Wolf Undaunted

by Shannon Curtis

  She pursed her lips. “So, not only have you killed a deal my father was working on, you’ve used my codes to access this building.” She rubbed her forehead, and he realized there’d be a record of his access—as her. And a lot of vampires with sore heads. After what her father assumed she did, the senator would think she’d given Zane, a lycan, her access codes, too.

  He winced. “Sorry. Believe it or not, my aim here was not to add to your grief.”

  Vivianne frowned. “Why are you here?”

  He stepped back and folded his arms. Now he was here, facing Vivianne—a very disgruntled Vivianne—he was hesitant to say what he wanted, what he needed. “Oh, I just thought I’d drop in and say hi, see how you were doing...” he prevaricated.

  She mimicked him by folding her arms, also. “You’re doing a welfare check on me?”

  “You don’t call, you don’t write...” He said it flippantly, but underneath that was a thread of seriousness. He’d missed her. A little. Like a migraine you noticed you didn’t have anymore when it dissipated.

  She arched an eyebrow. “We’re not friends, Zane.”

  No, they weren’t. They were natural foes, but he wanted to be...more. Zane frowned. Sort of. He thought, for a brief moment, that maybe they could be friends, or...something. Could you get friendly with a vampire? Okay, so this train of thought was going down a dangerous path. Time to reel it back in. His gaze ranged over her again. She looked...unsettled. The tousled hair, the slightly disorganized state of her clothes...maybe he wasn’t the only one who had something going on?

  “Are you okay, Vivianne?”

  “Yep. Hunky dory. Thanks for stopping by.”

  There it was again, that slight shift of the gaze. How the hell had she become such a successful tycoon when it was so easy to tell when she was lying?

  “So you’re all good? No weird little...episodes?” He didn’t know what made him ask that question. He’d come here hoping for some answers, some guidance. He’d never once considered that Vivianne might also be experiencing some differences.

  Her gaze flickered. “Nope. Not since you stopped haunting me.”

  She really sucked at lying. But for whatever reason, she wasn’t prepared to trust him. Well, he could only imagine how her father would have reacted when he learned his land grab was deader than a vampire’s conscience, so he guessed he couldn’t blame her there. He sighed. He’d have to go first. Ugh.

  “I need your help,” he told her quietly.

  Her brown gaze immediately zeroed in on him. “What with?”

  Well, at least that was better than being told to go jump in a vat of molten silver. “Something—weird—is going on.”

  Curiosity flared in her eyes, and she didn’t even try to pass him off with a placatory shove out of her office. Her gaze warmed with concern. “Weird? How weird?”

  He opened his mouth. Hesitated. Wow. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. To put into actual words his worst nightmare. He couldn’t. Did he really want to tell Vivianne he was becoming a monster? Did he want to admit his vulnerability? Exposing himself like that, especially with a vampire, was something that went against every lesson he’d ever learned about the breed growing up.

  But she was the only vampire he could reach out to. The only person he could reach out to, shadow breed or not, who could possibly understand, and maybe even help him.

  “Zane?” she prompted him.

  He sighed. “I think—I think some of you got stuck on me, or in me, or something.”

  Vivianne frowned, confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “I do some things...like you do,” he said.

  Vivianne blinked as she tried to follow the conversation, and he was frustrated with himself for saying it so lamely.

  “What? Female things? Like peeing sitting down?”

  He gaped at her for a moment. “Uh, no,” he said slowly. “Like wanting blood,” he clarified.

  “You want blood? What do you mean, you want blood?”

  He leaned forward. “I crave it,” he said in a low voice, his gaze dropping to her throat. He looked away. “I don’t like it, but I need it.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Does your vision go red?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are your senses heightened when it does?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you fed?”

  He opened his mouth, but couldn’t quite admit it, so he nodded instead.

  “What you’re describing sounds like—a vampire.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How does that work?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Does that mean you’re—you’re changing from werewolf to vampire?” He didn’t miss the momentary hesitation. He shook his head.

