Huntress Bound

by Aimee Easterling

  “Sorry to wake you,” Mr. Shepard said by way of greeting, teeth glinting white as they reflected the dangling light fixture’s glow. The older male appeared just as unlikely as ever to be a government mastermind, shirt untucked and hair standing on end as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Unfortunately, the agent’s innocuousness only made me distrust him further, and this time I was the one to silence my inner wolf before she could force an audible growl out from between our shared lips.

  “Not a problem,” Sebastien answered, rubbing one finger along the junction between eye and nose. A yawn would have been too obvious, but this simple gesture of waking did the trick nicely. Perhaps, I realized, Malachi isn’t the only chameleon currently in my life.

  “Is something going on?” my mate continued, peering over Mr. Shepard’s shoulder at the soldiers who continued passing in ones and twos down the narrow street. Despite the high levels of foot traffic, the overhead lights had flared back to life and the humans had discarded their night-vision goggles and their aura of high alert at the same time. Whatever distraction my cousin had created appeared to be winding down. I just hoped I hadn’t missed my one and only chance at escape in the process.

  “I’m afraid I have need of your services sooner rather than later,” Mr. Shepard said in lieu of an answer, taking a single step forward into my mate’s personal space. The gesture was both aggressive and impatient, so I wasn’t at all surprised when the agent dispensed with further formalities and got straight to the point. “Have you had time to consider my offer?”

  Offer? Wriggling a little closer to the curtain of covers, I suddenly regretted succumbing to my wolf’s physical urges and failing to debrief my mate during our few brief moments of reunion. There was clearly more going on within this compound than I’d initially gathered. Had Sebastien already made promises that would harm myself or my pack?

  Unfortunately, the professor’s subsequent words did little to elucidate either his past actions or his current mindset. “I’m still thinking it over,” my mate said carefully, words quiet but at the same time forceful. The professor wasn’t challenging his companion...but he wasn’t caving to demands either. “I have to admit, the job would sound more enticing if it didn’t come with armed guards and leg shackles.”

  As if to underscore his point, Sebastien lifted one foot enough to jiggle the ankle bracelet into motion. And this time, I caught a whiff of slippery elm carried along with his more usual aromas. My mate, I realized, was angling for a release.

  Mr. Shepard, unfortunately, shrugged off the veiled request with ease. “The restraint is for your own protection,” he countered. “As I explained earlier, I can’t have you roaming freely through a top-secret facility until you’re sworn in. Agree and the anklet comes off.”

  “And, as I told you earlier, I can’t accept employment unless you give me something more to go on,” Sebastien countered. “What are you studying? Why all the secrecy? What happened to my test subject?”

  Derek. So that was why Sebastien had gone along so easily with these SHRITA agents when they took him into custody inside his own home. My mate was here hunting my brother, was putting up with innumerable inconveniences because he felt responsible for Derek’s disappearance. Did that mean the professor also had an escape plan all lined up for after his investigation was complete?

  Whether or not he knew of a way out, though, the professor remained silent now as he waited for his questions to be answered. And after a long moment, Mr. Shepard relented and responded even though he failed to provide any real information.

  “I know even less about your test subject than you do,” the older male said quietly, glancing back over one shoulder as if to check whether the guards in the doorway were close enough to hear. Then, raising his voice back to normal levels: “But I do know that we both need a trial run. I’ve found another test subject for you to examine. Determine whether she shares 357’s unique characteristics and I’ll consider your other requests.”

  Mr. Shepard’s lack of a firm promise was lost on nobody. And even though I couldn’t see Sebastien’s face, I could tell from his stance that he was staring the older male down much like an alpha werewolf might have done. My mate wanted to refuse. Wanted to tell Mr. Shepard to shove his experiment where the sun didn’t shine.

  But there was that ornery ankle bracelet to contend with. Plus a slew of armed guards. And the electrified, ten-foot-tall fence. “Who?” my mate said at last, the single word an admission of defeat.

