by T. F. Walsh
Spritzing generously, she scrubbed the floor, tossing each rag into the small trash bin she’d toted from the bathroom once they reached saturation. Even a round in the wash wouldn’t get anyone to touch those again. She’d dump them out the window like she had the towel. Cleaning settled her frazzled nerves. By the time she finished, her hands weren’t shaking. Werewolves might hunger for her flesh, but there were some obstacles yet surmountable on her lonesome. The bedroom smelled chemical fresh and Nook belly-crawled from his hidey hole, scenting the lemony air.
“You have anything you want to own up to?” Izzy asked the hound.
Nook quietly wuffed at her and sneezed.
After Izzy dumped the stinking rags out the window, she yanked the chain on the overhead light and crawled under the comforter. Nook curled beside her. She was achy-tired, but sound sleep eluded her and a fuzzy not-quite-dream state prevailed. One blink ago it was night, the next blink, morning. Yellow light, not the blue-gray of dawn, knifing through the drapes painted a blinding stripe across her face. Someone tapped on the door.
“Isabelle?” Melinda called.
Rubbing her gritty eyes, Izzy swung her legs over the side of the bed. Nook grumbled and his ears flattened as he stared at the door. Melinda spoke again when Izzy didn’t answer.
“I’ve got some of your clothes. And food.”
A millisecond later Izzy stood at an opened door. In a blur of fur and paws, Nook squeezed by the pair of them and shot out the door, tail tucked between his legs.
“Glad we’re in this together,” Izzy called after the dog and accepted the bundle of clothes wadded around her prosthetic from the redhead. She threw them on the bed and then returned for the proffered breakfast, hugging the greasy, brown fast food sack to her chest and savoring the smell of cooked bacon, cheese, and sausage.
“Mind if I join you?” Melinda held up a matching sack and smiled a shy smile.
“Are you co-habitating with a wolf spirit?”
Melinda’s head bobbed eagerly. “Nettled-Clover. You totally nailed me in the chest last night, remember?”
Izzy kicked the door shut.
“Come on.” The door muffled Melinda’s voice. “Don’t be like that.”
Don’t be like that, Izzy mouthed as she rolled her eyes and slid to the floor and opened the sack warming the hollow of her crossed legs.
“I had to tackle you. Didn’t mean nothing by it. Hasn’t Curtis explained anything?”
“I know all about obeying the Alpha and killing some crazy-ass ex-pack mate. And what’s the deal with Thomas, anyway? What is he, the Wolf King?” The image pleased Izzy in a morbid way. She pictured the Alpha decked in a cavalier’s garb and golden crown. He armed himself with the fire poker and lead an army of little wolves while she cowered in her nightclothes awaiting her white knight, err, nutcracker. Wolfcracker? “Forgive me if I’m not so quick to accept you holding me hostage and sacrificing me as a means to those ends.” Izzy yanked a breakfast biscuit from the bag and bit into it. Steaming hot, the meat and cheese scalded her tongue. She blew out air to cool the contents of her mouth.
“It’s not like we want to sacrifice you. At least, not me and most definitely not Curtis. Thomas always goes into kill mode whenever he hears about a non-wolf in on wolf biz and especially with this whole Rapid thing. Gerome is Thomas’s bitch-boy, so he doesn’t care if you die, but he’s a retard, so who gives?”
“I give,” Izzy managed around a mouthful of buttery bread and meat. “I don’t want to die. Can’t you let me out of here and track him yourself?”
“Hunting down a pure wolf is impossible without leverage. He knows how to cover his tracks and scent. He used to be all animal, so his instincts are bad ass. Plus he’s got years of human experience and intelligence, and there’s his wolf’s collective memory if he can get to it. We can’t let him run around. He’s too dangerous. But you know that.”
Ghost pain ached in Izzy’s incomplete arm. “Yeah.”
Eating occupied the women for a time, then Melinda said, “Your brother’s not the only one he killed, you know.”
The bite of biscuit Izzy swallowed lodged in her throat.
