A Pack of Two

by Jacky Russell

  I scanned the room quickly for a weapon. There was nothing unless I could suffocate him with a dingy mattress. With no magic and limited fighting ability, this was not my finest hour.

  “You haven’t asked the magic question,” Nicolli said as he straightened the front of his shirt. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Eat shit and die, asshole.

  He took a deep breath as if my dilemma actually troubled him.

  “I thought the Malandanti would take you, at least as a sacrifice, but they want nothing to do with you. I tried to convince them. They declined my offer. I did find a vampire who was interested in purchasing you as his personal companion.”

  Simon once told me the blood of a witch was like a drug to some vampires, addicting and intoxicating. Witches taken by vampires rarely lived more than a day before the vampire, so consumed with need, drained the witch dry.

  Great, that sounded peachy. This day kept getting better and better.

  That shitty grin appeared on Nicolli’s face again. “Does the name Spiro Devereaux sound familiar?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. Spiro Devereaux was a French master vampire who absolutely hated Bravo and most especially me. Celeste had belonged to Spiro before Bravo stormed his hokey castle and rescued her and ten other elves he kept imprisoned in his basement. Spiro wouldn’t kill me. He’d drain me almost dry and make me live for another day of hell.

  Oh joy.

  Nicolli whistled and the goon wolves flanking him earlier rushed into the room. I got off a couple of whip kicks before ending up face-first into a wall. When the stars stopped flashing and the room quit spinning, my hands were tied behind my back.

  The air around us took on a slight vibration, the power of a master vampire slowly filling room. Ug, not good. My nose was bleeding and my lip cut. Great, I already looked like an appetizer.

  The musky mountain werewolf pushed me through the door and a bright light punctured my eyes. What the hell time was it anyway? That couldn’t be sunlight, way too bright, and a master vampire wouldn’t be bopping around in the middle of the day unless he absolutely had to.

  “Satisfied?” Nicolli asked. I tried to find who he was talking to, but my eyeballs hadn’t adjusted yet. That must be a flashlight in my eyes. The vampire vibration was getting stronger and I pushed back against the mountain. Damn mountain didn’t budge.

  A rush of cold air made the hair on my arm stand up as a blindfold covered my eyes. Panic crept into my mind as the rising tide of claustrophobia grew. Without warning a cold hand grasped my hair and forced my head back. It was a classic move for a vampire to feed and I bucked against the mountain in a futile attempt to stay away from the fangs. The collar covered most of my neck, though he could easily reach my jugular.

  “Don’t,” Devereaux warned in a low voice. I gulped as the cold breath fell on my exposed neck. My heart pounded as adrenaline coursed through my body. I tried to focus on my training, to calm my runaway fear. My muscles constricted when fangs scraped along my neck.

  Something like a whimper slipped from my lips and my knees buckled. There was only a sliver of pain before I was floating.

  * * * *

  Everything was dark. I was bound hands to feet and the damn blindfold was still in place. I shifted, trying to roll onto my back until something hard stopped my motion. Apparently the vampire hadn’t taken all my blood, but he had taken enough to make me pass out and now I was rolling around like a blob in what felt like the trunk of a car.

  A vampire had never bitten me. I’d always heard it could be as painful or as pleasurable as the vampire chose. The more venom used in the bite, the less pain the victim felt. I hadn’t felt much pain and that didn’t make sense. Spiro Devereaux hated the air I breathed.

  The sounds of cars passing and rubber on asphalt confirmed my thought and reminded me of my ridiculous claustrophobia. In spite of my best efforts, my heart raced and my breaths came in short shallow bursts. Great, keep it up and I’d suffocate before Spiro Devereaux had a chance to drain me again.

  When the engine slowed and the car turned off the road, I tried to force my fear-soaked brain to come up with an escape plan. Even if I managed to get in a well-timed head butt, that probably wouldn’t do any damage to the master vampire and my mode of escape didn’t look too promising at the moment.

  Gravel crunched under the tires and then the engine purred to a stop. I took a deep breath and thought about Lucas. Whatever it took, I would see him again.

