“I do. Why am I locked in?”
She liked his voice. Maybe she could get him to speak more just to hear the melodious rumble as it crossed her skin. By the saints, what was she thinking? Hello, Margie, pull your head out of your hormones and channel your inner alpha.
After she pushed the code into the keypad, she turned the knob and pushed open the door. Spilled soup lay in twisting rivulets across the floor, flowing from the broken bowl. Zane stood in front of the bed, arms crossed, completely naked with the exception of a silver torc around his neck. Oh yeah, she could get used to the eye candy. It was impressive.
Eye contact, Margie, eye contact.
Like meeting his eyes helped. Black brows and thick lashes framed amber eyes that gleamed with questions. Sleep-tussled hair hung in waves to his shoulders. Above a white bandage wrapped around his middle, tight curls dusted his chest and below the bandage the curls led in a trail from his navel to...
Eyes, Margie, eyes.
And while she was at it, she might as well wipe the blush off her face, which was easier thought than done.
“I’m Margie McLean, London’s pack leader.”
“Nice meeting you. I’m Zane Moskos, but you already know that, right?”
“Allen told me. Sorry about the lockdown. I had an issue I needed to deal with. Perhaps you’d be more comfortable sitting?” As if an alpha male, even one wounded, would take her up on the offer.
He remained standing, his gaze raking over her body. A tilt of his lips promised bliss from a male who knew what he wanted and how to get it. If Big G and Allen didn’t hurry up, her hormones would have their way with Zane.
“How long has Landa been here?”
“How do you know her?”
Zane ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his arm rose. “I was sent to find and capture her.”
Chapter Three
Margie’s eyes narrowed and Zane felt the twisting tendrils of her anger wrap around him. Even pissed off she was the best thing he’d ever seen, although that must be mating hormones talking since nothing about her was his type. She stood around six feet tall with short brown hair cropped chin length and large eyes the color of good Scotch. He wanted to drink in her scent, to drag her beneath him and prove to her he was her alpha.
Oh, wait. He couldn’t prove anything with Sid’s damn torc on. The spell weaved into the twisted silver ensured the wearer’s magic remained trapped, locked away, useless. Born an alpha, the torc reduced him to a beta. A beta with an alpha’s scent and strength and none of his powers. The only way to get the thing off his neck was through death, his or Sid’s.
And he sure as fuck wasn’t dying anytime soon.
“Well now. If that’s true, it seems you and I have a problem.”
Yeah? Ya think? “Do we?”
“I’m not giving you Landa. She’s part of my pack now. And I guard what’s mine.”
He’d like in on a little of that guarding action. “I said I was sent to find and capture her, not that I wanted to.”
“Great! Then just say no and leave her here in peace.”
He’d like nothing more than to do just that, but Sid held his sister as collateral, thereby ensuring he’d return. Prey in hand. The bastard.
“As much as I’d love to do that, I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
“Well, then. We’re back to our problem.”
He shrugged and stared at her, liking the way her hair brushed her jaw, noting the muscles twitching in her legs under her jeans. Maybe she was thinking of giving him a kick in the ass with those steel-toed shit-kickers she wore.
He didn’t really blame her.
He wanted to kick himself in the ass.
“Is it true what they say about you?”
One eyebrow cocked a droll tune. “What? That I’m a hard-nosed bitch?”
“Nope. That you know a bit of magic.”
Well, didn’t that deflate the wind out of her sails. If her face got any paler, she’d pass for a ghost. Her eyes widened as they met his gaze. A flash of fear sparked and dissipated. “What makes you think I’d know anything about magic?”
Not a thing like Sid. Sid enjoyed lording his magical abilities over others. Margie seemed to hide from hers. Provided she had any. Maybe the rumors he heard were wrong.
“When I got close to London, Montana, a few people started describing how you knew some magic. The magic alpha bitch, I believe it was said.”
“Who—” Her voice squeaked and she cleared it. “Who said that?”