“There’s been at least three others we know about. More than that most like. Missing hikers and all. It’s why Thomas is so gung-ho, do-whatever-it-takes to get him. Wolves are supposed to protect their territory and the people in it. We’ve been sucking big time. I know it doesn’t mean crap to you — wouldn’t to me if I was in your position — but if risking your life saves who knows how many others? I don’t like it,” Melinda hurriedly added, “but there are other people in the world you have to think about.”
Other people aren’t me and they’re not my family.
What was she supposed to do? Unselfishly offer herself for the greater good? Fuck that. She crumpled the bag and wrappers and stood. Choice was the difference. Giving up her life for a larger purpose should be her choice and it wasn’t. Because some crappy Werewolf pack couldn’t do their job, she had to cover their ass with hers? No thanks.
Stripping, Izzy shouldered on her harness without hearing another peep from Melinda. If she were the redhead, she’d want to imagine herself noble for all this, too. Izzy wasn’t ready to change into her clothes yet and put on one of Curtis’s huge T-shirts and a pair of boxers.
The front door slammed and Izzy heard the deep rumble of masculine voices and thumping footfalls. Melinda’s back and heels knocked the door.
“Get out front.” Thomas’s voice was unmistakable. Melinda’s light steps skipped up the hall. Izzy expected the Alpha to kick the door in. He didn’t. He opened it and leaned against the frame. Crooking his finger, he beckoned her.
An itch prickled Izzy’s belly as though all the slight hairs there wriggled in their pores. The sensation compelled her forward. She resisted the compulsion, uncomfortable as that was.
Thomas sucked his cheek and unhitched from the doorframe. “Come here.” He pointed at his feet.
Now all her hairs tired ripping themselves from her skin. Burning spread through her muscles and a force pulled — actually pulled — at her bones. Her foot kicked out against her will. She ended up in front of the Alpha, bile rising into her chest like acidic Kool-Aid. Thomas clamped his hand around the back of her neck and marched her into the front room. Gerome, who’d observed her humiliation from his place against the far wall, followed close behind.
Melinda was nowhere to be seen. Nook wasn’t out front either, but since Curtis had brought her back to the cabin she’d noticed the front door didn’t quite close anymore. The husky likely got out while the getting was good. The little troop marched to the kitchen.
Clicking his tongue, Thomas shoved Izzy into Gerome’s arms. “Hold her down on the counter. We need to get this over with before Curtis gets back.”
Chapter Eighteen
While Thomas had a firm grasp of her neck, Gerome’s fingers bored painfully into her arms and she struggled, grunted her protest. The man wasn’t a wall of muscle like his Alpha, but he anticipated her weaves and bobs and held fast, making sure she’d have a nice set of bruises on each arm shaped like his fingerprints. They’d go nicely with the red and purple splotches on her legs. He steered her into the kitchen side of the living area. Her bare feet squeaked as they skidded over the floor. When dragging them didn’t slow him down she made herself dead weight, hoping he’d drop her. No such luck. Her sudden slump stooped him over, but he gathered her weight, hauled her up, and slammed her into the counter. Its sharp edge banged her hipbones. Sparks exploded in her vision and she lost her breath. Harsh fingers twisted in her hair and smashed her face to the cool Formica. Gerome ground himself against her backside. She couldn’t breathe. She swung out her arm, tried clawing at him with her left hand. Snagging her wrist, he forced her arm behind her back and laughed.
“I never got Curtis�
�s attraction, but most women look good bent over.” Gerome moved his hips in a hard, slow circle over her rear. Izzy kicked one of her legs back, but couldn’t land a hit.
“Enough,” Thomas said. “I told you to hold her down, not sexually assault her.”
Gerome eased off, released Izzy’s wrist, and moved away. Air rushed into her squished lungs. She gasped as Thomas, who’d taken Gerome’s place behind her, yanked out her left arm and grabbed an intimidating kitchen knife from its wooden holster by the sink. He lowered it to her arm and she squirmed, attempted to buck him.
“Keep still,” Thomas said.
Izzy’s thoughts were mutinous but her body submitted and she went as stiff as a lake in winter. That her thudding heart didn’t rattle the appliances set on the counter astonished her. One swift slash of the blade split the long sleeve of Curtis’s T-shirt. Thomas collected the fabric and cut it free of the garment. He ripped the cloth in long strips then poised the blade at her shoulder. Its tip tickled then stung when he pressed down. Blood welled at the knife’s point like a crimson pearl. She whimpered.
