Night Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  Drake frowned. “I should be with you.”

  “You always are. But right now, these two need you more.”

  “Elena can monitor them after we stabilize them. I’ll be over as soon as I can.” Drake gripped Sylvan’s neck. “You need attention too. Those burns are serious, and they’ll heal faster if I clean them up.”

  “I’ll see to them as soon as I can.” Sylvan bounded from the Rover and vaulted onto the porch. Jace and Jonathan, standing post by the door, jumped to attention and followed as she strode inside and up the heavy rough-hewn log stairs. Niki stood guard outside her office. “What’s happening?”

  Niki took in her appearance. “You’re wounded.”

  “It’s nothing,” Sylvan snarled. She was battered and bruised, and still hyped physically from the explosion and her worry about Drake, Jody, and the injured girls. What she really wanted was to drag Drake off to some private corner and bury herself in her. But before she could do that, she needed answers. Who had alerted them that the installation was being abandoned—and were they hoping the prisoners inside would be rescued, or was their plan to trap the rescue party in the explosion? Who was behind the experiments on these human girls, and what was their intention? Why wasn’t Lara susceptible to the same radiation damage Jody and Rafe had suffered in the explosion, and why had she been able to sense the injured girls through the silver barrier when Sylvan couldn’t? “What do you have to report?”

  Niki grasped the door handle before Sylvan could push through into her office. “You may not want to go in there covered in blood.”

  Sylvan raised a brow.

  “The Viceregal and her senechal have paid us a visit.”

  “Really?” Sylvan considered that. Francesca rarely held any meetings outside of her own territory. Part of her power was in making others come to her. An impromptu visit in the middle of the night was completely unlike her. “Did she bring soldiers?”

  “Only Michel and her driver.”

  “Search for other vehicles. She wouldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable.”

  “We have teams out looking.”

  “Good.” Sylvan rolled her shoulders. The wounds were already healing but wouldn’t heal completely until she shifted. Even then, they’d heal better if they were cleansed of silver-contaminated debris first. She had time for neither. “Get me a shirt.”

  “Yes, Alpha.” Niki paused. “It’s good to see you back, Alpha.”

  Sylvan snaked an arm around Niki’s neck and pulled her close. She rubbed her cheek on Niki’s hair. “It’s good to be back. And it’s good to have you by my side.”

  Niki nuzzled Sylvan’s neck. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  “That’s because this is where you belong. My shirt?”

  Niki broke free, loped down the hall, and pulled a plain black long-sleeved shirt from the closet. Returning, she handed it to Sylvan.

  “Thanks.” Sylvan shrugged on the shirt, ignoring the burning pain in her back and arms. She shoved the shirttail into her dusty, tattered pants. “This is as formal as I get in my own den.”

  “They’re Vampires,” Niki said dismissively. “They deserve nothing from you.”

  Sylvan grinned. “Leave Jace and Jon here. Check on the wounded I brought in—and make sure Elena and Sophia are all right.”

  Niki tensed, a vicious growl erupting from between her bared teeth. “Why wouldn’t they be all right?”

  “They should be fine—but the captives are…sick. It looks like Were fever.”

  “And you brought them here? To Sophia?” Niki roared.

  Sylvan scanned Niki’s chest. She didn’t see a mate bite, but Niki was acting mated. Mated Weres had no sense of their own safety and would challenge even her when they thought their mates threatened. She decided to let Niki’s insubordination pass. “Just follow orders, Imperator.”

  Still growling, Niki vaulted over the railing to the floor below. A few seconds later, the front doors crashed open and slammed closed.

  Turning, Sylvan pushed open the tall carved wooden doors and stalked inside. Francesca, dressed formally in tapered black silk pants and a matching fitted jacket buttoned over her obviously bare breasts, sat in a wide brown leather library chair in front of Sylvan’s desk. Michel, looking like a black flame in tight black leather pants and shirt, stood by her right side. Andrew, bare chested in threadbare jeans, lounged casually against the fireplace opposite Michel, his alert gaze fixed on Francesca’s enforcer.