  Soft footsteps shuffled alongside the car. A key slipped into the latch. I gritted my teeth to stop my chin from trembling.

  “Breanna?”

  That didn’t sound like Devereaux. Cold hands brushed my arms and I jumped.

  “Breanna, it’s okay. It’s Christopher.”

  The blindfold fell my head and the bright blue eyes of Christopher LeCavalier stared back at me.

  “Chris? What the hell?”

  He quickly sliced the rope bonds from my wrists and ankles. “The real Spiro Devereaux was unavoidably detained after word got out he was about to purchase his own personal witch.” His blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “Master Devereaux should be more careful to whom he brags. Word got back to Simon.”

  I wrapped my arms around Christopher’s cold granite body. “Thanks for coming for me.”

  He chuckled. “For the record, you are delicious.”

  “That was you?”

  He winked. “Simon told me you wouldn’t deal well with the car ride in the trunk so he suggested I take enough blood to help you sleep until we were far enough away I could set you free.” The handsome vampire’s forehead creased. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  I wasn’t about to tell him the bite actually felt good. “Nah, I’m fine, but no more snacking. Where’s Bravo?”

  He held up a phone. “At Ederle, waiting for your call.”

  I snatched the phone and leaped into the car. “Take me to Josef Benelli’s house.”

  Chris bowed his head. “We haven’t seen Lucas since the fire, Breanna. Nobody knows where he is. Istagio said Lucas lost it when he saw the body bag being hauled away.”

  “You didn’t tell him you were coming after me?” How could they not tell him?

  Christopher’s eyes never left the road. “After the fire we were all upset. Simon went to the morgue to identify the body. He knew it wasn’t you on that slab but he didn’t want word to get out until he knew where you were. Simon did try to call Lucas. Nobody, not even Tristyn, knows where he is.”

  My magic rushed around now that the collar was off and I felt lightheaded. Worse than the lightheadedness was the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Lucas was out there and he thought he was alone. If Nicolli had been telling the truth about Josef’s scent, there was no doubt where Lucas would go. The only question was what would happen.

  Chapter 38

  Lucas

  The sickening crunch of bone snapping echoed through the clearing outside my father’s home. We had been fighting almost an hour and Josef wasn’t dead. Yet.

  That was my goal, to kill him for what he had done. When I pulled myself together and returned to my house, I’d found a scent trail leading directly here. The heaviest scent belonged to my father and my wolf demanded vengeance.

  “Why did you kill her?” I kept asking.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he kept answering.

  And we continued to battle. This fight would not stop until one of us was dead.” I was stronger but my father had the power of the pack behind him. He’d tossed me into the cement picnic table and my spine cracked. A surge of strength repaired the break before my father got to me.

  Now his leg was injured and from the way the wolves were stumbling, he was pulling power from his pack. I got to him first and wrapped my hands around his throat. The tiniest hint of fear flickered briefly before he stopped fighting.

  “Lucas, I swear to you I did not kill the witch.”

  I threw h
im against the brick steps. My mother screamed and ran toward my father’s broken form.

  “Lucas, stop it!” she yelled before one of the pack wolves pulled her away. No one would interfere with this challenge and my wolf wanted blood.

  I stood over my father and looked down at his bloodied face. He was heaving and had no defense against me.

  “Why did you have to kill her? I loved her!”

  He shook his head. “I did not kill her.”

  I raised my fist to deliver the deathblow and hesitated. This would not bring Breanna back and he was my father. Whatever was wrong with me, why ever I couldn’t feel the bonds of the pack, this was my father.

  I wanted to hear him admit he had taken the woman I loved. It would be so easy to kill him, to rip his throat out, but that wouldn’t take away the hole in my heart. Nothing would ever fix that. She was gone.

  I stumbled backward and stared at the blood on my hands. I had killed her. She was here in Italy because of me. If she had stayed in America, she would have still been safe. She would have been alive.

  I turned away from my father and buried my head in my hands. It was my fault, all of it, and I deserved to die.

