by Julie Wetzel
Remembering the shape of the animal she had jumped on, she shook her head, correcting her assumption. She hadn’t jumped on a dog. The thing had been huge. She had jumped on a wolf. A werewolf! Terror ripped its way through Krissy’s mind, and she rolled over so she could get to her feet and run before the monster could kill her. As she pushed up, her foot slipped in some leaves. She came down hard on the edge of the trail. Stars burst behind her eyes as her head found a rock jutting out of the ground. Darkness chased after the stars as unconsciousness claimed her, leaving her to the mercy of the monster.
***
The soft sounds of a woman’s voice broke through the rage consuming Phelan. As his fury cooled, he slowly became aware of more than the hate driving him. The first thing he realized was how much he hurt. His head was pounding and his whole body ached as if he’d gone through a bad shift. The weight on his back and the fingers in his fur told him he had shifted, but he couldn’t remember doing so. Slowly, he sank to the ground to recover. His brain worked over the puzzle of his predicament as the song soothed his emotions.
As far as he could recall, there was no reason he should have shifted. Yes, he’d been arguing with Rupert over Darien’s involvement in their pack issues, but that should not have caused the rage Phelan felt. He licked his lips, tasting the blood on his face. Unsure how it got there, he opened his eyes and looked around. They were still on the same pathway. Moving his head a little, he could see his alpha sitting on the ground just feet from him.
Rupert held his arm up over his chest with a curious look on his face.
Horror stole through Phelan as he saw the damage done to Rupert’s sleeve. Even in the dark, he could see the teeth marks and tears in the fine leather coat. The dismay in Phelan intensified as he realized what he had done. Not only had he attacked his alpha, but he’d also destroyed the man’s favorite jacket! Darien had given Rupert that jacket after he got blood on Rupert’s last coat. There was no way Phelan was going to be able to replace it. The damn thing was Armani. A shiver ran the length of him, and he growled in displeasure. How could he be thinking of a dumb coat at a time like this? That was the least of his worries at the moment. The most important was the huge gap in his memory where he had attacked his friend.
The weight holding him down moved around, and he felt a soft kiss on the top of his head. Fingers wormed their way into the fur at the side of his neck, and he eased under the touch. With his curiosity piqued, he lay there, trying to figure out who in their right mind would be laying on top of a werewolf that had lost control. There wasn’t that much weight, so it was either a large child or a small adult. The voice soothing him was definitely female.
As the body above him snuggled down into his fur, he let go of his current form and started the shift back into human. The transition between wolf and human was never comfortable, but doing it fast always left a lingering ache. He let the tension drain from his muscles as the process thinned out his fur and shifted his bones around.
The weight on his back lifted as the woman pushed up to see what was happening under her. Phelan’s least favorite point in the transition came, and he felt the bones in his skull crack and move around. Apparently, it wasn’t the woman’s favorite part either, because she screamed and scrambled off his back. He waited for the rest of his body to settle into its human shape before attempting to move. The sounds of the woman’s frantic flight made him look up just in time to see her face-plant into the ground.
“Nice move, jack off,” Rupert said from behind him.
Phelan ignored him and crawled over to the woman. She was too still for his liking. Carefully, he rolled her over. She was a pleasant-looking woman with dark hair pulled up in a ponytail and a slight flush to her skin. Blood dribbled from a cut in her hairline, and a huge goose egg was starting to form.
“Is she dead?” Rupert asked.
“No,” Phelan reassured him. “Just knocked out.” He looked at the size of the mark on her forehead. “Although, we probably should get her to a doctor.”
Rupert made an agreeing noise, but he didn’t move. “And how are you?” he asked.
Phelan sat with the woman cradled in his lap and considered the question. He still ached from the shift, but that was lessening. The pounding in his head had eased. But most importantly, the rage that had blotted out his memory was gone. He still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened but it was over now. “Stable,” he finally answered. He turned remorse-filled eyes to Rupert. “I’m sorry, My Alpha.”
Getting up from where he was sitting, Rupert grabbed the pair of jeans Phelan discarded during his shift and looked at them. “You’re lucky your waist gets smaller when you shift,” he said as he tossed the jeans in Phelan’s direction. “I would have ripped through those, and I don’t have any extra pants in the car. Getting out of here is going to cause enough of a scene without you running around naked.” He looked at the damage done to his arm. The bleeding wound had already closed, but the sleeve of the jacket was ruined. “I liked this coat,” he grumbled.
