Roland watched as Marcus and Jeff took up flanking positions, surrounding the woman and keeping her from escaping.
Roland issued a series of short barks, warning the males to stay alert, and started to shift.
It took a moment before Sam realized that something was happening. Around her the wolves had grown quiet, the two on either side of her sitting back on their haunches, ears up and alert. Across from her, the wolf that had run her down started to...change.
No, no, no, no... Sam blinked, there was no way in hell she was seeing this. Fur so white it glowed in the moonlight started to shorten, muscles started to rearrange themselves and the wolf's face contorted in ways nature never intended.
The entire process took three minutes - tops - until what remained was the obvious body of a man.
Roland stood, stretching muscles that had gone tight. The change was uncomfortable, bordering on painful, but after 80 years he had grown accustomed to it.
Sam started at the man's feet, her gaze traveling up, up and up over long legs, thick thighs and an impressive manhood. Across a six...no, make that eight-pack to broad shoulders before finally coming to rest on a face that would be heartbreakingly handsome, but for the scar. "Fuck me," she whispered.
"I don't do humans," Roland snarled in disgust.
Sam blinked and snapped her mouth shut. Standing slowly, she reached out a hand to touch him, only to snatch it back as one of the wolves snapped at her trembling fingers. "I'm dreaming," she said, rubbing at her eyes. "Or dead...or unconscious...that's it. I fell, hit my head and I'm lying somewhere unconscious and dreaming."
Roland listened as the woman muttered to herself. She was tall for a woman, though she still stood several inches shorter than him, with thick, black hair and green eyes. Her face, while beautiful, had an edge to it that suggested at rough beginnings. Now that was something Roland understood. Still, considering her objectively, he supposed that most men would find her beautiful. For a human.
"Shut up," Roland snapped. "Let's go." Turning, he stalked across the clearing not bothering to look back or wait for her.
"Ah...no." Sam said. Did he honestly think she was just going to blindly follow him - a complete and total stranger - into the woods? When did she get the staring role in a bad B movie?
Roland stopped and swung around, narrowed eyes pinning her in her place. Beside him, Jeff and Marcus whimpered and dropped to their bellies. "What did you say?"
Clearly, he was not used to being disobeyed. Too bad, Sam thought. "Look, I don't know who you are, or what the hell is going on here," she said, feeling herself starting to shake, her mad dash through the forest having spiked her system with a massive dose of adrenaline. Between that and the shock of what she'd witnessed, it was taking everything she had to keeep calm and on her feet. "I am not going with you."
As he watched, the woman turned her back on him and started for the trees. Roland realized that he had just been dismissed. The bitch was going to be trouble, he predicted.
Sam was perhaps thirty feet into the trees when she felt herself lifted up off her feet. "Oof!" she grunted.
Roland grabbed the woman and tossed her over his shoulder much like a fresh kill.
"What the hell?! Put me down!" Bracing her hands on his back, Sam reared up and tried to wiggle down. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Taking you home," Roland growled. He wasn't happy with Nafarius' order to bring the woman back to the pack's den. It was their home - their sanctuary - and had to be protected. He had pushed Nafarius to let him take care of the woman. She was out here alone, days away from civilization and Roland knew how to get rid of a body.
"What? No!" Sam continued to struggle. "Look, just put me down and let me go. I won't say anything. I swear!"
Roland ignored her. Nafarius may want the woman alive for questioning. Fine. But once the alpha had his answers, Roland planned to push for a permanent solution.
Fifteen minutes later, Sam finally surrendered. The man was immune...or deaf. Though she was voting for stubborn and pig-headed. All throughout her struggles, he'd continued to walk, never once slowing his steps despite her extra weight. His grip never grew lax and he simply refused to respond to her. She'd used her best curses, pleas and even tried bribing him, all to no avail.
