“She fell when she tried to stand up. I think she needs to eat.”
Diana laughed at the mirrored concern in Bradley’s face. The young tough strode across the room. His brother moved out of the way, climbing onto the bed, so that Bradley could stand in front of her.
She waved away their concern.
“I’m all right. A little rubber-legged, maybe. What I really need is to find the bathroom and head home.”
She felt the warmth radiating from Brandon’s body and reached out to brush a hand over his forehead. Diana frowned.
“You’re running a temperature.”
Brandon’s eyes flicked to those of his brother. He leaned back, breaking contact.
“Ah,” he mumbled. “I have a high body temperature. It’s normal.”
“Hey, Bradley! Adam called!”
A blond head with a smooth chili bowl haircut, shaved underneath, poked into the room. Bright blue eyes and a wide grin focused on Diana.
The boy bounced into the room in a flash of red and orange tank shorts. An equally blinding sleeveless tee completed the ensemble. The boy was a small dynamo, perpetual energy in motion.
“Hey Miz Ridley! You remember me? Mark?” He jumped onto the bed beside her. “Mark Cargill. You used to make cookies for me.”
Diana made cookies for most of the kids that showed up at her house. But she didn’t point that out. Mark’s high energy and enthusiasm tended to make him stand out.
Her strongest memories were picking up the countless things Mark knocked over because he couldn’t contain the energy he generated. He was sweet, if distracting.
“Mark, get off of Adam’s bed. You’re wearing shoes.” Bradley scowled at the blond boy. “You’re not supposed to be in here, anyway.”
Mark flushed and ducked his head to stare at the bright red basketball shoes on his feet. Suddenly realizing where he was, the boy scrambled off of the bed. Bradley grabbed him by the neck of his shirt just as he started to dart out the door.
“What did Adam say when he called?”
Mark blinked then recalled the message. Diana could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he dredged up the information.
“He said that he was on his way with Miz Ridley’s car. She’s supposed to wait here ‘till he gets back.”
Bradley let him go and Mark dashed out. His blond head ducked back in.
“Hey, Miz Ridley?”
Diana choked down a laugh.
“Yes, Mark?”
“My birthday’s in few weeks. I’ll be twelve. Would you make my cake? No one here can cook for shit.”
“Mark!” Bradley yelled and turned to Diana. “Sorry about that.”
He shot another glare at Mark who ducked his head again.
“Would you?” The blond boy asked. “Please?”
“I suppose I could manage that.”
“All right! I like chocolate.”
Mark pumped a fist in the air and disappeared, feet pounding in the other direction. His voice came back into the room as he hollered.
“Hey, you butt-sniffers! Rick! Seth! Guess what? Miz Ridley’s gonna make my birthday cake!”
———
Adam pulled off the pavement onto the dirt road into the development he jokingly called a road. A billboard sign with Adam’s distinctive Lobos Luna Construction howling wolf wearing shades silhouetted against the moon and his work cell phone number announced custom-built town homes in the Shady Path Home Development. The home of your dreams in a rural living area, minutes from the conveniences of town living. All with approved financing, of course.
He pulled into the muddy, rutted swath and parked in front of the shiny insulation and sheeting covering the outside of what would become the first of a neighborhood of expensive homes. This was his investment to put all of the boys through college. He hoped.
An institutional white truck sporting the official county animal control logo was parked among the colorful collection of rusted, beat-up pickup trucks. Adam’s own red Ford had magnetic signs on each door, displaying his company’s wolf and moon logo.
The air was devoid of normal construction sounds. No pounding of hammers or whine of a saw as it ripped through wood. Adam’s sensitive ears picked up the sound of voices in the back of the structure where apparently his crew had gathered instead of working.
Scents washed over him in a blended muddle. Burnt-wood-building-material chemicals-new-concrete-hamburger-for-lunch sort of smell. Dead thing.