  “Francesca,” Sylvan said, crossing to stand in front of her desk. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

  Francesca rose and kissed Sylvan on the mouth. “Any time I see you is a pleasure, Alpha.”

  Sylvan edged a hip onto the front of her desk. “What can I do for you?”

  “I think, darling,” Francesca said, gliding closer and running her fingers lightly down Sylvan’s chest, “it’s what I can do for you.”

  From behind them, Drake said, “You’ll want to stop touching her, Viceregal. I’m not feeling in a generous mood.”

  Francesca glanced over her shoulder, her full red lips tilting upward in what appeared to be real pleasure. “Hello, Prima. You must be used to having others admire Sylvan by now.”

  “Admire, yes.” Drake crossed to Sylvan’s side and wrapped her arm around Sylvan’s waist. “Touching, I’m afraid not.”

  “How could I forget how territorial you Weres can be.” Francesca’s tone was lightly teasing, but her eyes smoldered.

  “It’s been a long night,” Sylvan said, “and I’m sure with dawn not that far away you’ll want to be leaving soon.”

  Francesca laughed. “Subtlety never was your greatest skill, Sylvan darling.” She settled back into the leather chair and crossed her legs. Her jacket was cut low, and she indolently traced her fingertips along the inner curve of her right breast. Her nipples tightened beneath the silk, and Drake rumbled a warning.

  “I’m certain you don’t intend to be disrespectful to my mate, particularly not in her own territory.” Sylvan clasped the back of Drake’s neck, running her thumb up and down the tight muscles in her neck. Drake was furious, her wolf snapping and growling, eager to fight. Generally Drake was the calmer of the two, no less aggressive, no less territorial, but a diplomat by nature whereas Sylvan was a warrior. Right now, though, her mate didn’t want to talk, she wanted to fight.

  “I think your mate will appreciate my visit, darling.” Francesca lowered her lashes as she smiled seductively at Drake. “Last night, I was invited to participate in an assault on your Pack.”

  *

  Don’t fight. Don’t fight.

  Nose to the ground, Misha pounded through the woods, bounding over logs, swerving along nearly invisible trails that snaked between brush and trees, following Gray’s scent. The imperator had ordered her not to fight, but she hadn’t told her wolf not to tussle. She and Gray had grown up together, had hunted together, and tussled more than once. They hadn’t tangled—they were so close in dominance they usually picked other Packmates, even though Misha had been with other Weres more dominant than her. They’d just fallen into the role of friends and sometimes rivals. Gray was close now, crashing through the undergrowth, not even bothering with stealth. She wasn’t hunting—she was fleeing. Misha wasn’t going to let her run away.

  Misha picked up her speed, and when Gray shot into the clearing where the two trails met, Misha hit Gray broadside, clamping her jaws on Gray’s ruff when she struck. They tumbled over and over, a tangle of legs and snapping jaws and slashing claws. Fire streaked down Misha’s hip where Gray’s claws caught her. She growled and grabbed Gray’s ear in her jaws. Gray howled in indignation and pain and, rearing back, flipped Misha onto her back. Gray was fast, and furious, and pinned Misha with her heavy weight bearing down on her. Misha was vulnerable, her belly exposed and her throat bared to Gray’s snapping jaws. Her adrenaline surged—Gray might kill her if she totally lost control. Misha gathered her hind legs and thrust against
Gray’s belly, raking through her fur and slashing skin. Gray arched to avoid the deadly claws, and Misha dislodged her. Gray landed on her back, and Misha immediately mounted her. Gray was strong and angry. Misha felt her pain and confusion, but she didn’t let up, she didn’t relent. She circled and charged, snapped and bit, until they were both torn and bloody and exhausted.

  Enough?

  Enough, Gray panted.

  Misha collapsed and shifted back to skin. She rolled onto her side and looked into Gray’s dark eyes. “Where were you going?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why are you so angry?” Misha edged closer until their bodies nearly touched and their faces were only an inch apart. She draped her arm over Gray’s shoulders, and Gray tensed. Gray wouldn’t have mistrusted Misha’s touch, not before. Carefully, Misha stroked the hard muscles in Gray’s back and traced the ridges in her spine down to the curve of her ass. Gray whined softly in her throat, her hips rocking forward, and Misha’s fingertips dampened with Gray’s pheromones.

