Big, gnarly snout. Jagged teeth in need of a clean. Round eyes that looked oddly human.
Shuddering, she pinched her eyes tight, and then shoved the heel of her shoe into the flesh of the wolf’s neck.
She screamed, cowering from the stream of blood. “Take that!”
Death by Jimmy Choo!
Killer fashion sense totally had new meaning…
The wolf howled and reared up, pinning her within the cage of his powerful body. As she tried to shimmy out from underneath it, the wolf’s gums peeled back over its fangs. It was pissed off and going to bite.
She froze. “I’m…sorry?”
Fury churned in the wolf’s eyes, and as she flattened herself to the floor, shrinking away, it hammered its head against her neck and sank its teeth deep.
She screamed for the heavens as fire and lightning erupted inside her. Without thinking, she roped her fingers through the strap on the other shoe, slung it around, and stabbed it through the wolf’s neck on the opposite side. It thrashed and howled as two spike heels knifed their way through its fur.
Time slowed to a painful halt.
As the wolf unsheathed its teeth from of her neck, Melina scooted from beneath its wavering body. She took off running without looking back, even as a thunderous roar of footsteps pounded behind her. She turned the corner, sprinting hard toward an emergency exit. Shouts and screams came from behind her, followed by the most hideous howls she’d ever heard.
How many wolves were there?
Holding her hand to her neck to stop the bleeding, Melina pushed out the doors onto the street, turned right, and took off running. She tripped and fumbled, dizzy from the loss of blood.
Spinning around to gain her bearings, Melina gasped. She was still in San Francisco. Right in its heart. South of the Mission in Bernal Heights, to be exact. She knew the area well. One of her first apartments in the city wasn’t far from here. And if she wasn’t completely disoriented, she’d just stumbled out an old cathedral.
Holy Mary Mother of Cujo? That couldn’t be right.
The streets were surprisingly empty for the city that never slept. Mustering her strength, Melina ran toward lights of a few shops on the next block.
“Help!” she squeaked, but her words were quiet and hoarse, straining her throat as they were spoken. “Help!”
Quasimodo’s words rang through her ears: We own this lot and the ones around it. The only wolves who can hear you are the ones who work for us.
She had to make it a block, maybe two, before she could trust anyone to help her. Her luck, she’d run into someone who’d take her right back where she came from.
Passing a liquor store and a pediatrics drug store, Melina ran until her legs gave out. She fell against a railing for the bus stop, fighting for air. Strength leached from her muscles and needles of pain stabbed their way through her body. She was going to pass out. Right there against the glass. She’d look like a druggie, an alcoholic, a bum looking to sleep on the MUNI, or all three rolled into one dysfunctional ball. No one would know how she’d been kidnapped by some crazy circus freaks toting around wolves. No one would know how she’d fought her way free.
Were they following her?
She couldn’t even muster the power to check. Her eyes fluttered closed as she clutched her shoes in her hand. Just in case she had to fight her way through round two.
Sleep sounded good right about now. A few minutes of sleep and she could run again. The world faded away beneath her.
“Melina, thank God,” someone said from beside her. A shadow. A deep, familiar voice. It sounded like Hayden, but it couldn’t be. “You’re going to come with me now.” Two fingers brushed her neck. Shivers coated her body. “Oh shit.” Gut-wrenching silence. “You were bitten. We don’t have long.” Hands beneath her knees. Big, strong hands. “They’re coming, sweetheart. We have to get you out of here. You ready?”
Reality came crashing down as the stranger tried to move her. Quasimodo had found her! He was taking her back to feed her to the wolves.
“I won’t be thrown to the wolves.” With the last ounce of strength pulsing through her body, she flung one of her shoes at the stranger and swung the other shoe for his face. “Back off jerk. I’ve got Choos—shoes!”
Chapter Sixteen
Hayden dodged the first flying shoe, but the second one got him square in the nose. Starbursts went off behind his eyes.
