Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  “What the FUCK just happened?” Gemma screamed, trying not to notice how hoarse her voice was.

  Without taking his eyes off the road, Adam reached down to the glove compartment and handed Gemma a first aid kit. “Here. Before you lose too much blood.”

  She glared at his lack of answer, but complied, patching her throat back together. She still couldn't stop her hands from shaking.

  He gave her a quick, worried glance. “That was Vincent Grey, a lone wolf who used to be in my pack,” he told her. “He's trying to kidnap you and make you his mate.”

  “Why?” she asked, although she already knew part of the reason.

  “Since he disappeared from my pack, we had reason to believe that he is trying to take control of your pack. 'We' being Carmichael's pack, if you know who that is.” Gemma nodded. Carmichael was the leader of the Dallas pack. She'd met him a long time ago, but she had the vaguest memory of a man who was a cross between Santa Claus and a Hell's Angel. “Vincent chose to attack tonight because you finally made an appearance.” He set his jaw. “That's the easiest way for him to take over your pack.”

  “How did you know?” she asked. She couldn't keep the suspicion from her voice, even with how hoarse it was.

  Adam sighed. “It was suspected, but we didn't want to raise alarm without good reason.” He looked at her, meeting her eyes briefly. “I came tonight, against orders, to see how your pack was.” He gave a laugh. “I wasn't quite sure who you were when I talked to you at the bar.”

  Hurt as she was, Gemma could smell it on him that he was telling the truth. Even if it wasn't for the scent, she could tell by his body language that he was in shock and relieved that they were still alive. She winced slightly, touching rubbing alcohol to the wounds on her neck. He cast her another worried glance, but didn't say anything.

  They drove in silence for a few moments. Finally, Gemma broke the stillness.

  “Thank you for helping me.”

  He paused, as if debating how to answer. “Don't mention it.”

  There was another pause as she tried thinking of something to say. She noticed the crimson flowing down his cheek.

  “You're bleeding too,” she whispered, noticing a gash over his eye and a deep cut over his cheekbone. She reached out and gently touched the skin beneath the wound. She felt delirious, like she was suddenly sinking into a dream world.

  His jaw tightened under her touch. “Stay with me, Gemma,” he repeated firmly. He shifted up a gear and let the truck go at a normal pace. He nodded towards the first aid kit. “You were born a were, right?” he asked. “So you'll heal that throat of yours in a few hours. Just stay awake with me. Patch yourself up first and then you can call Mark from my cell.”

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Up to Dallas. To my pack,” he answered. “I need to keep you protected. And we will need help.” He looked at her. “I promise, I will protect you.”

  She kept her eyes on the road, not letting the fear enter her expression. An Omega, protect me?

  CHAPTER 3

  Adam hadn't known what to expect when he was looking for Gemma Branford, the reclusive pack leader who had been a werewolf her entire life. Maybe a big, burly woman who was more animal than woman, that's what everyone made it seem like. Certainly not the petite, fine-featured, well-spoken young woman who was sitting in the passenger seat of his truck right now. He kept watch on her out of the corner of his eye as he drove.

  “I don't think it's safe for me to head back just yet,” she was saying into his cell phone. She had already healed enough to keep her voice from cracking or sounding hoarse. She had borrowed his mobile to call Mark and let him know what was happening, and tell him to not let any wolves out of the bar. There was safety in numbers, she'd reasoned. Adam agreed. There didn't need to be anyone else who got hurt.

  But her conversation continued even after that, making Adam wonder how overprotective Mark was of her.

  “No,” she said. She paused and looked at Adam with a guarded expression. “No, I don't think he'll come after me. He'd be a fool to do that with the entire pack there.”

  “He's foolish,” Adam murmured, “but he's not stupid.”

  She glanced at him and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The lights on the highway caught the gold flecks in her eyes. No, he had not expected to meet this heart-breakingly beautiful woman, but here she was, and she was real. He was reminded, not for the first time that night, that he was naked in his truck in front of a woman he hadn't met before. He hadn't taken the time to get dressed, but he had managed to pull a jacket over his lap, a fact that he was grateful for now.