  “I don’t want you to go anywhere,” Misha whispered, her mouth grazing Gray’s.

  Gray’s eyes caught fire and her canines pressed down beneath her lip. She clasped Misha’s hip, her claws scraping lightly. “I was just running. I—I made the imperator angry.”

  “She sent me to bring you home. She wants you to come home—we all do.”

  Gray nipped at her neck. “I don’t want to go anywhere right now.”

  Misha’s heart thudded and her sex tightened. Belly jumping, she clasped Gray’s ass and kissed her. Gray growled, a low, ominous, exciting sound in her chest that made Misha’s nipples ache. She rubbed her breasts over Gray’s and tugged Gray’s leg until Gray’s thigh came over her hip. Gray was wet, her clitoris hard and swollen against her leg. She nipped Gray’s lip and slid her tongue over Gray’s. She wanted to roll over onto her and come. She wanted to rub her clitoris over Gray’s until they both released.

  Gray’s claws dug into her hip and Gray’s growl turned into a snarl. Gray pushed away. “I can’t.”

  Misha stared, panting, breathless. “Why not?”

  “I can’t.” Gray jumped to her feet. “Leave me alone.”

  Misha rose and faced her. “No.”

  Gray shoved her. “It’s easy for you.”

  “What is?”

  “Tangling.” Gray swept her hand toward the ground where they had just been. “You feel the call, you do it. I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Misha repeated.

  “Because I want…something else.”

  “Someone less dominant?” Misha shrugged. “I know that—me too. Most times. But I felt you. You’re ready. So am I.” Gray was still coated with sex-sheen. Her clitoris was swollen, her naked body trembling. “So why not?”

  “I want to hurt,” Gray whispered.

  Misha didn’t think Gray was just talking about physical pain. “You need to be hurt?”

  “Yes,” Gray said, her voice tortured and her eyes desolate.

  “We’re Weres,” Misha said calmly. “We’re warriors. Pain is part of our life. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking—”

  Misha tackled her and dragged her to the ground. Caught off guard, Gray’s inaction gave Misha a momentary advantage, enough for her to flip Gray onto her belly and mount her back. She snaked one arm under Gray’s throat and the other under her hips. She pressed her clitoris against the cleft of Gray’s ass and nipped her earlobe. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

  Gray thrashed, and Misha tightened her hold around her neck. She worked her fingers between Gray’s thighs and around her clitoris. Gray’s hips bucked and she gasped.

  “You better not come yet.” Misha rubbed her clitoris over Gray’s ass and stroked Gray hard, tugging and squeezing.

  “More,” Gray groaned, clutching Misha’s wrist as Misha stroked her. Her claws dug into Misha’s skin. “Harder.”

  Misha felt herself getting ready to release and tried to wait, but Gray felt so good, smelled so good, she couldn’t hold back. She buried her face in Gray’s neck, and when her clitoris contracted and her glands exploded, she bit her just hard enough to break the skin. She came, her fingers tightening on Gray’s clitoris, twisting as Gray thrashed. She heard a howl, felt Gray come on her hand, and held on. Held on. She wasn’t letting Gray leave.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Sophia placed the cap on the tube of blood and carefully placed it into the rack on the bench. Her hands shook as she extracted the next tube and carefully labeled it: Unknown female number two.

  “Their temperatures are bouncing between one-oh-four and one-oh-six,” Elena murmured.

  “That’s usually fatal for humans after a few hours,” Sophia said, pleased that her voice was steady. “They should be seizing.” She leaned against the counter to steady herself. “We need to do something to get their fevers down. Ice?”

  “We can try. At least they’ll be more comfortable.” Elena placed a damp cloth on the forehead of a blonde whose skin was so thin and pale she looked more like a mannequin than a living being. A moment later the door to the treatment room opened and her mate leaned in. “Can you bring us ice?”

  Roger nodded, and the door closed.

  “But you know,” Elena said tentatively, “the normal temperature for a Were is several degrees higher than that of a human. Maybe…maybe what we’re seeing is just an effect of the transition.”