  “I don’t think so. I can still shift.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Do you still feel the bloodthirst when you’re in your beast form?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  “So, you’re like some sort of hybrid breed, then?”

  “If that’s what you’d call a monster, then yes.”

  “Interesting.”

  His eyes narrowed. He’d just basically told her he was a freak of nature, a veritable monster, and she found that interesting. Why wasn’t she backing away from him, or calling for help?

  “What’s your story?” he asked her.

  She shrugged. “I don’t have a story.”

  He stepped closer. “I tell you I’m turning into a monster, and you find it ‘interesting’ instead of running for the hills. Why?”

  She eyed him intently. “You think you’re turning into a monster?”

  “Don’t you?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “I think that you’re changing...but that doesn’t necessarily make you a monster. It just makes you different. Special.”

  He wanted to hug her. He’d been freaking out and trying to act normal with his packmates. He’d been trying to limit his time with J.J. He’d been hunting solo, trying to fight off the craving for blood, the compulsion to feed, and hated himself for all of it. But she didn’t act as though he was some repulsive abomination. No, to her, he was special, and hearing that was like a calming wave washing over him. He wasn’t about to let her see how much her words, her opinion, mattered to him, though.

  He tilted his head. “That’s very open-minded of you, and forgive me for saying this, but when I think of you, Viv, open-minded isn’t what comes to mind.”

  “Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” she said, her voice soft with challenge.

  He smiled. “I know you well enough to know when you’re lying. Are you ‘changing’, Vivianne?” Suspicion was building inside him. It was too easy, she was too damn accepting. Something was going on.

  Her mouth opened, and he pressed his finger to her lips. “Remember, I know when you’re lying.” Her breath gusted across his finger, and his body tightened with reaction. Apparently his body didn’t change in some ways.

  She met his gaze, and he could see the wheels grinding in that clever little brain of hers. She was assessing her options; tell him the truth, or lie her butt off.

  “I’m a walking hairball,” she blurted out.

  He blinked. “What?” He hadn’t seen that one coming.

  “I’m growing hair. Everywhere. It’s gross—and so unsexy,” she said, the words falling over themselves as though a dam had broken.

  His eyebrows rose. “You’re growing...hair.” He looked at her dark braid. It didn’t look that much longer than the last time he’d seen her. The rest of her still seemed...hairless. Her skin was that warm, golden color, and smooth. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her, caress her, to prove himself right.

  Vivianne nodded earnestly. “And my bones.” Her eyes closed. “Oh,
my goodness, my bones. Cracking, breaking, fusing back together, but wrong...” She looked up at him. “It’s disgusting.”

  He gaped at her. “Your bones are breaking?”

  “Yes, and it is so. Very. Painful.” Her words came out in succinct, short bursts.

  “Are you morphing?”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing, but whatever it is, I’m doing it really badly,” she admitted.

  He checked her over. “You don’t look hairy.” No, she looked gorgeous. Sexy.

  “Well, see, that’s the other weird thing. Everything goes back to normal. Excruciating pain, gross hair growth, and then bam, everything reverts to normal.”

  “You’re shifting,” he said in awe.

  “I’m what?”

  “You’re shifting. Is it your whole body?”

  “No. Just a little bit at a time.”

  “Oh, man, partial shifts are the worst.”

  “I can’t be shifting. Vampires don’t shift.”

  “And yet, you’re changing form,” he pointed out. He leaned his hip against her desk. “What the hell is going on with us?” He was turning part-vamp, and Vivianne was shifting. That went against the natural order of the breeds. “How do we stop it?”

  Vivianne shook her head. “Once you’ve fed on blood, you complete your transition. I’ve never heard of someone turning back the clock on vampirism.”