  His grip tightened on the steering wheel. Get a hold of yourself, he thought. She's Alpha, you're Omega. Even worse, he'd only been a were for about nine months.

  He was considered scum by everyone in the pack because of his status as an Omega, with little hope of being raised in ranks because of how low on the ladder he was. He had ruined his life for his ex-fiancée Cheryl, and here he was, risking his life for a total stranger.

  He sensed Gemma tense up beside him and he glanced at her. She had turned red-faced at a question that Mark asked. “How can I trust...?” she repeated into the cell phone. She flicked her eyes to Adam. “I kind of have no choice, Mark.” She paused again. “Yes,” she softly answered. “Love you too, Mark. I will be in touch. Call Carmichael ahead of us to let him know what's going on.” She paused. “Don’t call me that,” she said, a tinge of relieved laughter in her voice.

  She ended the call and tiredly sighed.

  “What did he call you?” Adam asked, trying to keep it light.

  “My nickname,” she growled. “He always calls me by my nickname. Drives me nuts.” She gingerly touched the wounds in her neck. “I think I'm almost fully healed,” she said after a few moments. “I always worry that that won't happen. How are you holding up?”

  Adam smiled grimly. The gashes on his face throbbed, but the bleeding had stopped. He was healing, albeit at a slower rate than her. “I'll live,” he said.

  “Thanks,” she said quickly.

  “You already said that.”

  “Yes,” she said contemplatively. “But that was a brave thing you did. Not many – well any Omegas would have gone up against a Beta.”

  “I surprised myself,” Adam replied.

  “How did you end up as a were?” Gemma asked suddenly. “I know of very few people who would be willing to be turned, of their own freewill, into the Omega ranks.”

  Adam smiled grimly. “It was a girl – my ex-fiancée.”

  Gemma looked surprised. “What happened?” she asked.

  He laughed bitterly. “Well, I found out that she was a were after I asked her to marry me. She was the one who introduced me to the rules of getting married in werewolf culture.” He shrugged. “But I loved her. So I was turned so I could be with her.”

  “Was she Omega too?” she asked. “Any higher rank would've made you a higher rank than Omega.”

  That was a sore point with him.

  “We were never mates,” he said. “The night of my turning ceremony, she left me.” He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Left me for a Beta.” He wasn't going to say who.

  “I'm sorry about that,” she said softly.

  “She died a few months ago,” he said simply. His voice broke. “Got caught up in the wrong crowd.”

  She just looked him and then watched out of the window for the rest of the drive. The drive from Austin to Dallas was only about three hours, and they had less than a half hour left. She remained quiet the rest of the trip, and he was thankful for that.

  Talking about Cheryl always tore open a hole in his heart.

  They neared his pack's den, which Adam knew Gemma would recognize. She had probably been there many times in her youth, as her parents were the equivalent of werewolf royalty. Her eyes widened at the sight of the den, confirming that suspicion.

  It was a mansion in North Dallas, su
rrounded by a wrought iron fence. The fence wasn't very effective against any intruders except humans. The wolves that waited in the shadows offered the real security.

  Gemma's breath audibly caught in her throat. “It's bigger than I remember it,” she murmured. After seeing how small and humble her pack's den was, Adam supposed it was a bit of a shock to see how large his was.

  “Would...Vincent know how to find us?” she asked suddenly.

  “I'm sure he knows where I took you,” Adam said. “If that's what you mean.” She fell quiet. “He won't come,” he assured her. “He's not welcome here.”

  Almost absently, he put his hand on her leg. She looked down at it but didn't brush it away.

  She cast a glance at him. “Why?” she asked. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

  He gave a bittersweet laugh. “Maybe,” he said, “maybe I have nothing else to lose.”

  “So you're saying that you have a death wish?”

  “I'm not sure.” That was the honest truth, although he didn't feel like going into more detail. They started driving up the winding road to the mansion.

