A Gifted Curse (The Cloven Pack Series: Book One)

by D. Fischer

  Evo is hell-bent on taking me on a date. I’ve given him no indication that I’m attracted to him. I’ve tried to not let him see my gaze roam over his body, and carefully schooled my face when he made me weak at the knees with that intoxicating scent.

  Not every human has exceptional senses like I do. Most humans don’t even come close to my senses. I see sharper, hear better, move faster, and I can smell far better than the average Joe and Jane.

  Chalking it down to good genetics, it still doesn’t help when his scent can almost make me forget what I’m going to say or do, which is something I find appalling and unacceptable. I have to stay sharp and that’s next to impossible with him standing so close, filling me with needs that I just don’t have time for. Lie, she thinks again.

  That’s the excuse I’m sticking to.

  Maybe I should just get this guy out of my system and get it over with. However, I don’t truly believe he’ll just disappear after a night in bed. That man is persistent, I’ll give him that. And if I am being honest, I don’t think one night of hot sex would be enough. Not for me, anyway. This time, she fully agrees.

  I’d want more and more of him. Something that would be completely against what I’m trying to accomplish—not having anyone I need to rely on or be centered to. I don’t want someone who’s looking for a relationship, because, well, I wouldn’t know what to do with one. I’ve never had relationships. If I brought a guy home, which I rarely did, we never exchanged numbers because I made it clear that I wasn’t looking to be with anyone.

  Nope, I mentally tell myself, no steamy sex with ex-agent hottie. And that will just have to be that.

  Chris Kenner is a whole other matter. I have no choice but to believe that Evo will leave the new discovery in my investigation between us and not blab to the nearest FBI agent he can find. I felt the truth in those words, so I shouldn’t need to worry about that.

  I know down to my bones that Kenner is abducting women, but I can’t figure out why or where he’s storing them. The women just disappear with absolutely no trace. If he’s killing them, what’s he doing with the bodies? It definitely has to be in a hidden facility, right? If he owns or rents any facility in his name, the FBI would have been all over that like white on rice. But the FBI has no concrete evidence that Kenner is even behind this. It’s all speculation because he was seen talking to each missing woman.

  Delivering a few well-aimed kicks to the bag, I feel an emotion that isn’t my own ripple over my skin—anticipation with a side of deep hunger, and not the hunger that comes with food. This kind of hunger is fed by evil. Someone is watching me and they don’t seem to be here for a friendly chat.

  Dabbing my forehead with the towel, I use my peripheral vision to glance around as I bend to grab my water bottle and cell phone. I don’t see anyone, but I know they’re there. Someone who’s hiding and spying with a combination of these emotions is someone who doesn’t mean well. I can feel him or her, and since I’m the only one in the gym, logic would say they’re spying on me.

  That clawing sensation forms inside my belly as I feel her need to protect sky rocket. I ignore it because sanity tells me that the only thing here to protect me is myself. It would not be a good moment to let this supposed anxiety take over my actions.

  Shoving it back down, I turn on the screen to my phone. Making a split-second decision, I text the unsaved number. If this doesn’t go in my favor, I’m going to need some backup.

  I don’t like calling for help, but I’ve also never been cornered late at night in the gym before. So, I text the only person I know will come. After all, it’s not like I have any friends. I’m beginning to rethink this whole loner lifestyle thing I’ve got going on here.

  I send the brief text and walk into the locker room. It’s wide open so I know nobody is in here since there are no places to hide.

  Making it look like I plan to rinse my face, I turn on the tap. I feel a rush of wind and bend my knees to duck, successfully dodging the first blow, and spin around to face my attacker.

  “What the fuck,” I whisper and duck again to block another blow.

  The guy attacking me has blood-red eyes and hands formed like claws. His skin is so pale white that I can see black snaky veins. He smells horrible, like a dead animal that’s been sitting on the side of a road for days, cooking in the blistering heat.

  Before I can ponder what the hell this guy is—because he definitely isn’t human—he catches me off guard and his sharp, pointed nails leave a slice across my shoulder.

