I wanted to bite him so badly my jaw ached.
The sirens grew louder.
I still had no idea if Wes had moved. I jumped back three steps, trying to gain ground, and glanced behind me. Wes sat on the floor looking dazed. Victoria was bent over him, speaking too low for me to hear. He didn’t seem to be responding to her.
The air whistled as something cut through it. I turned back but wasn’t fast enough. Something pricked sharply against my side. A human arm hovered in front of me. I bit down and had the satisfaction of finding purchase on flesh. I bit harder. My teeth sank through.
Someone cried out—Mrs. Lexington—and the arm retracted. She backed away. I moved to follow but a burning ripped its way along my side. I stared in momentary confusion at the metal protruding from my fur. “She stabbed me,” I said, more shocked than anything.
“Tara, get him out of here,” Logan called. He was still engaged with Mr. Lexington.
I hesitated, itching to retaliate, wanting to help Logan, needing to get Wes out, and hating to leave the hybrids behind.
The sirens were loud now. There was no doubt left in my mind they were headed here. Or already outside.
The caged hybrids were going nuts. Growling, whining, some even howling to the tone of the wailing outside. I couldn’t think. All I saw was the gleaming metal protruding from my flesh.
It hurt now. More than the pain I’d experienced when Leo bit me. More than the damage Chris had done when Olivia sent him after me. More than pain I’d ever experienced. My legs gave underneath me. I fell.
My chin hit the ground as a uniformed officer burst through the door.
The scene before me felt set in slow motion.
The officer’s head swiveled left to right, taking in the scene. His brows knitted in confusion at the odd scene before him: cages upon spiky cages of yellow-eyed wolves—not to mention one cage containing a naked man, beaten half to death and foaming at the mouth in fury at being locked inside. Logan and Mr. Lexington locked in a lethal dance, a metal rod clutched in Mr. Lexington’s white-knuckled hand. Wes and George sitting dazedly in the middle of the concrete floor, a gorgeous blond with trails of black mascara running down her face bent over them. She took turns pressing her palm to their forehead and lightly slapping their cheeks. And Steppe—the master of ceremonies—standing back with arms folded, watching the show he’d created.
The uniformed officer waved a hand and men rushed in behind me, all armed with guns pointed at one of us. Everyone but Steppe. The head uniform went straight to him, calling out. I couldn’t hear what he said but Steppe nodded at whatever it was and extended his hand.
They shook.
It struck me as ironic and infuriating that out of all of us, Steppe seemed like the stand-up citizen in this picture. The one the cops had apparently chosen as innocent at first glance. It made me hate him even more.
If you were guilty, you should be required to look it.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
I couldn’t be bothered to care where that last thought had come from.
I tried to stand but every muscle I used burned. This metal …
The uniform was giving orders, pointing this way and that. Mr. Lexington and Logan had already been separated. Logan was kicking and thrashing against the uniformed officer holding him. It surprised me to see him so worked up. I followed his gaze and saw the reason. A bulky-armed uniform held Victoria tight against him while he fussed at her to “shut up” and “hold still.” She kicked and bucked against the pressure but the man’s grip held, though barely.
Logan looked furious. He yelled words I’d never heard him use before. No one listened.
Steppe appeared above me, a looming shadow in a business suit. He stared down at me in cold curiosity. “I told you to stop this before it was too late,” he said.
“But I’m immune to metal,” I said when I found my voice.
His lip curled back. “Your body may be immune to metal’s supernatural components, but you still bleed like the rest of us.”
My head slumped back to the floor. Wes had said knowing about my immunity would make me reckless. I didn’t want him to be right. I hated when he was right.
God, it hurt.
Steppe bent closer and I flinched. He ignored my reaction and studied the wound and the stake that still protruded. Someone called his name and he rose. I looked away. If he was going to jam the stake into my heart, I didn’t want to watch. Across the room, I saw Wes being hauled to his feet, his arms behind his back as handcuffs were snapped into place around his wrists.
The policeman shoved and Wes stumbled. My eyes burned with hot tears.
Wes recovered his footing and trudged on. He turned his head and met my eyes. There was no attempt to break free or shift or anything else that could’ve saved him. His eyes were empty as he trudged toward the exit.
And then he was gone.
“Load her up.”
Steppe’s voice brought me back. Hands roamed over me, looking for purchase, and then I was half lifted, half dragged onto some sort of flat surface. There was some jostling as I was lifted into the air and then I steadied as they carried me in the opposite direction as the door I’d seen Wes leave through.
I craned my neck, trying to catch a glimpse through the crowd, some opening or hint of rescue. It couldn’t end like this. Wes arrested. Steppe winning.
I tried searching for Emma or even George, but there was nothing. My mind was empty of any awareness except the pain.
I lifted my head an inch off the platform and then let it fall again. Uniforms were everywhere. I couldn’t see a thing.
One face blurred into focus and my heart seized.
“Grandma?”