He wasn’t expecting Melina to fight back. She looked worn and winded, slumped against the bus stop glass. He wasn’t expecting her here at all, actually. Gabriel had tracked her scent to Bernal Heights, but lost it once they got on Church Street. After doing a quick search for buildings purchased by packmates within the last year, Hayden noticed a clump of them in this area and thought it couldn’t hurt to check.
“It’s me,” he said, lifting her off the ground. “It’s Hayden. I’ve got you now.”
She stopped striking her shoe against his jaw. Momentarily. “Hayden? It’s really you?”
Her eyes remained closed, but he nodded. “Yeah, it’s me. You’re going to be okay, but we’ve got to move fast.”
He’d left the door of his Bugatti open. He laid her inside as the door to the cathedral on the corner flew open and a group of rogue wolves flew out. They pointed and hollered, and took off at a dead sprint. Tucking Melina’s dress in the door, he shut it tight, slid over the hood, and hopped inside.
“Hayden?” she asked, as he peeled away from the curb.
The car gripped second gear as he floored it around the corner, leaving the packmates in his exhaust.
“Yeah?”
He downshifted up a hill, checking his rearview for lights.
“You’re not so mean,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe it before.”
His heart pinched. “You don’t have to talk about that now. I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”
As they approached a crowded intersection, Hayden stopped at the line and did a quick check for injuries. He brushed dark strands of hair out of her face, revealing a bruise under her eye. A demonic growl burned inside his chest—he gritted his teeth until they nearly cracked under the pressure. He didn’t want to growl and scare her, but those bastards had bit her.
He’d break every bone in each one of their bodies, and then watch them crawl their mangled way out of his city.
He eyed the bite on her neck. Tendon and ripped flesh jumbled together into a bloodied mess on her neck.
“Does the wound on your neck hurt?” The words were hard for him to say. He remembered how much the bite had hurt him when he’d been attacked. He was hoping against hope that Melina was in shock. If her system overloaded, it’d shut off her pain receptors.
“It was a wolf, Hayden. A freaking wolf bit me! Do you think I need a rabies shot?” She laughed sickly as the color drained from her face. “It’s going to leave a scar, huh? I’m not even going to be able to hide it. It’s going to have to be scarf season year-round in my house.”
“The scar will heal, Melina, but right now we have to worry about loss of blood and…”
…biting you again.
Being bitten by a wolf on one pulse point was deadly. The only way to survive the bite was to be bitten on another pulse point. It’d start the transition process, and she’d shift into a wolf for the first time during the next full moon, starting her new life as a werewolf.
But if he could get her to Howlands, maybe he could plead with the doctors and they could find a way to stop the poison from the wolf bite and she could live as a non-shifter again.
There had to be another way.
Melina didn’t belong in their world. She was too special, too fiery, and much too independent. She didn’t take orders well, and as her Alpha, he’d have to dish them. And she’d have to obey him.
He’d only known Melina for a short time, but there was no way in hell that was happening.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, as he put the pedal to the me
tal.
“To the hospital.” He gunned it, running the next red light. “You’re losing too much blood.”
It had gushed down her neck and soaked her dress. She coughed, and tried to cover it with her hand. Blood squirted onto his dash.
“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning back into the seat. “I can clean it.”
“I’m not worried about my car.” Not in the least. “I’m worried about you. How are you holding up? Talk to me, okay?”
Her head lolled to her opposite shoulder. “What about?” Her words were weak, and fading away.
“Tell me about the first time we met. Did you think I was a tool?”
“No, not that.” Her words sloshed together so badly, Hayden could barely make them out. “You-were-Prada.”
He had to have misheard. “Prada?”
“You know…” she sighed heavily. “…Perfection.”
Nerves tightened in his stomach. He’d thought she was perfect, too. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he placed the other on her thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He knew exactly what she was going through, and what she’d need. The tremors wracking her body, and the disorientation in her brain would soon be followed by chills.