Zane shrugged. “Some drunk were at a bar in Billings.”
“Oh, that’s just great.” One hand ran through her hair, ruffling it. She started pacing in front of him, over to the soup mess, back to the clean floor, again to the soup. The same hand ran another stroke through her hair. “Why does Sid want Landa so badly?”
Zane heard his teeth click together, his jaw clenched so hard. He pictured his sister, Zenia, as he’d last seen her, the band Landa had worn clamped around her neck, her eyes full of pain and fear. “He’s a sick son of a bitch. He sees a female he wants and he takes her. Keeps her caged like a dog, collar and all. Somehow Landa escaped. Sid wants her back.”
“What kind of sick person are you to take a female back to those types of conditions?” Her eyes narrowed, the glare she gave him piercing like a spear.
“Unless you have magical abilities and want to help me take this thing off, I don’t have a choice.” Sticking a finger through his torc, he pulled, the metal biting into his neck. “This damn thing ensures I stay nothing more than a lackey. Until I get rid of it, I have no choice. If I don’t come back with Landa, Sid will torture my sister, my twin. What would you do?”
Margie’s brows shot upward, but before she could answer, the metallic click of security doors opening followed by heavy footsteps echoed down the hall.
“Well, well, what do we have here? How you doing, Zane?” Allen strode into the room like he owned the place—which he probably did seeing they stood in the infirmary.
Zane took a deep breath, trying to shove the anger down. He needed Margie to take the fucking torc off his neck so he could man-up and grow the alpha pair he’d been born with. And he was doing a piss-poor job of convincing her.
He glared at Allen, until he got a look-see at what came in the door behind the vet-doctor. The mountain of a were had a shaved head, tats on his neck, arms, and knuckles, and who the hell knew where else, and a don’t-fuck-with-me expression on his face.
Like that was an option.
Impressive.
So this was who carried him from the woods to his current residence. A skinhead giant on steroids. Without a doubt one of Margie’s enforcers.
“Fine.” The word spat off his tongue.
“Zane needs his bandage checked and he needs to stay down here until I can figure out what to do about this whole thing.” Margie gestured around the room.
The giant cracked a shit-eating smile and popped his knuckles. “I’ll be happy to take care of him.”
“Just make sure he stays in the room, Big G. Don’t touch him unless he tries to leave.”
The grin disappeared on a sigh. “As you wish, alpha.”
“Hey—”
“Don’t worry, Zane. I’ll be back for you. And somebody find the cleaning staff to clean up this mess.” She pointed to the spilled soup and marched out the door.
If his jaw got any more tense, it would snap in half.
Allen slapped a palm against his shoulder. “Don’t worry, pal. She’ll be back. On second thought, maybe you should worry about that. She looked like she just stepped in a cow patty.”
And the shit’s name was Zane.
What a way to meet his mate.
****
Could this day get any worse? Had her mate truly aligned himself with an alpha who aspired to be the were equivalent of Hitler? If she helped Zane, what would happen to her and her pack? Who else had
this problem that she could turn to for advice? Someone, anyone? Like the answer was suddenly going to pop into her head. Nope. She was on her own.
Situations like this made her hate being an alpha.
No time for a pity party. If she wanted to make a decision, she needed all the facts. And part of those facts sat upstairs in her office.
Margie hit the stairs leading out of the underground infirmary two at a time and slammed her hands against the release bar of the door. Which did absolutely nothing. Looked like Allen had locked the door behind him.
Yet another reason to like that vet-doctor.
After a punch of the code, she bolted through the door into the staff hallway of the main ranch house. Three doors down and there was her office, Landa parked in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. Her head turned as Margie slammed the door shut and strode across the room.
With any luck Landa’s speech would sway her one way or another. Because as it stood now, she wavered between helping Zane rid himself of the torc—assuming he told the truth about that piece of neckwear—and telling him what he could do with the thing.
Have a mate or save her pack from danger.
