Wolf Born

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  The four vamps charged as a team. Colton’s claws, like moving gears of revolving steel, cut cleanly through the first. A second arrow from the crossbow took down another. As Kirk reloaded, Colton felt the Were hesitate for a moment before shooting wild, missing an oncoming bloodsucker by a hair.

  “On your right!” he shouted to Colton, and Colton whirled in time to fell a vampire with a staggering blow of one swinging arm. Seconds later, he was on the creature, straddling the downed freak so that he could get a better look at it.

  Black eyes, intently focused and devoid of emotion, stared back as the creature writhed on the ground. It moved like a rabid dog, its fangs snapping in an attempt to get at Colton.

  Colton’s growl, as he tore the creature’s head off with both of his hands, avowed: She is not like you, and never will be.

  Bouncing back to his feet to grab hold of the bloodsucker that had leaped onto Kirk’s back, he added: Neither am I.

  Kirk wheeled and ducked, dislodging the attacker. With surprising dexterity, the Were was up again. His next arrow slashed through the bloodsucker at close range, and the fanged viper exploded in Colton’s face.

  Where is she? Colton silently demanded as the ashes rained down. Brushing the gray dust from his face, he turned toward the scent in the distance. Kirk followed his gaze.

  “Go,” Kirk said. “Save her.”

  Needing no such permission, Colton took off, utilizing every bit of speed he possessed even as he started to feel his energy drain away. It was too soon for a battle like this. He’d faced Death not that many days before, and hadn’t finished healing. Although rage drove what strength he did possess, he wasn’t right inside. He knew this. So did Rosalind’s father.

  The situation was extremely precarious, and the silver tips on Kirk’s arrows were meaningful. Maybe Kirk knew something Colton didn’t about what being a ghost meant, and that bit of unshared knowledge was what hung like a barrier between them.

  Rosalind.

  Chanting her name made Colton feel closer to her as he chased after the fragrance of roses, sensing that trouble wasn’t far ahead.

  Chapter 16

  Rosalind stared into the eyes of pure evil, meeting the gaze of the monster holding her with a black gaze of her own.

  Likely she didn’t fear this as much as she should have because her wulf waited, held back for now, but clawing at her insides, ready for action. It was possible these monsters didn’t know about her ability to shift with or without the moon’s permission. It was also possible that the vamps wouldn’t know what to do with a Night Wulf, if the darkness she had hidden inside her were to suddenly unfurl.

  “What do you want?” she demanded, her breath nearly completely cut off by the vampire’s grip on her throat.

  Her demand was met by silence. She considered whether these monsters had limited resources for speech, and if this one had used up all of his. Its eyes glowed like polished stone.

  She sensed something else. There was mist on her skin, and then a sudden temperature drop in the small clearing where she and two of the attackers stood.

  The vampire holding her lifted its head. Its comrade uttered a whine. And before Rosalind could allow her senses to form an image of what was about to happen, a white beast, huge, muscled and angry, shot forward with the speed of a bullet, and she was knocked to the ground.

  The werewolf was lethal in the cold swiftness of his strike. It was also a sight she would never forget. This wulf was much fiercer, much more dangerous than she remembered. Dark stains ringed his muzzle, matching the circles beneath his eyes. His chest was as broad as a lion’s. His teeth were bared.

  It was her lover.

  The sudden silence in the clearing was alarming. As one vampire went down beneath the ghost wulf’s hurtling bulk, the remaining vampire with a hold on Rosalind began to drag her toward the trees. But its grip on her neck had slackened when she fell.

  Wresting herself free, Rosalind jumped to her feet. Lunging at the creature, she shifted shape. With the power of her wulf flowing through her, she drove the monster back with black-as-midnight furred arms and a vampire’s lethal incisors.

  She pinned the monster to a tree before it had time to register what had gone wrong. And as she stared at what she held, her vision went red, as though the night itself had changed in color and texture.

  Rosalind blinked, listened. There was silence in the empty chest of the monster. There was no breath.

  Not like you.

  Her head bent forward. Her fangs grazed the monster’s neck as she sniffed out the perfect place for a final kill. But she was torn from her attacker by the muscular power of a larger beast, and flung to the side. Leaping back, Rosalind fixed her gaze on the frozen face of the surprised vampire who dared to trespass on private property this night, as the white ghost of a once golden-brown Lycanthrope dealt that monster its fatal blow in her place.

  Ashes swirled in the energy-enhanced space with the fervor of a small tornado. The night turned from red to gray. And then her white wulf turned to her, covered in ash.

  He reached out to her with his arms open, wulf calling to wulf, and it seemed to Rosalind that those arms were all that mattered in the world.

  She went to him, and felt his arms close around her. Enfolded inside his revved-up heat, she experienced a moment of pure bliss, and a sensation of security that she’d never felt before. That moment, however, was followed by a jolt of unexpected pain that shook her head to foot.

  Alerted by the sound she made, the white wulf let her go.

  Not me, she sent to him.

  She wasn’t hurting. It was his pain she was feeling; pain that continued to rip through her even though they no longer touched. Jolt after jolt of physical agony blasted her. Swaying, she closed her eyes.

