Xander

by Dana Archer

  “Why should I?” Xander matched Brock’s aggressive tone. “Why should I force my brother to commit another murder if Shifter Affairs can rescue him before he has to fight?”

  “Because if his handlers suspect a raid, they will remotely trigger the specialized shackles he wears, and a massive dose of mind-altering drugs will be pumped into his system. It’ll send him over the edge. Turn him feral.”

  “Are you telling me he’s not feral now?”

  “No, he’s not feral. I spoke to him days ago. He’s coherent when he’s not being drugged.”

  Xander scrutinized Brock, looking for any signs that the other male was lying and not finding any. Every instinct Xander possessed urged him to believe Brock’s claim. Only one factor left him hesitant. “Why do you think Elias can find this priestess?”

  Brock smiled triumphantly. “Because she’s his true—”

  Xander tensed at the same time Brock whipped his head toward the boarded-up windows. A crackling sound came out of nowhere. Xander’s wolves focused on the noise, trying to associate it with something they’d heard before. The only thing remotely similar was the crunching noise water bottles made when they were crushed. This was louder, though.

  No unusual scents registered either, but he’d learned not to trust his sense of smell. Those who had access to the drug that masked a shifter’s scent didn’t have to worry about giving away their presence via smell.

  Even without the triggers, the premonition of danger grew. Xander’s wolves paced in the metaphysical field where they lived. They wanted to be released to hunt their enemies, to kill them. Inside this building, however, they had limited options to stalk their prey.

  They were the ones trapped.

  Xander cut a quick glance at Brock. Fury tightened the other male’s features. The sight comforted Xander. If Brock had led Xander here with the intention of tricking him, Brock wouldn’t look as if he were ready to kill whoever lurked outside too.

  A boom rocked the building. The plywood covering the windows imploded, sending slivers of wood into the open space. He ignored the tiny pricking of the flying debris and ran deeper into the building. If threats waited outside, he wanted to be in a position to counter them. Standing in the middle of a gutted store didn’t offer him many options to assess the danger.

  Brock matched him. He pointed toward the remains of an escalator, then led the way forward, running up the once-motorized stairs.

  A bear grunted, yanking Xander’s gaze to the front of the building. Three massive Kodiak bears knocked the front door in. Two lions followed. All single shifters in their animal forms. All enemies. Xander recognized the largest of the bears as belonging to the Ulgran clan, the same family group who’d kidnapped Gwen.

  The shifters who’d hurt his mate would die. Here. Now. He pivoted and ran toward his enemy.

  Gunshots echoing from deeper inside the building stopped Xander from delivering his own form of retribution. Following the sounds of fighting, Xander rushed to the second level just as another shot resounded, followed by another and another.

  Brock’s body jerked with the impact of bullets. Snarling, he lunged at the male who’d shot him, the male who’d stood at Brock’s side on Corey’s front yard, the male rumored to be a Purist.

  James.

  Both Xander and Brock had been betrayed.

  Xander cursed and ran toward the fight. Another shifter raised a rifle. He aimed at Brock, fired. Blood sprayed over Brock’s face. He stumbled. James tugged a sword from the sheath strapped to his back. Another bullet hit Brock’s face, turning his features into a ruined mess of raw flesh. Brock crumpled, landing on his knees. James swung.

  “No!” Xander lunged for the sword.

  Missed.

  The blade connected with Brock’s neck, gouging a deep wound. Another single, one of the enforcers who’d accompanied both Brock and James to Corey’s house, gripped Brock’s head and yanked, severing it from his body and ending the ancient’s long life.

  His powerful blood sprayed, covering his killers and Xander. He swiped at the hot liquid blinding him. Somebody grabbed his hands and dragged Xander to his knees.

  Refusing to meet the same fate as Brock, Xander twisted, yanking his attacker over his body. The sword meant for Xander’s head connected with the male who’d thought to restrain him. The coward’s cry rang out, feeding into the battle frenzy fueling Xander.