What a choice.
Taking a seat in her leather swivel chair, she propped her boots on the desk and crossed her arms. “Talk.”
Landa gulped and clasped her hands so tight, Margie heard the knuckles crack. Pity for the wolf warred with the knowledge her pack might be in danger due to whatever happened in Landa’s past.
If only she’d rescinded the don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy. Coulda, woulda, shoulda got one all of nowhere fast.
“What would you like to know?” Good thing Margie had excellent hearing. Landa’s whispered words barely made it across the span of the desk.
“Start at the beginning. And Landa,” the blonde wolf’s gaze flicked to hers, “you are not going with Zane. Do you understand? You. Are not. Going. With him.”
Tears formed in Landa’s eyes and she dashed them away as her gaze dropped to her lap. A deep breath in. And the words tumbled out.
“My pack was overtaken by Sid’s some time ago. When I reached maturity, he saw me and liked what he saw.” She swallowed and touched her neck. “He kept me on a leash attached to a collar. He cast a spell on it so I couldn’t just take it off and leave.”
Margie felt a snarl turn her lip and she had to take a deep breath to calm herself enough to speak. “Then how did you escape?”
The corners of Landa’s lips turned up. “He thought I was stupid so he left his grimoire lying out. When he’d leave the room, I’d study his magic.” Her gaze flicked to Margie’s and held steady. “I learned the counter-spell to release the collar and ran. Kept running until I got here.”
“Your family?”
Landa shuddered, her gaze dropping to her clasped hands. “They’re dead,” she whispered. “He killed them all.”
Margie’s feet hit the floor with a thud and she leaned forward, resting her forearms on the desk. “I’m sorry.”
Landa nodded. Her eyes squeezed shut as air whistled into her lungs. “Thank you. Sid can’t stand to lose. It’s a pride thing. I thought I covered my tracks, but I didn’t have a chance against Zane. I’m so sorry,” her gaze met Margie’s. “I’ve brought trouble upon your pack.”
“Our pack. So tell me about Zane.” The thought that her mate was somehow aligned with a cruel leader didn’t sit well in her gut. Although he had said his sister was being held by Sid. And due to an apparently magical-powered torc, he didn’t have a choice in the matter.
What kind of alpha didn’t have a choice in the matter?
And what the hell did that torc have to do with it?
“Zane is one of Sid’s enforcers. I don’t know him well.”
“Why does he wear that torc?”
“Sid weaves magic into those torcs and then he puts them on all the alpha males born in the pack when they reach puberty. It keeps their alpha powers locked.”
Oh, hell no. She did not just hear that. Her view of Sid hit dirt bottom and kept right on barreling downward.
Her growl was interrupted by footsteps beating a fast rhythm down the hall, pausing outside her office door.
Bang! Bang! Bang! “Alpha!”
Jace didn’t bother with such niceties as waiting for her to give the okay to open the door. Nope. He burst in like his boots were on fire and the only extinguisher was in her office.
“What’s wrong?”
“There was someone in the woods, where we found that injured wolf last night. He roughed Mike up and said that he was here for the others. We’re takin’ Mike to the infirmary now.”
“What? How roughed up? And what the hell was Mike doing in the woods?”
Mike wasn’t even an enforcer. As a pack member who lived on the dude ranch, his responsibilities involved helping take care of the horses.
“One of the mares took off so he chased her to the fence line. Said that some guy was on the other side of the fence and when he asked him what he was doing, the dude shot something at him. Didn’t physically touch him, but Mike looks like a vampire left out in the sun. It’s bad.”
“Sid,” Landa whispered, eyes gone wide.
“What did he do to Mike?” Margie turned to Landa.
“Sounds like he threw an energy ball. It’s one of his specialties.”
Not for long it wasn’t. Sid had gone from being someone else’s dictator to moving his game into her territory.
And nobody messed with her pack.
