Wolf Undaunted

by Shannon Curtis

  She was surrounded by werewolves.

  That’s okay. She could handle this. Led into a small cavern, outnumbered, with the only tunnel leading from the rock-walled room blocked by somber, intense and fit individuals who all looked like they wanted to sink their teeth into their unwelcome guest. Yeah, she could handle this. The memory of the dark wolf bounding out of the darkness hit her, made goose bumps rise on her skin. A wash of coolness cascaded over her, from her hair follicles to her snow boot–covered toes. This room was full of shadows, ink on black, with only a low light filtering down the tunnel and into the room. She wasn’t afraid of the dark—hell, she lived in the dark—but this was damn creepy.

  “Calm down,” Zane murmured, shifting into her line of sight. “They’ll hear your heart pounding in the main hall, at this rate.”

  She swallowed, consciously relaxing the tense muscles in her shoulders. She had to focus a little to unclench her fists. “Is this the normal way you greet a guest?” She asked calmly, lifting her chin as she addressed the group.

  “You’re not a guest.”

  It was the voice of the lycan who’d led her into the den. She looked at him carefully. Golden haired, green-eyed, he was tall. Although, at five foot five, everyone seemed tall. He wore a pair of jeans, the top button undone, as though they were hastily donned. He was barefoot and shirtless, despite the cool temperature, yet didn’t seem to feel the chill in the air. She didn’t normally feel the cold, but she couldn’t help but notice she did now, feel it in a way she hadn’t since—her eyes rounded. Since before she’d turned vamp. The air in the den was cool, but the air smelled fresh, as though it was drawn in directly from the mountainside and circulated. She glanced around the cavern, and it took her a moment to locate the vents, small holes cut in the wall close to the rock ceiling. Very clever.

  But she wasn’t here to admire innovative thermal management.

  “I need to speak with Samantha Alpine,” she stated, glancing at the group. “Which one of you is she?” Samantha Alpine had never attended any of the Reform society’s scion balls, and Vivianne had no idea what the woman looked like.

  “She’s not here. You need to pass us to get anywhere near her, so start talking.”

  Vivianne sighed brusquely. She wanted to get this over with. Find Zane’s body, transfer his ghost and then get the hell out of there. Without any of her colony knowing what she’d done, or why.

  But she wasn’t willing to talk about this with all of the damned Alpine pack listening in and thinking Nightwing’s leader was a loon.

  “Just you,” she said to the guardian prime.

  He shook his head.

  She glanced at the small expectant crowd, and blinked the second time she saw the same face. Twins.

  “Are you the Thompson twins?” she asked. Light brown hair, green eyes, tall and lithe, they were reasonably attractive, by lycan standards, she guessed.

  The guardian prime frowned. “Clear the room.” The werewolves paused for a moment, and glared at Vivianne, as though collectively warning her against trying anything before they shuffled out of the room.

  Dave chuckled softly. “I so need to hear that story.”

  “What is your name?” she asked the man.

  “Nate Baxter, Alpine Guardian Prime.” Nate folded his arms. “This better be good,” he muttered, “because I’m not known for my patience.”

  “Actually, he is known for his patience,” Zane commented. “He’s very zen.” Zane shifted to look at her directly. “He’s also fair. Take your time,” he told her, his voice low and soothing. She wouldn’t admit it, but right here and now, she was comforted by his presence. Again.

  “Your packmate, Zane, has not...passed on,” she said. Was that the best way to describe it? Did ghosts “pass on”? She had no idea of the technical term for having your life and spirit extinguished from this world.

  “Explain.” The Alpine Guardian Prime’s comment was just as clipped as hers.

  “I don’t know how to explain,” she admitted, then glanced at Dave, who shrugged. Great. The witch was willing to let her make a fool of herself. “I can...see him.”

  The guardian prime’s eyebrow rose. “What?”

  “I see him, I hear him, he’s right here.”

  “Here...?” Nate looked at her as though he doubted her sanity.