Too tired to do anything else, Sam hung down his back, her arms dangling beside her head. Despite her position (or maybe because of it), she couldn't help but notice what an incredible ass the man had. She considered commenting, but remembering his earlier disgust, assumed he wouldn't appreciate the sentiment.
Lifting her head, Sam brushed her hair out of her eyes. Behind them, she could see movement through the trees. Wolves, she thought. They were following them, darting in and out of the brush, their coats occasionally catching the moonlight.
"This isn't happening," she muttered, her head dropping back down.
* * *
Nafarius stood, silent and alone. He watched the trees, his ears tuned to the sounds of the night. Behind him, the rest of the pack prepared for the evening meal, firelight and laughter pouring out from their den. He wasn't ready to join them, not as long as Roland and the others were out there. Not with a human this close to home.
He knew his beta disagreed with Nafarius' decision to bring the woman here, disagreed violently. It wasn't their usual way of dealing with trespassers. But the woman was unusual, her presence giving him pause. Not that he couldn't kill a woman. She was just as dangerous to him and the others as any man. But women rarely travelled alone. He was certain someone would miss her, should she suddenly disappear.
Marcus was the first to break through the trees. Crossing the clearing, his light brown coat muted in the dark, he brushed up against Nafarius' leg with a quiet woof of greeting.
One by one they returned, each member taking the time to greet Nafarius before slipping inside.
Last to arrive, Roland dropped the woman at his leader's feet. "Be careful," he warned, "she's fast."
"Obviously not fast enough," Nafarius said, humor lightening his eyes.
"She's standing right here," Sam snapped. Rising to her feet, she rubbed a sore spot on her hip.
Roland's lip curled, pulling angrily at his scar, a low growl of warning rumbling in his chest.
"Bite me," Sam said, stepping into his space. She was sick to death of being growled at and manhandled. She was sore, tired and she wanted to get back to her normal, unimpressive life.
Roland shook off Nafarius' restraining hand. "She doesn't belong here," he said, before turning to head inside.
"I didn't ask to come," Sam whispered.
"It is unwise to antagonize Roland."
Sam turned and felt her eyes go wide.
Nafarius stood with his arms crossed over a broad chest, his bare feet hip width apart, glaring at her. Red hair stirred lightly in the evening breeze. She couldn't make out the color of his eyes, not in the dark and not with the light at his back but they appeared bright.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Who are you?" Sam shot back.
Nafarius ignored her. "You're trespassing."
"This is public land," Sam countered. Technically, Wolf Lake was located in a corner of the National Forest and she hadn't bothered to get a camping permit.
"This is our land," Nafarius growled. "What are you doing here?"
"What business is it of yours?" Sam was struggling to understand what was going on. She knew what she had seen, but some small part of her refused to believe.
"Who knows you are here?" Nafarius had been trying to decide what to do. A lone woman he could handle. The question is, what to do if someone came looking for her.
Sam's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Look, I don't know who you are or what you're doing up here. Honestly, I don't really care. All I know is that I'm going home and you can't stop me."
Nafarius took two steps forward, his hands dropping to fist at his sides. "Do not challenge me."
Sam struggled to s
tand her ground in the face of such power. Masculine, violent power, towered over her, the man using his size to intimidate her. It worked wonderfully. "What do you want?" she asked quietly.
"How you found this place and why are you here?" Nafarius stood close enough that he was able to catch her scent, dark and sensual. It drifted on the evening breeze to mingle with the smell of smoke from her campfire and the fresh water of the lake. But hidden beneath it all was the sour smell of the city.
"I came up here to camp." That much was true, she thought. But she got the distinct impression that this man would appreciate knowing the true purpose behind her trip. Werewolves, she thought. No fucking way, the Andrew sound-a-like answered.
Nafarius couldn't smell a lie, but he knew when someone was keeping secrets, evading. "Nobody comes up here. We make sure of that."
Sam felt her heart stutter at the cold violence she heard in his voice. "Please just let me go," she pleaded. "I won't tell anyone anything. I promise."