  Screaming in agony, my insides claw harder, making me shake as I try to control the pain. The feeling that I need to leave my skin and give in to my alter ego overwhelms me.

  I bend and whirl around, tripping my freaky attacker’s legs and causing him to fall to the ground. I grab his shirt and throw him into the locker, his head hitting first. With my freaky extra strength it isn’t difficult. However, with the pain, it is getting harder to focus.

  He stands much faster than a normal human would’ve been able to after such a blow to the head. But even so, his body movements are faster than they should be, almost a blur of speed. He’s as fast as I am. I’ve never met anyone who could move as quickly as I can. The speed is unnerving, making me question which one of us is going to come out of this alive.

  Being a fraction of a second slower than him causes me to be slammed into a wall and held up by my neck a foot off the ground. Freaky-dude hissed in my face as he tightened his hand.

  My insides continue their brutal assault and I attempt to scream in agony as my attacker begins baring sharp pointed teeth. Black spots start to form in my vision. Overwhelmed by my own dilemma, I can’t form the energy or concentration to find a way out of this.

  I am going to die—help won’t get here in time.

  Evo Johnson

  Tapping a tune on my steering wheel, I make my way to Kenna’s apartment. I had used my resources to find out where she lived.

  After an hour and a half of discussion, mainly surrounding Kenna, the Pack and I agreed that she needed to be moved. I’m going to take her to a hotel until we can decide where to hide her more permanently. At least until this is completely over and Kenner is dealt with. I’ll have to find a way to explain to Kenna that she can’t continue her investigation. Telling her that we plan to end Kenner’s existence because he is a Rogue wolf shifter doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. I still haven’t worked out my excuse for effectively ending her investigation.

  Once Kenner is dead, the Pack has agreed that Kenna should have no further contact with me. They have urged me to leave her alone. The risk of discovery is high if I continue to pursue her. Jazz is thoroughly pissed that I’m showing any sort of affection toward another female. Kelsey and Brenna, my sister, are all for bringing Kenna to the Pack territory. I couldn’t tell if they were serious, or if the idea of tormenting Jazz held great interest to them. It doesn’t matter either way. The rest of the Pack voted against that idea.

  I know they’re right, but my wolf continues to growl and pace inside me. He doesn’t like this plan and is seriously considering taking over so he can hunt down Kenna and protect her himself.

  Damn animal. He just doesn’t understand that Kenna is a human and doesn’t know he exists. To him, she is the only important thing in the world. The only thing that matters.

  My cell phone beeps, pulling me from my thoughts. Grabbing it from my dash board, I smile when I see it’s a text from Kenna.

  The text says, Help gym my apartment.

  I stare at the screen for a moment before my foot slams the pedal to the floor and I speed the last mile to Kenna’s apartment, my heart thudding in my chest.

  Is Kenner there? Is he attacking her? She must have had some kind of early warning of danger if she had the time to text.

  What if I’m too late?

  My wolf fights for control as I park the car and bolt into the building, heading for the basement where the signs
indicate where the gym should be. I hear the struggle with my sensitive hearing before I open the gym doors. Bolting inside, my fear sky rockets when I hear a hiss. Shit, a vampire.

  I race to the women’s locker room, bend the corner, and find Kenna pinned against the wall by the vampire. A growl rips from my chest and I yank him away from her, slamming him into lockers and denting them from impact. The vampire quickly recovers, stands, and hisses at me, saliva dripping from his fangs.

  I let my wolf have some control, not fearing detection at this point, and partially shift. My hands extend into claws, my canines elongate, and I let out a fierce growl in return.

  He darts toward me in a blur of speed, but I had anticipated the move. Shoving my hand into his chest just before he reaches me, I grip my clawed hand around his cold, non-beating heart.

  Waiting to see if the vampire will surrender, I growl a warning in his face. I don’t want to end his dead life if I don’t have to. He hisses back and I feel his weight shift as if he is going to continue his assault. He has every intention of fighting to his second death. Wrenching his heart out of his chest, I squeeze it and watch him flake away like his black heart does inside my claw.