  A growl brought her back. Colton’s growl.

  She could hardly tune in with her attention. He was trying to tell her something. Confused, racked with the knowledge of how Colton was really feeling, though he managed to appear in control of his injuries for the most part, Rosalind glanced down.

  She was still furred-up. Her muscles were tense and corded with strain. But her pelt was no longer a pure, midnight black. Fine streaks of white, like a manifestation of the streaks of Colton’s pain, ran through her fur, a matrix of ghostly lacings that altered her appearance completely.

  Dazed, Rosalind looked to the ghost wulf that now stood a few feet away. He met her gaze knowingly, his wolfish face registering an emotion much deeper than either surprise or fear.

  Her father might have had been right, and Colton had finally realized this. By falling into his arms, she had taken on some of the outward aspects of yet another entity. A ghost wulf’s characteristics. If she had stayed there, in his embrace, what would have happened? Did any of them know?

  She ran her tongue over her fangs. Still there.

  Looking up at the sky, Rosalind opened her mouth. Her howl, which seemed to go on endlessly, rang out with a disturbing blend of anger, frustration and utter despair.

  * * *

  Colton melted back into human form. Somehow, he had to reassure Rosalind, comfort her when neither of them knew what was going to happen next.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “It has to be all right.”

  She had again closed the eyes he desperately wanted to see return to their former emerald green.

  “Change back,” he said. “Change now.”

  Rosalind did as he asked. In a swift download of human traits, she lost the wulf parts and stood there facing him, the defiance in her expression gone, her hair tousled and half in her face.

  Her sleek, bare skin glowed with a faint sheen of moisture. Her long hair covered her breasts. Her legs were unsteady.

  Attached to her slim ankle was the short length of chain that her f
ather had tried to bind her with. Its cuff had branded her flesh with a reddish ring that resembled a burn.

  Colton studied her naked loveliness. In human form, the only sign of her body having adapted to anything ghostlike were the number of white streaks riddling her hair, and the fact that she had gone pale, to the point of being as white as a sheet.

  He exhaled, restraining himself from grabbing her. Maybe the white hair and paler skin wasn’t too significant, but what the hell did he know? Each time he touched her, would she change more? Because of her nature, and what lay in her bloodstream, would she beat him to what he was going to become?

  The effort of restraint cost him. His energy had diminished. He had so little of it left.

  “Don’t presume to know what’s best for me,” he gently chastised, with his theory on her having run away to save him from vampires in mind. “Because anything having to do with you getting hurt would be the end of me.”

  She remained motionless. Not even a hand moved.

  “What’s to become of me, Colton?” she asked. “If I’m not to be Lycan, then what I am is anyone’s guess. I swear I didn’t know this when I came to you. When we...”

  “Bonded.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I was attracted to the Lycan in you, and I see it in you still. You’re beautiful, Rosalind. You’re my wulf, and it’s too late to take back anything we’ve done. Nor would I want to.”

  After a beat of silence had passed, she said, “He will keep me here forever. You know that.”

  “Surely that’s important, at least for the time being. You do see this?”

  Her gaze slid past him. “How many more of them will come?” She then repeated a question from their earlier conversation, as if it had more meaning for her now. “Why do they want me?”

  “We’ll have to find out. It will be our goal.”

  “I want to touch you.”

  “I’d like nothing more.”

  “I want more than that.”

  “So do I.”

  “How can anyone like us be isolated without going mad?” she asked.

  “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

  Rosalind raised her chin, and turned her head. “I won’t be chained,” she said to her father as he approached. “I may be an abomination, but I still have my mind.”

  Kirk set down his crossbow, and removed his shirt. Careful not to move too quickly, he draped the shirt around Rosalind’s thin, shaking shoulders.

  “All right,” Kirk said, his voice low, almost ragged. “No restraints.”

  And then, unexpectedly, Rosalind’s father slid soundlessly to the ground.

  Colton could now see that the shirt covering Rosalind was stained with blood. He smelled the iron in the air.

  The vamp that had jumped on the elder Lycan’s back had to have dealt Kirk a blow that Colton had missed at the time. Blood ran from the wound and dripped down his left arm, but Kirk’s neck was clean. The blood drinker hadn’t taken a bite out of the elder, and for that, Rosalind’s father was extremely lucky.

  * * *

  Rosalind fell to her knees beside her father before Colton had drawn a full breath. She didn’t need to address the blood pooling on the ground beside him. Demonstrating the truth in her statement about retaining her wits, she said, “The wound is deep, but not from teeth.”

  Colton nodded. “If there are more bloodsuckers around, they’ll be on us like flies.”

  Gesturing for Rosalind to step aside, he picked up her father and slung the big man over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to mention how much this hurt, or how very weary he was.

  “Do you know where we are now, and how to get back?” he asked Rosalind.

  “I know exactly where we are,” Rosalind said with a sweeping glance that covered the area. “This place is sacred. It’s where my mother was killed.”

