Untamed Hunger

by Lee Mae

  He set his hand on Reece’s shoulder, the tension in the older man so intense his body felt like steel beneath Reece’s hand. “You’ve always been there for me, always had my back. But now, I’ve got to do this alone.”

  “You can’t…”

  “He can.” They both looked at Malone. “Victor’s right, so is Gunner. This is between the two of them.”

  “You can’t let him do this on his own. It’s pretty much sending him to his death.”

  “Reece, he’s not just some kid off the street. You know that and so do I. And besides, Gunner here has a motive to succeed neither of us have.” Malone looked up at Gunner.

  “What’s that?” Reece’s voice held resignation. Gunner looked down at his old friend and mentor, the man who’d always taken him back time after time. Reece looked exhausted, his face drawn, dark circles beneath his eyes.

  “He’s got love. We’re just old guys in a pissing contest with Victor.” Malone jerked his thumb toward Gunner. “Kid’s got his heart involved. There’s no talking sense to him.”

  Reece’s shoulders slumped. “I guess there’s no talking either of you out of this then?” He stood, grabbing Gunner by the shoulder.

  “You go alone, Gunner, but you damn well better come back.” His voice was choked, his eyes suddenly bright. He pulled Gunner into a rough hug, held him briefly, then turned and walked quickly to the window, his back to Gunner and Malone.

  “Gunner…” Malone stood. “You’re either really brave or a complete fool.” He held out his hand, and Gunner hesitated a moment, before shaking it.

  

  30

  The night was colder. The fog had lifted, and the stars overhead, were bright pinpoints against the black. Gunner rode his motorcycle out of town, through the back roads toward the city where Victor had his house. He’d gotten rough directions from Malone, but he knew in his heart he could find Claire. As long as he found Mont Blanc Boulevard, and the house Malone described, he’d find Claire. The house shouldn’t be hard to find: Malone described it as the biggest thing he’d ever seen constructed, and the ugliest.

  Gunner turned down Mont Blanc Boulevard, cruising past large homes set back from the street, large manicured lawns sweeping down to the street. It was still a few hours from dawn and the neighborhood was deserted.

  He almost laughed out loud as he drove past Victor’s house. Even without Claire’s scent riding heavy in the air, he would have known it was Victor’s. It was large, by far the largest, and certainly the ugliest, as Malone had said. The outside looked like it had been designed by committee, Tudor beams competing with Italianate columns and Rococo flourishes adorning almost every surface.

  The whole thing was on a rise behind an ivy-covered wall. Gunner drove slowly past then circled the block, parking one street over. He was surprised to discover the back of the property overlooked the edge of the city’s industrial park. Malone had mentioned that Victor had his fingers in just about every business in the city, and Gunner guessed that included the industrial complex spread out across the street.

  It was obvious no one cared about how the back of the house looked. There was no ivy-covered wall, just a chain-link fence. The back façade was just plain red brick with a series of windows across the second floor. It was a jarring contrast to the front of the home. Gunner figured Victor spent more money on the parts of the house someone might see and nothing on the parts not visible to the public.

  Gunner stood at the corner, watching the front of the house. The lights were on downstairs, figures moving past the windows. He briefly caught Claire’s scent. It was heavy with fear and it tore at his heart, sending his blood boiling. Then it was lost in the conflicting scents of the neighborhood, of the others in the house and some other scent. But it wasn’t important. He’d found Claire. That was all that mattered.

  As far as he could tell, there were only three guys downstairs. No one seemed to be upstairs. From the way they moved between rooms, he thought Claire was in the room at the front corner of the house.

  He moved to the back of the house, easily scaling the chain-link fence. He dropped silently to the ground, crouched in the darkness. There was no noise, no sound from the house. Keeping low to the ground, he crept to the corner of the building, pressing himself against the trunk of a tree.

  As he stood in the shadows of the tree, the door at the back of the house opened and one of the guys who’d been at the warehouse stepped out. There was a brief flicker of a match and then the sharp smell of cigarette smoke. The guy leaned against the door, idly blowing smoke toward the sky.

