Fur, Fangs and All (The Elementals Book 2)

by Meredith Allen Conner

  Roc eased up to a sitting position, shaking his head to clear the stars. Before he could get to his feet, Mac jumped him. They rolled down the hall in a tangled ball of legs and arms, smashing into the sections of wall that remained standing.

  “Oh, for the love of Hannah!” Sela growled. “Livie.”

  Roc froze. Mac landed on top, pinning his arms and legs to the floor. Roc turned his head, not breathing as he waited – hoped, prayed – to see his mate walk through the door.

  She didn’t come.

  Sela sighed, her sapphire blue eyes pools of sorrow as she crouched next to them. “She’s not here, Roc,” she said softly. “I said her name to get your attention. We haven’t found her yet.”

  All the strength went out of him. He closed his eyes. “Get off,” he told Mac.

  After a brief hesitation, Mac rolled off. Roc listened to his labored breathing as he lay beside him on the floor. Sela fussed, all soft murmurs and gentle croons as she tended her mate.

  Roc threw his arm over his eyes, desperately trying to tune them out.

  “We will find her.” Sela stated firmly. Roc didn’t move. “Roc, you have to stop all this. It isn’t doing you any good.” He disagreed. “And Livie will need a safe place when we find her.”

  His stomach rolled. They were torturing Livie right now. Sela didn’t say those words, but they all knew what she meant. What she had gone through.

  He’d failed her again.

  “This is what you left the streets for?” The sneer in the words so thick, one could almost touch it. “Makes sense to me.” Roc lifted his arm high enough to glare at Rea.

  She smiled broadly and set her shoulder to wall. A loud groan echoed through the hall.

  Roc and Mac had Sela and Rea out of the house in less than four seconds.

  Roc looked, truly looked, at his home for the first time since he had begun his systematic destruction that morning after returning from California. Even from the outside, the scope of the damage was incredible.

  Shit.

  Sela was absolutely right. He couldn’t bring Livie home to this.

  Mac’s pocket vibrated.

  “Yeah?” His eyes widened. “Where?” He nodded. “We’ll leave immediately.”

  He flipped his phone closed, and gripped Roc by the arms. “They just called.” No explanation needed on who the they were. “They want to make another deal.” He tightened his hold on Roc, his eyes gentled as he looked at Sela. He shifted back to Roc, gaze determined. “We need you with us.”

  Roc sucked in air. Livie. He fought the change. He would not fail her again. Pushing his beast down, he said, “Tell me.”

  “They told Cam they wanted to meet near Chinatown.” Roc frowned. That didn’t make sense. He had searched every inch of that airport three times over. Why would they circle back?

  Mac grinned, displaying a large amount of teeth. “I guess the Order doesn’t think us werewolves are up on technology. Cam traced the call to Washington State. They put Livie on the phone. She was cursing the guy who held her.” His knees wobbled. Mac didn’t expound anymore, whether Cam had said anything else, Roc didn’t care.

  Livie was pissed off. The Order hadn’t managed to break her. He hadn’t managed to break her. He could have howled.

  “Cam is going to meet them at the arranged spot in San Francisco since he’s still there. He gave me the location of the phone call.”

  It was Roc’s turn to smile. He could already taste their blood.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Livie blinked slowly.

  Damn them. How many times had they tranqued her?

  Her memory was extremely foggy at best and like a tour through the mirror house at a carnival at worst. Plus she had a splitting headache.

  She distinctly recalled chewing out one muscle bound oaf as he held her arm while she wobbled around worse than a newborn foal.

  Other than that . . . hazy patches at best. She pushed upright from the cot and had to slap her hands on the wall to prevent a total collapse.

  She did not recall eating anything during those semi-conscious moments.

  No food, lots of really powerful drugs and – she glanced down – still no clothes.

  Bad, bad, bad.

  Steel-toed boots thudded in the hall.

