by Unknown
Penny still knelt on the hearth. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She rubbed the sticks back and forth like her life depended upon sparking a flame. Another night of cold meals would suck. There were only so many cold meals shifters could eat before tempers went from hair trigger to explosive.
Her gaze traveled to the well-stocked refrigerator and chest freezer. They needed cooked meat. Allowing their wolves to feast on raw flesh would open doors to the beast that lay within. She’d heard stories of recent packs losing their way. The most popular was the Chicago pack’s story and how the Vanguards kicked them out. Her pack knew better.
So far no one had broken the unspoken rule of letting their beasts gorge. Without electricity or fire, how long before they went wild?
She set the wood next to them. “Just in case you’re successful.”
Jake gave her a worried look.
“I have faith in you. Otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered with the wood.” Shifters could smell outright lies, not little white ones. The vampire should have finished scaring the new recruit by now. He got pissy if she interrupted before he was done.
The clomp of boots reached her ears. Pallas strode into the kitchen followed by the new shifter. Scruffy dark hair, brooding gaze, and perfect lips made for nibbling had Clare edging toward the exit. Too handsome. Too confident in the way he moved.
His gaze riveted on her, pinning her to the spot as if daring her to run. She bet he’d give chase and might even have the skill to catch her. Distraction was the last thing she wanted. That’s all he’d be. One big, sexy distraction…The rooms were too crowded for anyone to really get together. They’d have to be creative and-and, she shook her head, breaking their staring match. No matter what her alpha thought, she’d complete the training course and hone her skills. This was her one chance to become the warrior to match her heart. Her father probably waited by the phone for her call to come home.
“Clare.” The vampire’s voice was dead fingers scraping over her ear drums and she flinched. She needed to gain better control. The more she allowed him to see her fear, the more he’d use it against her. He hadn’t seriously harmed them—yet—but that didn’t lessen her anxiety.
Most vampires could pass for human if they tried, but not Pallas. Where the other vampires had the whole sexy creature of the night thing going for them, Pallas gave off predator vibes that would make Jaws turn tail. There wasn’t enough make-up or fine clothes to mask his otherness. His skin was so pale, his ears pointed, and his eyes…Yeah, he could only go out in public on Halloween.
She managed to nod and held her ground.
“Give Ian a tour of the manor and explain the rules.” Pallas left to do whatever vampires did in the evening.
“Okay.” She told the empty kitchen doorway then turned to the new camper. “I’m Clare.”
The strange shifter crossed his arms. His gaze traveled over her from head to toe, lingering on her mouth, then her breasts, and he leaned to the side to check out her ass. “Why didn’t your pack want you?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Who says they don’t? I volunteered.” Not everyone at the manor was a reject. Obviously Ian was.
His gaze traveled to Penny and Jake. “You too?”
Both shook their heads and returned their efforts at the fireplace.
Clare grabbed a flashlight from the mantle. “Follow me.” She led him to the servant’s stairs behind the kitchen. By snooping around, she concluded the manor used to house a wealthy family a century ago, but it had sat abandoned long enough for their scents to fade. The building held very few smells really. Either it had been locked tight or Pallas had hired a very good cleaning crew before her arrival.
Ian followed on her heels. “You left home for this dump?”
“Where others see punishment, I see opportunity.” She stopped on the top step so they could see eye to eye. “Most of the packs don’t trust the relationship between the Nosferatu vampire clan and the Vanguard pack. This sudden offer to train shifters is making a lot of alphas nervous.”
He rolled his eyes and snorted.
“More nervous.” Her father had all sorts of conspiracy theories. The Vanguards wanted more territory so they wanted to lessen hunter numbers on pack land so they lured them away with free training. She’d also heard him whispering to her mother on how the Vanguards wanted a bigger pack so they would steal their best hunters. Or her favorite, the vampire would use his mental powers to brainwash them into traitors. She sighed. “We’re the test group.” The expendable group. Whatever the outcome, they would set the bar for this werewolf boot camp.
