Wolf Undaunted

by Shannon Curtis

  “Who are you?” she asked him. She’d seen him before, but couldn’t quite place him.

  He pursed his lips. “Really? I’ve saved your life twice now.”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  “My name is Dave Carter, I’m the witch who put you under the suspension spell to stop the lycan toxin spreading your system. I’m also the witch who was there when you woke up, and fought with your brother to defend you against your father’s men.”

  “You’re the one who put me in the coma?”

  Dave gave her a courtly bow. “You’re welcome.”

  “Then how do you explain him? Can you see him?” she asked, jerking her thumb in Zane’s direction. Zane frowned.

  Dave shook his head. “I can only see him if I’m linked with you.”

  Vivianne frowned. “Linked? What does that mean?”

  “If I touch you, I can see him, hear him. If I’m not touching you, he’s gone.”

  “He’s right here and can hear every damned word,” Zane growled.

  Vivianne swallowed. He’d been touching her when she was unconscious. Her hands curled into fists, and Dave held up a finger.

  “Don’t. I’m not a sleaze. For this, think of me like you would a doctor.”

  “You’re not a doctor,” Ryder and Hunter chorused.

  “A magical doctor. Whatever. What do you remember of the night you were bitten?”

  The change of topic caught Vivianne off guard, and she blinked. “Uh, pain,” she said instinctively. Zane looked at her, an understanding in his eyes. He’d “visited” her last nightmare. He’d seen her memory on replay—although there were some bits that were more of a fantasy than a memory.

  Oh, God, no. Not a fantasy. That would imply she’d wanted him to kiss her, that she’d been harboring some secret desire for the damn werewolf. Ugh. No. Not that.

  Although, he was a good kisser. In her dreams, anyway. Better than good, actually. Pretty damn fantastic—damn it, there was that word again. She was not crushing on the lycan. Her father would disown her. Her colony would spurn her.

  “It was pretty sudden.” She hurried on, hoping that Hunter didn’t still have some backdoor access to her mind and see her mentally fumbling about over Zane. “Black wolf, bounding out of the darkness, fangs. Pain. Then pretty much nothing.”

  Dave folded his arms, and his leather jacket creaked with the movement. “Do you remember anything about visiting the Woodland pack?”

  “That wasn’t a damn visit,” Zane muttered. “There were no tea and scones and civilized conversation.”

  She shot him a quick glance, then shook her head. “No, not really. I vaguely remember my brother finding me, but then it’s all a bit black until I woke up in my father’s clinic.”

  “You don’t remember the bonfire?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

  “You don’t remember your brother attacking Zane Wilder?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t even know who he was until last night.”

  She heard Zane mutter, but couldn’t quite make out the words. Something about ego, and sucks.

  Dave rubbed his chin. “You two are definitely connected somehow.”

  “Ask him how we disconnect,” Zane said, elbowing her gently to catch her attention. His elbow passed through her arm, and she felt a warm tingle. Not painful, just...stimulating. For a moment she was surprised by the contact. Then she realized Zane wanted to get gone from her about as much as she wanted him gone. That realization brought with it just a tinge of...what? Hurt? Dejection?

  Oh, crap, there was no way she was going to feel sad about that. No. Way.

  “We want a separation.”

  Zane turned to her, and their gazes met. Sadness, confusion—she didn’t quite understand it, but they seemed to mirror each other.

  “I can’t separate them,” Hunter said, shaking his head. “Whatever is linking them, it’s a really strong bond that I can’t break.”

  Dave’s head whipped around and he stared at Hunter. “What?”

  Hunter gestured to Vivianne casually. “I can’t fix her, it’s not really a physical problem.”

  “No, what did you say? About the link?”

  Hunter shrugged. “I said it’s a strong bond.”

  Dave rubbed his chin. “A bond...” he repeated. He snapped his fingers. “Of course. A bond. It’s so obvious.”

  “Care to share?” Ryder asked patiently.

  “It’s a bond. A blood bond,” Dave said, and Vivianne frowned.

  “What?” she asked.