Adam raised his head, sorting through the odors as he angled around sawhorse tables set up on the side of the house in the driest spot in the yard. He insisted the men run the saws and orange extensions cords where there was no risk of electrocution by dragging through the mud. Besides, cleaning them up was messy business. He’d rather avoid overwork or injury by being neat in the first place.
Humans were a delicate lot. It took them weeks and weeks to recover from injuries that wolven would heal from in a few days. Especially saw cuts. Every now and then, Adam had to fire some guy who thought he was too smart for the safeties on his power tools.
He hooked his thumbs through his jeans belt loops as he strolled up behind the huddle of men.
Personally, he’d rather avoid dead things or get along with the disposal process, not stand around and stare at them. Intellectually, he understood the humans’ fascination to be up close and personal with a wild animal. Especially, since there were no known wolves in the area.
Coyotes, yeah. Last night more than confirmed that werecoyotes were on the loose in Anderson County. By running Ms. Diana Ridley to him while he was partially changed pretty much gave away the wolven pack. How much she saw of the boys’
Change he didn’t know. Adam had tried to keep the female’s face averted, but he was pretty sure she’d seen some of it before she passed out.
The human population at large was unaware of the supernatural population and he was determined to keep his part of that world under wraps. Just one more problem on his list of things to deal with.
———
“Break time’s over.”
Everyone jumped, to a man, and stared at him. Adam met their gazes until the men turned away and mumbled excuses, hurrying back to their tasks.
Adam liked being the boss. The human workers fulfilled his alpha need to be in charge without all the pack politics crap.
Mack and the Animal Control guy, who smelled nervous, stayed behind.
Underneath the harsh odor of chemical cleaner, Adam noticed that the man’s scent was off. Not off as in psychic. A strange, hey, I’m not quite human, kind of way.
He smiled at the stranger, all white teeth and no warmth. His visitor went completely still, prey caught in the hunter’s sight. The game filled Adam with dark amusement. The man was on his territory after all.
Mack cleared his throat, drawing both men’s attention. The big foreman wisely looked at his boss somewhere around the nose, rather than meeting eyes.
Mack’s gesture, though casual, held all the deference of introducing royalty to a commoner.
“Adam Weis, this is Jared Morgan. County Animal Control.” Mack looked between them warily. His worry filled Adam’s nose as much as the scent of psychic, which spiked as Mack tried to use his gift to keep the situation calm. One of Mack’s minor gifts, Adam knew was interjecting his influence over others. Nothing major, the psychic had assured him, more the equivalent of easing a spooked animal. Anything more would give Mack the mother of all headaches.
“Mr. Morgan, Adam runs Lobos Luna Construction. The development belongs to him.”
Jared Morgan was a smallish, wiry man who held himself with the upright confidence of a man in charge of himself and his surroundings. His shiny brown hair dropped below the crown of his white summer western hat, partially obscuring one lens of his glasses. The white oxford shirt, jeans and boots reminded Adam of a redneck nerd.
The dorky cowboy extended a hand, then seemed to think better of it and dropped it,
treating Adam to a careful once over that never once made eye contact.
Adam’s curiosity pricked. The wolf in him wanted to circle the oddity in front of him. Smell it. Taste it. Poke it to see if it would run. Maybe even roll in it to savor the scent at his leisure.
“Ah, Adam? Mr. Morgan mentioned that he wanted to get back soon.”
Adam’s gaze flicked to Mack, breaking the wolf’s keen interest. Realizing he’d invaded Morgan’s personal space, Adam frowned. He didn’t remember moving so close.
He was the guy in charge. Losing control of his baser instincts wasn’t an option. He stepped back and allowed Morgan room to maneuver. The man stood rock still, barely breathing, his eyes fixed on the stalking predator.
Adam nodded. He ran a hand through the trailing strands of his hair while he got a grip on himself. Some perverse part of him still wanted to play. A small predatory smile escaped, lighting his eyes, snatching Morgan’s breath again.
