Blood Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  Fortunately, the guards would not be expecting them, and definitely not from a rear approach through the mountains. She smelled him first, gamey and pungent. Male cat, aggressive and half-feral. Drake growled quietly in anticipation, her hackles rising.

  She was nearly on him when he swung in her direction, raising his automatic rifle with a curse. Airborne, she hit him in the chest with all fours, taking him down onto his back. He flung the gun aside, and by the time they landed with a bone-shattering thud, he had shifted. He was a big cat, a mountain puma, eight feet long with six-inch canines. He pulled his rear legs up to his belly, attempting to rake her underside with his lethal claws. He slashed at her muzzle with his teeth as she went for his throat, but she clamped her strong jaws down on his trachea. His rear claws caught her in the side and razor-sharp slashes of pain exploded, but she held fast, whipping her shoulders from side to side. Blood welled from her shoulder and his throat, the copper tang flooding the air. She hoped Sylvan was far enough away not to scent it. She did not want her mate distracted in the heat of her own battle. He thrashed, but without air, he was weakening. She bit deeper, jerked her head right and left, and snapped his neck. Panting, she dropped his lifeless carcass, spun around, and retraced her path until she caught the scent of Pack.

  Racing through the forest, leaping over thick underbrush, skirting around trees, and bounding over fallen logs, she quickly detected where Niki had split off. She followed her mate’s trail, as strong a beacon as if the path were illuminated by electric lights. Fiery pain exploded in her front leg and she almost fell. Sylvan. Sylvan was hurt.

  Drake burst into a clearing vibrating with savage growls and ferocious snarls. A dead cat lay just in front of her, its throat a gaping cavern. A little farther away, Sylvan was down, pinned by two huge mountain lions. Drake smelled blood. Her mate’s blood. With a roar, she launched herself into the battle.

  She landed on the back of a female cat just as the cat raked her canines across Sylvan’s exposed belly. Blood welled on Sylvan’s silver pelt. Drake sank her teeth into the cat’s neck and tore it open. A geyser of hot blood shot out as the cat screamed and fell beneath her. She held the Were down long enough to be sure she was dying, then spun around just as Sylvan slashed a hole in the belly of the cat who straddled her. The cat screeched and released its hold on Sylvan’s neck. Sylvan’s canines flashed and the cat’s scream died with it.

  Drake dragged the heavy Were off Sylvan’s body.

  Sylvan!

  I’m all right, Prima. Sylvan staggered to her feet, her head down, her chest heaving. Blood dripped from her belly and her shoulder onto the ground.

  You’re not. Drake licked Sylvan’s face, then nosed at her shoulder. She licked the blood away. A deep gouge ran into the muscle. Let me see your belly.

  Sylvan rumbled. No time. It’s not bad.

  Niki burst into the clearing and raced to Sylvan’s side. She nosed her, whining and shivering.

  I’m all right. The rest of the cats?

  Niki’s ears flickered and her eyes glinted.

  Good. Sylvan leaned against Drake’s shoulder and rested her muzzle on Drake’s back.

  Draw strength from me. I am here for you.

  As I am for you. You’re hurt, Prima.

  Drake felt Sylvan reach out to her, felt the power of their connection flowing between them. Niki crowded close, and the connection deepened. Drake’s pain receded. Sylvan took a deep breath and pulled away, her shoulder healed, her eyes bright and clear.

  Once over the fence, follow Max and the Vampires inside.

  Drake stayed close on Sylvan’s heels as she raced into the forest. She wasn’t letting her mate out of her sight again. They would fight the final battle together.

  Michel held the young Were around the waist, lifting her effortlessly, taking the tension off her suspended arms. The humans would not be able to tell Katya’s feet no longer touched the floor. Katya arched her back and rubbed her breasts against Michel’s chest, her whiskey eyes soft and seductive, her full lips a sensuous invitation.

  Michel brushed her face against Katya’s neck, breathing in the scent of female and nature and primal strength. The Were’s blood pounded in wild expectation, and Michel’s mouth filled even as the hollow agony overtook her. Hunger slashed through her body, burning her consciousness to crumbling cinders. Hunger, destroyer of sanity, annihilator of reason. Her incisors plunged from their sheaths, and she swiped her tongue along the broad vein in Katya’s neck. She pulled Katya deeper into her thrall, aching to fill herself with the fire and vitality the young Were’s blood promised. She had been so empty for so very long.