  Livie had a sudden flash of brilliance and collapsed back onto the cot. The metal frame creaked. Praying the walls were too thick for the sound to travel, she swung her legs up onto the hard mattress.

  She closed her eyes, steadying her breathing just as the key turned in the lock.

  “She’s still out.” A low voice said. “Guess she’s finally got enough of the drug in her to keep her out longer. Took enough tranquillizers. I think I’ve hit her thirty times at least.”

  “Let’s check on her again in a half hour.”

  The door clanged shut.

  Thirty times?

  Are they trying to turn me into a zombie?

  Livie stared blankly at the steel door. A sense of pure hopelessness swept through her. No vents or windows, nothing to crawl out of, just a small room with a horrible cot and a thick, locked metal door.

  The Order wouldn’t continue to drug her for long. They must be waiting for something. She shuddered. Or setting something up.

  Sela told her all about the knives and branding irons they had used on her. She’d related it in an empty voice as if she let any emotion into her story she would start screaming.

  She had to think, figure out a plan. She had a half an hour. Surely she could remember something useful?

  Dark, soulless eyes like those of a shark.

  She gasped. Dear god, him. How could she have forgotten? Even for a second?

  The monster was here.

  She could not fall apart. Not now. She had to find a way out.

  “That’s the man that killed our mother.” Sela whispered. “He took her head with his sword.”

  Sela had witnessed the whole thing. Her sister had to live with that.

  How could she have ever thought Roc a monster? The true one lurked just outside her cage.

  Livie stood, her legs shook, she forced them to quit. She crossed the room, studying the door from every angle. She slid her fingers along the seams.

  Hmmm.

  The hinges were a good inch plus in diameter. A single bolt interlocking each hinge. She spun toward the cot. The mattress landed in the corner. Bingo. The bottom frame consisted of small solid steel bars. No springs for comfort.

  With a hand on either side, Livie pulled. The frame broke into several pieces, sections of solid pipes clattered on the cement floor.

  This werewolf stuff totally rocked!

  Picking up one six inch length, Livie placed it right under the middle of the lowest hinge. It was perfect. The metal rod fit just inside the bolt.

  She drove the thin cylinder up. The bolt popped free.

  One down, three more to go.

  The sheer weight of the door kept it locked in place as the last bolt sprang free.

  Now for the tricky part. Livie tucked her fingers under the bottom edge of the door. She had less than a centimeter to work with on the top three sides. It had to be enough.

  Curling her fingers slowly upwards, she held her breath as the door groaned. She froze. Head tilted she strained to hear any sounds in the hall.

  No frantic footsteps running to stop her.

  She lifted up just a little more and suddenly she was balancing the full weight of the door on her fingers.

  Yes!

  She edged back an inch at a time. The door scraped loudly on the frame, but came with her.

  A foot later it started to wobble.

  She tried desperately to maintain her balance as well as that of the door. Physics won. With a horrendous crash, the thick plate of steel slammed back into the doorframe.

  Completely disregarding any possibility of remaining quiet, Livie crawled through the narrow opening at the bottom of the door. Let the bastards try to move that.<
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  Thudding steps sounded to the left. Livie turned right.

  She followed the maze of twists and turns in the hall. Twice she wrenched open doors, managing to hide inside as members of the Order charged passed.

  Not a single room contained a window. She was below ground.

  She couldn’t stifle the shudder. Trapped in some sort of a basement. She didn’t know where the exit was. Her legs shook, she braced a weak hand on the wall. Her number one rule.

  She didn’t know how to escape.

  Her breath stuttered in her chest.

  She closed her eyes, thinking of Sela. Her sister might not want anything to do with her right now, but, by god, she would not let that creature get away with what he had done.

  She stiffened her spine, grabbed the handle and dashed back into the hall. Behind her, men yelled and searched empty rooms.

  Livie focused on finding a staircase.

  Every time she’d hid, the men came from this direction. That meant there had to be some type of exit.

