The Midnight Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  “No,” Sylvan said immediately, her instinct to protect Drake overpowering everything else, even her duty to Pack. That realization brought her up short and she struggled to clear her head, to think as Alpha. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let personal feelings interfere with her responsibility. She refused to take a mate for exactly that reason. “She just awakened a few hours ago. She’s not strong enough for anything invasive yet.”

  “I understand, of course. But later?”

  “Perhaps.” At the sound of rending wood, Sylvan glanced down at her desk. She’d gouged four deep crevices in the polished wood surface without even being aware that her entire hand had morphed completely.

  If she’d been in public, at a press conference, that kind of slip could prove disastrous.

  “When can you get me samples?” Leo asked. “I’ll start setting up for the assays.”

  “I’ll have to check with Elena on Drake’s condition. Can Sophia collect what you need?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Good. I’ll have Sophia call you if she has any questions.”

  Leo was silent.

  “What is it?” Sylvan asked.

  “You said the turned Were has only just awakened. She could still deteriorate. If she’s rabid…”

  “She’s not rabid.” Sylvan’s wolf pushed hard for freedom. Her skin shimmered and a whisper of pelt silvered over the surface. She shut her eyes and forced her shift to recede. “I wouldn’t put your daughter at risk, Leo.”

  He cleared his throat in apology. “I know that, Alpha. Sophia has good instincts. I’m sure she’ll be careful. Please forgive my fatherly concern.”

  “Understood. I want you to rush the results, and report directly to me. No one other than Nadia and Sophia is to know about this.”

  “My mate and I can easily handle all the testing ourselves,” Leo assured her. “We’ll await the samples and run the assays as soon as we have them.”

  “Thank you.” Sylvan ended the call and resisted the urge to contact Elena immediately for an update on Drake’s condition. Drake would sleep at least a few hours after achieving a release. Thinking about Drake spending herself with Elena’s help, perhaps excited by Elena’s presence, threatened to unbalance Sylvan’s tenuous control.

  She grabbed the message slips for a distraction.

  Councilor Zachary Gates had left three urgent messages. Sighing, Sylvan dialed his extension in the Capitol Complex. When his secretary put her through, she said, “Hello, Zachary. It’s Sylvan.”

  “Councilor,” Zachary said in his smooth, polished voice. “Good of you to call.”

  “How can I help you?” Sylvan asked, more annoyed than usual with Zachary’s officious demeanor. Her temper and tolerance were frayed to the breaking point.

  “The coalition members thought it might be a good time to convene a status meeting.”

  “When?” Sylvan represented all of the organized U.S. Weres in the Coalition of Preternatural Beings. Zachary represented the Vampires, Rudy Brown the Mage, Cecelia Thornton the Fae, and Ilona Dexter the Psi. Together, the five guided their species through the uncertain political and social consequences of the Exodus. In addition to unifying their political platforms, they discussed self-regulatory policies to ensure that the actions of one species did not contradict a position of one of the others or place any species at risk. Prior to the Exodus the Praetern species had been completely independent of one another, and the new coalition was an uneasy alliance. Their board meetings often devolved into heated arguments as each species subtly jockeyed for political leverage and economic power.

  “As soon as possible,” Zachary replied.

  “An emergency meeting? Why?”

  Zachary sighed as if he were reluctant to deliver the next message.

  “Several of the members were concerned about the media depiction of your…ah, slip.”

  “My slip?” Sylvan growled.

  “I’m sure the photograph in the newspaper exaggerated your condition,” Zachary said soothingly.

  “My condition.”

  Zachary laughed. “Well, my dear—”

  “Alpha,” Sylvan said in a low, dangerous tone. “Alpha Mir, Councilor Gates.”

  “Of course…Alpha. You know how some of the board abhor public scrutiny. In fact, if they hadn’t feared their economic interests would suffer, they wouldn’t have joined your father in the Exodus at all. So naturally, they’re concerned about any behavior that might generate adverse public opinion.”

  “Would you care to speak plainly?” Sylvan said icily.