  The man turned, stubbing his cigarette out against the side of the building. In that instant, when the man was facing away, Gunner slid from the shadows. He grabbed the man, arm around his neck, pressing hard with his other hand against his carotid artery. The man struggled for a moment before his body went limp. Gunner dropped him to the ground then dragged him back into the shadows.

  Gunner tried the door and found it was unlocked. He slipped inside, listening intently to the sounds of the house. He heard Victor’s voice, off to his right near the front. That made sense.

  Raising his head, he sniffed the air. The house smelled overwhelmingly of perfume and household cleansers and deodorizers. Gunner drew a deeper breath, closing his eyes briefly. Beneath the cloying scents of artificial flowers and citrus, he smelled sickness and decay. It fouled his senses, and he wanted to rub his nose to rid himself of the smell.

  There were several doors ahead in the short hall he was in. He moved forward, cautiously, looking through each doorway. One opened into a closet, the one after that the stairs to the basement. The next doorway led to a massive kitchen, with every conceivable high-end appliance lining the walls, all new and shiny, all looking as if they’d never been used.

  The voice down the hall grew louder, and he recognized it as Victor droning on. The guy must really love the sound of his own voice. It occurred to Gunner that Claire must be gagged or she’d be arguing with him by now.

  Gunner stopped just before the hall opened up into a circular central hallway. He could see the foyer and the front door beyond that. A dim, formal-looking living room was to his left, full of couches and chairs. To his right was the room he wanted.

  Bright lights spilled into the hall. He stopped at the edge of the archway, every sense on alert. Claire was there; he could hear her breathing, her scent strong. Victor was there, but as far as Gunner could tell, no one else was with them. The other man must be in the house somewhere.

  “Gunner. Welcome. Stop skulking in the hall. Please, come in.”

  Gunner froze. Victor must have scented him. He’d lost the element of surprise, but it didn’t matter. He’d face Victor, and whoever else was there, and get this finished, get Claire, and get out. For a moment, he hesitated. He wanted to charge in guns blazing and tear into Victor. But he squared his shoulders and stepped into the archway.

  Claire was sitting on a straight-back chair, arms tied behind her and, as he’d suspected, a gag tied around her mouth. When she saw him her eyes went wide, relief washing over the fear. He tried to smile at her, but his face felt frozen in a grimace of hate directed at Victor.

  “I’ve been expecting you, Gunner. I’ve been telling Claire how life is going to be from now on, once you realize it’s futile to fight me.” He gestured toward Claire.

  “I’ll kill you before I agree to anything you have to say, Victor. You’re a fool to think otherwise.”

  Gunner took in the man standing across from him. Something was off. There was something wrong with the whole place, the way it smelled and with Victor himself. He was still dressed in the same suit, sans tie, the starched white shirt unbuttoned at the throat. His hair was carefully arranged. Everything was perfect. Except for the still-bleeding cut on his cheek, in the place where Gunner had hit him hours before.

  Victor shook his head, a sorrowful look crossing his handsome face. “You’re so predictable, Gunner. So narrow minded.” He
took a step forward. “Can’t you, just for one moment, imagine what it would be like to be the Alpha of this clan? You’d have everything you’d ever wanted. You’d be able to give Claire everything she's ever wanted.”

  He took another step toward Gunner. “You’d have power, Gunner. And power is sexy.” His voice had dropped to that confidential tone he’d used at the warehouse. It grated on Gunner’s nerves, and he glared at the man.

  “You’re still barking up the wrong tree, Victor. I’m not interested in power. And as far as sexy goes…” He couldn’t resist. “I think I got that covered.”

  Victor laughed, an irritating sound that made Gunner grit his teeth. Victor took one final step forward, ending up behind Claire’s chair. He set his hand lightly on Claire’s shoulder. Claire flinched at his touch, and anger boiled up in Gunner.

  “Okay, Victor. If you’re done listening to the sound of your own voice, how about you let Claire go. This is between you and me. Stop hiding behind the girl.”

  “I’m not hiding behind the girl.” Victor set his other hand on Claire’s shoulder. “This is your fate, Gunner. You can’t run away from this, like you’ve run away from everything else in your life.”