“Well, then I’ll let you get back to your work, Mr. Morgan.”
———
Mack found Adam, neon orange tape measure in hand, double-checking what was destined to become a stairwell. It was a wasted effort. He sight-measured better than a survey team.
“So, now that you’re finished marking you’re territory, are you going to zip it back in?”
Adam let the tape recoil with a satisfying smack. The tension in the case vibrated against his palm, matching the hum in his body. He ignored Mack’s sarcasm and nodded, indicating that the foreman make his report. Adam respected the human, something that surprised them both.
An ex-Special Forces soldier, Mack Spencer had seen and done it all, including help take down a regime of very bad werewolves last year, making Adam the top alpha in town.
Mack was six-foot-six, taller and heavier than Adam. Yet the big man moved with startling grace and gentleness. Maybe Adam was projecting. After all, he had a vested interest in this particular human and a good deal of his attention was focused on Mack’s safety.
Not that he believed that the human couldn’t watch out for himself. Mack was the calmest man Adam had ever met, until angered. Then he was as deadly as any supernatural creature. Adam had experienced that firsthand, as had the werewolf bastards that Mack had taken out the night Adam became Canis of the pack.
In the short time he’d known Mack Spencer, the human had become something Adam had never had or wanted before. A friend. It was damned annoying.
Had he been wolven, Adam would have made him his beta, his second in command and a warden of the pack. The human had already given his protection to them.
As it was, the psychic human was another temptation to keep under wraps, and not just from other shape shifters or a rival pack Canis.
The problem was that Adam wanted to make Mack wolven. The psychic was already bound to the pack, to him especially. One bite from a changed wolven and the human would be one of them, or die from the wolven venom in the saliva. That kept things in perspective for Adam. He’d find safer ways to increase his ranks.
He tossed the tape measure to Mack, who clipped it to his belt.
“I’ve got to get out of here. It’s nearly noon.”
Adam envisioned police cars showing up at his house to haul him off for kidnapping Ms. Diana Ridley. They could even tack on possession of a stolen car since he’d been riding around in it.
Feeling responsible for her well being, Adam made a mental note to fill up the tank on his way home and check the tires. He wondered when the last time was that the woman had checked her car fluids, too. Frowning, he ran a hand through his hair. He did not need to take care of her. His obligations were almost more than he could handle already. He just needed to make sure she was safe. There was a difference.
Mack walked him out, matching his pace with his employer and friend. He waited until they reached the little blue car to speak his mind.
“The wolf. Morgan said she was poisoned. She wasn’t one of yours. You don’t have any females in the pack.”
Mack gave the statement a slight lilt, enough to make it a question, but not enough to pressure the wolven.
Adam drummed his fingers on the roof. He trusted Mack, yes. But he didn’t want to involve the human in pack business. He’d done that once already against his better judgment and now the man thought he was one of them. Best to leave him out of it.
He shook his head, finding himself answering anyway.
“No, she wasn’t mine. She was a stray.”
Mack raised his eyebrow at the pack leader’s elitism. Too often he scolded Adam for his wolven ideology.
Adam let the look slide, telling himself that the human was only joking. In wolven society, the man would have already been on the ground, Adam’s teeth at his throat, for questioning his judgment.
Damned nuisance friendship was. He hoped that didn’t indicate a weakness in his leadership abilities.
“Do you think someone … another pack is looking for her?”
It was a valid question. Adam shook his head again.
“No. I don’t know. She might have run with another pack, but it’s more likely that she was a loner that ran into trouble. I’ll sniff it out later.” Maybe.
Adam’s voice was low and thoughtful.
“Pack territory breaks up by county or the same equivalent. Most strays and weres stick to unoccupied territories.”
Someone who’d chosen life outside pack law and protection would seek to avoid its enforcers, the Canis Pater and his wardens.
Mack choked back a laugh.
“You’re wearing your King-Of-The-Weres expression. You wolven are so elitist, your noses stuck so high in the air, that you’d drown if it rained.”