  Dave stepped out from behind the gurney. “Your brother carries you in to Woodland,” he explained, his arms out as though carrying an imaginary Vivianne. “You’re covered in your blood—you were pretty gross, actually,” Dave admitted, then continued. “He hands you off to one of his bloodsucking cronies, goes to attack Matthias Marshall, only Zane Wilder jumps to his alpha prime’s defense and takes the bite instead.”

  Vivianne’s eyes widened, and she turned back to Zane. He’d stepped between her brother and his prime? That was such an act of loyalty, of protectiveness...of supreme sacrifice. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with the little flare of respect, of admiration, that sparked inside her.

  Zane nodded when he saw her assessing look. “Yeah, I know. I’m awesome.”

  And there went the spark. She rolled her eyes. “If you were that awesome, you would have been faster.”

  “If I was faster, both you and your brother would have been dead.”

  She sobered at the remark, seeing the truth in it. Her brother had faced down a pack of werewolves in their home territory. If he’d been bitten...

  Hunter shook his head. “This is so weird.”

  Vivianne realized she’d lapsed again, acknowledging Zane and responding to him in front of others.

  “So Zane is bitten and drained by Lucien—how does that result in Zane haunting Vivianne?”

  Haunting. It was the perfect word to describe Zane and hers relationship. Wait, relationship? No, this wasn’t a relationship. It couldn’t be. More like—an association. Yes, much better.

  “Lucien, covered in Vivianne’s blood,” Dave says, gesturing all over his form, “bites Zane—and there’s a blood exchange between Vivianne and Zane. Then, because Lucien now has Zane’s blood on him, he carries Vivianne, and bam—another blood exchange, this time from Zane to Vivianne, completing a blood bond, and then—” Dave snapped his fingers “—suspension spell, Vivianne goes into a coma and Zane is unable to pass on to—” the witch rolled his wrist “—that great werewolf farm in the sky.”

  “So it’s his fault,” Zane said, glaring at the witch.

  “Well, if that’s the case, why didn’t Zane ‘pass on’ when I came out of the coma?” Vivianne asked.

  Dave nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good question. A ghost’s spirit leaves a body at the time of death, but here Zane attached to you instead. You have to take him back to his body.”

  “And then he’ll pass on?” Vivianne asked, and even Zane leaned forward, keen to hear the witch’s response.

  Dave grinned. “If you return Zane’s spirit to his physical form, he will no longer haunt you in the metaphysical plane.”

  Zane closed his eyes in relief. Vivianne smiled. “Great. So, where is Zane’s body?” Finally! Some good news, a plan of action. All they had to do was reunite Zane with his body, and poof, haunting problem solved.

  Ryder dipped his head to look at his shoes. “Alpine,” he said quietly.

  Vivianne’s smile fell. “Oh.”

  Chapter 7

  “Why doesn’t your pack put a road in?”

  Zane turned at Vivianne’s question. Her annoyance was clear in her tone as she trudged through the knee-deep snow. She was wearing a red ski jacket and black ski pants that made h
er curvy legs look slim and strong. Sexy.

  The snow reflected the silvery light of the waning moon, creating a glowing landscape that brought back so many memories for him, of midnight hunts and teenage trysts. He eyed the woman who was shaking the snow off of her boot before sinking it back into the powder. He hated to admit it, but she made moonlight look good. Her dark hair was a stark contrast against the pale snow, her cheeks flushed. She looked remarkably vibrant for a deathwalker.

  “Because we prefer to watch visitors hike,” he told her, his lips quirking as Dave waded behind her. The man still wore his sunglasses and stern expression, but every now and then the guy would bend over, pick up a fistful of snow, pack it and then hurl it, his lips curving into a grin. Zane got the impression the witch didn’t get to play in snow very often.

  Vivianne paused, panting. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” she said, looking between Zane and Dave. “I’m walking into a werewolf den, for crying out loud. That’s vampire suicide.”

  “It’s this or hang out with your lycan shadow for all eternity,” Dave pointed out.

  Vivianne nodded. “Den, it is, then. Lead on,” she said to Zane, gesturing with her hand.