  My wolf fights for more control, angered that someone dare attack Kenna and worried that there may be more danger. I stand there struggling to contain and reassure him while working to regain my full human form. Composing my own emotions, I try to calm my wolf so I can tend to Kenna. Her moans on the floor behind me are the only other sound in the room.

  Once I think I am under control, I turn and meet my own gaze in the mirror, waiting for my wolf’s glowing green eyes to fade.

  Satisfied that I won’t scare her, I bend down to her writhing body.

  Doing a once over, I can’t see any cause for her pain. She has some minimal bruising and a gash on her shoulder. There are no visible broken bones, venomous vampire bites, or anything of the like.

  Attempting to uncurl her from her fetal position, I speak soft words, “Kenna? Kenna, what is it? What hurts?”

  Kenna moans, her body tightening in her fetal position on the floor. “My stomach. Something is clawing its way out.” She lets out a scream and opens her eyes. “Please! Make it stop!”

  My breath freezes. Her eyes are glowing wolf. “Holy shit.”

  I take in a deep breath, tasting her wolf’s scent that’s now much stronger and more pronounced since Kenna is in such a vulnerable state. Kenna’s a wolf shifter. She must have had her wolf buried deep—I’ve never once scented her wolf before now.

  With quick thinking, I know the only thing I can do to make it stop. I grab Kenna by the throat. Letting my wolf surface enough for my eyes to glow, I wait for her wolf to recognize mine, and then growl a warning.

  “Enough,” I speak as soon as Kenna’s wolf eyes meet my own.

  Her wolf understands the command and she slowly fades from Kenna’s eyes. When Kenna’s brown eyes blink at me, I know she’s back.

  “What are you?” she whispers before fainting.

  “I’ve been dying to ask you the same question,” I mumble while picking her up into my arms.

  I look around and survey the damage. There’s another head shaped dent in the lockers, which means Kenna had fought the vampire. That’s probably what made her wolf surface.

  The damage is minimal so I make my way to my car with Kenna still out cold in my arms and place her in the passenger seat. Climbing into the driver side, I start the car and begin the drive back to Pack territory. The whole drive there I wait for Kenna to show any signs of waking, but she shows none.

  My mind is having trouble comprehending that Kenna is a wolf, but the evidence is there. Now that I can smell her—it’s unbelievable. I was sure she was something other than human before, but I still completely missed it. My wolf clearly didn’t. I’m extremely annoyed with the creature for holding such vital information back from me.

  It’s easy to explain, though. She had buried her wolf so deep that it would have been next to impossible for another shifter to know. It’s incredibly difficult to bury your wolf. She must constantly struggle with it. The thought has me and my wolf wincing in pain. It must have been agonizing for both of them. Why would she even bury her? Why would she do that to herself and her wolf? They’re meant to live as one.

  Did Kenna belong to a Pack? No, she couldn’t have. No Pack would allow a wolf to live on their own. Not unless they were banned.

  No, I refuse to believe she was banned. Besides her quick wit, Kenna doesn’t seem dangerous. Not dangerous enough to have a Pack kick her out. I remember her folder and that she was found abandoned as a baby. The thought always makes my wolf growl. He doesn’t understand how someone could abandon his Kenna. I can’t either. It’s unheard of to ban a baby, so I seriously doubt that was the case here.

  Where did Kenna come from? Surely, she knew I was a wolf. Why didn’t she mention it? Did she even know she was a wolf?

  Most Rogue wolves don’t keep their sanity without the comfort and protection of a Pack. I can’t imagine what she has gone through, to not belong her entire life and keep her wolf buried so deep. The pain must be unreal but it shows the strength she has.

  I pull into the Pack house driveway, giving Ben’s wolf a small wave as he runs beside the car. Parking, I check on Kenna one last time before I exit the vehicle.

  Ben, fully naked after shifting back to human form, is walking to my car. Nudity isn’t a big deal with wolves.