  My wolf took over and spun as the same silver dagger I had used to stab Stephano sliced the air beside my head. I knocked the knife from my father’s hand as his other hand closed around my throat. With the power of the pack, he slowly constricted my trachea until my vision darkened.

  The smell of silver surrounded me. I hoped he would slice quickly and deeply even though I did deserve to suffer.

  His hand fell away. There were grunts and groans as air rushed into my lungs.

  “Lucas?”

  The faint hint of strawberry reached my nose. My mind was playing tricks on me or perhaps my father had killed me and I didn’t know I was dead.

  “Lucas?”

  The smell of fire replaced the strawberry. Warm soft hands on either side of my face caused me to open my eyes.

  “Breanna?”

  Bruises and blood covered the beautiful tear-streaked face of my mate. I reached for her cheek, unwilling to breathe until I was sure she was real.

  Her fingers brushed my chin and I pulled her to my chest. “How? I thought–”

  “I know,” she rasped. “I’m okay. Are you all right?”

  I looked past Breanna and saw my father watching intently from behind a wall of flames. My wolf roared to life. She must have sensed my wolf because she wheeled in my arms.

  “Alpha Benelli, your son Nicolli is to blame for this shit.”

  We both climbed to our feet and I tugged her behind me as my father scrutinized her. Typical Breanna refused to stand behind me, opting instead to remain at my side. She laced her fingers through mine and met my father’s stunned gaze.

  “Nicolli is dead,” he answered with eyes blazing.

  “Uh, no, he isn’t, and I’ve got the bruises to prove it.”

  Gemma went berserk. My father grabbed her before she could make it to Breanna. I wasn’t sure what to say myself, but did catch an inkling of scent on Breanna’s skin that reminded me of my brother.

  “What proof do you have?” Josef asked suspiciously.

  “I spoke to him,” Christopher replied, striding into the midst of the gaping werewolves. “He thought I was there to purchase the earth witch for my own uses.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Josef demanded.

  The vampire stopped beside Breanna. She nodded to him. “This is Lieutenant Christopher LeCavalier of Bravo Company,” she answered loudly enough for all the wolves to hear.

  “Alpha Benelli,” Christopher began with a slight nod of respect, “Master Sergeant Welker speaks the truth. Bravo Company is on its way here and by our intel, so is your son.”

  “Shit,” Breanna muttered. “He’s got Malandanti magic.”

  I studied my father’s face as he listened to the vampire’s account of what had taken place. Nicolli, alive and well, was on his way here to kill my father.

  “You’re lying,” Gemma snarled and pointed at Breanna. “That witch is doing all of this.”

  Breanna shook her head in disbelief. “You have one seriously fucked-up family, my wolf.”

  In the midst of one of the worst days of my life, she could make me laugh. I squeezed her hand to make sure she was really there.

  “How do you know it was Nicolli?” Josef asked the vampire.

  Christopher squared his chin. “He bore a striking resemblance to the photo we have on file for Nicolli Benelli. He was a powerful werewolf and had a loyal following of at least forty wolves.”

  Breanna edged forward. “He is working with the Malandanti. That’s why Lucas thought you were responsible for the fire. The Malandanti used their magic to create a scent trail leading Lucas to you.”

  Josef didn’t believe her, I could see it in his eyes. “Why? Why, if this person is truly my son Nicolli, would he do these things?”

  “He wants the pack.”

  “The pack was to be his. He knew this.” Josef turned away, shaking his head. “No, none of this makes sense. I don’t believe Nicolli would do the things you say. He is my son. He would never betray his Alpha or his pack.”

  Breanna rolled her eyes and shook her head. She was battered, blood dried on her lips and cheek, but it was the bruising on her neck that looked the most painful.

  “Bravo will be here any minute. If you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to my CO,” she bit out, amber eyes blazing with fury. God, I loved this woman.

  A sharp pain in my lower back made my knees buckle. The pain stole my breath as I tried to climb to my feet. Something was very wrong. It felt as though my insides were frying, the coppery taste of blood caught in my mouth.