This was his fault. He shouldn’t have spent so much time with her. They could’ve Skyped for crying out loud and kept physical contact to a minimum. But then he wouldn’t have known his Luminary was out there. He wouldn’t have known the pull he had to her, to protect her.
“But then I saw you wit—with the girls—the two girls on the red carpet, I saw you.” She coughed up more blood. “That hurt.”
“Melina,” he said, a hole forming in his chest, “I wanted you to be at my side, but something happened in my family, and when it came time to pick you up, my father told me to take someone who was more like us. Someone closer to the family. I couldn’t betray him, not when he gave a direct order that way. I wish you could understand our family dynamic.”
Silence.
“Melina?” He shook her leg. “Melina, wake up. I know you’re tired, but you have to stay awake. We’re almost there.”
“Damn it!” He slammed his fists against the wheel. “Fastest fucking vehicle in production and I still can’t get to Howlands in time.”
The engine roared, jerking the car as it gripped each turn.
“Melina, say something.” He glanced at her once more. “Come on, we’ve got about ten minutes left. Stay with me.”
“Willyoukissme?” she mumbled. “Iwanna…feelheaven…beforeIseeit.”
Sweetest words ever spoken.
Using two fingers, he brought her face around to his. Her lips were pale and parted. Her eyes were closed, the color of her face a sickly shade of gray. He planted the softest of kisses on her lips, and had the strangest feeling he’d stolen her last breath.
Panicked, he lifted her wrist to his ear.
Fading pulse.
“No!”
Desperation bellowed through him as he swerved against the curb and killed the engine.
“Melina.” He gripped her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.
It’d be so easy to save her. With one bite on her radial artery, she’d wake up a few hours later, have a killer headache, and a hearty appetite. She’d get to smile, and write her column, and live a happy, healthy life.
But turning into a werewolf wasn’t the natural way of things.
She didn’t choose their way of life.
Damn it, she was dying.
Another few seconds and her heart would beat for the last time. No more sly grins or cheap shots against him, no more faux fur coats, crazy dresses, or funky hair-dos. Never again would he get to see her radiate with happiness, or watch those luscious lips pull back into a satisfied smile. He’d never know the warmth of her body, or the full power of her mind.
She was special, a gem in his world. Not only his world, he realized, but the big blue one that spun ’round and ’round.
“I can’t let you go.” He shook with fear. “Please forgive me.”
Letting the power of the full moon tug on the deepest part of him, Hayden resisted the urge to burst through human form completely. Channeling only the shifting energy he needed to perform the act, Hayden’s fangs dropped. His snout began to stretch.
He hesitated, listening to her heartbeat stutter and slow. And then, with the final resounding pump of Melina’s heart, Hayden lowered his mouth to her wrist and sank his teeth deep.
Chapter Seventeen
Melina rolled over, clutching the satin sheets to her chest. Yawning, she kicked her feet, swishing them over the fancy fabric.
She loved satin sheets.
One teeny tiny problem: she didn’t have them on her bed.
She shot up, taking a mental snapshot of her surroundings. She was in a small bedroom. Steel-gray walls. Dark hardwood floors. Gigantic bed that dwarfed the space. Ficus tree by the window, and floral arrangements on the dresser. Large cabinet built into the wall to her left. Huge windows and French doors latched tightly on the opposite wall. Through the glass, ocean waves rolled toward the bright-blue horizon. Large trees—were those redwoods—towered across the way. The room smelled like an exotic combination of sea, salt, and wood-smoke.
Where the hell was she?
And what happened last night?
She rubbed her head, and absentmindedly removed the bobby pins from her hair. Hooking them together, she threw them to the foot of the bed. She glanced at her clothes: glittery tank top and black booty shorts.
Did she go to a rave while she slept?