  Katya whimpered and rolled her pelvis against Michel’s crotch. Heat poured through the tight fabric of Michel’s pants, stirring her dormant flesh even though she had not yet fed. The Were was potent, powerful, and Michel’s hunger nearly obliterated her senses.

  “Don’t lose any of that specimen,” Veronica Standish said from somewhere nearby. “Get the device on her.”

  Michel felt Katya stiffen in her grasp and sensed the other Were in the room snarling, struggling, shifting. She flooded Katya’s awareness with the scent of Pack, and Katya quieted. A chorus of startled voices rose, sounding some kind of alarm. She had time, must have time. Needed this Were. Needed. Hunger. Need. Michel slid her incisors through the golden skin.

  “What’s happening?” she heard Standish demand. “Watch that other one.”

  But she no longer cared about specimens or experiments. She had to have this Were now, had to taste her, had to fill her vacant, aching flesh with vibrant life. She penetrated deeper, and the Were’s blood poured into her, an inferno of power igniting her lust. Her cells, tissues, organs pulsed with energy, and her sex pounded to life with primal potency. The Were writhed in her arms, her skin burning, a roar of ecstasy trapped in her chest.

  Sucking, swallowing, growing stronger with each taste, Michel stroked her palm down the Were’s rigid abdomen, felt her struggling for release, felt the agony in her body. Michel’s fingers brushed over cold metal—silver—and she dragged her mouth away from the Were’s neck. She whipped her head around and captured Veronica Standish’s feverish gaze.

  “Take it off her,” Michel snarled, letting her thrall flow. “Now.”

  Standish’s eyes grew wide, then glazed. “Ames, remove the pump.”

  Katya whimpered, her need incinerating her, and Michel stroked her damp face.

  No one will harm you now. Soon, soon I’ll bring you pleasure.

  For a fraction of a second, the Were’s eyes cleared, and she met Michel’s gaze.

  “Please,” Katya whispered, “the pain. Help me fight the pain.” She shuddered and her eyes rolled back.

  Bloodlust crashed through Michel’s senses, ripping away her control. Her predatory drive ascended, and she thrust aside the foreign hands invading the Were’s body.

  “She is mine,” Michel growled, cupping Katya’s swollen sex, claiming her prey.

  “Please, now,” Katya cried out, and Michel struck deep into her neck, flooding her with hormones. Katya burst in Michel’s hand, and Michel came in a blinding, insane blast of heat and power.

  A wild roar filled the room, and Standish shouted, “Oh my God, what is she doing! Shoot her—for God’s sake, shoot her!”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Sylvan, followed by Drake and Niki, bounded over the twelve-foot fence outside the research facility, landing soundlessly on the concrete surface of the deserted lot. The motionless body of a sentry taken down by the Vampires lay in the shadows behind a nearby guard tower.

  This way! Sylvan raced across the brightly lit lot toward the shadows of a loading dock with tall, windowless steel doors. Max ghosted out of the shadows and disabled the security locks by the time they leapt up onto the platform. The doors swung open, and Jody and her two Vampire soldiers appeared beside them.

  “All clear on the perimeter,” Jody said. “I estimate five minutes before whoever is mann
ing the security command center inside will notice that communications are down.”

  Sylvan dipped her head in understanding. To Max, she telegraphed, Do you know where our young are being held?

  “Becca dug up preliminary schematics from the renovations. We’ve got a general idea,” Max murmured as he pressed his fingers to an earbud attached to his phone. “She’s sending the images now.”

  Sylvan growled and paced impatiently in front of the door, her wolf straining to hunt, to find her young, to kill. Drake rubbed against her and nipped at her ruff, as if to remind her the most successful hunt was a methodical, smoothly orchestrated chase with the Pack working in concert. She did not have to fight every battle alone. Grumbling, Sylvan swung her head around and closed her jaws over Drake’s muzzle. Their eyes met.

  I can’t feel them.

  Drake eased her muzzle free and licked Sylvan’s face. They’re here. We’ll find them.

  “Whatever they’ve done in the underground portion of the lab, it’s blocking you,” Jody observed. “Otherwise, you’d sense your females even if they were dead.”

  Sylvan whipped around, searching for challenge in the eyes of the Vampire who knew too much.