  Four turns later she found it.

  Unmarked, exactly like the other doors, this one smelled of freedom. The faint hint of fresh air trickled out from under the bottom of the doorframe.

  Livie yanked the door open and charged up the stairwell. She’d covered three flights before she was certain the fresh air really was getting closer.

  Where the hell was she?

  Just as she turned the corner for the next floor, heavy boots echoed, bouncing off the cement walls in slightly muffled thuds.

  She backed up to the door, listening intently. They would catch her if she tried for another level. Quietly easing the door open, Livie slid through the narrow opening. She kept a firm grip on the handle, allowing it to slide almost completely shut. She didn’t know if the door had a self locking mechanism and she didn’t have the patience to wait until the bastards on the other side left the stairwell before she broke open the door if it did lock.

  The footsteps continued past the door, fading as they continued down to the level she had escaped from. She waited a half second before pushing the door back open.

  “Well, well. It’s our little escapee. I’m afraid I must escort you back to your room, my dear.”

  Livie remembered the deep, slightly accented voice as clearly as if she was back on that damn field, fully human, with a bullet lodged firmly in her shoulder. That pain almost overshadowed by the agony in Sela’s voice.

  “He killed our mother.”

  Beheaded her while she was chained – helpless – against a wall.

  Monster.

  No one deserved that. Not even the bitch they called mother.

  She clutched the doorknob like a lifeline. She waited for the debilitating panic to overwhelm her, send her twirling into the nightmare of absolute fear that she’d become so familiar with these last few weeks. To the sad little place where all she could do was scream like a girl.

  It never came.

  Somehow, she’d healed. Without the help of her sister or Roc, she’d managed to fix the damaged part deep within.

  She’d overcome odds. By god had she overcome serious odds.

  She no longer feared the werewolves, despite their terrifying appearance she knew who the true beasts were. She might still struggle with her Element — it’s incredible, powerful force, but she could use it.

  Sela’s dismissal hurt, a bitter ache that throbbed like a bruise over a muscle, it gnawed at her. To find her, become a family again only to have it ripped away . . . Livie had lived for years alone, totally separated from anyone. She might hate it, resent it even, however she could do it again.

  Roc on the other hand . . . she still shied away from his rejection of her, but she hadn’t crumbled. In a few decades she might even be able to come to terms with it.

  Maybe not fully whole, little pieces would remain lost forever, but she would survive.

  I will survive.

  Oddly enough the old 1970s song fit her perfectly. She would indeed survive. And maybe she’d take down a few monsters while she was at it.

  Livie spun. She smiled broadly at the tall man standing five feet away.

  “Make me.”

  He frowned. The furrowed indention between his eyes seeming so out of place on his perfect features. She couldn’t begin to guess at his age. He could be anywhere in between forty and sixty.

  She couldn’t see a hint of silver in his shoulder length hair. His dark strands hung in a pale imitation of Roc’s silky strands that fell well past his shoulders.

  Tall, approaching Roc’s height, the bastard lacked the breadth and power of her mate’s physique.

  Damn, but she was so gone over that werewolf.

  Livie shouldered that thought for another time.

  Cradling a long barreled rifle, he smiled smoothly at her, “I understand your tolerance to my drugs isn’t quite what it was.”

  Oh, damn.

  She propped her shoulder on the door, gathering the warmth of her power, her Element, as she assumed a casual expression. “I wouldn’t trust any rumors if I were you.”

  Brackets now lined his full lips. “You might be able to control wind, my dear, but even you can’t escape a well-aimed dart.”

  That was twice now. The out dated endearment didn’t sit well either time.

  Shoving off, she widened her stance, lifting her left hand, wiggling her fingers. “Wanna bet?”

  She pressed her right wrist into her side, hiding the telltale luminescent glow from her tattoo.

  He glared at her. “You are just like your mother. Defiant.” He sneered. “Stupid. Do you know what we could do with the power you control?”