  Zane grimaced. “Actually, at this point, you’re going to have to be blindfolded.”

  Vivianne frowned. “What?”

  “This is as much as we let strangers see,” Zane told her. “Dave will have to blindfold you, and guide you along.”

  “How is Dave going to know where to go if he can’t see or hear you?” she asked impatiently.

  “He’ll hold your hand, and he’ll be able to see me.”

  “Why does he get to see, and I don’t?”

  Zane frowned. “Because you’re a vampire, Vivianne, and like any good werewolf pack with a healthy dose of self-preservation, we don’t let vampires know where our den is.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  His eyes rounded. “I saw you talk with your father about setting up a permanent torture chamber for werewolves. No, I don’t trust you.”

  The den was the central home of the pack. Elders, pups, juveniles—they were all located in the den, and werewolves took the care and protection of their elderly and the young very, very seriously. He may be dead, but he still considered himself an Alpine guardian, and it was his duty to ensure the safety of his pack. That meant not trusting the Nightwing Vampire Prime with the location of the heart of the pack.

  Her gaze skittered away from his for a moment. “I haven’t agreed, yet.”

  “Yet.” Zane shook his head. “You didn’t say no, either.”

  “What do you expect, Zane? He’s my father, and I’m a vampire. This is what we do. You can’t tell me that lycans aren’t also looking for ways to ruin us vampires.”

  Zane pressed his lips together. She had a point. Vampires and werewolves were natural enemies, and were always conspiring against each other. “Well, as long as we’re clear—neither of us trusts the other.”

  “Crystal.”

  “What’s going on?” Dave asked, stopping by Vivianne’s side. “Why have we stopped?”

  Vivianne relayed to Dave what Zane had said, and Zane noted her impatience. For the first time since he’d awoken in that dim little hospital room, he was calling the shots. They were on his turf now, and Vivianne would have to follow his cue if she didn’t want to wind up dead.

  Dave pulled a black bandanna out of the back pocket of his jeans, and lifted it toward Vivianne’s head.

  She held up a hand. “Please tell me that’s clean.”

  Dave sighed. “It’s clean. Now let me do this. You might be a vampire and accustomed to this cold, but I’m not, so let’s hurry.”

  He tied the bandanna around her head, masking her eyes. “I’m going to reach for your hand, now, so don’t hit me.”

  Her lips pursed as she raised her hand, and the witch clasped it. Once again, the tendril of light that stretched between Zane and Vivianne became visible, and Dave followed it until his gaze met Zane’s.

  “Where to?”

  Zane pointed toward a rock face. “This way.”

  Two hours later, Vivianne braced herself against the rock wall, and paused to catch her breath. Zane glanced up to the niche he knew so well.

  “Get ready,” he told her.

  She frowned behind the blindfold. “What? Get ready for what?”

  A wolf launched from its hiding place, landing on the snow less than a foot away from her, growling low and deep. Zane recognized him immediately, and smiled. Nate Baxter.

  Dave held up both hands. “Whoa, easy.”

  Vivianne stumbled, arms out, and her hand went to the blindfold. The wolf snapped at her, and she pressed herself back against the rock wall, blindfold in place.

  “Parlay,” she said abruptly. “I am Vivianne Marchetta, Vampire Prime of the Nightwing Colony, and I demand parlay with the Alpine Alpha Prime.” She drew herself up to her full five feet five inches of glacial contempt. Zane had to admit, he was impressed. Not many people could wear a blindfold and convey disdain quite like Vivianne could.

  The wolf crept closer, and Zane watched as the Alpine guardian inspected both the vampire and the witch.

  Dave held up a hand and waved. “She’s with me,” he said. “We’re here about Zane.”

  The wolf stared at Dave for a moment and then Zane watched as his friend morphed from wolf to man.

  “Whoa, dude, give a guy some warning before you flash all that,” Dave muttered to the now-naked man.

  “Flash what?” Vivianne asked, tense.