  “But we don’t get sick, or almost never, and even when we do, our temperatures remain steady.” Sophia adjusted the intravenous line carrying fluids and nutrients to the dehydrated, emaciated young female. She wondered if she’d looked like this when her parents had brought her to Elena that first night. “Maybe you should check your records—check my history.”

  “These girls aren’t like you,” Elena said.

  “We don’t really know that, do we?”

  Elena lifted the eyelid of the unconscious girl and flicked a penlight back and forth. “You always responded to stimuli. Their central nervous systems are so depressed, even their brainstem functions are nonreactive. I don’t think—”

  The door swung open and Sophia glanced over, expecting Roger. She froze when Niki strode in. She’d been aching for and dreading this moment. They’d only been apart a little while, but the longer they were separated, the more anxious and agitated she became. Her wolf clawed at her until she was certain her skin must be bleeding. Holding Niki at bay was exhausting, and she was already running on empty. She’d been fighting her heat for the better part of two weeks, and now she was faced with two patients who embodied everything she feared.

  Niki took in the two girls on the table with a hot, hard glance. “The Alpha said they had the fever. Is that true?”

  Elena slipped between Niki and the end of the treatment table, partially shielding the first girl. “We’re not sure yet what they have—or what was done to them. We’ve just begun running tests.”

  “They’re human,” Niki said, her growl filled with disdain and distrust. “I can smell it.”

  “Yes, they are,” Elena said. “But they smell like Weres too.”

  “They smell like sick animals, not wolf Weres. Sick animals ought to be put down.” Niki snarled, her wolf demanding action. These humans, these sick, dangerous humans, could harm Sophia, and she could not allow that. “They’re going to die, you know that. Why risk yourselves or anyone here when it’s pointless?”

  Elena shook her head. “We don’t know that. We don’t even know what’s happening to them yet.”

  “You know what happens to infected humans,” Niki said. “If they don’t die, they’re feral, or they end up spreading the disease. Either way, they’re a danger to us all.”

  “That’s not what happened with Drake,” Sophia said quietly. She wasn’t afraid of what Niki might do to her—she’d lived with the possibility of what might have to be done all her life. But severing the connecti
on to Niki was going to destroy her as surely as an execution.

  “Drake is different,” Niki said, her wolf close to breaking through her control. Her face elongated, her claws ripped free, and pelt thickened over her belly. “Drake had the Alpha’s blood, her pheromones, her essence to counteract whatever destruction the virus was doing. These girls—we don’t even know what kind of mutants they will become.”

  Sophia shuddered. Mutant, mutia, mongrel, mutt. She knew the terms, and she knew how a proud, dominant Were like Niki viewed anyone who was non-Pack. “If we feel they’re contagious or capable of infecting any of the Pack, we’ll recommend extermination. But the decision is not up to us. The Alpha will decide.”

  Niki closed the gap between them in one explosive leap, gripping Sophia’s shoulders. “They’re not worth it. They’re not worth one wolf in this Pack. I’m not going to risk losing you.”

  “Niki, you have to go.” Sophia shuddered. Every fiber of her being yearned for Niki, to join with her.

  Niki’s eyes flashed wolf-green and her canines plunged outward. Her voice turned to gravel. “No.”

  Sophia braced her hands against Niki’s chest. “Drake is normal, she bears the Alpha’s young. She may have been infected by a similar virus, and she lived. These girls may survive, and if they do, they may help us learn how to protect ourselves and all our young in the future.”

  “They won’t survive.” Niki drew a breath, dragging her wolf back, holding her down.

  “There’s no evidence they’ve ever been bitten. Whatever was done to them, it was some kind of medical experiment. They’ve been tortured, Niki.”

  “That’s not my problem—they’re dangerous,” Niki said. “They’re a risk to others in the Compound. They should be caged.”

  “They’re too weak to be of any harm,” Sophia said quietly. “They’re patients, not enemies.”

  “You don’t know that. Elena just said you don’t know what they are. We don’t know what they’re capable of, what they might transmit. We have young in the Compound.” Niki gripped Sophia’s arm. All she could see was danger to Sophia. “At least restrain them.”