  In answer, Mr. Shepard stepped aside at last, revealing the duo that had been standing silently behind his back throughout the preceding exchange. Only, there weren’t just two guards present, I realized. No, the large males were flanking a smaller figure who hovered with fists clenched and chin raised, black leather blending into the shadows as she glared at all and sundry with wolf rampant behind icy human eyes.

  And my head cracked against the underside of Sebastien’s bed as I realized whose scent had been wafting just beneath my notice for the last several minutes. Fur and asphalt and peppermint. Dakota had been captured by Sebastien’s unasked-for hosts.

  Chapter 23

  “Ah,” Sebastien murmured. And I couldn’t tell if his murmur was an “Ah, I’ll do whatever you want” or an “Ah, you just stepped over the line.”

  In response, I tensed, half expecting my mate to cede to the government mastermind immediately. After all, Sebastien had never met Dakota before today. Had no idea what was at stake if he tempted an alpha command from her lips the way he’d done from mine...this time in front of a rapt audience who clearly already had an inkling that werewolves existed.

  Of course, Dakota was more aware of the danger than I had been and might manage to guard against the professor’s psychological manipulations. Still, I didn’t doubt that Sebastien would be capable of tricking her into a lapse. Our mate was a sly and patient hunter, and the weeks Derek had spent as his house mate had surely given Sebastien significant insight into the werewolf mind.

  Warn him, my wolf whispered. But she lacked any advice on how, exactly, I might communicate with the professor while collecting dust bunnies in my hair and struggling not to breathe in ancient grime. And before I came up with a brilliant solution, Sebastien made up his own mind.

  Our mate didn’t wear glasses, but I could almost feel him pushing virtual spectacles up onto the bridge of his nose as he donned the absent-minded professor persona like a well-fitting coat. “Well, of course,” he agreed easily. “But you do realize I don’t have any equipment to work with? I can’t just analyze a subject without access to my supplies.”

  And for a moment, I thought the evasion might be successful. Unfortunately, Mr. Shepard must have read those long, boring reports I’d seen littering my mate’s office before SHRITA’s invasion turned the space into a shambles. Or maybe the funding application submitted to DARPA ages ago included the relevant information—that all of the paraphernalia in the professor’s lab was intended to lead the subject toward fear for someone else’s well-being rather than having any physical purpose pertaining to the experiment itself.

  Whatever the reason, Mr. Shepard’s lips thinned. And for the first time I thought I might be seeing the real, knife-edged personality hidden beneath the agent’s slovenly, middle-aged skin. “Don’t fuck with me,” the older male murmured, his voice nearly too soft to hear from ten feet away.

  My wolf snarled silently at the verbal slap, but Sebastien’s scent turned smug as if he’d been fishing for this exact sort of information all along. Had our mate been seeking confirmation that the agent wasn’t able to spit out alpha commands? Or was he just trying to suss out who Mr. Shepard really was beneath his rumpled suits?

  Either way, Sebastien didn’t give the government agent time to analyze the issue for himself. “Alright,” my mate said at last, shoulders caving in with mock defeat. “I need time, though. Three hours at a minimum. And space,” he added, this time glaring at the two menacing soldiers who blocked the still o
pen door.

  “I’ll give you until morning,” Mr. Shepard offered. “But think about what we discussed earlier. SHRITA can help advance your career if you give us half a chance. If not....”

  The male didn’t bother completing his threat. Instead, he knelt at Dakota’s feet, fumbling with a tracker that matched Sebastien’s in the process. The device gleamed silver in the muted overhead light, clicking shut around the female’s slender ankle before she had time to evade its approach.

  Finally, nodding once, Mr. Shepard rose to his feet and shot Sebastien a single, loaded glance. Without another word, he ushered the soldiers outside and snicked the door shut behind them. At last, we three were left entirely alone.

  “YOU CAN COME OUT NOW,” Dakota told me as soon as our captors were gone. She didn’t wait for obedience, though, before flinging herself down onto the narrow cot. And as the springs bowed in reaction, I found myself nearly crushed against the floor beneath her weight.