  Zane’s eyes widened. “You mean I’m stuck like this? I can’t be stuck like this. How am I supposed to return to my pack as some sort of hybrid vamp-wolf? How can I lead a pack, if I’m like this?” Every guardian wanted to one day run their own pack, if they could prove alpha status. But with him like this, no werewolf would follow him. “I don’t want to become a monster.” His pack would disown him—if they didn’t kill him for the threat he posed. Vivianne flinched, and her expression became closed.

  “Yeah, well, turning into some sort of disgusting, hairy, bone-crunching mutt isn’t a picnic in the park, either.”

  They stared at each other for a moment. He realized that each of them were turning into what they considered a grotesque aberration—which was vaguely insulting to the other.

  “Help me,” he said quietly. “I can’t do this—I need to control this.”

  “I think I’ve helped you enough,” she told him, leaning back against the desk, hands braced by her hips. “I’ve entered a wolf’s den for you. My father thinks I’m untrustworthy, and now I’m turning wolf myself. Helping you seems to work out badly for me.”

  Zane stared at her. He couldn’t go back to his pack, not when he could harm them, or worse, kill them in some blood haze. He needed to learn to control the bloodthirst, and who better to teach him than the most controlled person he knew.

  Vivianne.

  He stepped up close to her, and braced his hands on the desk, on either side of hers. She arched an eyebrow at his move.

  “Help me,” he demanded softly.

  She gave him a cool look. “We seem to bring out the worst in each other,” she said, her tone carrying a hint of frost. Then her gaze drifted to his lips, and her throat moved as she swallowed.

  He smiled. She wasn’t as cold and detached as she’d like him to think. He leaned even closer, feeling her warmth, and her scent, that sassy little unique fragrance, teased at him. He could feel his body tighten, his beast awakening inside him, as though recognizing a stimulant.

  “Help me, and I’ll help you.”

  She lifted her chin. God, did she realize her lips were so close? She met his gaze with equanimity. “I don’t need your help,” she told him tartly.

  He grinned. “You do realize we’re coming up to a full moon? These little ‘episodes’ are going to occur more often, and they’ll be stronger. Then you’ll do a full-body shift on the night of the full moon. It’s unavoidable.”

  There. Her eyes widened a fraction, her lips parted. “F-full moon?”

  He nodded. “Yep. We’re talking running in the moonlight. Hunting. It’s wild, it’s liberating—you’ll be the strongest you’ve ever been. Faster. There is nothing quite like shifting on a full moon.”

  Her gaze was glued to his, her brown eyes showing both curiosity and a faint thread of horror.

  “I can teach you to control it—so you don’t attack your own vamps,” he whispered, leaning in close. “If you will help me learn to control my bloodthirst.”

  She leaned back to meet his gaze, and he took advantage of her position, moving to occupy that space, until she was half sitting on the desk, their hips so damn close—and yet not close enough, not for his liking. He could feel the heat in her, and it was so damn seductive. He wanted to clear that desk, lay her down on the surface and kiss away her resistance. He wanted to tousle her up some more, until she was writhing and panting beneath his mouth.

  He wanted her.

  As though sensing his attraction for her, her eyes brightened, just a little, and she tilted her head, her hair sliding back over her shoulder, exposing the slender line of her neck.

  “And just how do you think you can help me?” Her question came out husky. Flirty. He lowered his head to her neck and breathed in her scent. Cinnamon. Musk. Ginger. Sexy spice. His heart thudded strong and regular in his chest, and he could feel himself lengthening, thickening. Every breath of hers brushed her breasts ever so gently against his chest. Heat built within him, and it seemed like there was some playback field between them, with the heat his body was creating coming back to him in spades—from her.

  “I can teach you to run in the moonlight.” His voice came out low, raspy.

  Her lips curved. Damn, when she played the vixen, she played it well. “I’m a vampire. I’m already a child of the night,” she pointed out to him.

  He chuckled, and he sensed her tremble as his chest moved against hers. “Oh, princess, there is nothing childish about the games we can play in the moonlight.”