  She sighed. “I know it sounds crazy. Believe me, I thought I was—” She paused. She couldn’t just spill her experience to this guardian prime. Once she left here she would still be the vampire prime of a rival colony. “It took a little getting used to,” she said. “Apparently when we were bitten, there was a blood mix-up,” she said, waving her hand, “and Zane passed on to me instead of the hereafter.” She pointed to Dave. “He can explain it. It’s his fault.”

  Dave pursed his lips and frowned at her. She frowned right back. The man still wore his sunglasses, even inside this dim cave. And yes, it was his fault. This blood link business wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t done his witchy-winks stuff. Of course, she’d be dead if he hadn’t done his witchy-winks stuff, and it was darned annoying having this mental conflict of frustration counter-balanced with relief.

  Dave described the details of the blood bond, and Nate listened with the same what-the-hell expression she assumed she’d worn when she’d first heard the theory.

  “So you think that by putting the vamp into the coma, she prevented Zane from resting in peace?” Nate asked.

  Vivianne frowned at Nate’s comment. “I don’t know if I’d say it quite like that...” she muttered.

  Nate shook his head. “This sounds like you drank a bad batch of blood,” he told her.

  Zane braced an arm against the rock wall. “Ask him to test you.”

  Vivianne frowned at him, and Zane sighed. “He won’t hurt you. Just ask him questions only I’d know the answer to. Otherwise this will take ages, and I’m getting itchy. Let’s get this thing moving.”

  “Fine,” Vivianne said, then smiled at Nate. “Why don’t you ask me something that only Zane would know?”

  “Ask you to tell him about the Thompson twins,” Dave suggested.

  “How did we first meet?” Nate asked instead.

  “Too easy. Paw Patrol.”

  “Paw Patrol,” Vivianne repeated.

  Nate shrugged. “Anyone could have guessed that.”

  Vivianne shook her head. “I have no idea what Paw Patrol is. Personally, I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Well, I could assume you’re telling the truth...but I won’t,” Nate said. “When was Zane’s first time, where, and with who?”

  Vivianne blushed as she glanced at Zane. Did she really want to know the details of Zane losing his virginity?

  “I was four, behind the kitchen, with Jared.”

  Vivianne’s eyes widened. “What? Four? With Jared?” She didn’t know where to start with that one. There was so much wrong in that. Four. As to it being with Jared Grey...well, she wasn’t one to judge, but she was surprised. Zane was such a great kisser—in her dreams, at least. Maybe he swung both ways. But Jared—she’d met him, and she’d never guessed he was that way inclined. But so young. “You know, there are laws against that sort of stuff,” she said.

  Zane frowned at her, then his eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “He meant when I shifted,” he exclaimed. He shuddered. “No, gross—how twisted are you vamps?”

  “Well, you need to explain these things to me,” she protested, her cheeks warming. “Vampires don’t shift, how am I supposed to know that’s what he meant?” She turned to face Nate. “It was when he was four, behind the kitchen, and he was with Jared.”

  Nate stared at her for a moment.

  “I’ve heard enough.” The woman’s voice was soft, yet firm. Vivianne turned as a woman entered the cave. She was...well, interesting. Her hair was long, tawny and t
hick, and her blue eyes were bright in the dimly illuminated room. She was tall, athletically built, and had an air of power around her that Vivianne recognized easily.

  “She’s had the baby,” Zane whispered, smiling. “God, I’d love to see Jared’s son.” Jared Grey had been the Alpine Alpha Prime, but was killed in a bizarre plot orchestrated by her old nemesis, Arthur Armstrong. Which would make this woman the current Alpine Alpha Prime.

  “Samantha Alpine, I presume?” Vivianne didn’t hide her curiosity. She’d heard about the woman, but this was their first meeting. Once the life partner of Jared Grey, Alpine Alpha Prime, their relationship was legendary, as was the woman’s desire to avenge her husband’s death. Vivianne had heard she was tough, fair and just as lethal as her husband.

  Samantha nodded, then halted, her feet planted shoulder-width apart, her hands on her hips. “Why are you here?”