He grinned at Adam’s painful wince at the word were, knowing that wolven hated to be called were.
“Did-ja think that maybe the girl was looking to join up with your pack?”
“No.”
Adam didn’t like to admit the truth out loud. Garrick, the old leader was a shameful stain on his reputation. He might have killed the bastard, but the old Canis’ ghost haunted him still.
Adam had already queried a couple of wolven females for the alpha female spot. Strong females with charitable backgrounds who could help him build a solid future here.
Both had very politely, very firmly, turned him down.
“No female in her right mind would place a paw in my county. Not after everything about Garrick came to light.”
Adam had tried to keep the worst that Garrick Moser had done quiet, but it had been hard. You don’t go into a territory and take over. There were laws, protocols to a challenge. All of that Adam had bypassed. Garrick might have been the nightmare monster that a wolven named werewolf. But no one knew that when Adam had killed him. It was murder.
Paul Sheppard, his Canis had done some heavy politics with the Wolven Council to keep Adam from being declared werewolf and hunted down. God only knew what fancy two-stepping Paul and Dom, the pack lawyer, had done to make the council recognize the fight as a legal challenge.
If Adam hadn’t pressed for time, and gone ahead with and finished the mate-bond with his fiancée, Amanda, he would have known she was in trouble. He might even have found her before the Anderson pack had raped and brutalized her.
Wolven are hard to kill, even by other supernaturals. Stronger, faster, hardier.
Among the supernatural pecking order, dragons, wolven, and vampires ranked deadliest.
And those three took care not to cross paths. Garrick was supposed to have tossed the weres out on their butts, not gone into treatise with them.
Dragons retreated from the world, snacking on the unwary supernatural that ventured into its territory. Vampires lived in their own dark world of plots and intrigue.
Wolven simply determined to stay at the top of the food chain in their territories by running out or outright killing their competitors. For the wolven, the same policy included potential threats to a Canis’ rule.
All of whi
ch made Garrick stupid, on top of being the lowest of the low, a damned B-rated monster movie werewolf. The fool actively recruited strays to build up his pack. No application, no interview, no references. No blood bonding ceremony to metaphysically tie potential victims too close to the old leader.
It had been too easy for Adam to pose as a stray and infiltrate the Anderson Pack to find out what had happened to his fiancée, Amanda Delaney.
Everything Adam found added up to Garrick Moser being one dead werewolf by Adam’s hand. To the victor went the spoils, and the pitiful remainder of the pack after he and Mack were finished.
And a year after the bastard’s death, more crap floated to the top of the cesspool that had been Garrick’s depraved existence.
Mack’s question, louder for repetition, ended Adam’s mental wandering. Adam stifled down a snarl for the dead werewolf.
“Do you think that Animal Control’s going to find out anything weird with the body?” Mack’s intense blue gaze was as predatory as any wolven. “It wouldn’t take much to clean up. A couple of hours.”
Adam shook his head, privately amused at how the human tried to take care of him. He wouldn’t insult his friend by openly deriding his concern.
“No. He might do a few tests for disease and toxins, which will come up in spades. You have to pump enough poison to kill a couple of elephants to kill wolven. He’ll think massive overkill and cremate the carcass.”
And that was that, tidying up that little mess.
“Yeah. Isn’t poison suspicious? Oh, and when did wolves stop being a protected species? “ Mack’s question was flat with sarcasm, amusing Adam further.
“You need to find human friends, Mack. You’re thinking like a supernatural. Dogs get poisoned all the time. Check the Internet. Official sources don’t list wolves in this area. Don’t borrow trouble where there isn’t any.” He warned, opening the car door.
Mack stopped him, persistently holding the door open.
“Adam.”
Adam growled, his bared canines inches from Mack’s face, biting off the human’s words with sharp carnivorous teeth.
“I said leave it. She wasn’t mine. Not my problem. Not yours, human.”
Weremones Page 3