Series Firsts Box Set

by Laken Cane

  The wolves traded looks. “Yes,” the driver said. “We are. Marc Beldane was our alpha.”

  “Ah,” Rune said. “So you’re here to what, get revenge?” She almost smiled. The wolves smelled weak. Weak and puny.

  Her thoughts threw her when she realized what she was thinking. Fucking monster. And for the first time in her life that silent, familiar refrain was said with the tiniest bit of…affection.

  “No,” the man in the backseat said. “We don’t want revenge. Marc was a cruel and terrible master.”

  “Kiddies, I’m in a hurry. Just tell me what you want.” Sensing no threat, she holstered the gun and the blade.

  The blonde girl’s voice was light and breathless. “You took our leader. We’re unprotected and at the mercy of every group in River County.”

  “And outside River County,” the driver added.

  “Got it. Tell me who’s bothering you, and I’ll pay them a visit in the morning.” She motioned for the joint, and when the blonde hesitantly handed it over, she put it to her lips.

  Again the little group exchanged looks, but not because she was smoking their weed. “You don’t understand, and you’re not going to be thrilled when you do,” the man said. “But you killed our leader. You’re responsible for us now.”

  “You’re our new alpha,” the driver said, almost apologetically.

  Rune gaped. “Yeah…no.” She handed the joint back and took a step away from the car.

  “But you—”

  “Yeah, I know. I killed your daddy, etcetera. But I’m not a wolf.”

  “That doesn’t matter as much as you’d think,” the blonde said. “We can’t be left unprotected. It’s your fault we are.”

  “At least,” the driver said, perhaps trying to be a little more diplomatic, “lead us until we get a new alpha.”

  “You’ll need time to get used to the idea,” the dude said. “Can we come back in a few hours and discuss it further?”

  He leaned forward, out of the shadows, and met her gaze. “It’s only a matter of time before bad shit starts to happen.” He hesitated, then continued bravely on. His voice was firm, but desperation lit his eyes. “We need you, Rune.”

  Fuck. I don’t help monsters. I kill them. Right. Why did it suddenly seem like the humans were now the monsters? She sighed. “Come back later. We’ll see what we can work out.”

  Their relief was palpable. She wondered, as she watched the taillights disappear down the street, what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

  Rune Alexander, half-human Shiv Crew leader and werewolf alpha. It was funny.

  Only not really.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  She did not want to walk into his office.

  For two minutes she stood with her forehead pressed again his closed door, dread coating her stomach like sour milk.

  She ignored the footsteps that slowed behind her as RISC employees hesitated then hurried on, their heels clicking on the hard floor.

  They knew she was freaky.

  Finally, she went inside.

  Jeremy was sitting on the edge of his desk with his arms crossed, waiting for her. He looked so normal and familiar that for a moment she could only stare at him, trying to remember what it was she suspected him of in the first place.

  He opened his arms and it took everything she had not to go to him. She clenched her fists and stared him down.

  “No, dude. None of that. We need to talk.”

  He shrugged and put his arms down. “You look well. All better.”

  “And you’re not at all surprised by that, are you?”

  He went behind his desk and sat down. “Sometimes, Rune, you are just…”

  “What? Clueless? Stupid?” She walked closer to his desk. “Slow?”

  He steepled his fingers. “There is no reason for you to beat yourself up.”

  She sneered. “Of course not. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t blame me. You asked for it. You wanted it.”

  “You could have said no,” she whispered, and only at that moment did she realize it was true. “None of my crew would have hurt me no matter how much I might have asked them to.”

  “It’s what we do, Rune. Take responsibility for it. Running from shit is one reason you’re so fucked up.”

  “You don’t know anything about it. Or about me. I thought you wanted to help make my pain go away.” She thumped her chest. “The pain here. But that wasn’t true, was it?”

  “Sweetheart, we’re both fucked up. We like a little pain. You like to get it, and I like to give it. No need to—”

  “Shut up, Jeremy. Just…shut the fuck up.”

  “You can take anything I can give you. You proved that last time, and we both know it’s because—”

  “Stop it.”

  “—you’re a monster.”

  She shook her head. Coldness settled into her heart and numbed her brain. She did not want that word to come from his mouth. Not about her. “No.”

  “Of course you are. But I fucked you anyway. I made you feel good, didn’t I?”

  “No.”

  He laughed. “Oh baby. I made you feel so good. Now let me ask you this. Why the fuck do you want to ruin everything?”

  Do not back down. Do not back down. “You’re a very bad person.” Shit.

  “You’re a very bad person,” he mimicked.

  She swallowed hard. “It isn’t right, Jeremy. What you’re doing to the Others.”

  “Let me ask you. Why is okay if I do it to you, but when I do it to the other monsters, you get all bent out of shape?”

  She fondled the handle of one of her shivs and didn’t answer.

  He leaned back in his chair, his eyes cold. “I am very disappointed in you.”

  “And I think you’re a psychotic piece of garbage. So?” Good. Better.