  “You looked like you were about to loose your beast, Alpha,” Zachary said, all pretense of diplomacy gone. “The Coalition cannot have a rogue leader.”

  “You know very well what that picture showed. One of my young had been attacked. It’s unfortunate the incident was photographed, but I don’t intend to apologize to the board for it.”

  “I quite agree. And I’m sure if you give the board a simple assurance that they have no reason to fear public reprisal because of a repeat performance, the matter will be quickly disposed of.”

  “I’m afraid I’m unavailable for the next several days.” Sylvan wondered about Zachary’s true agenda. Vampires were constantly maneuvering for territory and political power, so she suspected Zachary’s ultimate goal was to achieve superiority over all the other Praetern species. However, he was an adept politician and rarely revealed his true allegiances. “I’ll advise you when my schedule allows.”

  “I’ll expect your call, then.” Zachary’s tone was perceptibly cooler. “I wouldn’t wait too long, Alpha.”

  “Is that a threat, Councilor?”

  “Not at all. Consider it the advice of a friend.”

  Of one thing Sylvan was certain. Zachary Gates was no friend of the Weres. She wondered if he might be an enemy.

  ———

  Drake woke alone. Elena and Roger’s scent lingered, but the one that overpowered theirs and made her stomach tighten was Sylvan’s.

  Earthy and potent—burning pine and dark cinnamon. This time she’d dreamed of awakening in a hospital with Sylvan standing over her bed.

  In the dream, Sylvan had said she was part of the Pack now. Sylvan’s scent had enveloped her and she’d become excited. She’d wanted to vault from the bed and take her. She’d wanted to bite her. Then Sylvan had been a wolf, a great silver beast calling for Drake to shift, to run, to hunt. The rest of the dream had fractured, as if experienced through a different consciousness—the world had become sound and scent and taste. And Sylvan. Always Sylvan. Alpha.

  Drake thrashed restlessly. She could tell by the angle of the light streaming through the window that she’d slept most of the day. Far overhead, a plane engine droned. Much closer, she discerned muffled conversations and a riot of overlapping bird songs. She smelled fox, rabbit, deer. She sensed other presences in the building but had no feeling of danger.

  Taking stock of her body, she was immediately aware of three urgent needs—she needed a bathroom and a shower; she was very, very hungry; and she wanted sex. She glimpsed a bathroom through a partially open door on the far side of her room and decided to take care of the simplest problem first.

  Walking around for the first time in almost twenty-four hours, she expected to feel ill, but she didn’t. She felt—strong. Alert. Excited. The bite on her arm from the girl in the ER was gone.

  She used the bathroom and started the shower. The hot water brought a flush to her skin, and when she rubbed her hand over her torso, her nipples twinged and her loins throbbed. She didn’t have to touch herself to know she was tense and aroused. She could feel the insistent pulse that matched the beat of her racing heart. She rubbed both palms up and down her abdomen and thought of Sylvan’s arms around her, the heat of Sylvan’s hard belly against her back, the curve of Sylvan’s pelvis cradling her ass. She remembered the heat of Sylvan’s mouth on the back of her neck and her clitoris jumped. She squeezed her hand between her legs. She was wet
and hard. Ready.

  A week ago if she’d felt like this she would have masturbated, but she found she didn’t want to now. She wanted more than an orgasm.

  She wanted…she wasn’t sure what she wanted. She craved warm, sleek flesh under her hands, against her tongue. She hungered for the scent of burnt leaves and cinnamon. She envisioned straddling Sylvan’s hard stomach and painting her skin with her sex, marking her. Drake’s canines erupted, short claws burst from her fingertips, and a trail of fire burned down the center of her abdomen. She flashed on the image of Sylvan snarling in her face and the taste of Sylvan in her mouth. Her glands swelled. Her sex pounded. She was burning up. She had to get out of the shower. She had to get outside. She had to run. To fight, to take.

  Groaning, Drake stumbled back into the room and collapsed onto the bed. She couldn’t go outside. She was afraid of what she might do. Covering her eyes with her arm, she gripped her sex in her fist and squeezed, trying to force the pressure to relent. Through the roaring in her ears, she heard the door open and quickly held out her arm.