  “Shit, Evo. Is that Kenna in the car?” he asks in disbelief, trying to peek in the windows. “I thought we all agreed that she wasn’t going to be brought back here.” When he notices she isn’t awake, he frowns. “What’s wrong with her?”

  I shove my hands into my pockets, cutting straight to it. “She’s a wolf, Ben.”

  He slowly turns and looks me in my eye with a doubtful expression, trying to see if he should take me seriously. Confusion scrunches his features when he sees that I’m not deceiving him. “What happened? How do you know she’s a wolf?” He gestures toward my bloody hand. “Clearly something went down. Did she attack you? What the hell happened?”

  “Someone sent a vampire after her. A young, inexperienced one, at that. After he flaked, I found Kenna struggling to keep her wolf in. Her eyes were glowing and I could scent her wolf as she fought Kenna for control.” Exhausted from the day, I scrub my hands over my face. “Ben, I don’t think she knows she’s a wolf. It’s the only conclusion I can come up with.” He gives me a look like he doesn’t believe me. “No really,” I continue. “Why else would she fight her wolf so hard? Her wolf was trying to protect her, but for some reason, Kenna fought the transformation. She feared the pain that it brought. When I commanded her wolf to back down, she asked me what I was before she fainted.”

  “She could be a banned wolf, Evo. Maybe she played dumb so you wouldn’t suspect what she was.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know, Ben. That just doesn’t add up. She was abandoned as a baby. I doubt any Pack would ban a pup. I can’t believe we thought she was a witch because of her gift.”

  Ben sucks in a breath and curses.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “Shit, Evo,” Ben curses again. “She’s a Queen. Queen wolves are always gifted.”

  Stunned, I stare at him. Slowly, I shift my weight to look at the woman in my passenger seat. My wolf is silent but mightily smug. One word describes what he’s telling me as I look at Kenna. Mine.

  Shit.

  Chapter Five

  Makenna Goldwin

  Snuggling in deeper, I take a deep whiff. This bed is so soft and warm. I’m cocooned in heavy blankets, my head resting on several soft, but firm, pillows. A feeling of warmth fills my insides as I did so, which makes me still my movements.

  This does not smell like my bed. This does not feel like my bed. The familiar sounds of my apartment in the middle of the city are absent to my ears. Instead, birds tweet from a nearby window tha
t’s letting in a large amount of light.

  I desperately search my mind of where I last crashed. Fear invades me and she claws at my insides as the memories flood my mind. Did the fanged man take me?

  Bolting upright, I take in my surroundings with wild eyes. The scent is familiar—Evo, my memory tells me. I’m in Evo’s bedroom. Having no memory of getting here, I search my mind again.

  I had sent him a text telling him that I needed help. I remember him pulling the creepy guy off me. Did the creep really have red eyes? No, I had to have imagined that. I remember pain, lots and lots of pain, as she fought to get out—to surface and protect like she always did whenever I had the least bit of anxiety.

  I remember Evo and his eyes.

  Gasping, I fly out of the bed. His eyes were glowing green. He was a monster, just like the red-eyed creep.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” I whisper. “This is just a really bad dream. That’s all, Kenna. Pull yourself together. It was all a bad dream.”

  Hearing footsteps approach the bedroom door, I search for something I can use to defend myself. If I am in Evo’s home, he had fought off my attacker, which meant he was stronger than him. Crazier than him. More of a beast than him. Panic seizes me as the door opens and I still have no weapon.

  “Knock, knock. You awake?” a deep rumbling voice asks.

  Evo sticks his head in the doorway. He takes in my panicked appearance and his eyes grow a fraction wider. Striding over to me in purposeful steps, his eyes begin to glow the green I remembered. I clutch my stomach against the clawing sensation. Before I can even back away or run, he has me collared by the throat, staring straight into my eyes.

  “Relax,” he demands.

  Instantly, the pain in my stomach subsides and my breaths grow easier even though my fear is still there. My alter ego, however, doesn’t fear him. She finds comfort in him.