Sliding off the bed, Melina set her feet on the cool floor and shuffled toward the windows. The house—whichever house this was—was perched on a slight hill that faced the ocean. A wooden staircase off the back deck zig-zagged down to a sandy beach. The foggy marine layer plumed over the waves and ghosted over the hill, coating the windows in a light, airy mist.
She took a deep breath and willed her memories of last night to return.
Movement down the beach caught her eye. Someone was running along the shore, a black hood pulled over his head. The jogger had a strong pace and didn’t appear labored from it. His steps were hard and powerful, eating up the ground as he weaved around waves lapping against the sand. When he neared the bottom of the stairs to the house, he stopped to stretch.
As he twisted his torso this way and that, Melina caught sight of a shadow of stubble. Wide jaw. Dark, unforgettable eyes.
Hayden.
Crap.
With a loud meeping sound, Melina backed away from the window, but not before she saw him see her. She was in his house, which could only mean one thing: they’d slept together. Oh, peachy.
They’d hooked up and she didn’t even remember it.
“Melina?” he called from somewhere inside the house.
Crappity-crap.
Her insides squirmed. Panicked. Melina scanned the room, looking for a way out.
Two knocks on the door.
“Umm…” The scent of freshly brewed coffee hit Melina hard, making her mouth water. “Come back in a few minutes?”
“I’m not housekeeping.” He laughed softly. The sound soothed her. “If you want to be alone in there, I can talk to you through the door.”
Persistent sucker.
“Give me a minute. I’ll be right out.” How was she going to get out of this mess? What was she going to say? Should she pretend to remember? Be honest and say she couldn’t remember a thing? Absentmindedly, Melina clutched at her chest and hit a tender spot. Flinching, she brushed her fingers over the sensitive skin. “I think”—she searched for a mirror in the room and came up empty—“I think I might have a bruise on my neck.”
Officially the worst one-night-stand in history.
No memory of the sex. Bruises. Gaudy morning-after outfit.
“I can explain that.” Slowly, Hayden pushed the door open, and leaned against the frame, crossing his arms over his barrel of a chest. Sweat coated his face and ran do
wn his neck in beads. Damp hair fell over his face, nearly reaching his brow.
She squelched down the urge to push him against the doorframe and start his second workout…with her.
She’d never had a thing for jocks before, but the sight of Hayden in his workout gear had Melina changing her tune. He was built like a hardcore athlete, tall and strong, with ripples of bulky muscle. But he didn’t look stiff, as if his workouts were restricted to dumbbells and squat racks. No, quite the opposite. He had the look of a fighter, of someone who could move in a pinch and use his strength to his advantage.
How had she not known he was athletic? When she’d suggested he try yoga, meditation, or acupuncture on his image-improvement plan, she hadn’t realized Hayden already had something to keep him active in the off-hours.
Why hadn’t he said something?
His workout gear only added to his sexual appeal. Black shorts dropped low on his waist. White cotton T-shirt beneath an unzipped black sweatshirt with the hood dropped back.
The room was much smaller with him in it.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” She rubbed the sore spot on her neck. “Am I bruised? Right here?”
“Your skin might feel tender for a while, but it’s perfect. Unblemished.” He eyed her neck, her face. Heat trailed his gaze. “Like porcelain.”
“Oh, I—” She hadn’t been prepared for that. Her mouth went dry, and she dropped her hand from her neck. “Where am I?”
“You’re in my home, in my spare bedroom.”
The question of the hour pressed at her lips. “We didn’t—did we—you know?
“No, nothing like that.” A hint of sadness coated his tone, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a blush crept into his cheeks. “How do you feel?”
“Fine, I guess.” She brushed her hand over her hair. It was tousled and frizzy, as if she’d fought a lion during her sleep. “Never slept so hard in my life.”
He nodded slowly. “Do you remember…anything?”
The Werewolf Wears Prada (Entangled Covet) (San Francisco Wolf Pack) Page 12