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “No. I can’t. You’re abusing innocent women, aren’t you?”

  Now the denial would begin. The pleas for her to keep her mouth shut and he’d stop. The hurt feelings.

  “Yes,” he said. “But I would never refer to the monsters as innocent.”

  She stepped back, her hand going to her chest. “What?”

  He smiled. “You’re not really surprised, are you?”

  For a moment she couldn’t speak. “I’m surprised you’d admit it.”

  “Why? You’re a little speck of fluff, Rune. Nothing you can say to anyone will affect me in any way. And do you want to know why it won’t?”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “Because you’re an Other.”

  She wanted to pull her monster to her and raise her chin with pride. She wanted to laugh in his face and scream Yes, I’m an Other.

  But she stood before him while each word he spoke wove a tapestry of shame and hatred so tightly around her she was sure she’d never, ever break free.

  She was an Other.

  She was.

  “And,” he went on, “because you have no proof. Do you think the groups will admit to anything? Hell no, they won’t!” His grin was spiked with madness. “Oh, but there is a bigger reason.

  “Go on—ask me what the big reason is.” He waited.

  She said nothing.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you anyway.”

  God, he was enjoying himself.

  “The biggest reason why is because you’re going to say nothing. You’re going to turn around and walk your fine little ass out of my office, and we’re going to pretend this conversation never happened. And I’ll go on enjoying my girls—and even you, if you’re lucky enough for me to want you after this.”

  “I don’t think so.” She ground her teeth when her voice broke. Why the fuck did he scare her so much? And why was her monster hiding? Maybe her monster was smarter than she was. Maybe because he knew, as she should have known, that things were about to get worse. So much worse.

  “Come here,” he said.

&nb
sp; “I’m reporting you, Jeremy.”

  “Come here, Rune.” His voice was gentle. So gentle. “Come on.”

  She had to get a grip. “No. But let me tell you what’s going to happen now. I’m going to walk my fine little ass out of your office and take it straight to the director. He doesn’t want this shit and you know it. Once the Other rights groups catch on to this…” She smiled. “You’re in so much trouble. You’re a fucking Other rapist.” She turned and headed for the door, shaking. “It’s over, Jeremy.”

  “Fine. But I do have something you need to see. Please.”

  She knew better than to look. Knew better. But she turned and walked back to the desk. “Show me.” She was terrified he’d show her pictures of the Others being abused, and didn’t want to look. But she would.

  He clicked a mouse button and turned his monitor toward her. “Watch.”

  A video began to play—shaky and blurry at first, but then it stabilized and sharpened. It was her, lying spread-eagle on her bed, her wrists and ankles fitted into thin silver cuffs.

  Oh God.

  The girl on the bed was screaming, but there was no sound, just her wide-open mouth and pain, so much pain.

  Horror slid through her. And pity, pity for the girl on the bed and her brokenness.

  Jeremy wielded his knife with enthusiasm, cutting, slicing, carving.

  Oh God that hurts.

  Someone else was in the room, recording the video. That he’d let someone else watch and record the horror was something she could hardly believe even Jeremy would do, but there it was.

  Her monster came to the surface. It was there in her eyes. Their vivid blue was covered with crimson blood. And the girl continued to scream.

  Little white fangs dropped, but the monster was as helpless as an infant.

  She’d done that. She’d hurt her monster, starved him, hated him. And when that wasn’t enough, she’d let Jeremy cut him. Torture him.

  The camera followed the knife as it sliced into her pale, small body, doing things to her no human could ever have survived. Then the man she could not see zoomed in on her eyes, where the monster lived.

  She couldn’t bear to look but couldn’t turn away.

  Your monster is you, Rune.

  She grabbed the monitor, ripped it free from the computer, and flung it into the wall.

  Finally, her monster joined her. And both of them went after Jeremy.

  He jumped to his feet, a handgun in his fist, aimed at her. He squeezed the trigger, and she felt the air move as the bullet whizzed by her head.

  She didn’t care. She should die, and she wanted to take him into death’s darkness with her. She prayed there were demons in the afterlife to give them both what they deserved.

  Dimly, she was aware of the office door bursting open, of running feet and loud yells, but her focus was on Jeremy. The blood had drained from his face, leaving him pasty white beneath his artificial tan.

  The next bullet found her.

  She nearly fell as the bullet went through her arm. She forced herself steady. She was flying high on adrenaline and didn’t care about the pain. Not her. She embraced it.

  Two uniforms tackled her as the berserker rammed his huge body into Jeremy, knocking the gun out of his grip and sending the RISC captain into the wall.

  There was only white noise in her head. White noise and bloodlust.

  Until the berserker turned to look at her.

  “Strad,” she cried.

  He reached her numb, shaking body in two seconds and snatched her into his arms. His eyes were shooting blue fire but were steady, and deep inside them she found the only harbor she’d ever known. In his eyes and in his arms. Safe. He was safe.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured.

  “I need something for the pain,” she whispered.

  He didn’t even pretend to think she meant for her arm. “I’ll take you home.”