The word came out mangled and muted through the burning pain in my side. I doubted my handlers understood me. They must’ve viewed it as some sort of rebellion because a hand closed over the stake, twisting it sideways inside my shoulder.
I howled and jerked as the burning intensified. It felt like lava, liquid pain being inserted into my veins. I couldn’t, I couldn’t—
“Don’t fight it. It won’t stop what’s coming.”
Steppe. Still here. Gloating. Winning.
“I will beat you.” The effort of my words sapped my remaining strength.
He laughed, the sound brittle and cocky and tinny in my ears. “Not today. Today is mine.”
The lights overhead flickered and winked out as the door closed behind us. Darkness pressed against more than my vision. Whatever Steppe wanted me for, he had me now.
Book 5 coming in 2014
*****************************
Acknowledgements
As with any book, the list of thank you’s due is extensive. It takes the varying talents of many people—some would say a murder of friends—to ready a story. I intend to name a few.
First, to my soul mate best friends, Jennifer Sommersby and Angeline Kace, who are far from fictional and talk me down off high places where monsters lurk. You two are priceless and I love you.
To my Hotshots (you know who you are), I would be lost without you. Your constant chatter and loving threats that I hurry up and write the next installment for Wes and Alex are the exact motivation I need. I appreciate every tweet and reshare. Pimpin’ ain’t easy.
To Kelly at Inkslinger for her inspiring pep talks and Jessica for her mad marketing skills. Her response time to my texts and emails rivals a 911 operator. To my many author friends, Tiffany King, Desiree DeOrto, Adriane Boyd, Carol and Adam Kunz, Chelsea Fine, Kate Copsey, Heather Self, who make writing a community instead of a solitary existence, I owe you my sanity. And sometimes my insanity.
I am beyond lucky to have those in my real life who inspire and encourage me to continue to pen new worlds. Brooke and Austin, you give me purpose and make it so much fun to dream. To Krystle, the President of my Master Mind group, thank you for your unwavering support and enthusiasm for my dreams. You keep me pointed forward. And to Dylan, who
tells me everything is going to be okay in a way that makes me believe him. I owe you all the small moments where I put aside doubt and pursue passion with my whole heart.
Finally, to my readers, to whom all my stories are truly dedicated. Your excitement and willingness to discuss my characters as if they are real (because they are, duh!) are so thrilling. I wake up every morning looking forward to talking to each of you. Thank you!
About the Author
Heather Hildenbrand was born and raised in a small town in northern Virginia where she was homeschooled through high school. She now lives in coastal VA, a few miles from the Atlantic Ocean, with her two adorable children. She works from home, part time, as a property manager and when she's not furiously pounding at the keyboard, or staring off into space whilst plotting a new story, she's lying on the beach, soaking in those delicious, pre-cancerous rays.
Heather loves Mexican food, hates socks with sandals, and if her house was on fire, the one thing she'd grab is her DVR player.
You can find out more about her and her books at www.heatherhildenbrand.blogspot.com
Or stalk her here:
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Heather is a co-founder of Accendo Press, a publishing group she operates with fellow authors: Angeline Kace and Jennifer Sommersby. Accendo (a-CH-endo), A Latin word, means “to kindle, illuminate, inflame, or set fire.” This is something Accendo strives to do inside a reader’s imagination with every title released. For a complete list of titles and author bios, visit www.accendopress.com.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at some new releases!
The Grey Wolves Series, Book 7
By Quinn Loftis
Prologue
“When I look in the mirror I see my face, my blue eyes, black hair, and strong jaw. But I don’t recognize the figures staring back at me. Something inside me has changed, grown darker, colder. My wolf rages inside, constantly fighting me for control. I know I mustn’t give in. For if I do, chaos will come crashing down around us, along with lifeless bodies.”
~Fane
Fane felt sweat dripping from his brow as he ran. His lungs burned with effort as he tried to suck in more air. He could see her, just up ahead. She was crying and screaming for him to help her.
"I'm coming!" He yelled.
His footfalls pounded against the earth, seeming to fall in time with the beating of his heart. Every time he got close to catching up, she would be ripped from his grasp. He was losing her. He felt his wolf clawing to get out, raging, howling inside of him. Yet no matter how he tried, he couldn't phase. He felt helpless, and that feeling only fueled the burning anger deep inside of him. She was his. His to protect and over and over he failed her.
Fane sat up suddenly, gasping for breath. He blinked several times and looked around in the darkness of the room he shared with his mate. Another dream, he thought. Sleep continued to elude him. Along with it, the peace he so desperately wanted. He glanced over to where Jacquelyn lay, or should be laying, he thought with a frown. He closed his eyes and reached out to her through their bond. He found her sitting with Jen and Sally by the large stone fireplace in one of the sitting rooms in the Romanian mansion, a place at which she seemed to take refuge more and more lately. No fire burned. The hearth, like his heart, was cold.
Fane bit back the anger he felt at her for leaving him alone in their bed—again. But he knew he couldn’t blame her. He knew he had been distant from her, knew that she ached for him to talk to her, to touch her, and yet still he held himself back.