  “You heard. Zane Wilder hasn’t passed on, so I’m hoping to facilitate that.”

  Samantha’s lips quirked. “Yes, but why?”

  Vivianne frowned. “To reunite his ghost with his body.”

  “But why?”

  “So he can pass on.” Vivianne’s frown deepened. She thought it was all fairly obvious by now.

  “But why?”

  She glanced at Zane, then shrugged. “So both he and I can get some peace,” she said.

  “But why?”

  “Because he’s annoying me,” she told the alpha prime.

  “Yeah, well, you’re just as annoying,” Zane told her.

  “He’s annoying, and he needs to find his peace.” Vivianne glared at him.

  “Why is a vampire so concerned about a lycan finding his peace?” Samantha enquired, her eyebrow arching. “Seems to me a vamp would delight in any discomfort caused to a werewolf.”

  “Unfortunately, his peace is tied to mine—as is his discomfort. That’s why I want him...” She stopped short of saying “gone”—it sounded harsh—but Zane folded his arms, as though he knew what she meant. “To find his peace,” she finished lamely.

  Samantha stepped closer, her gaze narrowed as she stared at Vivianne directly for a moment. Then she shifted that cool blue gaze to Dave. “You believe her.”

  Dave nodded. “I’ve seen him, through her.”

  Samantha’s shoulders relaxed, and she dipped her head. “Jared told me that story,” she said quietly, gaze on the stone floor. “He was a little older than Zane, and said it was one of the funniest things, watching a cub shift for the first time.”

  “Every cub has to go through it at some point,” Zane grumbled as he shifted to lean against a rock wall.

  “What made this so...funny?” Vivianne asked, curious. She wasn’t sure if the curiosity was about the humor, or learning more about the lycan she’d carried with her since waking up.

  “He was busted with his hand in the cookie jar. Literally,” Samantha said, and her lips curved. “He and Jared were looking for a snack when Zane’s dad found them.”

  “Scared the bejeebus out of us,” Zane said, his own lips pulling up in a reminiscent smile.

  “Zane shifted. Apparently it was his attempt to disappear. The cookie jar toppled over on top of him, and his head got stuck. They had to use soap to get the jar off his head.”

  “We lost a lot of good cookies that day,” Nate commented. Vivianne couldn’t help but notice the softness in his tone, the humor that brightened the lycan’s eyes, if only for a moment. Or how Samantha’s smile warmed.

  “You liked him,” she said.

  Zane chuckled. “Don’t be so surprised.”

  Samantha shook her head. “No. We loved him.”

  Zane blinked, then looked away, swallowing.

  “I heard he died...protecting his guardian prime.” Her tone lifted at the end, questioning. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to know more about Zane Wilder, about what he was like—before he became her annoying shadow. She turned to Nate. “I heard what happened. For what it’s worth, I actually respect Matthias, and I didn’t blame him for Rafe Woodland’s attack.” Matthias was now the Woodland Alpha Prime, but when he’d been Alpine pack’s guardian prime he’d negotiated access for his wolves to pass through Nightwing while they pursued Rafe, the man who’d organized the poisoning death of Alpine’s alpha prime—Samantha’s husband. Matthias had struck her as decent, shrewd, but fair, despite being a werewolf.

  Nate straightened his shoulders. “It’s a pity you didn’t say that to your brother.”

  Vivianne’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t have a chance. One of your kind came into my territory and attacked me. That was not the deal I had with Matthias. Of course there should be retribution. Admittedly, I would have preferred the lycan responsible for the attack to have been punished instead of Zane.”

  Zane glanced at her for a moment, surprised. “Thank you for that,” he said solemnly.

  Footsteps echoed down the tunnel, and Samantha turned as a young woman tentatively peered into the cavern. “I’m sorry to bother you, Samantha, but J.J. needs you.”

  Samantha nodded, then glanced back over her shoulder to meet Vivianne’s gaze. Vivianne got the impression she was being measured. Assessed, weighed and found moderately acceptable when Samantha beckoned. “Walk with me.”