  He unleashed his claws and attacked the closest male, a lion shifter in his human form. With a swipe of his sharpened nails, he gutted the male, an injury that would kill the single shifter. Leaving him as dead, even if he still breathed, Xander turned to the next and ripped out his neck. Two more of his attackers met the same fate.

  Xander spun, looking for James. The male who’d betrayed them ran toward the second escalator leading to the first floor. Noise from behind Xander stopped him from following James. The bears who’d knocked in the front door stood at the top of the first escalator, the one Xander had used to reach this floor.

  He wanted their blood above all else. If Xander had to guess, they’d been the ones to order this attack, not James. The weak Council member was an opportunist, not a leader.

  Xander kicked aside the lifeless body of the last lion shifter who’d attacked Brock and faced the biggest of the bears. “Shift. I want to—”

  A sharp piercing pain exploded in Xander’s leg. He glanced down. The male he’d gutted withdrew a syringe from Xander’s calf, then rolled onto his back. The life faded from his eyes while a grin spread over his face.

  Xander stumbled. His vision wavered, and the connection to his wolves faded. Not gone, just hazed as if he’d drunk a full bottle of whiskey.

  He cursed. The word came out sloshy.

  Strong arms wrapped around his chest from behind. Xander bucked but couldn’t break the male’s grip. Weakness plagued him. His knees gave out. Another shifter grasped Xander’s hands and pulled, stretching them in front of him.

  A glint of silver warned him to act. He tugged, trying to free his hands. His muscles didn’t respond. His head lolled back. The whoosh of the blade cutting through the air echoed in his head. Lashing pain followed.

  He grunted, unable to hold back the reaction as his own blood ran freely from his wrists…where his hands had once been. They’d severed them, leaving him helpless and unable to defend himself until they grew back.

  Laughter surrounded him. A fist connected with his face, followed by more hard punches. With the drug working its way through his system and the agony of losing his hands clouding his mind, blackness crept over his vision. He couldn’t stop it.

  Chapter 40

  A vision of dark blue eyes tempted Killer to claw his way out of the haziness clouding his mind. They were the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. He wanted to look upon the face of the woman they belonged to. Touch her skin. Breathe in her scent. Feel the sigh of relief flow through his body.

  He couldn’t. Something always blocked him from conjuring her image. A wall of glass that obscured his view. She could see him, though. She watched him.

  Pitied him.

  Killer snarled. Rage as he’d never known slithered through his mind. He hadn’t allowed himself to be captured. He’d been protecting his little white-haired sister. She’d thought herself unstoppable, always getting herself in trouble and forcing Killer to rescue her. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. He’d promised.

  A sense of disappointment settled over him.

  Growling, Killer slammed his clawed hands into his thighs. Blessed pain cleared the fog.

  Using metaphysical hands, he swiped at the misty haze. She would not view him inferior. Worthless. He was doing what he had to in order to survive. It was what he’d always done. Except for when it came to touching his mistress. That had sickened Killer. Made him hurt her.

  On a snarl, he punched the air. His fist collided with the thick glass. Cracks formed. He grinned. More punches and a cobweb of cracks formed. Warm, essence-scented air
washed over him.

  He inhaled deeply, greedily. The smell of life permeated him. He wanted more. All of it. Never wanted to let it go.

  Killer rammed his shoulder into the glass. A chunk fell. Another wave of heavenly air washed over him. He laughed with the sense of victory swamping him. The musical cadence of a woman’s voice surrounded him. The ground shook. The glass began to reseal, closing in the hole he’d made.

  “No.” Killer gripped the edges of the hole. The jagged glass tore open his fingers. Pain lashed his body. The heated air enveloping him intensified, searing his lungs. He opened his mouth and dragged in a deep lungful, welcoming the agony as his insides burned. The memory he’d been chasing crashed over him, dropping him into another cell.

  * * *

  Smooth metal bars blocked him from the woman who’d come to him. Killer wrapped his hands around them and pulled, needing to get to her. The bars wouldn’t budge. On a snarl of rage, he punched them, then rammed his body into them.