Utter fury boiled inside of him; he needed to destroy an enemy that was not flesh and blood. But he feared that she would see this and he didn’t know how he could explain that to her. How did he fight a memory? How did he defeat something that was no longer happening, but wouldn’t let go of him? He was at a loss and so he kept her at arm’s length, to protect her from what he had become.
It had been two weeks since they had defeated Desdemona and yet it felt as though it was only yesterday. Vasile and the other Alphas were doing their best to work together in a peaceful manner, attempting to formulate a course of action. A new enemy had a risen just as the old one had fallen and the supernatural world now waited with bated breath to see what this new evil would bring.
Fane knew he should be helping his father and the others. He knew that it was his duty to lead and to set an example for others, but knowing and doing are two very different things. The truth was, his control was gone. Something in his wolf had snapped after seeing their mate trapped in her own mind. She had been experiencing the worst kinds of violation and abuse and he had only been able to stand by and watch. Now it took every ounce of strength he had just to let her out of this sight. For the first few days after the battle he hadn't left her side. It was only after she threatened to have Peri put a binding curse on him that he relented to her demand to have time with her two best friends. But he was always in her mind, always attune to her whereabouts and safety. It angered her more that, though he demanded she stay near him, he would not let her in. The bond was open, but not where she could see into his heart. He remembered her exact words when he had finally relented to her pleas.
“I’m tired of being in this room, Fane,” she had told him. She had been standing by the window, gazing out longingly. She kept her back to him as she spoke. “I love you, you know this, but I need more than just this.”
“I just want you safe,” Fane had told her through gritted teeth.
She had laughed bitterly, “Safe and caged are two very different things. You have got to get over whatever obsession it is you have with protecting me. We are in your father’s freaking house, I couldn’t be safer.”
“Too many wolves.”
She laughed again and turned to face him. “I’m done. I’ve tried to be patient and understanding. I’ve tried to talk to you, to get you to help me understand what’s going on with you, but you won’t let me in. I’m your damn mate, your wife, and you won’t talk to me. You can either get your crap together and respect me the way I deserve to be respected…, or I will drag Peri into this mess and bind you. You won’t be able to touch me, not like you normally do anyway,” she spat out and Fane had felt as if she had slapped him.
“Jacquelyn,” his chest ached as he spoke her name and he took a step towards her.
“Don’t,” she snarled as she held up her hand, “You are going to fix this, Fane Lupei, and it better be sooner than later because I’m this close,” she’d held up her hand pinching her fingers together, with no space in-between, “to packing my crap and finding a different room.”
Fane would like to say that he didn’t lose his cool. He’d like to say he didn’t shred the sheets on the bed or throw the TV across the room, but he’d be lying. Her declaration brought out his wolf. The idea of her leaving him, of not being in their room where she belonged, was more than his wolf, or he could take. Jacquelyn’s eyes had widened, but there was more anger than fear in them when she had stormed from the room. That had been two days ago.
He hadn’t known if she would come back that night or not. She had briefly spoken to him through their bond to let him know where she was but then she had shut him out cold. She barely spoke to him when she chose to be around him and what little she did was short and to the point.
Coming back to the present, Fane climbed out of bed and staggered a bit. His limbs felt stiff and tight from the intensity of the dream and it took a few steps before he felt them loosen. He went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, but avoided looking in the mirror. He didn’t want to see what stared back at him.
When he came back into the bedroom, he stopped abruptly in mid–step when he saw Sally sitting in one of the chairs that was in the small sitting area.
“Does your mate know you are in another man’s room?” He asked dryly as he altered his course to the closet and grabbed a shirt. He slip
ped it over his head and then rejoined Sally, though he did not take a seat.
“He does, though he is not happy that I did not allow him to come with me.” Sally stared at him as if he were a new species of bug that needed examining. He stared right back. He felt his wolf stir and had to push him down. Sally stood and walked over to him. He tensed, but didn’t move. She slowly lifted her hand and placed it on his chest and he watched as she closed her eyes. He wanted to push her away. To growl at her for thinking she had a right to touch him, but then, she was a healer and it was, therefore, her right.
He tried to keep the walls in his mind up but Sally was strong and she pushed through with little effort. He waited for her to see what he had become and then run screaming from the room. He felt her presence, but it wasn’t the same as the mate bond, there was no intimacy involved, and yet at the same time he felt very vulnerable.
She stepped back as her hand dropped and her eyes opened. She met his gaze and her face became stern.
“She could help,” she told him firmly, but her words were gentle.
“At what cost to herself?” he asked.
“It is her right to sacrifice for you, just as much as it is your right,” she continued before he could speak. “It’s spreading inside of you like a disease and eventually your wolf will take over. The wolf taking over, all instinct, without any of the reasoning of the man would be a very, very bad thing. You know this and still you hold back. She is aching and empty because of your refusal to allow her to be what you need.”
Blood Rule (Book 4, Dirty Blood series) Page 23