Nafarius considered his options, none of them appealed. "You stay," he ordered. "For now."
"But..."
Nafarius ignored her. Grabbing her by the arm, he led her towards the pack's den.
Panicked, Sam tried digging in her heels. "No! Wait! You can't do this! Let me go!"
Nafarius tightened his grip as the woman struggled to get free.
"You're hurting me!" His hand on her arm felt like a vice, his fingers digging in painfully. Looking up at the face of the mountain, Sam was surprised to see light spilling out from a large opening. Inside, she could hear the low rumble of voices. Somehow, she knew that if he got her inside, nothing would ever be the same.
"Please," Sam pleaded. Staring up into the impassive face of her captor, she was willing to resort to begging. "Please, I won't tell anyone. No one would believe me."
Nafarius' jaw clenched at the reminder that not only did she know where they were, she knew what they were. Determined, he pulled her along behind him.
Sam redoubled her efforts. Twisting, she tried wrenching her arm free, digging at his fingers with her nails when that didn't work. Throwing herself backwards, she tried knocking him off balance while kicking out with her foot.
Nafarius was aware of their audience even if she wasn't. Across the room, Roland sat watching, his eyes fierce with hate and anger. Determined, Nafarius let go of the woman just long enough to gather her up into his arms, carrying her to a small alcoves located at the back of the den.
Sam felt thick bands of steel encircling her, lifting her off her feet and knew that she had lost. There was nothing soft or yielding about the man that held her, nothing in his embrace to offer comfort.
She didn't realize she was sobbing until she was dropped on the ground. This isn't happening, she thought, rolling to her side, ignoring the man standing silently behind her and burying her face in her hands.
"You will remain in here," Nafarius ordered. Staring down at her, he noted her genuine tears, felt his wolf stir with curiosity. Hardening his heart, he said, "I cannot guarantee your safety, should you stray from this room."
He waited, not sure what he expected. Getting no answer, he turned and left.
* * *
It was just a nightmare, she told herself. Hoping to see the top of her tent, Sam opened her eyes. Instead of bright orange nylon, she found the dim light of the alcove. "Shit." Memories of the night before trickled in and she could feel her fear returning. Ruthlessly pushing it aside, Sam was surprised that she had managed to sleep. Fear and adrenalin had left her exhausted.
Sometime during the night, someone had brought her a blanket, slipping in and out quietly. But otherwise, the small room was empty and dark. Taking stock of herself, she realized that she was sore, her body feeling like she'd run a marathon but without the caloric burn. She was also hungry and had a desperate need to pee.
Standing, she walked to the alcove entrance, tentatively sticking her head out. Roland stood guard.
"Get back inside," he growled
"I need to go to the bathroom."
"Too bad," Roland said, uncaring. He had been ordered to watch over the woman. Nafarius called it guard duty; Roland called it babysitting. "Get back inside."
"Fine, I'm sure there's a corner in here that will work well."
Roland surged to his feet, his scar blazing red with anger as he took a threatening step forward. "Mark my home and I'll tear you apart, no matter what Nafarius says."
"What would you have me do?" Sam asked.
"Hold it!"
Sam stood toe to toe with Roland. He towered over her, his face set in anger, but she refused to back down. He had run her to ground, kidnapped her and now held her prisoner. She was hungry, tired and scared and she was pretty sure it was all his fault.
"Excuse me," came a quiet female voice.
There was a moment of silence, Roland staring down at Sam, his body filled with tension. She could practically feel him vibrating with leashed violence. Holding her ground, Sam nevertheless broke eye contact to peer around him.
Standing behind Roland, her eyes wide, was a woman. Blonde with blue eyes and petite, she held a steaming bowl of something that smelled delicious. "Hello," Sam said, hoping that the bowl was for her.
Roland didn't bother turning around. "Maddie, what are you doing here?"