“So am I supposed to be honored to be included?” He leaned against the stained plastered wall. Ian didn’t seem weak or omega. That meant he was most likely a troublemaker. Shifters like him never amounted to anything.
Certain dominant wolves had something festering inside them—maybe a jealousy or apathy. Instead of growing into hunters or alphas, they faded away or were run off to become rogues or worse. She wished she had the time or energy to fix Ian, he was cute after all, but there were too many others who were weak in this camp. After three days of roughing it without electricity, she wondered how many would try leaving.
“Others, just like you Ian, have been dropped off.” She turned her back on him and continued up to the third floor. “Just as big or bigger. Pallas refused them. Why did he let you stay?” She didn’t expect and answer and she didn’t get one.
Ian remained silent as a shadow as she led him through the crowded sleeping corridor. “Third floor is for males.” She pointed to a room with two bunk beds. “This room has an unassigned cot.”
He crowded her against the doorframe and scanned the space. “It’s cramped. Do I have any other options?”
“You can challenge someone for their spot, but don’t waste your energy. All the spots suck. There are four shifters to every room now that you’re here. That’s the last empty spot.”
“You’re sharing?” He sounded incredulous.
“Yes, with Penny.”
He appeared puzzled.
“The female in the kitchen by the fireplace.”
“The little mouse.”
She frowned. “Yes.”
“That’s it? One other person.” He raised an eyebrow.
“There are fewer females than males and the rooms on the second floor are smaller.” He was acting like she’d made these rules. The manor was already set this way when she arrived.
He pushed past her into the room and claimed a bottom bunk that she suspected already belonged to Jake. Ian wasn’t carrying a bag or suitcase.
“Where’s your stuff?” She wasn’t playing bellhop.
“What stuff? My alpha didn’t exactly give me time to pack. He just tossed me in the trunk.” He folded his hands behind his head. “What’s with the all the flashlights?”
The lambent glow reflected off his amber gaze. Warm and inviting. She cleared her throat. “The manor doesn’t have electricity except for the fridge and freezer.”
His gaze flicked to the modern light fixture on the ceiling then back to her.
She flipped the light switch on by the door and nothing happened. “Pallas refuses to turn on the breaker.”
His eyes went wide. The first sign of a real person she’d seen in him. “Plumbing?”
She nodded. “He hates the smell of shifters, but I have to warn you, there’s no hot water or heating or a working stove.”
He tucked a long loose strand of mahogany hair behind his ear. “How do you keep warm at night?”
Tingles ran up her spine at the clear invitation. If he turned on the smolder any higher, he’d set the bed on fire. “At night, we run.” She struggled not to laugh at his confused expression. “We sleep during the day Einstein.” She waited for her meaning to sink in, but he still didn’t seem to understand. “Vampire…”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his throat. “I forgot. Not sure how I did.”
“It still gets plenty warm during sunlight hours but I hear in another few weeks we’ll all be wanting to share beds.”
Sitting up in one smooth motion, he planted his feet on the floor and caught her with his intense stare again. “Why do you stay?” He stood and paced toward her.
She didn’t realize she was retreating until her back hit the wall. What the hell? Her nostrils flared and took in his heady scent. She didn’t surrender to anyone, especially when they smelled of temptation and sex appeal.
“We can’t be far from a town. What sort of security does this place have?”
She set her hands against his chest and pushed—and pushed. Solid muscles lay under her hands. She craved to run them down over his abs and back up again. Maybe under his shirt on the return trip.
Fuck, what was wrong with her?
He glanced at where they touched and took a voluntary step away.
Biting her lip, she held back a disappointed groan.
Single male shifters tended to have a hard time keeping their cocks in their pants. Females tended to have it together. So why was she still standing in his room? Alone. Next to his bed. His flirting didn’t surprise her, but her response did. Maybe in another place, another time, she would have lifted on her tiptoes to nibble on his full bottom lip.