  He finally gave in to temptation, and let his body press gently against hers. Her head tilted back, and he heard her sigh, felt the soft exhalation brush past his ear. She arched her back a little, and her breasts pressed, just a little firmer, against his chest.

  He closed his eyes, giving himself over to the sensation of her body, her soft curves, gently writhing against his with a slow undulation designed to drive him crazy with lust.

  It was working.

  He brushed his chin against her neck, enjoying the soft shudder that racked her body.

  “I can help you shift, Viv. I can show you how to ride the pain until you conquer it, and how to live with your beast, and love it.” He nipped at the sensitive indent where her neck and shoulder met, smiling when he heard her gasp, then moan. “I can help you get in touch with your warm and fuzzy side.”

  She pulled back a little so that she could meet his gaze. “I don’t do warm and fuzzy,” she told him. She gave him an arch look. “More like sharp and deadly.” She flashed him her sharp teeth in a smile that should have looked scary, but had enough sass and spunk that it looked sexy instead. It was one advantage the vampires had over werewolves. They didn’t need to go full vamp to expose their fangs, whereas werewolves had to shift.

  “Sharp and deadly doesn’t scare me,” he told her softly, and the teasing light disappeared from her eyes, to be replaced by a swirling cloud of emotion. Desire. Surprise. Interest. Caution.

  He wanted to show her he understood her need for caution. She was a vampire prime, and he was a werewolf. They both had so much to lose...but they were both in a position to help the other.

  “I’ll keep your secret if you’ll keep mine,” he said.

  She opened her mouth, and he sensed her denial—her cold caution was creeping in again.

  “I wanted to feed on J.J.,” he told her in a raw whisper, and didn’t hide the horror and shame that confession caused him.

  Understand
ing crept over her face, and she nodded slowly. “I’ll help.”

  He tilted his head forward until his forehead touched hers, and closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you.”

  A strident alarm rang through the building, and he winced as he lifted his head. “Looks like someone found my calling card,” he said quietly, and backed away from her.

  Her eyes narrowed as she shook her head. “I’m not going to ask. Come on.” She pulled him over to the bookcase, and pulled on the spine of the Bible on the second shelf. He heard a faint click, and the door swung inward revealing an elevator.

  “You vamps do like your secrets.”

  “Hurry,” Vivianne said, pushing him into the dark space. “This one is off the books, and off surveillance. It will take you to a subbasement. Follow the tunnel—you’ll come out near Reform Square.”

  She started to pull on the shelving to close the door, and he could hear banging on her office door.

  “Wait,” he said. “Where will we—”

  “My place, tomorrow morning, nine o’clock. I’ll send Harris out for...” She shrugged. “Something.” She pulled the shelving unit closed, and there was a moment when he stood in the darkness, surprised at what had happened. Then it felt like the floor dropped away from him, as the bullet elevator dropped forty-three stories to the sub-basement level, leaving him a little breathless, a little unbalanced, and riding a little adrenalin high.

  Pretty much the reaction he normally had to spending time with Vivianne.

  Chapter 13

  “Close your eyes, and clear your mind,” Vivianne said quietly to Zane. Zane nodded. Her lycan was lying on her sofa, head cushioned, knees bent over the armrest on the other end. The man was huge, and made her furniture look like it was made for a dollhouse.

  He shot her a warning look. “No funny business, okay?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Just do it, mutt.”

  He closed his eyes, and she couldn’t help but notice his eyelashes resting in half-moon crescents against his tanned skin. The man had long eyelashes. She frowned. But she wasn’t here to notice that. No, they had serious work to do. Serious work that didn’t involve enjoying his scent, or eyeing his massive lycan frame with an interest her father would not appreciate. Not for a werewolf. She frowned with impatience. She’d been thinking of Zane constantly. Before and after his visit to her office...when he’d brushed up against her. She shook her head. No. Focus.