  Chapter 8

  Zane followed closely behind the two women. Part of him felt such joy. He was home with his people. His alpha prime was right in front of him, strong and healthy. His closest friend strode along behind him, talking quietly with the sunglasses-wearing witch. He did a little skip and a jig. He was home.

  He’d always loved pack. The unity, the loyalty, the friendship... He’d always wanted to be his own alpha, and had realized that would probably require him leaving Alpine. He wouldn’t displace Nate or Samantha—he had too much respect for both of them. Now he realized he’d never have his own pack, never have his own family... There was sadness with that realization, but right now, surrounded by Alpine werewolves, it was a bittersweet moment. He may not establish his own pack, but if he could just spend one more day with his family, then he’d be happy.

  Just one more day.

  He stumbled over that thought. What would happen next? When Vivianne found his body and Dave did whatever witches did, what would happen? Would he pass on? What would that feel like? Would he just die for good? Disappear into the ether...? What happened to the dead? Like, the normal dead? Did they follow the light to a place of happy-ever-after? Or was it just a void, with no sense of time, space or self?

  For just the briefest moment, trepidation flared within him. What if there was nothing? What if this was all there was to life? And he’d had his run at it, game over? He swallowed. Well, if that was the case, he would make damn sure he made the most of what little haunting time he had left.

  They turned a corner in the tunnel and entered the main hall, and he plowed right through Vivianne as she halted, the fuzzy tingling thrumming through his body.

  He turned to face her, exasperated that she’d stopped so suddenly and then saw the look on her face. It was fleeting, immediately covered by an impassive calm, but he’d seen it, seen the shock, the momentary terror. He glanced around, and it took him a moment to shift perspective, and see the scene through Vivianne’s eyes.

  His packmates lined the walls of the main hall. Sofas and armchairs were clustered in small groups for the benefit of discussions, meetings and general conversation, and a large number of those seats were occupied. A hush fell over the hall, save for the fretting and occasional cry of a baby, and the pack watched Vivianne warily. Many of the guardians stepped forward.

  What was a natural protective instinct in the werewolf would be seen as an intimidating move to the single vampire in the den. She again was surrounded, but this time by far more lycans.

  The memory of her dream—the scary part, not the sexy part—replayed in his min
d. He’d seen the event from her mind, and it had felt like Rafe had attacked him. Rafe had bitten him. The pain, the terror, the realization that death would claim her... For the first time he truly understood the cost to Vivianne to come here. And she was here alone. She hadn’t told her father or brother where she was going, and had left her usual bodyguard snoozing in the parking lot at the Galen medical center.

  She was here so that he could “find his peace.” Sure, she had as much to gain from that as he did, and he didn’t delude himself that she was here from the goodness of her cold dead heart. When she found his body, she would no longer be haunted by a lycan in what must be a constant nightmarish reminder of the attack that very nearly killed her. But no vampire would want to run the gauntlet of a werewolf den.

  Ever.

  Vivianne lifted her chin and followed Samantha through the hall, a baby’s cries the only sound to register in the space.

  It wasn’t surprising. Only one vampire had ever walked the tunnels of Alpine’s den, and even then she’d been a half-breed looking into Jared Grey’s murder. Any meetings with vampires occurred off-site, preferably in a neutral zone, and only when it was absolutely necessary. A vampire in these halls was a rarer occurrence than an eclipse.

  Samantha walked up to the dais, and Zane gaped as she held her arms out for the babe one of the elders was rocking. Samantha’s face softened into a smile as she cradled her son and sat down in the large chair on the platform. The elder handed Samantha a soft, fluffy, baby blue blanket, and his alpha prime tickled her son’s nose with it. Marjorie, the elder, handed her a teething rusk, and Samantha gave it to her son as she settled them in the alpha prime’s seat.

  Jared’s son.

  Samantha had been pregnant with the babe when Jared had been murdered. She’d still been pregnant the last time he’d seen her. This babe looked to be about six months old. God, he’d lost so much time. He glanced at Vivianne.