"Nafarius wanted me to bring her something to eat." Maddie's eyes went from Roland to the woman and back again. As the pack's beta, there was only one other man superior in strength to Roland. Even then, the power disparity between him and Nafarius was often too close to call. The fact that this intruder stood up to their beta fascinated - and frightened - Maddie.
Reluctantly, Roland stepped aside, permitting Maddie to pass.
Retreating back inside, Sam watched as the woman ducked around Roland to join her.
"Hi," the blonde said shyly. "I'm Maddie."
"Sam," she said, cringing as her stomach growled loudly. "Sorry."
"Here," Maddie held out the bowl of food. "Please, eat."
Sam sat cross-legged and dug into the stew. Rich, thick and hearty, it went a long way towards making her feel better. "Thank you," she said, using a piece of warm bread to clean the last of the stew from her bowl. "That was delicious."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I made it myself," Maddie admitted.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, Sam wondering about the elephant in the room and whether or not to ask. Figuring she had nothing to lose, she asked, "Soooo, you're not...?" She couldn't bring herself to finish. The question itself was ludicrous, this woman likely to laugh at her.
"A werewolf?" Maddie finished for her. "Yep, born and bred."
Sam checked her out, did a double take, then shook her head. "I don't believe it. There is no way," she said. "I mean, werewolves cannot possibility exist. There has got to be another explanation for what I saw...like..I'm dreaming, or lying somewhere unconscious...or, perhaps hallucinating."
"Would you like to see?" Maddie offered quietly.
Sam stared at her. If she said yes and nothing happened, then she would know this was all just a dream. Some sort of mixed up message from her brain after too many years studying myths and legends. But what if...what if something did happen? What the hell would she do then?
When did you turn into such a chicken? Sam groaned, that voice was back and she was seriously starting to resent it. True research isn't starting with a conclusion and working backwards... She had always been so certain the things that went bump in the night were nothing more than bad dreams and shadows. She had never once considered the possibility that the myths, the legends might be true.
Determined to know for sure, Sam started to nod.
"This isn't a fucking freak show," Roland cut in.
Turning, Sam found Roland standing in the open doorway, hands on his hips, glaring. "Maddie. Out!" he commanded.
Maddie jumped up, grabbed Sam's bowl, and scurried out of the alcove.
"You didn't have to yell
at her like that." Sam got to her feet, brushed at her jeans. "She was just trying to be nice, which is more than I can say for you."
"That wasn't yelling and I'm not nice."
"Not exactly a news flash," Sam muttered.
"Come," Roland ordered. "Nafarius wants to see you."
"Who's Nafarius?" Sam asked.
"Our leader." Roland quickly made his way through the den, the woman hurrying behind him. "He's the one that ordered you kept alive."
Sam felt her face flush as they passed through the main area. She vaguely remembered being carried through the large room, her struggles those of an angry toddler throwing a fit. Last night, the place had been full of people. This morning, it was empty but for a few women seeing to domestic duties and caring for small children. All of them stopped to stare. Maddie was the only one to offer her a small smile before turning back to her work.
The sun was bright, the light momentarily blinding, causing her eyes to water. Shading her eyes, Sam got her first good look at the area.
She had stepped out into a large clearing, bare dirt, parked hard from centuries of foot traffic, spread out from the mountain at her back. Large and circular, the area was filled with men and women, several of them appeared to be sparring. It wasn't long before she was noticed, all activity slowly coming to a stop as several pairs of eyes turned to stare.
"This way," Roland said, and guided her into the clearing.
As he stepped into the gathered crowd, Sam felt the weight of all those eyes. She searched faces, surprised to see a number of very young mixed in with the very old. They were an odd mixture of men and women, light coloring and dark and every shade in between. They did have one thing in common. Not a single one of them appeared pleased to see her. In fact, their distrust and anger radiated out in waves, something silent and ominous.
Suddenly grateful for Roland's presence, Sam was relieved when he wrapped one meaty hand around her upper arms, guiding her forward through the crowds.
Legend (A Wolf Lake Novella) Page 3