  “Thanks a lot,” I grumbled, disentangling myself from both blankets and bed with an effort. But my eyes weren’t on the female as I emerged. Instead, they flew to Sebastien, taking in the way his mouth pursed and his eyes narrowed. I might possess a slew of questions to pepper him with...but Dakota’s presence had definitely reminded the professor that he had an equal number in store and waiting for me.

  Only, neither one of us had time to spit out a single request before our companion drew every eye back in her direction with a pointed clearing of her throat. The female was fiddling with a long bracelet that ran from wrist to elbow, unhooking a clasp and opening the metal cylinder like a book to remove the jewelry from its current position against her flesh. “That was stupid,” she said idly, slipping the arm band atop her ankle restraint before clicking the former back shut.

  Abruptly, I realized that Dakota’s supposed jewelry was actually a Faraday cage capable of blocking the radio signals coursing out of her anklet and relaying her current location. I wasn’t sure how she’d known to come so prepared—maybe there were half a dozen other gadgets hidden about her person just waiting to be transformed from hair bows and pens to lock picks and projectiles.

  Either way, I couldn’t help laughing aloud and agreeing with her assessment. “They patted you down and missed that?” I asked, amused at how easily the soldiers had fallen for Dakota’s innocuousness despite the leather that still covered her from head to toe.

  “Obviously,” she agreed, fingers flying as she managed to deter the anklet’s anti-tamper safeguards without the benefit of any additional tools. Then the Faraday cage was being removed from her ankle...along with the deactivated tracking device. The latter had been clamped back shut before being slid out of the arm band, and I could only hope that Dakota knew what she was doing and hadn’t just called the guards back down upon all of our heads.

  Given her speedy removal of the shackle, I would have expected to be faced with smugness when the female shifter glanced up and met my eyes for the first time since being delivered to this small, cinder-block hovel. But what I saw instead made me shiver and reassess my understanding of my companion’s motivations. Because her expression was even colder and harder than the darkness that now lurked behind Malachi’s previously warm, brown orbs.

  I suddenly doubted that Dakota was actually present to help us escape.

  “But that wasn’t who I was calling stupid,” our companion continued, voice chilling down to subarctic levels as she cracked her finger joints then stretched as if amping up for a race. “Walking directly into the arms of government agents? Leaving behind clues of alpha compulsions?” The female shook her head slowly, lips parted and head tilted as if she couldn’t quite believe a werewolf was capable of such absurd idiocy. “I’d kill you both right now if we could afford to leave corpses lying around.”

  “Excuse me?” Sebastien asked. My mate had been silent up until this point, clearly willing to let me take the lead since I possessed more information about our companion’s identity and motives than he did. But now he stepped forward and angled his shoulders so he could shield my body with his own. “Who exactly are you and why are you threatening my...?”

  The professor paused then, unable to think of the proper word to finish out that sentence. And while my wolf wanted to focus on the silent suggestion of “mate” hanging in the air between us, my rational human half was instead piecing together clues and coming to a chilling conclusion.

  Call me misogynistic, but I’d believed Troy was the big, bad werewolf whose enforcer status matched Malachi’s on this side of the Mason-Dixon line. Now, though, I remembered how Dakota had failed to agree with that portion of my analysis during our knife-throwing session earlier in the evening, how she’d failed to mention who was alpha in her pack.

  Meanwhile, I also recalled speaking with Scary Guy over the phone what felt like an eternity ago—but was really less than a day in the past. The uber-alpha had promised to call off his dogs until tomorrow...but surely the calendar had flipped over while I was running through the forest ahead of my cousin and his supposed pack mates. Was Dakota the uber-alpha’s top dog? Was she about to derail our current operation by carrying out a kill order that emanated straight from her own boss?

  It was hard to put any weight on my wild conclusions, though, when Dakota crossed her legs and abruptly became the spitting image of a small child sitting atop her rumpled bed. I half expected the other female to pick up a teddy bear and blink her eyelashes, in fact, when she finished Sebastien’s statement for him. “Your mate?” she said sweetly. And even though the term “mate” should have pleased me, it instead sent a shiver running down my spine.