So hell yeah, she was going to cast a counter-spell to whatever magic Sid had working in Zane’s torc. He’d brought the fight here, and everything in her cried out to take him down.
He was about to discover how dangerous it was to cross a female alpha.
Chapter Four
Zane paced from one end of his room to the other, his bare feet slapping against the cool tile of linoleum, borrowed scrub bottoms tied around his hips. The janitor had come and gone and the spot on the floor previously covered in soup now gleamed like ice on a sunny day. Allen had left in a hurry what felt like a lifetime ago and Big G stood in the hall, the door wide open.
Not like he could leave. He might not have the white bandage wrapped around his chest, but he still had stitches and an unhealed hole where the bullet went in.
And he wanted to see Margie again.
Even if she was still mad at him.
As if the higher powers heard him and decided to be accommodating for once, Margie put in an appearance, her boots tapping an angry rhythm on the linoleum. She slapped a palm on Big G’s shoulder as she walked into the room.
“Thanks for watching.”
“Anytime, alpha.”
She flicked her wrist and the door closed, shutting them in together. Alone. With his mate. Who looked madder than a bull about to be castrated.
So the higher powers were only partially accommodating.
“I just saw one of my pack members lying in a bed, badly burned due to an energy blast apparently thrown by Sid.”
“Sid’s here?” What? Did the fucker not trust him to bring Landa back? This just proved that Sid was smarter than he seemed.
“You know anyone else that can throw an energy blast? ’Cuz I sure don’t.”
“Can you?”
“Throw energy around?”
He nodded once.
Margie’s lips turned up like she knew a secret and she shrugged. “Tell me about the torc. Landa touched on it, but I want to know exactly what it does.”
Zane stuck his finger under the torc and yanked. Nothing happened except the bite of metal against his neck. “It won’t come off. Sid weaved magic into the metal which...” he paused, not wanting to admit he was weaker than he should be, that his powers were tied and try as he might he could do nothing about it. “Um, it means that he has power over me. Also means he can find whoever’s wearing the damn thing.”
“What kind of power over you?”
Yeah, right
, like he wanted to go into that one. Admitting he had no powers was a slap to his pride.
“Look, Zane. If you want me to break the spell, you need to tell me exactly what it does. Skirting around the problem doesn’t work with magic.”
Zane ran a hand through his hair and tilted his head back so he stared at the ceiling. No help from that quarter. If getting free of the torc meant a slap to his pride, it was worth it.
Despite the fact it made him look weak in front of his mate.
“It binds my alpha powers. When an alpha reaches puberty, Sid puts one of these torcs around their necks. We have the strength and scent of an alpha, but none of the powers that go along with it. For all basic purposes we live our lives as betas and become his enforcers.”
Margie snarled. Snarled. And damn him, but it was hot as hell to know she was upset over his neckwear.
“Okay, this guy is going down. Why hasn’t any other pack wised up to what he’s been doing?”
“He’s good at hiding his tracks. And we live in an isolated part of South Dakota, so there’s not a lot of interaction with other packs.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“He took over the pack around the time my parents first mated. They said at first it wasn’t so bad, but then he got mixed up with magic and went into dictator mode and after that happened, things went downhill fast. Are you going to help me get rid of this thing?” He did another round of the finger-pulling-the-torc routine.
“He put one of my pack members in the infirmary and we might have to move him to a human hospital. So if you want me to help you kick his ass all the way to the ocean, I’m happy to oblige.”
Nice to know the earlier blow to his pride turned out so well.
“It’s appreciated.”
Margie nodded, the anger in her eyes bleeding to determination. “Landa mentioned a grimoire. Besides tossing energy blasts and binding alpha powers, what other tricks does he have up his sleeves?”
She was actually going to help him. The tightness in his chest relaxed. Sure, the stitches binding the bullet hole together were still there, but the powerlessness he felt over not being able to save his twin eased. Help from one’s mate tended to do that to a wolf.
After the Moon Rises Page 9