  “Stop.” The woman rushed forward. “Please, stop.”

  Her voice froze his body. Not sweet. Not lulling. It was liquid fire.

  Groaning in pure need, Killer dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the bars. She couldn’t reach him otherwise. She was too short.

  Her hands covered his battered knuckles. The small bite of pain from ripping them open eased. Warmth spread up his arms. Energy rushed down his spine. His shaft stirred. His eyelids closed. Peace slipped through him.

  “More,” Killer demanded.

  Her fingertips mapped his face—eyes, nose, jaw. The moment she touched his lips, he opened his mouth and sucked her fingers in. The taste of his blood hit him first. Below that came her flavor. She tasted spicy, hot, addicting.

  The ache in his shaft grew, matching the hollowness in his chest. He needed this woman’s touch. Wanted to pull her into his arms. The bars separated them.

  “Touch me.” Killer delivered the order on a low breath of sound. If he was too loud, she’d have to leave him. She wasn’t supposed to be in here. She wasn’t supposed to love him.

  “I can’t.”

  The regret in her voice forced his eyelids open. Her dark blue eyes stood out against her flawless porcelain skin. He let his gaze map her features the way she’d traced his. Her delicate nose fit with her defined cheekbones and the small cleft on her chin. A shine of gloss drew attention to her plump, kissable lips, and shiny black hair framed her perfect face.

  Beautiful. She was the most beautiful female who’d ever been born, and she was his.

  “Yes, you can. It’ll strengthen me for tonight’s fight. I’m going to break free, then come for you and the girls, just as I promised.”

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You can’t.”

  “Yes. I can.” Did his true mate doubt his strength? He would do anything—kill anyone—to save her as she’d saved him from the crazed thoughts eating away at his mind.

  She reached through the bars and skimmed her fingertips over his chest. Energy rushed through him. Gods, she made him feel powerful, as if she alone could nourish him. “I know you can, but you mustn’t. You’ll endanger us. We need to leave today, before the full moon.”

  Killer slid his hand to the back of her neck and drew her closer to the bars. He brushed his lips over hers. “Before or after. It won’t matter. Trust me. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be safe within my pack’s territory.”

  She exhaled against his mouth. “You do not understand. I need to get the girls out of here before the moon reaches its peak. They want me to perform another ceremony. I won’t do it, Killer.” She tipped her head back slightly and caught his gaze. Fire burned in her eyes. “I won’t hurt my girls.”

  Killer snapped his teeth together. His woman flinched. The involuntary reaction enraged him more. She needed to trust him. “Then release me. I know you can. You have the keycode to every door in this hospital.”

  She took his hand in hers and pressed a kiss to his skin, then released him and stepped back. “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “No, I must make a choice.” She held his gaze for a long moment. Moisture pooled in her eyes. No tears fell, though. She cracked her jaw. “And you are not it.”

  “No.” Heart beating hard, he stretched an arm through the bars. His fingers fell short of her body. “Don’t leave without me.”

  She shook her head, then turned her back on him and made her way to the door.

  She was going to leave him. Actually leave him.

  The door opened. She stepped through it.

  “Ryanne.” He whispered her name instead of bellowing it as he wanted. The guards would come. He couldn’t endanger her life, even if she chose to destroy his.

  Flexing his hands, Vlad frowned at the odd ache in his bones. He’d never encountered anything like it, nor could he imagine what had caused it. Immortality had the added benefit of eradicating any disease or affliction that might plague him.

  “You okay?” Devin asked.

  Vlad shook his hands as tingles spread from his wrists to his fingertips. He leaned against the tree at his back and studied the woods. Although he couldn’t see Gwen, he caught her scent on the breeze every few minutes. The reminder of her nearness stopped him from chasing her down. She’d wanted privacy with Molly. He’d give it to her even if it killed him.

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  Devin pointedly looked from Vlad’s hands to his face. “You’re sweating and acting strangely. You sure?”