  “I knew Vincent,” he said suddenly. “He’s the wolf that Cheryl ran off with.” He swallowed uncomfortably. “Moved to Alabama for a few months before her body turned up in a ditch. There was never any evidence against him, but everyone knows that he killed her.”

  Werewolves mated for life. If Vincent had it in his head that he wanted Gemma, Adam's ex would have to be dead. There was nothing else to it.

  “Cheryl might've broken my heart, but she didn't deserve that.” He let out a breath to emphasize the end of the conversation. “It's unfair – and that's why I'm helping you.”

  He pulled up to the grand entrance of the mansion.

  ***

  The passenger door opened and Gemma turned to see a big man of about sixty, with his hair in a graying ponytail, standing there. Her nostrils flared as she lightly sniffed the air and felt her blood turn to ice as she realized who it was.

  “Gemma Branford,” the big man said, his rough, almost pirate-like voice husky and deep with a hint of sympathy in it. He gave her a wide smile, showing teeth and gaps where teeth should be. “'R should I say, Snowflake?”

  Gemma felt her cheeks flush. So he did remember her family coming to visit him when she was younger. “Carmichael Hoffman, sir,” she said softly. She dropped her eyes. “Sorry to come on such short notice.”

  “Nonsense,” Carmichael said. His eyes glinted electric green and gold in the moonlight, a trait of those who had been weres for a long time. “And don't act meek 'round here, yer jest as much werewolf as me. But it has been too long.” He held out his hand for her. She took it and stepped out of the truck. The older wolf seemed to be even bigger than she remembered. He stood at about six-and-a-half feet, towering above her, and he was at least three times her weight. As an Alpha, Carmichael matched her rank, but his height and bodyweight could outmatch her if they ever were to fight.

  It surprised her that he intimidated her so much.

  There was an entourage behind him, waiting to escort her from the truck to the mansion.

  Carmichael leaned around Gemma to glance at Adam. “You disobeyed me direct orders, Adam,” he said, his voice crossed between playfulness and disappointment.

  Adam icily met his superior's gaze, almost in defiance. “She would've been taken by Vincent if I wasn't there.”

  Carmichael looked at him lazily. “Yeah. Fer once, yer gut was right.” He nodded towards Gemma. “You saved her. An' for that, both of our packs are indebted to you.” He tilted his head forward to Adam in a gesture of supplication.

  An awkward pause fell between the two of them. Adam watched Carmichael, his jaw slightly slack. The younger wolf met Gemma's eyes briefly. She swallowed, almost compulsively, feeling a sort of tension and pull between the two of them. He closed his eyes and she felt a chill.

  What was that?

  “You must be hungry,” Carmichael exclaimed, breaking the silence. “I'll rustle up some breakfast. After all, it's almost five in th' morning. Adam,” he said suddenly, “you should put some clothes on.”

  The younger wolf visibly blushed.

  CHAPTER 4

  Gemma quickly showered, washing away the grime from the night. It was a welcome relief and she relished it. Unfortunately, she had to take a quick shower – she knew that she couldn't take her time when the rest of the world seemed to be moving so fast.

  Carmichael gave her a penthouse suite, probably the most elaborate guestroom Gemma had ever been in, with a separate room for the bedroom, a den area, a dining area, a bathroom, and a grand balcony. It was gesture of respect from him, but to Gemma, it just seemed gaudy and overdone.

  This is how these Dallas wolves did things, she guessed.

  It took her less than ten minutes to get dressed. She never was one to dress up, but Carmichael had laid out a spare black cocktail dress for her on the bed, since her clothes were torn and dirty from the night's events. Easy enough to get ready. She slipped it on. Even with her short stature, it fit her well. She towel-dried her hair and headed towards the dining room.

  Throughout the entire mansion, she could sense that the walls were alive with guards, watching her as she moved through the hallways. Even with their eyes on her, she still felt exposed and vulnerable.

  Carmichael hailed her down even before she entered the dining room.

  “Yeh've finally joined us,” he exclaimed.