The front door banged open. Curtis appeared next to Thomas and latched onto his hand. Grappling, he got the knife up. They must have struggled because Thomas had trouble getting his words out.
“If I have to order you to let go, she will regret it.”
Curtis immediately released the Alpha. Thomas rotated his wrist, which cracked. He set the knife down and scrubbed his hand over his face.
“Do you want to do this?” He gestured at Izzy’s arm.
“We don’t have to,” Curtis started. “Patience — ”
“You want to wait for Night’s-Rapid-Water to skip out of the woods and into what he knows is an ambush? The only card we have left is his bloodlust and we’re playing it. You have one choice: who makes the cut.”
Curtis looked from Thomas to a point behind them where, Izzy supposed, Gerome stood and laid his hand on the knife. His fingers engulfed the black handle. Izzy caught his eyes and pleaded with him silently.
Please, don’t do this. Please, don’t cut me. Please, don’t let them do it.
Faster than Izzy followed, Curtis swept the knife off the counter and rushed Thomas. Apparently prepared for a brawl, the Alpha brought up his guard and the men locked together in a shove off. Curtis’s initial blow threw Thomas, but the Alpha caught himself on the counter and quickly regained lost ground, hurling himself into his Beta, the slap of their bodies’ impact like cinder blocks knocking together.
“Back down,” Thomas grunted. Their strength seemed matched.
Red-faced, Curtis roared against the command. Sweat streamed down his face and he plowed forward, trying to free his arms from Thomas’s without giving the other man an advantage.
“Back down!”
The instant of hesitation the order induced gave Thomas the upper hand. He cocked back his fist and decked Curtis in the face. The force of his blow dazed Curtis and the Alpha followed with two more for good measure, sending his insubordinate Beta to one knee. Blood trickled from Curtis’s left nostril like a red tear.
“Dumb shit,” Thomas said, panting. “Stay down.” Curtis had started to rise and the instruction made him a statue. “You want to challenge me? Good luck.” He slid another knife from the holster and set to work on Izzy’s arm, taking his time. She shrieked when he dragged the blade over her skin, but, under the unyielding weight of his natural strength and unnatural power, she couldn’t fight. Thomas’s body blocked her view of Curtis and if he reacted, she didn’t see it.
Besides pain, Izzy felt the awful sensation of her skin opening under the knife. Sliced from shoulder to elbow, she tried very hard not to think of freshly cut steak. Hot blood seeped from the wound and wept over her arm. The room spun and nausea weighted her belly and made her mouth water. If she’d been on her feet she would have collapsed.
Tossing the red-stained knife into the sink, Thomas gathered the cotton strips Curtis had scattered when he knocked away the first blade. He pressed each strip to Izzy’s wound and soaked up her blood.
“Idiot pup,” Thomas muttered. “You think you could handle the lodge, this pack, on your own? We wouldn’t be doing any of this shit now if you’d done the right thing back then.”
The T-shirt strips sagged in a soggy clump next to Izzy’s face. Their warmth glanced her cheek and she smelled her blood. Why couldn’t she shut her eyes?
“If you had let Rapid take her that day on the trail, we could have had him. It would have been two bodies instead of two dozen, but you had to charge in like a fucking half-cocked hero — ” Thomas growled and Izzy felt the beast writhe inside him. He squeezed her arm so hard her bones creaked and she cried out. Slowly, his grip loosened. “She was half gone already. You should have let Rapid have her.” Thomas bent over her and his lips brushed her ear. “He didn’t fight near as hard for your brother.” He slopped the bloodied strips into his big hands and left the counter.
Curtis hadn’t moved. On his knees, he stared straight ahead, his eyes burning amber. Other than the twitch of his lips he was still.
“Both of you get up and come over here,” Thomas said.