“Nothing stops you from leaving, Ian.” She pointed to the stairs. “There’s the way out.” She let her gaze travel over him in the same manner he had inspected her when they first met. “Dinner is in an hour. It will probably be cold so no need to hurry.” She marched away.
“Clare, the vampire told me I can’t leave.”
She shrugged. “You don’t seem the type to care about rules.” Penny and Jake required help with the fire more than Ian needed her. He’d be gone soon enough. She had to prioritize her time. The needs of the pack came before the needs of the one. For once, she was looking forward to a cold shower.
Chapter Three
Ian watched the sun creep over the horizon from his bottom bunk. Snoring filled his bedroom as his three roommates—Darrell, Jake, and Blain—slept. The intros had been simple and abrupt as they arrived one by one in the late vestige of night. This was everyone’s last moment of freedom before Pallas took over their lives.
With his sensitive hearing, Ian had detected the movements of others in the manor until all seemed quiet except for someone deep in the basement. He assumed that was the bloodsucker, but he hadn’t heard anything in fifteen minutes. He hoped the vampire had bunked down, or gotten in his coffin, or whatever they did when the sun rose.
Rolling off his thin mattress, he sat and waited to see if any of his bunkmates stirred. He didn’t need to dress. He’d slipped under the blankets completely clothed last night. Clare had said no one would stop him from leaving but what if she didn’t really know? She hadn’t smelled of lies. What if there was some sort of security she wasn’t aware of? Shifters didn’t worry him. Pallas did.
If Ian couldn’t fight off his alpha’s surprise attack, he doubted his ability to take on a warrior vampire. What was the worst thing Pallas could do to him if he caught Ian running away? Kick him out of his boot camp of misfit wolves? He rubbed his throat. The bruises had faded already but the memory remained fresh.
He snuck from the room and along the hall to the back stairs. They creaked with each step, setting his teeth on edge. He wasn’t the only one in the manor with sharp hearing. Maybe the others would think he was sneaking to the kitchen for food since he skipped dinner. He had no intention of meeting any other shifters and forming any bonds. Bad enough he had encountered Clare. The scent of her lingered in his room all night, whispering sweet seductions with every breath.
In the kitchen, a discarded plastic bag sat on the table. Ian stuffed it into his pocket. He had learned in the last year to always have something to carry his clothes. Police weren’t open-minded about nudity, shifter or not.
Outside the manor, sunlight burned the night chill away and tall grass swayed in the breeze. Ian hesitated on the wraparound porch and glanced at the road. He could travel faster and farther in wolf form than in human, but he’d have to avoid the roads. Shifters were known to humans but he didn’t want some farmer mistaking him for a regular wolf. Getting shot hurt. He turned his attention to the surrounding woods.
The trees grew close together with enough undergrowth to make running difficult. Undressing, Ian packed his clothes in the plastic bag then shifted shape. A familiar pain ran through his limbs as they changed shape. Claws pierced the tips of his fingers and toes as fur sprouted over his skin. He clamped his jaw and swallowed a groan.
When he’d first became a shifter, he thought his bones breaking would hurt the worst, but thousands of hairs sprouting from his flesh at the same time was the real agony. They forgot to mention that part in the pre-shifter classes he’d been forced to take. His alpha told him this was the sacrifice shifters made for the increased strength and speed. Part of him wondered if he’d been old enough to make such a life changing decision. At twenty-one, being a werewolf sounded pretty cool. At twenty-two—standing on the edge of a strange woods, alone, abandoned by his pack—not so much.
With his teeth, he scooped the handle of the bag containing his clothes and ran toward freedom. The long grass tickled his underbelly as he stretched to his longest stride. As he approached the forest line he slowed to a trot then leaped over the low bushes.