  “Wait. No,” I said forcefully, slipping out from behind Sebastien’s protective back and speaking directly to the woman responsible for deciding how great a danger my partner and I represented for all of shifter-kind. “Sebastien doesn’t know...well, anything. If you keep your mouth shut, when this is all over he can be allowed to walk free.”

  For his part, my human partner said nothing, although large hands did come down upon my shoulders in a rush. The gesture wasn’t invasive, though. Instead, the professor was supporting me with his presence alone. If I hadn’t known any better—if Sebastien’s scent hadn’t told me he possessed no inner beast—I would have thought he was a member of my pack soothing my wolf through the proximity of his own furless skin.

  Dakota laughed curtly at our display of affection, her scent smug as if we’d confirmed something she’d suspected all along. Meanwhile, the danger in the air grew sharper in the wake of my words.

  “Your mate may not know anything, but he’s clearly in this up to his eyeballs,” the other female countered, pulling a toothpick out of her breast pocket and proceeding to scrape away nonexistent dirt under her fingernails. Then, spearing Sebastien with a piercing glance, she tossed out an alpha command when mere politeness would have done the trick. “Tell me where the data is stored in this facility. Then maybe we can finally get down to business.”

  Chapter 24

  Unlike the average human, Sebastien could definitely feel the slap of an alpha compulsion. And even though he wasn’t bound to obey, I could see him assessing the mysteries swirling around us, gauging my relationship with Dakota, then choosing to play along.

  “I don’t know,” Sebastien answered carefully. His eyes slid to mine, and at my nod he continued with less restraint in his voice. “I don’t know, but I can guess. The base seems to be entirely cut off from communication with the outside world, and I haven’t seen any land lines or computers for inter-departmental messaging. Mostly, officers seem to run soldiers back and forth whenever they need to talk to each other.”

  “Go on,” Dakota urged, leaning forward while eying my mate as raptly as if he was a hunk of prime meat. Despite my best intentions to stay out of the spotlight, I found myself stepping forward to shield Sebastien from her gaze. In response, the other female smiled like a cat who’d swallowed the cream.

  Sebastien was the one
who kept his cool. His hand slipped down to take mine, the gesture nearly invisible in the dim light. And before Dakota’s eyes could do more than narrow, he drew us back to the point at hand.

  “I thought the lack of connectivity was pretty unusual at the time,” the professor continued as if he’d never been interrupted. “So I paid attention to where the soldiers were going. There’s a tiny hut in the very center of the compound, barely large enough to contain a bathroom. I suspect the hut hides an entrance to an underground bunker containing all of the base electronics. Or at least, that’s where I’d start looking if I needed to find data of any sort.”

  “So that’s where we’ll go,” I told him, squeezing the large hand that encircled mine so firmly. But even though Sebastien nodded agreement, his gaze remained fixed upon the slender shifter who currently held the key to his ability to walk freely through the compound—the sleek Faraday cage she’d initially pretended was a bracelet and that now sat unused in one of her slender hands.

  For her part, Dakota took in our physical connection through eyes glittering with malice. “What a cute couple,” she murmured, her tone suggesting nothing could be further from the truth. Then, raising her voice, she returned to business. “Now, strip.”

  My hands were unbuttoning my borrowed uniform before I realized that this particular compulsion had been aimed at me. And as the urge to obey sang along my nerves, I was abruptly glad that my lack of underwear meant I’d be out from under the compulsion sooner rather than later.

  But even though my fingers were mere puppets obeying my companion’s will, my mind remained my own. “Why?” I demanded as I worked.

  Dakota didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she was peeling off her own clothing just as quickly as I’d emerged from mine, setting aside several items that the soldiers had missed. A tiny flashlight. A compact thumb drive. And was that mess of wires and hunk of play-dough-like substance the guts of a bomb?