Bereft of the Alpha’s attention, Izzy slid from the counter and sank to her knees. Her throbbing arm was hot and swollen and her guts seized. She tried standing but her legs wouldn’t cooperate and she collapsed onto the floor, cheek against the wood. Her brain wouldn’t work right. Thoughts stuttered then leapt into bizarre trains of unrelated images, memories. One memory stuck, played over and over like a skipping record. Little Izzy sat, lips pouted, in front of her white whicker vanity, her father behind her with a soft bristled brush in hand. He passed the brush in the barest whisper over her hair, afraid he’d hurt her if he pulled too hard. It made no sense, but that’s what she thought.
Alan’s dead. It doesn’t make any sense.
What role had Curtis played in her brother’s fate?
Izzy followed the movement of feet along the floor. Before her were three sets of legs. The set facing her belonged to Thomas. The two facing away were Gerome’s and Curtis’s. She studied the heels of Curtis’s work boots while Thomas doled out orders to his troops.
“Split these up between the three of you and spread them as far as you can.”
Gerome whooped. “Chummin’. We’re fuckin’ chummin’.”
Thomas ignored the interruption. “When you catch Rapid’s scent, close ranks and flush him out. Isabelle and I will be waiting for him.”
Chapter Nineteen
The pack, minus their Alpha, assembled at the mouth of the trail to Rock Spout Falls.
“You should have seen it. He attacked him. No way Thomas keeps him Beta after we’re through.” Gerome puffed out his chest and dumped some of the saturated cloth into Melinda’s outstretched hands. She kept glancing over at Curtis, but she couldn’t hide how the blood entranced her. Fresh blood for someone as enmeshed with her wolf as Melinda was a powerful stimulant. Her tongue swept her lips, which reddened and plumped when she flushed. The reaction was highly carnal. Curtis observed her inner struggle from his dispassionate state and a remote part of him heartened when woman conquered animal.
“You attacked Thomas?” she asked him, her voice small and careful.
Curtis almost couldn’t answer. Too many conflicting emotions and concerns rushed just below his lofty detachment. Anticipation of the hunt had Clear-Skies dancing in his chest, his wolf snapping for release since his fight with Thomas. Mingled with animal excitement were a hundred worries for Izzy, rage that she’d been hurt on Thomas’s watch —
Our watch, Clear-Skies snarled.
— that she knew he hadn’t intervened while Rapid killed her brother. He’d had no choice. She had to know that after being subjected to the Alpha’s power. Breaking free of it for her sake that awful afternoon almost hadn’t happened
, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt pain as acute as that since. All his appendages were left intact, but his connection to the pack — a tangible, spiritual bond generated and tempered by the Alpha — had been damaged. He’d literally ripped himself from them when he went against Thomas and since then he could not tap their collective spiritual strength to bolster his own. He could have used a dose of that strength now. Functioning with all that doubt, guilt, and festering self-hatred that tossed the lower range of his thoughts in turmoil wouldn’t fly. If he couldn’t get it together, he placed his pack mates in danger. An absent Alpha meant the Beta took charge and here he was letting Gerome strut around like he had a chance at clawing over Curtis in rank.
“What he’s doing is wrong,” Curtis said, trembling with the effort it took to speak and control his wolf at the same time. “An Alpha is not just the leader of the pack. They’re the heart of it. Thomas has lost sight of that. Maybe he never saw it.”
Approaching his Beta with a portion of the cloth lures, Gerome snorted, said, “You’re just pissed Thomas snatched your little chew toy. You’d better hope all he does is let Rapid rip her apart.”
The lures exploded out of Gerome’s hands when Curtis rammed into him like a linebacker. Making up in quickness what he lacked in strength, Gerome slipped Curtis’s tackle and tried scrambling up. Trust the little shit to provide the focus Curtis badly needed. He leapt and caught the subordinate wolf and smashed Gerome face down in the grit-soiled snow. Using his pack mate’s body for support, Curtis clambered up and straddled Gerome’s legs. Fisting his hand in the man’s hair, he pushed down. Smothering him briefly tempted Curtis, but they needed the other wolf for the hunt. Frantic moans and grunts accompanied Gerome’s floundering. Curtis didn’t let up. He slammed one knee into Gerome’s nuts and his pack mate went floppy. Yanking up Gerome’s head, Curtis came cheek to cheek with him.