  The pain roared over her then, burning a hole through her arm. It was as though someone pushed burning sticks through her flesh, and she couldn’t shake it off.

  “Fuck, that hurts,” she wailed, and for a second was surprised she was being a girl. A normal, hurt girl.

  She was too tired, and her monster wasn’t helping. But he would.

  Jeremy’s two men were at his side, helping him to his feet, their faces carefully blank. Other employees crowded the door.

  Jeremy pointed his finger at her. “Open your mouth, and I’ll make you a famous monster.”

  Strad carried her to the door, and the people gathered there scattered before he reached it. He let her down, and she stood there, frozen, as he strode back to Jeremy.

  Jeremy continued, his voice growing louder with each word. “Remember, or everyone will see. Everyone!”

  She had no doubt.

  Ignoring the two cops by Jeremy’s side, Strad grabbed him by the throat and shoved him against the wall. “I will deal with you later.” His voice held a dark promise.

  For a moment, she thought—hoped—Strad would choke the life out of him right then and there. But at last he let his captain drop to the floor and walked back to Rune.

  Jeremy wouldn’t wait to see if she turned him in or not. He would discredit her as quickly and as irreversibly as possible.

  In hours the video would be on the news, and life as she knew it would be over.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Strad carried her to his truck and belted her in, his movements sure and quick. For once she was thankful he was so big. His body hid her from prying eyes. She needed a moment to gather herself, to regroup.

  To scrub away the red-tinged tears making gruesome tracks down her cheeks.

  “God,” she said. “I’m such a…such a big fucking mess.”

  He lingered, pulling her hair from under the seat belt and smoothing it over her shoulder. “Yeah. You are.” But he said it gently. So gently. “You won’t want the hospital?”

  She knew it wasn’t really a question. She shook her head. “I’ll heal.” But fuck. Getting shot hurt like a son of a bitch.

  Her entire arm was useless at the moment, but her monster would take care of her. He always did, when she gave him half a chance.

  The berserker climbed in under the wheel and drove out of the parking lot, eyeing her with some concern but not bothering her with questions.

  She was grateful. Most people would have been unable to keep quiet. But maybe Ellis was right—maybe Strad was a classy guy. Maybe.

  He pushed some numbers into his phone as she stared out the window. “She’s okay,” he told the other party. “Had a run in with Cross. Got shot.” His voice was even and impersonal, as though he were telling a story.

  She looked at him, smiling despite the last hour of hell. The berserker was one strange fuck. “Who are you talking to?”

  He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, then held it out to her. “He’s hysterical. You’d better take this.”

  “Who?” she asked, taking the phone. “Hello?”

  “Rune,” Ellis yelled. “What the blasted hell?”

  She sighed. “Next time let me break the news of my close calls, okay, Berserker?”

  He stared straight ahead, but she saw his perpetually raised eyebrow go up an inch. “I told him I’d let him know the next time you were hurt.”

  “I’m fine, Ellie.”

  “Tell me what happened. Do you need a bag?”

  “No, baby. It’s just a little wound. I’ll tell you about it when I see you. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

  “I’m coming over. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Ellis, don’t—”

  He hung up.

  They drove the rest of the way in silence, the only sound coming from the truck’s heater. She didn’t want to go home. It was peaceful in the truck. No one needed her, and there were no worries about an unforgiving world catching sight of a horrible, horrible part of her life. No one was bombarding her with questions
…

  “You’re going to need to tell me what that was about back there.”

  He relented when she groaned. “You can tell me later,” he said. “But Jeremy Cross shot you. That’s not going to be something you can hide, Alexander.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  He smiled. The evenly spaced streetlights highlighted his face for brief intervals as he drove toward her street. His smile was not kind.

  She could feel the controlled violence coming from him and was sure if she reached out a finger to touch his arm the shock might shove her through the door.

  She shivered, remembering her deep-seated fear of the berserker. He could be a scary man, and she was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of that blackness.

  Her fear was not unwarranted.

  When he pulled into her driveway she automatically released her belt and reached for the door handle.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  She paused and grasped for a remark to put him in his place, but by then he’d already marched around the truck and was lifting her from her seat.

  “I can walk, Berserker.”

  “I can carry you, Alexander.”

  His scent was crisp and clean and male, and it wrapped around her like a warm blanket. But there was something else—something besides warmth.

  His muscles moved against her body, his chest hard against her palm. As though sensing the difference in her thoughts he looked down at her, his face close enough to touch.

  His stare was…hot. Hot and dark.

  A thought slid through her mind with a black quickness that left her reeling. What would it be like if the berserker took away my pain?

  But he would never. Strad was not Jeremy.

  She closed her eyes and took her hand from his chest.

  Fucking Jeremy.

  She castigated herself all the way into the house, and by the time he placed her on her feet she was full of self-loathing and confusion and only wanted him to go away.

  “I left my car,” she said.

  “I’ll drive it to your house later.” She’d already given him her keys to open the front door. She watched as he stuck them into his pocket.