Shadows covered the ground, sprinkled with stray sunlight. He gave control to his wolf, trusting his instincts in the wild. What next? Should he try to return home? The wolf part of his soul needed a pack. No matter how he acted as a man, he was no lone wolf. They both desired companionship but his alpha would drag his ass back here if he returned home. They had sponsored his being turned so they automatically accepted him into their pack. He didn’t know how to apply for a new one. He doubted there was an online form.
He panted and licked his muzzle. A shiver ran through his hide. His wolf retreated and Ian blinked at his unfamiliar surroundings. How long had they been running? Thirst burned his throat and hunger growled in his belly. Sunlight glittered high in the tree tops like stars between the leaves. He hadn’t thought to bring provisions. He’d been raised in the city where food and water were a few bucks away.
Something had triggered his consciousness to return. He lifted his muzzle to the air but found nothing unusual. Maybe his wolf had grown too tired? Sitting on his haunches, he scanned the area. He hoped his wolf didn’t expect him to hunt or they’d both starve. The wind changed and a new scent filled his nose with alarming strength.
Humans.
He jumped to his paws, trying to locate the source. What were they doing so deep in the wild? Something metallic clicked. The sound was familiar. It was the safety of gun releasing followed by the bang of the shot.
Ian sprang to the left, taking cover behind a tree. Scorching pain seared through his back leg. A high pitched yelp escaped his throat as he hit the ground on his side, knocking the wind out of him. He reached back and licked his stinging wound.
Shouts of victory traveled from the treetops. From his angle on the ground, Ian spotted four of them sitting on small platforms built on the tree trunks a few yards away. Hunters. Great. He could heal a leg wound, but a head shot would be fatal. He rolled onto his feet and tried to limp away. Another shot bloomed just before his front paws. He spun and snarled as they closed in.
“A wolf!” The hunter wearing camo from head to toe kept his rifle locked on Ian. “Damn, I heard they were returning. Didn’t believe it though.”
“Aren’t you going to finish him?” His buddy in jeans and flannel jacket remained by their tree stand.
“Wait.” A skinny hunter with glasses, carrying a smart phone, hurried to Camo’s side. “Isn’t it illegal to shoot a wolf?”
“Jesus, Harold. Ain’t nobody going to know but us.” Camo lifted his rifle higher as if ready to shoot again.
“Who invited Harold anyway?” The fourth hunter gave Ian an e
ager grin. “Shoot it.” He lifted his rifle as well.
“My sister made me bring him. You know—”
Ian triggered his shift, returning to his human form. They wouldn’t shoot him if he looked human, right? There were some street gangs in NY City that hunted his kind for kicks. Things might be different outside the city though.
“What the fuck?” Boots scuffing the ground traveled to Ian’s ears as well as more curses. “Harold, are you taking pictures?”
“It’s an alien!” That last high pitched comment sounded like it came from the guy hovering close to the tree stand. Ian would have laughed if he didn’t hurt so much and if he didn’t have four rifles aimed at his head.
“Shut up, Wilson.” Somebody shouted.
Ian clenched his jaw as he sensed his leg wound knitting shut and the bullet pushing its way out of his flesh. He hated being shot. His alpha had done it to him as a lesson in shifter physiology. An instructional video could have done the job, but no, his alpha wanted to make him an example. Still in mid-shift, he managed to crab walk into some thick underbrush.
A shot went off, exploding a small bush to his right.
“Don’t shoot,” he shouted over the hunters’ excited noise. “I mean you no harm.” God, what made him say that? He sounded like part of an alien invasion. Next he’d be saying things like take me to your leader. “I mean, I won’t hurt you.” Much. They’d shot him after all. On all fours, he crept through the underbrush. He didn’t have much forest craft and to his ears he sounded like an elephant trying to hide, but their human hearing didn’t seem to catch his movement.
The hunters closed in on where he’d been, and not where he was, with whispers like, “Do you see him?” and “Move closer to the right, Wilbert.”