  Jody grinned and shrugged with nonchalant ease. “There’s no other explanation for why you haven’t found them already. Your secrets are safe, Wolf.”

  Sylvan snarled, but she relaxed her aggressive posture. She resented the Vampire in her territory, but in the absence of challenge, she would not fight her. Yet.

  “There’s a single elevator shaft at the far end of the building,” Max said, squinting at the image on his phone. “It does not seem connected to the rest of the complex.”

  “That’s got to be the access to the underground labs,” Jody said. “That area will undoubtedly be heavily guarded. What about maintenance tunnels, utility conduits? There have to be other ways in.”

  Max grunted and turned the phone for everyone to see, tapping the surface with a blunt finger. A schematic appeared. “The ventilation shafts are huge. We can get through them.”

  “I’ll take my soldiers down the main route and clear the halls on your flanks of any security personnel,” Jody said, studying the rough plans of the underground wing. “They won’t see us until we’re on them.”

  Sylvan tilted her muzzle in agreement.

  Rafaela reached down, scratched behind Niki’s ear, and tugged on her thick red-gray ruff. “Having fun yet, Wolfie?” She laughed when Niki jerked around and snapped at her hand, missing her by millimeters. “Watch your pretty tail doesn’t get singed in there.”

  Niki snarled but briefly rubbed her muzzle against Rafaela’s thigh.

  Sylvan ran in a quick circle, her tail elevated, her eyes flashing at Max. Shift now. Take us there.

  “Yes, Alpha.” Max shifted in a blur of black and white. The Vampires were already gone, moving too quickly for anyone to see.

  The Vampires do have their uses, Drake said.

  Sylvan shot her a look. We’re outnumbered, even with them. Don’t take any chances, Prima.

  Trust me, I won’t. Drake nudged her side. Stay safe for me, Alpha.

  Gray smelled Katya’s fear and the thick tang of her Packmate’s blood. The silver manacles burned deep into the flesh of her wrists and ankles, and her belly pounded with a terrible need for release. Bones slid and grated beneath her skin, her canines and claws burst out, and her wolf fought her way free. Gray couldn’t hold her anymore. Didn’t want to rein in her rage and fury. She wanted to rip and tear at her tormentors. She wanted to drag down the predators who tortured her and her Packmate and rip out their throats. She wanted blood. She wanted vengeance. Her wolf howled in an agony of rage and frenzy. Her shift took only a few excruciating seconds, and then she was free, finally free.

  “Holy crap!” a male shouted. A claxon sounded, hurting Gray’s ears with its piercing ring. “It’s getting loose. Run!”

  Gray wrenched her legs from the restraints and leapt to the cool tile floor, swinging her head in a swift arc, assessing the position of her enemies. Closest to her were two humans in laboratory uniforms. They were the ones who pushed needles into her body, drugged her, shocked her, humiliated her. Right behind them, the two guards who tortured her stood protectively in front of the female who smelled of sex and excitement. Martin, the one who tried to warn her, was gone.

  The female stared at Gray with a mixture of fear and amazement. Her mouth, ringed in crimson, curved over bright white teeth, and Gray’s stomach tightened with the urge to take and taste and claim. She snarled and crouched to spring. The female screamed, “Shoot her! Shoot her!”

  Gray hungered to kill. She would take that female soon, but first, she needed to help her Packmate. Katya hung limply in the grasp of a dark-haired Vampire, scarlet rivers running down Katya’s throat over her bare chest. The Vampire was covered in Katya’s victus, and her eyes shimmered like a bloody sunset when she smiled at Gray.

  Gray stalked her.

  Careful, Wolf. A cool, smooth voice reverberated inside Gray’s hazy brain. Don’t make me hurt you.

  The two guards shouldered their rifles, and half a dozen security officers in combat gear streamed into the room. The Vampire’s hand closed around the back of Katya’s neck, and she dragged Katya, still swinging from her restraints, behind her.

  From somewhere close by, the click of metal made Gray’s ears stand up, and she whirled into a crouch, teeth bared, preparing to spring. The big guard Ames, the one who always collared her, the one who shocked her, held a rifle to his shoulder and pointed it in her direction. The human technicians scuttled for safety. Gray uncoiled her muscles, propelled herself from the floor, and drove for his throat. The guard fired. The tranquilizer dart skimmed beneath her stomach and bounced off a piece of equipment with a hollow clang. She struck his chest with her forelegs extended, and he stumbled backward, going down beneath her. She locked her jaws around his throat as they rolled together, his arms beating on her head and neck, her claws raking his torso. Flesh tore beneath her teeth, blood welled from between her jaws. Her eyes locked on his, and she saw terror wash through them. She took her prey quickly with one rapid thrash of her head. His dying cry was silenced by her growl of triumph.

