young – couldn’t have been older than twenty one in human years. A college boy straight from suburbia. By the shaky breaths and smell of urine, he must’ve been a young vamp as well.

  Blood dripped down his arms where Sorin had pinned him to a tree with silver daggers through his palms. Three other members of his pack prowled the woods ten miles from camp, searching for signs of other vampires.

  “M-my friend, Alistair,” the young vamp answered. “He s-said the wolves’ blood had magic. Made us stronger.”

  “Did he also tell you it’s addictive? Or that it makes you high as a kite?”

  The vampire shook his head.

  “Your friend is either very stupid or a very bad friend. He didn’t tell you the most important part. The wolves are protected. By us.” His voice was almost soothing. Then again, he didn’t need to raise his voice. When he pulled his alpha stare, men with balls way bigger than this kid, submitted. Besides, he was already going to kill the boy. What good would lecturing or yelling do?

  “Where is your friend Alistair?”