  She smiled. “The smell of food brought me here,” she said, acting more confident than she felt.

  “I figgered you two kids'd be hungry after last night.”

  He gestured for her to come sit next to him at the head of the table. Adam was sitting across from Carmichael, freshly showered and dressed himself. Gemma's breath caught in her throat as she acknowledged to herself just how handsome her hero was, especially now that he was clothed. He had a wry smile on his face as he looked up at Gemma.

  Carmichael must have sensed something pass between them, because he commanded, “Sit down, Snowflake. We won't bite. Well,” he added with a grin. “I won’t bite.”

  Adam coughed loudly and took a large swig from his glass of orange juice. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks.

  She brushed a strand of red hair behind an ear and took her seat. She wasn’t going to give Carmichael the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. This was going to make for an awkward breakfast.

  The table was large, with enough seating for twenty people, but today it was just Carmichael, Adam, and her sitting at the table. Several other wolves stood at attention, but they weren't eating.

  Adam was the first to speak.

  “Why does everyone call you Snowflake?” he asked.

  Gemma bit her lip, once again feeling embarrassed.

  Carmichael answered for her. “This 'un here,” he said with a huge grin, throwing an arm about her, “is th' most beautiful wolf yeh’ve ever seen. When she decides to transform, that is.”

  “Which is rare,” she cut in sharply.

  Adam raised an eyebrow.

  “An' a pity at that,” Carmichael continued. “Mark gave you th' name too, right?” he asked bemusedly.

  “It’s just a kid’s nickname.” She gave Carmichael a fake glare. “One that I’ve been unable to get rid of.”

  Carmichael laughed. “Let’s dig in, eh?” he asked. He picked up a plate of food and passed it to her. “Bacon an' eggs,” he explained, feigning sheepishness. She spooned some out on her plate. “Breakfast's th' most important meal of th' day, an' you shouldn't underestimate th' power of a good bacon an' eggs.” He grinned proudly. “I cooked 'em meself.”

  She allowed a grin. “And the orange juice?” she asked raising her full glass.

  “Tha's from th' store,” he admitted, reflecting her expression. “Oranges're a pain in th' ass to squeeze.”

  She laughed. Much of their breakfast went like that: playful banter between two equals, a woman in her mid-twen
ties and a tattooed and rough-around-the-edges older man. Adam, for his part, joined in the conversation at times, but kept mostly of out it, just listening to the two of them chat. Gemma found herself wanting him to talk more so she could find out more about him, but he followed werewolf protocol and stayed silent until he was spoken to.

  Such was the life of an Omega.

  Carmichael might have been the old leader of a huge pack bound by many politics and traditions, but he didn't act like the grand patriarch that he was. It was a welcome break for her. Even though she had felt like she couldn't eat when she sat down, the food was so good, she quickly devoured it all.

  “Raise yer glass,” Carmichael told her during a lapse in the conversation. He held up his own glass to demonstrate.

  With her mouth full of food, she held up her orange juice for their toast. Adam, his own mouth full of food, raised his glass.

  “To th' fuck-ups we are an' to those wh'll fergive us for th' fuck-ups we'll make.”

  She nearly spit out her food in laughter. “Eloquent!” she exclaimed and took a long drink.

  “Figgered you could use a laugh,” he said.

  Her expression fell. “You didn't just want me here for breakfast, did you Carmichael?” she asked, although she already knew the answer. Everyone had an ulterior motive with her.

  Carmichael turned slightly and addressed the wolves that were standing at attention. “Leave us,” he said. He nodded at Adam. “You too.”

  Adam hesitated and looked over at Gemma. Once again their eyes met.

  “It's fine, Adam,” she said softly. The jovial mood had left the breakfast table and she felt drained and tired. She realized that she hadn't slept. “I'm sure Carmichael just wants to talk about the weather.”

  The older wolf gave a short laugh.

  “I'll be just outside,” Adam said. He stood up and passed behind Gemma, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze that didn't go unnoticed by Carmichael.