  There was a whimper from Claire. Gunner shot a glance at her, then at Victor. The man had his fingers dug into Claire’s shoulders. The color left her face as the knuckles of his fingers turned white.

  The sight of Victor’s fingers on Claire and the pain on her face broke the last bit of restraint Gunner possessed. With a fierce growl he lunged at Victor, hitting him in the shoulder, spinning him away from Claire. Her chair tipped over, and she toppled away from him, hitting the floor with a thud. She made a sickening sound of pain. Gunner watched, horrified, heart in his throat, terrified she was hurt.

  In that instant Victor turned, striking Gunner alongside the head with his fist. The blow threw Gunner off balance, his head ringing, and he staggered away from Victor. Claire was on the floor, looking up at him, eyes wide with fear. Seeing her vulnerable made him want to tear Victor’s throat out.

  Gunner took a step away from Victor, closed his eyes for a split second, and summoned up all the power he had, the anger he felt, everything, and focused it into shifting. He threw his head back, his scream echoing against the walls.

  When he dropped to the floor, Gunner was all tiger, adrenaline surging through his body, ready to fight. Victor stood over Claire, and Gunner was gratified to see the man’s face looking a little pale, his confidence shaken. But as Gunner started a stiff-legged advance, the confidence returned, a superior smile tugged at the corner of Victor’s lips, and to Gunner’s frustration, Victor began shifting into tiger form.

  Gunner tried to charge him as he changed, but Victor had Claire between the two of them. There was no way to get to Victor without the possibility of Claire getting hurt. It happened so quickly Gunner couldn’t get the advantage. He watched with a strange feeling of helplessness as Victor dropped to the floor, now a orange and black tiger, with ebony eyes. He was perfect. Except for a patch of blood-matted fur on his muzzle.

  Gunner’s only thought was to get Claire away from Victor, to get her out of the way. He lunged forward, pushing Claire and the chair to the side with one foreleg. The back of the chair slammed into the couch, and Claire grunted. Gunner looked down, meeting her eyes. They were dazed, but there was nothing he could do for her now except to get rid of Victor.

  Gunner stood facing Victor, now a large tiger, and a cold-hearted bastard. Gunner had no illusions that the man—or tiger—would fight fair. And he wasn’t going to fight fair either.

  Gunner dove forward again, this time hitting Victor just behind the foreleg, knocking the larger tiger into the wall. For his size, Victor felt light, hollow…insubstantial. Gunner lifted his head, sinking his teeth into Victor’s shoulder.

  As the foul taste filled his mouth, it hit him. Victor was sick. Whatever Adrian had had come from Victor. He smelled of decay and rot, the flesh Gunner tore at tasting of death. For a brief instant Gunner wondered if he, too, had inherited whatever had killed Adrian.

  Before he could finish the thought, Victor twisted out of his grip. He snapped at Gunner, biting him in the neck, drawing blood. Gunner yelped with surprise then twisted out of Victor’s grip.

  Victor scrambled away, claws scratching on the hardwood floor. Something was off with Victor. Gunner watched him back away, shaking his head. Gunner didn’t think he’d injured him that badly, but Victor seemed dazed, shaking his head violently, whimpering and whining.

  Gunner leapt at him again, driving him to the floor, teeth sinking into Victor’s soft underbelly. He briefly let go of Victor, pinning him with his legs as Victor tried to scrabble out from beneath him.

  With all the strength he could muster, Gunner held Victor to the floor. Victor rolled one eye at Gunner, twisting his neck, trying to bite but only managing to snap mouthfuls of air. Gunner bared his teeth. He waited, watched, and then darted his head forward, missing Victor’s snapping fangs.

  His teeth hit Victor’s neck, breaking skin, sinking deep into his flesh. The taste was horrific but Gunner held on, twisting his head, tearing fur, and skin. A wave of blood washed over Gunner’s jaws, hot and coppery, a sickening taste that made him want to gag.

  But he held on as Victor thrashed beneath him, his back legs kicking and tearing at Gunner’s stomach. Everything flashed through his mind in blurred images. His father. Adrian dragging Claire from the cabin. Adrian standing over Claire in the woods.