  Breanna’s hand snatched from mine and the ground rushed quickly toward my face. Her blurry feet disappeared and I clawed at the dirt. I tried to call her name but only managed garbles and blood.

  Something wet and sticky touched my fingers. Breanna? Where was Breanna? I needed to help her. She was in danger. What the hell was in my back? The searing heat had spread and my wolf was struggling to ascend. I didn’t want to change here, not now.

  “Lucas, can you hear me?” Soft hands gently eased me onto my side. My stomach retched and more blood filled my mouth. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. I was dying.

  “Hold on, baby, I’ll get that shit out of you, just hold on, okay?”

  I would fight for her. A surge of power raced through my body, temporarily halting the scalding heat. The putrid smell of black magic and fear hung thick in the air. Breanna called for someone to help her and nobody responded. I tried to lift up onto my elbows. The surge from earlier was gone and the flames inside me increased again.

  Voices faded in and out. Breanna was beside me and I think her hand was on my back. She barked orders at someone and then her gaze turned to me.

  She whispered something. The shouting was loud, the roaring in my head deafening. I wanted to tell her I loved her, but blood clogged my throat.

  “It’s a spell,” Breanna yelled. “I can reverse it if you’ll watch my back.”

  “Gotcha, Bre. Do what you need to do, we got you covered,” an American man answered from somewhere above me.

  “Thanks, Aaron.”

  She pressed her hand into mine and the searing pain in my back doubled, then tripled. More blood emptied from my mouth. It felt like all my organs were sliding up my esophagus and then, as abruptly as it started, the pain stopped.

  I gasped for air and squeezed Breanna’s hand. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground, watching me intently. Fresh blood trickled from her nose and mouth and her eyes looked very tired.

  “Better?” she mumbled.

  I slowly sat up beside her. A wall of soldiers surrounded us. Members of Bravo fought with members of the Italian Pack. What the hell was going on? I looked over my shoulder and saw my father under attack by two pack wolves.

  She noticed my father’s dilemma. “C
’mon. We’ll help him.” She swiped at the blood on her face before tossing a fireball at one of the attacking wolves. “Hey, asshole, come get some of this.”

  The wolf bared his teeth and charged her. He met my fist as it crashed through his nose. The second wolf had my father pinned against the steps until Breanna raked her nails across the wolf’s eyes. He bellowed in pain and lunged for her but she darted to the side and decked him with one hell of a spinning whip kick.

  She winked at me. “He’s the one who threw me into the wall,” she said, pointing to the bruise blossoming under her left eye. What had she been through?

  The wolves retreated into the trees and Simon called for Bravo to give chase.

  “No,” Breanna argued. “It’s a trap. They’ve got Malandanti help.”

  Simon retracted his order and called his soldiers into my father’s courtyard. Josef was taking care of an injured pack wolf and flashed a look of displeasure toward the milling soldiers. He hated uninvited strangers in his territory.

  Breanna started toward the group, pulling my hand to follow. “I am not leaving you again,” she said firmly.

  I wasn’t about to let her get out of my sight either. “Bre, I need to talk to my father.”

  “Not right now,” she answered quickly. “He’s got some heavy shit on his mind.”

  “Well, yeah, and we’ve been fighting for the last hour so I’m part of that heavy shit.”

  She snorted. “You thought he was responsible for my death. In the last twenty minutes, you found out I wasn’t dead and your long lost asshole brother is not only alive but trying to kill you and your father. I’d say that gives you a free pass to do things you wouldn’t ordinarily do.”

  Her smile quickly faded. I shook her arm. “Bre, what’s wrong?”

  She squeezed her eyes closed. “Damn, damn, shit, shit.”

  “What?” I looked around but didn’t see anything.

  Simon stormed toward us. “Lucas, we need the Italian Pack to get inside your father’s home.”

  I nodded and dashed toward my father with Breanna in tow.

  A fresh wave of guilt ran through me when he turned. “Alpha,” I said, purposefully lowering my eyes. “Bravo has requested you move all your wolves inside.”