  “No, don’t come in here.”

  “It’s okay,” a strong, clear voice answered. “You won’t want me.”

  Drake turned her head. Misha stood inside the door. “I don’t think you should be in here.”

  “It’s safe.” Misha grinned. “I could tell from outside the door you’re dominant. Too close to me to be interested, probably.”

  “How about too old to be interested,” Drake said through clenched teeth.

  Misha frowned. “You’re not much older than I am. I’ve tangled plenty with Weres older than you.”

  “You have?” Drake stared at the dark-haired teenager with the luminous, mahogany eyes, thankful the teen was dressed in jeans and a barely there T-shirt. She would not have wanted to have this conversation with both of them nude. She casually pulled the sheet over her body, relieved to find that the very act of talking helped her get a handle on her rioting system. She was even happier to realize she didn’t have the slightest desire to jump on Misha.

  “Sure. We live a long time, remember? A couple of decades is nothing for us.”

  “I’m not sure I can get used to that,” Drake muttered. “I’m Drake, by the way.”

  “I know,” Misha said. “Elena said you were in the ER when the Alpha came to get me. I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”

  “No problem. How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.” She turned her back and pulled up her T-shirt to show Drake. Her back was smooth and unblemished. No trace of a scar. “All healed. Thanks for helping me.”

  “You’re welcome, but I didn’t do anything,” Drake said. “I’m really glad you’re all right.”

  Misha plopped down on the end of Drake’s bed and propped her chin on her fist, studying Drake unabashedly. Drake moved in the opposite direction.

  “You want to tangle, I bet,” Misha observed.

  “I…uh…how old are you?”

  “Eighteen next month.” Misha twisted around and put her back against the wall, tossing her leg casually over Drake’s calf where it rested beneath the sheet. “I remember when I first had the frenzy. It was really really bad. I couldn’t think about anything except sex. Everyone thinks it’s so easy being dominant, because there’s usually someone around who wants to tangle.” Misha made a face. “It’s not so much fun when no matter what you do, you can’t get it to stop.”

  Drake closed her eyes. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know what I’m doing.” Drake pushed herself up on her elbows and met Misha’s eyes. “Maybe you ought to be a little more afraid of me.”

  “Maybe you should be afraid of me.” Misha narrowed her eyes and made a low rumbling sound in her chest.

  “Don’t,” Drake warned at Misha’s challenge, her voice dropping.

  Misha held Drake’s gaze for a few more seconds, then shivered and looked away. “Wow. That was intense.” She cut Drake a quick look. “I was wrong. You’re way more dominant than me, and the Alpha says I could be a centuri someday.” She rolled her eyes. “If I make it through sentrie training without screwing up again.”

  “What happened in the park wasn’t your fault.”

  “I left the Compound,” Misha said softly, running the sheet through her fingers. “That was dumb. Then I let that asshole get behind me. Getting stabbed serves me right.”

  “You’ll know better next time,” Drake said.

  “Damn right.” Misha regarded Drake with a sidelong glance, careful not to engage eye contact. “You know, I don’t get a chance to tangle with too many Weres who are more dominant than me. You might like tangling with a dominant.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so,” Drake said.

  “I’m not interested in mating or anything,” Misha said matter-of-factly. “I mean, if you want a submissive mate, that’s cool. But you wouldn’t have to worry about it with me.”

  “I don’t want to…tangle…with anyone right now. Is there any chance I can get some food?”

  “You sure? Because your call is really strong.” Misha slid her leg a little higher on Drake’s. “And I’m really feeling ready.”

  “Just food.” Drake jumped out of bed, preferring being naked to the continued physical contact. Misha was only doing what was natural, but Drake had no idea what was natural for her any longer. “And some clothes.”

  Misha shrugged nonchalantly, apparently unconcerned by the rejection, and sat forward on the edge of the bed. “The Alpha lets us hunt as long as we don’t go alone. Can you shift at will yet? I can, if I concentrate.”