  Colton took seconds to confront that news and the pain Rosalind had to be feeling on top of all the other things going on. But there was no time to spare for condolences, and no time to think about his parents.

  “Let’s get your father home,” he said through gritted teeth, fearing that calling up his wulf again so soon after losing his strength wasn’t in the cards. He’d have to carry Rosalind’s father the old-fashioned way and hope the cabin wasn’t far. He had to make sure nothing further happened to Rosalind on the way.

  Cop and Were, he thought. He’d never needed the strength of being either of those things as much as he did right that minute.

  “Lead the way,” he said to Rosalind. “Be on guard.”

  “I swear to you that they will never sneak up on me again,” she promised.

  And he believed her.

  Chapter 17

  No vampires appeared or attacked on the way back to the cabin. Nor did Colton smell their nasty presence.

  Rosalind had adopted a pace that was sensitive to his burden. Jared Kirk was a large man and a wulf. The combined weight of both proved formidable for the ghost of Colton’s former self.

  However, having Kirk injured meant the Were couldn’t take care of his daughter for a while. In his favor, as an elder, Kirk would be able to heal quickly enough and be back on his feet soon. In the meantime, without Kirk acting as guardian, would their deal of keeping his hands off of Rosalind be honored, or broken?

  Colton’s sable-haired lover seemed to walk a fine line between fragility and a noticeable toughness of spirit. It had to feel to her like she had a split personality; a tug-of-war between the wulf and the darker forces trying to get at her.

  Seen from behind, in human form, partially naked, and moving gracefully through the brush, Rosalind looked much the same as she had before this latest fight. She smelled the same, and that fragrance continued to affect him in ways too personal to acknowledge.

  Still, he’d seen something in her eyes, and had heard a chilling note in her voice when she had promised him that vampires wouldn’t be able to sneak up on her again. Because of what swam in her blood besides wulf, she had the ability to hide things from him that otherwise would have been in the open between an imprinted pair.

  Rosalind seemed to glow in the night, her skin lit from within. Every move of her shoulders, legs, head, brought home the fact that he had only held her for seconds, and she was already showing changes. She moved like an animal.

  He now understood the danger of Rosalind being close to others, but had yet to notice how the vampire attack tonight might have altered her further. He hated himself for watching her so closely, searching for a glimpse of evidence that she had slipped a notch further away from wulf.

  The path widened at last. They had reached the clearing and the cabin. Rosalind spoke over her shoulder as if reading his mind. “I can do this.”

  “I know you can,” he agreed.

  “But you’re worried.”

  “I’ve been worried since I woke up in a Landau bedroom.”

  “About me?”

  “And about me.”

  “Well, at least you’re honest.” She waved a hand at the house. “Can you bring him inside?”

  “Yes.” He had just about enough strength left to get up the stairs. After that...

  “It’s probably best if you stay here until I get him there,” he suggested.

  Rosalind’s slender fingers raked through her streaked hair. She stared at the tangle of black strands laced with white and said as he moved up the steps, “Why were you a cop?”

  “To take care of people, and out of an earnest desire to see the little guy kept safe from the big bad predators of the world.”

  “You didn’t have to put yourself out there for anyone,” she said.

  “Didn’t I?”

  “So now you’ll take care of me.”


  He nodded, and shifted Kirk’s weight. “Maybe I can redeem myself in some way.”

  “For what?”

  “Not protecting my family when it was needed most.”

  Rosalind fell silent, probably hearing his unspoken amendment. He would have added, if he had both time and more breath, that if he couldn’t do this one task, he wasn’t worth the space he took up on the planet’s surface. And that the goal of protecting her might in fact be the only thing keeping him on his feet at the moment, as well as keeping him from going stark raving mad over the injustices in the world.

  “Meet me here after I put him down,” he said. “We should talk about what to do. Together, we can reason things out.”

  Rosalind’s eyes were hooded by rich, lush lashes that Colton wanted to feel feather over his skin. No matter how tired he felt, his feelings for her remained savage in intensity.

  He swallowed back the urge to take her now, here, and shout to hell with all the rest.

  Damn that vow. Damn your father for making me agree to such a promise.

  Rosalind, in all her Lycan glory, with no hint of vampire fangs showing at the moment and the percentage of white in her hair gaining on the black, said, “The first room on the left is my father’s.”

  Colton trudged slowly up the steps. He needed rest, sleep and the food Kirk had neglected to bring. More than any of those things, though, he needed to stay awake and keep Rosalind in sight. For now, anyway, and until he was relatively sure she was okay, he had to remain vigilant.

  He also had to make sure that holding her for a few precious seconds hadn’t done more damage to her continually rearranging system than what immediately met the eye.

  As for himself, he was going to be cursed if he did or didn’t do what he wanted to do...Throw you on these steps and take all the pleasure from this union that we can get. Forget the consequences. Give in to our spirits.

  The thought had merit. Fighting it took all of his willpower. The idea of never being able to touch her or get close to Rosalind made the world and his place in it unthinkable. But the ridiculous idea that they would be compatible if she were to also become a so-called ghost was nothing more than a nagging suggestion.