  He patted the barrel almost absently. His eyes grew dreamy, with a hint of madness. “With your power alone, I could hold countries in the palm of my hand.” His knuckles turned white as if in anticipation. “ Just think of the amount of devastation an unexpected tornado could do in say . . .” he shrugged. “China.”

  He smiled coldly, eyeing Livie up and down.

  The ceiling collapsed on the exact spot where Sela had stood just seconds before.

  She could imagine all too well.

  “Yeah, well, unfortunately for you, wind is my Element to control.” She eased her right hand out. “And you will never control me.”

  A deep menacing howl rang out somewhere above them.

  He’s here. He came for me.

  Livie thrust both arms out, she turned her inner wrist, exposing the bright light of her mark.

  “Looks like I’ll be leaving now.”

  He lifted his gun and fired. Another howl distracted her for s split second. The dart hit her in the stomach. Livie looked down at the needle piercing her skin.

  Damn it. I am so over getting shot!

  She heard his finger tighten on the trigger. She sent a blast of wind out at the same time. When he released the next dart, a current of wind caught it, spinning it in wild circles in the air between them.

  “No!” He pulled the trigger again.

  Livie curled her fingers, adding the new needle to the mix. Her legs began to tremble. She didn’t have much time before the drug took effect.

  Guns fired, echoing in the stairwell. Shouts and screams ended abruptly.

  She blinked heavily. She had to stay awake. Just a little longer.

  The needles rose, spun, fell, hit another draft and twirled upwards, held tight within the ball of wind.

  The tall man raised the rifle, above the spinning current, aiming at Livie’s head. The gun blurred. She shook her head to clear it.

  “This won’t kill you and you don’t need your sight to use your power.”

  He started to pull the trigger.

  Everything slowed.

  Livie wobbled. The twisting mass of wind began to dissipate. She squinted, desperately trying to focus on the tranquilizers. Two? No, four?

  She took a half step backwards. Could she dodge them? What was she trying to avoid? Black spots danced around her vision.


  “Livie!”

  At Roc’s roar, she snapped awake.

  She flicked her hands up, caught the dart about an inch away from her eye, turned it, and sent it straight into his throat.

  He shouted, grabbing for the needle. The rifle clattered to the floor. Eyes rolling back in his head, the tall man collapsed.

  Livie fell against the wall. Gravity pulled her down and she discovered she didn’t have any strength left in her legs to resist.

  I hope you have one hell of a headache when you wake up, you bastard.

  Now that she had super healing abilities, the needle probably wouldn’t have done any long term damage, but still . . . shoot her in the eye? Eew.

  The door slammed open. Its solid frame slammed into her bare feet, smashing most of her toes. She grunted.

  Clawed hands ripped the door off its hinges and flung it across the room.

  She pondered her crunched tootsies.

  Wish he had done that in the first place. Hmm, need to touch up my polish.

  “Livie?” Rough palms cradled her cheeks, tilting her head up. The sparkling swirls in Roc’s eyes mesmerized her. “Are you hurt? Talk to me, baby.”

  She reached up, tenderly cupping his cheek. “You broke my toes.” She smiled sweetly and passed out.

  ****

  Roc removed her death grip from his ear. He swung her up into his arms, almost frantic. Why was she unconscious? He checked out her limp body, snarling at the needle imbedded in her skin.

  He couldn’t make himself put her down to remove it.

  Her heart beat steadily in her chest, reassuring him that she was indeed all right. The rhythmic thump soothed him.

  He rubbed his chin over her head, inhaling her then ran his muzzle behind her ear. At last the panic and rage from the last two days began to fade. The merciless grip on his chest eased.

  He had her in his arms again.

  This time he was making damn sure she never left his side again. If he had to cuff her to him he would.

  He would get her to listen to him. She was his mate and he could not live without her.

  He spared a brief glance at the unconscious man on the floor then dismissed him.