  “I can’t remember shifting.” Drake frowned. “Maybe I can’t.” The thought of not being able to shift bothered her. If she was a Were now, she wanted to be whole. She gasped as sudden pain raked through her entrails. “God, what is that? It won’t let up.”

  “Your wolf wants out,” Misha said.

  “How can you tell?” Drake barely managed to get the words out around the choking pain. She leaned against the wall, not certain she’d be able to stay standing much longer.

  Misha pointed to Drake’s stomach. A fine line of dark pelt ran down the center of her lower abdomen. “That happens when your wolf ascends. You know—when you’re challenged or in sex frenzy.”

  “It feels like something’s trying to rip its way out of me,” Drake said, rubbing her stomach.

  “She probably is. Especially if you need a release, which you must even if you can’t tell. You sure you don’t wan—”

  “Food,” Drake repeated, although the urge for sex was back full force. “And those clothes.”

  Misha vaulted off the bed and opened the door. “Come on. I’ll take you to the mess hall.”

  Drake followed her down the hall. Misha pointed into an alcove just inside the front door.

  “Grab pants from the stack in there. A shirt too, if you want.”

  “Thanks.” Drake dressed automatically, but when Misha held open the door to the porch, she hesitated. “Should I tell Elena I’m leaving?”

  “You’re not a prisoner,” Misha said softly. “You’re Pack.”

  Drake knew better than to think it would be that easy. She’d been in this situation dozens of times while making her way through the state care system. Just when she’d get settled in one place, she’d be moved because of funding cuts or lack of personnel. She’d wake up in a new place, surrounded by strangers. If she was lucky, there’d be someone like Misha, who didn’t care if she was an outsider, to befriend her and explain the rules and regs. But more often than not there was no one.

  Even if she made an ally or two, she could always count on needing to win her place. She’d learned quickly how to do that, first with her fists, then with her brain. Now she had to learn the rules all over again, but she was in a whole new world in a body she barely recognized, with feelings and urges she couldn’t control. She wondered if she’d survive, let alone ever truly
belong. The clawing, gnashing sensation in her stomach started again and she winced.

  Outside in the ballpark-sized courtyard between the sprawl of log and stone buildings, male and female Weres, most dressed in khaki or black BDUs, a few shirtless, came and went in pairs and groups.

  Some slowed and stared, a few narrowed their eyes and rumbled. Drake didn’t make eye contact, but she didn’t lower her head either.

  “Look, Misha, maybe this isn’t such a good ide—”

  “Hey! Here come Alex and Jazz,” Misha said.

  Drake looked where Misha pointed. The two teens she remembered from the ER made a beeline for them across the hard-packed earth.

  “What should I do?” Drake said quietly.

  “Your wolf knows what to do,” Misha said confidently.

  Drake wasn’t so sure. She stood still as they drew closer. Her skin felt galvanized. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her loins tightened, not with the now familiar urge for sex, but with an urge to fight. The two boys stopped a few feet from her and regarded her warily, their legs spread aggressively, their shoulders thrust forward. She kept her hands open at her sides and her head up. She looked from one to the other, meeting their eyes in turn. Alex immediately ducked his head and shifted to one side, leaving Jazz facing her.

  “I’m Drake,” she said, watching his eyes.

  “I remember you from the ER.” His nostrils flared and he looked confused. “You smell like the Alpha.”

  Drake wondered why, but she said nothing, waiting, not moving.

  He slipped around behind her and she growled softly, a quiet warning.

  She heard a soft, plaintive whine, then the press of a cheek against her shoulder.

  “I can tangle with you,” Jazz whispered, sliding around in front of her, brushing his chest across her arm. He met her gaze for only a second before casting a look at Misha. “Unless you…?”

  Misha shook her head.

  “No, thank you,” Drake said to Jazz, and he shrugged, unperturbed, the same way Misha had. “Misha and I were on our way to get something to eat. You guys want to come?”

  Jazz and Alex readily agreed and fell in on either side of Misha, jostling her playfully. Drake sighed inwardly, the first hurdle cleared.