  With a final twist of his head, Gunner tore at Victor. There was a sickening, gargled noise from Victor as his struggles grew weaker. The spurts of blood grew less and less powerful, finally trailing off to a sluggish dribble.

  But Gunner still hung on, long past the point where Victor had stopped struggling. With a final shake of his head, he let go of Victor. He backed away from the still form on the floor, watching him, half-expecting him to leap to his feet.

  There was a whimper behind him, and he turned around to see Claire pulling against her ropes, eyes locked on his. He tugged at the rope with his teeth, undoing the knot. She shook off the ties, then pulled the gag from her mouth.

  “Gunner. My God.” She sat up, staring at Victor’s body. “He’s dead. Holy shit.”

  Gunner whimpered, prodding her gently with his muzzle. She reached out, gently stroking his fur.

  “We need to get out of here, Gunner. Someone’s bound to come back. Let’s go.”

  31

  The sun had come up, turning the sky a lemon yellow. Claire heard the shower turn off and the sounds of Gunner moving around in the bathroom. He stepped into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. She sat up in bed, hugging her knees to her chest.

  “How do you feel? Do you need anything?” He sat down on the edge of the bed.

  She shook her head. “I’m good. Really. You can stop asking.”

  He’d checked her over thoroughly when they’d gotten back to the apartment, examining her wrists, frowning over the rope burns. He’d drawn a hot bath, washed her hair, and rubbed her sore shoulders. He’d treated her like a fragile china cup, and it was beginning to drive her crazy.

  “Gunner, for the last time. I’m fine. Really.” She reached up, hand on his cheek. “Stop treating me like I’m broken.”

  He took her hand, kissing her palm. “Sorry. It’s just…” He kissed her fingers, then held her hand. “Not knowing where Victor had taken you was murder. I think for the first time in my life, I was scared.” He shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s probably the first time I’ve ever admitted I was afraid. Of anything.”

  “I knew you’d find me. I never doubted you for a minute.” She sat back against the head of the bed.

  “I love you. Of course I would come for you. But the waiting almost did me in. I’m not a patient person, if you haven’t noticed.”

  She burst out laughing. The look on Gunner’s face was priceless, a mix of mock hurt and righteou
s indignation. He opened his mouth but whatever retort he was going to make was cut off by a knock on the door. His grip tightened on her hand, and he made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

  “I’m really not in the mood to talk to anyone. And by anyone, I mean Reece or Malone.”

  The knocking resumed, louder and more insistent. The noise Gunner made this time was clearly a growl.

  “But you know they’re not going away.” She pulled her hand gently away from his. “They’re only here to help, Gunner. And there’s a whole hell of a lot that’s happened in the last few hours.”

  “Yeah. I know.” He rose, dropping the towel to the floor, reaching for his jeans. For a fleeting instant, watching him standing naked at the foot of the bed, she shared Gunner’s wish that everyone would just leave them alone. But he pulled on his jeans and left the room. Claire listened to him open the door and heard muted voices. She recognized Malone’s and Reece’s, but there were other voices. Whoever they were, they sounded excited. She slid off the bed and pulled on her jeans and one of Gunner’s t-shirts, padding barefoot into the living room.

  Reece and Malone were there, along with two other men Claire had never seen. The tension in the room was almost visible, most of it radiating from Gunner. He glanced at her, his look unreadable, then turned back to Malone.

  “We might as well all sit down and get this over with. It’s obvious you have something you want to tell me.”

  Gunner pulled out a chair at the table for Claire. She sat down and he dropped heavily into one beside her. Reece and Malone took the remaining two chairs. The other two guys stood uneasily, arms folded, taking up a whole lot of space in the tiny apartment. Gunner eyed them warily. Claire had the sense he was on the edge, ready to shift at the first sign of danger.

  “Who’s the muscle? You traveling with bodyguards now, Malone?” Gunner thrust his chin at the two hulks crowding behind Reece. Malone flicked his eyes at the guys, then frowned at Gunner.