  “Oh fuck,” a hoarse male voice whined, “Jesus, somebody do something.”

  The beautiful human female who made Gray’s belly hurt shouted, “Use your bullets. Don’t try to stun her, you idiots! Kill her. Kill her.”

  Blood dripping from her muzzle, her mind a red haze of rage, Gray slunk under a table and circled behind the group, seeking her next prey. Elliot. The one who hurt her, humiliated her. First the one called Elliot, then all the others.

  “Get down,” Michel shouted, pushing Standish to the floor and dragging Katya out of the line of fire. She had no allegiance to the human, but Standish was the Regent’s ally.

  The guards and security officers, who had taken cover just inside the door, all fired wildly, catching Standish, Michel, and the Weres in the chaotic crossfire. The escaped wolf Were flitted in and out between lab benches and equipment, striking at anyone within reach.

  Standish crawled behind a huge computer console and disappeared. A bullet tore into Michel’s shoulder and another struck her thigh. The burning pain was fleeting. The wounds weren’t dangerous. She forcefully extended her right arm, and the stiletto dropped from its sheath into her palm. She slashed through the rope suspending Katya from the ceiling and caught her as she fell. The Were was weak from blood loss and the poison in her body. With another quick slice of the blade, Michel cut the cord on the Were’s wrists. Katya struggled to escape her thrall. “Don’t fight me. I’m setting you free.”

  “My Packmate,” Katya gasped. “I need to help her.”

  “Get out of here. Through the door behind me. Go.”

  Katya shivered, her whiskey eyes shifting to gold and the bones in her face elongating. Golden pelt flowed over her torso.

  “No!” Michel captured Katya’
s gaze and rolled her mind, halting her shift. A Were so young could not fight the thrall of one as old and powerful as she. Michel grasped her around the waist and carried her toward the door. “You can’t fight them all. You’ll die with her.”

  “I won’t leave her,” Katya protested weakly. “Please.”

  “She’s feral. You can’t help her.”

  Three Vampires materialized just inside the door, blocking their way. Michel stared into the cold dark eyes of Jody Gates. Neither of them should be there, and they both knew it. Stalemate. Michel thrust Katya toward Jody Gates. “Take her. The elevator at the far end of the building is accessible.”

  “Are there other Weres in here?”

  “A feral wolf, already shifted.” Michel smiled at the pre-animate, wondering if Gates would survive this night. If she did, she would be a formidable adversary for the Regent. And for her. She misted past Gates and her soldiers into the hall, calling out in her wake, “Another time, Liege.”

  Sylvan, Drake, and Niki dropped down the airshaft, through a vent in the ceiling, and into a hallway in the underground complex. Gunfire, growls, and panicked shouts emanated from a room at the far end of the deserted corridor. Sylvan bounded toward the open doorway. Her lungs burned with every breath, as if she were inhaling liquid fire. Her vision swam, and her legs churned clumsily. Poison. Silver. The air was thick with it. The longer they stayed, the weaker they would all become. She must find her young.

  Gates appeared through the doorway with a motionless Were clasped in her arms.

  Katya! Sylvan’s heart swelled even as a growl burst from her chest.

  “Half a dozen with automatic rifles left inside,” Gates said smoothly, never breaking stride. “My soldiers will assist you, Wolf. You’ve got a feral young in there somewhere and maybe a minute before more guards show up. I’ll take this one out.”

  Sylvan didn’t want to trust her young to a Vampire. She studied the Vampire’s eyes, saw nothing but strength and certainty. She drew back her lips, rumbling her assent as well as a warning, and raced on. She streaked into the room, belly low, homing in on the nearest target. She leapt for the kill. So did her mate and her second. Three of the enemy went down amidst a clatter of weapons and frantic cries. Drake slashed open one’s chest, Niki clawed another’s belly, Sylvan ripped open the throat of a third. The rest, disorganized and firing blindly, scattered or fell before the swift assault of Gates’s Vampires.