  “Never mind, just keep that blindfold on,” Zane said. He eyed Nate. He wanted to go up to his friend, shake his hand, hell, give him a hug. It was so good to see him, so good to see not just a familiar face, but a lycan one at that. He couldn’t help but notice some changes with his friend, though. There were grooves around the corners of his mouth and eyes that hadn’t been there before, and they didn’t look like laugh lines. His friend had lost some of his good humor.

  Nate’s face was stony as he stepped closer to the vampire. “I should kill you here and now for daring to show your face, here, vamp.” His voice was low and harsh. Zane shifted closer, not sure if he was wanting to protect his friend from the vamp, or Vivianne from Alpine’s guardian prime.

  Vivianne’s eyebrow arched, and she smiled coolly. “That’s Vampire Prime Marchetta, thank you very much.”

  “What the hell do you want with Samantha?”

  “That’s between her and me,” Vivianne stated calmly. Zane watched her closely. She was blindfolded, at a distinct disadvantage, yet not at all rattled by his friend’s imposing presence.

  Nate smiled grimly. “I’m the Alpine Guardian Prime. Any business you have with Samantha Alpine also involves me, so if you want to get anywhere near my alpha prime, I suggest you tell me exactly what it is you want, otherwise you’re not seeing anyone.”

  Vivianne tilted her head for a moment, as though assessing her options. “I have invoked parlay. By Reform Law, you can’t kill me, and you have to allow me access to your prime.” She shrugged, her hands out at her sides. “I’m here alone. I’m no threat.”

  Nate snorted. “You’ve got teeth. You’re a threat.”

  “I’ll stow mine if you’ll stow yours.”

  Nate looked over at Dave. “What’s this about Zane?”

  Dave took a deep breath. “We need to see where he’s buried.”

  “Why?”

  Dave hesitated.

  “I want to pay my respects,” Vivianne said, and Zane was surprised at her tone. She sounded almost sincere.

  Nate shook his head. “You’re the reason my friend is dead. That’s a no-go.”

  “It’s like talking to a brick wall,” Vivianne muttered, and both Nate and Zane smiled. That’s exactly what a guardian was supposed to do,
guard access and protect the pack. She put her hands on her hips. “Look, your friend is haunting me, and this witch thinks if we can reunite Zane’s ghost with his body, he’ll finally be able to get some peace.”

  Nate blinked. He looked between Dave and Vivianne. “Is she for real?” he asked, gesturing to the vampire.

  Dave nodded. “Yep.”

  “Zane is haunting her?”

  “Yep.”

  Nate started to laugh, and it took a while for him to get his mirth under control. He cleared his throat, and shook his head. “I’m surprised, Dave, that you could be fooled by the vamp—although it’s a novel approach, I’ll admit.” Nate folded his arms, expression turning serious. “Not happening.”

  Zane rolled his eyes. Nate was always a stickler for the rules. Nobody got through on their first pass. Deter, deter, deter. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the patience to wait for Vivianne to jump through all the hoops his friend usually laid out. “Tell him if he doesn’t give you access, you’ll tell.”

  Vivianne frowned beneath her blindfold, but it was the only indication she gave she’d heard him. “If you don’t let me pass, I’ll tell.”

  Nate arched an eyebrow. “Tell what?”

  “Tell him you’ll tell the Thompson twins.”

  Her mouth opened a little, then she lifted her chin. “I’ll tell the Thompson twins.”

  Zane grinned when he saw his friend straighten, saw the shock bloom on his face. Nate looked beyond Vivianne to Dave, who shot Vivianne a glance.

  “Really? You can tell me,” the witch suggested.

  Nate’s lips firmed. “Follow me.”

  * * *

  The blindfold was removed, and Vivianne blinked in the dimness. It didn’t take her eyes long to adjust, though, or to see Dave’s set expression as well as the group of werewolves surrounding her, their features harsh as they stared at the vampire who dared enter their den. Dave still wore his sunglasses, even inside this dim cave.

  She took her time to stare at each face. Men, women, they all stared at her warily, suspiciously. Not a friendly face among them. She couldn’t blame them. She was a vampire. They were werewolves. There was no love lost between the breeds. She maintained eye contact, though, and didn’t dip her gaze. She would not show any submission in this place. She took a slow, steadying breath.