  “Sweating?” Vlad brushed the back of his numb hand over his forehead. Dampness met his skin. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  Head tilted, Devin studied him with the unnatural and colorfully streaked eyes both he and his twin Mira were famous for. He glanced over his shoulder, gazing in the direction Gwen and Ezra had gone close to an hour ago.

  “Ezra says Gwen is fine.” Devin met Vlad’s eyes. “How’s your other mate?”

  “Xander isn’t my mate.”

  Devin shrugged. “Call him what you like, but your souls are linked through Gwen.”

  “Not yet. We’re not soul-bonded.”

  “But you have walked through each other’s souls, through Gwen’s. Shared things together.” Devin twisted off the cap of the water bottle he held and drank a long swallow before recapping it. “Intimate things in your pack’s circle, from what I’ve heard.”

  “Yeah? Who’d you hear that from?”

  “Dante.” Devin smirked. “My brother thought I’d be interested knowing how concerned I was about my mate’s sister, but my point is that when the wills of the goddesses are enacted, powerful bonds can be formed, bonds that no man or shifter have any hope of breaking.”

  Vlad snorted. “Since when did you get to be so spiritual? The male I remembered hated the goddesses for not protecting Mira from suffering at her rapist’s hands.”

  Devin squeezed the water bottle, distorting the sides and spewing water from between the cap and the neck of the bottle. His nostrils flared. He closed his eyes. After a moment, he exhaled slowly. “My faith in our goddesses has been restored since Mira was able to mate the human she loves. My twin has been blessed, and for that I will be forever grateful.”

  Vlad dipped his head in understanding. “My apologies. I too believe in the will and influence of the goddesses. Without them, Xander and I never would’ve found Gwen again.”

  “Then trust in their subtle hints.” Devin caught Vlad’s gaze, a warning in his expression. “Remember, they can’t stop the evil in this world. They can only guide us through the darkness.”

  It wouldn’t hurt to call Xander. His meeting with Brock was likely over by now. Vlad’s curiosity had been spiked along with Xander’s at the secretive request for a private meeting.

  The numbness in his hands faded almost as quickly as it had set in. Vlad wiggled his fingers once more, then breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever had caused the odd sensation wasn’t something he’d soon enjoy repeating, even if i
t had been a sign from his pack’s goddess.

  “You’re right.” Vlad pulled out his phone and dialed.

  “Hello?”

  The sound of Dante’s voice on the line tightened a noose around Vlad’s chest, sucking the life out of him. “Where’s Xander?”

  “Gone. Kidnapped by the Ulgran clan.” Dante’s harsh tone reflected a dark emotion he kept tightly leashed.

  “How?” Xander was the strongest male Vlad knew. His friend…his partner wouldn’t be taken down easily.

  “Drugged is my best guess. I found a syringe with some chemical inside it. There’d been a fight with the Ulgran clan. Brock lost his head, and Xander…”

  “Xander what?” Vlad growled the question, needing the answer now.

  “Xander lost his hands. Severed at the wrist.”

  Vlad cursed. He flexed his own hands that had been tingling moments before. “So he can’t fight back.”

  “Yep, and my guess is that if we don’t find him soon, his head will follow, right after those scientists rip the spirit of the Winchester pack from his soul.”

  The sight of Vlad running toward her stopped Gwen’s heart. He didn’t have to tell her something was wrong. She felt the ache in her hands. One of her mates had been hurt. And Vlad looked perfectly fine.

  She pushed from the rock she sat on and hurried to meet him. “Xander…what’s wrong with him?”

  Vlad drew her close, steadying her body. “The Ulgran clan has him. They drugged him. Took his hands, Gwen. He couldn’t fight back.”

  Gwen slapped a palm over her mouth, not to stifle her gasp but to stop her curse. Molly might be listening, even if she still remained in her lioness form.

  “We’ll get him back.” Vlad pulled her hand away from her mouth and kissed her palm. “I promise you. We won’t lose him.”

  There was no other choice. Their lives were entwined. She wouldn’t be complete without Xander. Neither would Vlad.