Moving the unconscious girl from his lap, Phelan grabbed the jeans and wiggled into them. “I’m sorry,” he started again. “I’m not—”
“Not here,” Rupert said, cutting him off. He gathered Phelan’s shoes and socks and dropped them by his second before going for the man’s coat. “I’m not sure what happened, but I think we need to get to a secure place before we try talking about this again.”
Rupert looked around the darkened woods. He didn’t like the idea of taking this to the vampires, but after watching someone as levelheaded as Phelan loose it, he could no longer justify his decision to leave them out. He would have preferred to talk with Darien, but the man was away on his honeymoon for another two weeks. There was only one other Rupert could think of who would have the expertise needed to help them with their problem and might be persuaded to keep their troubles from the Vampire Council.
Without another word, Phelan stood up and slipped into his trench coat. He gathered up the shreds of his shirt from the trail and slid them into his pocket before looking down at the unconscious woman. “What about her?” he asked. He wasn’t about to leave her like that on the trail, but he was uncertain if Rupert would want to take her with them. But then again, she had just witnessed him shift, so they were going to have to do something about her.
“Bring her,” Rupert said after a moment of consideration. “We’ll take her to Darien’s and have Karl look at her.”
Phelan nodded and bent down to scoop her up. He was amazed at how light she was as he lifted her up against him. Holding her tightly, he followed Rupert down the path as he thought about what happened. Something caused him to lose control, but he had no idea what. The only time he could remember shifting without choosing to was during his first few moons when he was learning about being a werewolf. But that was a long time ago, and this wasn’t anywhere near the full moon.
Pushing that thought away, Phelan glanced down at the woman in his arms. Now that he had a better look at her, he found her rather pretty, but she was rail thin and couldn’t have been more than five foot. He was astounded that such a petite thing would dare to throw herself into the fight. An out-of-control wolf was a terrifying thing to behold. He hated going against one and he was a werewolf. He could only imagine what type of person would take on a werewolf without the aid of the strength and speed being paranormal gave. He glanced at the woman one more time as he remembered the song she sang. Just thinking about the mellow music filled him with calm once again. He shook his head and followed as Rupert led them down the path and out into the parking lot where his van waited.
When they sat down to talk about what happened, he was going to have to bring her gift up to Rupert. Maybe they could use it on the other affected wolves.
When the elevator door opened, Phelan led the way off and into Darien’s foyer. He held the unconscious woman close to his chest as Rupert followed him in. The fact that she hadn’t awoken during the ride over worried him
.
“In here,” Karl called, catching Phelan’s attention as he stepped from Darien’s entertainment room.
Phelan nodded and started towards the man.
Karl turned around and led them into the spacious room. “Put her on the couch,” he said as he went to the coffee table piled high with medical supplies.
Phelan placed her gently on the sofa and backed away so Karl could work.
“How long has she been out?” Karl asked. Pulling out a penlight, he gently placed his thumb on her eyelid and lifted it up. He moved the light past her eye several times before checking the second one.
“About five minutes before we called,” Rupert said.
Karl nodded and picked up a damp washcloth to wipe the dried blood from her head. “And she hasn’t woken up yet?”
“No,” Phelan answered. “Will she be all right?”
“It looks like she’s got a concussion,” Karl said as he finished cleaning her head up. Picking up the ice pack he had already made, he rested it on the large lump on her head.
“What happened?” Elliot asked.
Phelan looked over to the tall vampire leaning against the doorjamb of the pocket door between the entertainment room and the living room. Zak was wrapped around his legs, chomping on his pants while his tentacles wiggled over the floor.
“She fell down and hit her head on a rock,” Phelan answered.
“I can see that,” Elliot said, unfolding his arms and standing up from the wall. He shook his leg, trying to dislodge the fay. It worked for a moment, but as soon as he stopped moving, Zak was back on his cuff. “What I meant was what happened with you?” He waved his hand towards the pair of werewolves.
Phelan looked down at his naked chest before glancing over to Rupert and his ruined coat. There was a tension in the alpha’s shoulders that told Phelan the man was watching the lesser wolf closely, ready for something to happen. Phelan let out a deep breath and opened his mouth to admit what he’d done, but Rupert spoke before he could.
“We need help.” Rupert turned to look at Elliot. “But I would like to keep the other vampires out of this.”
Elliot stood up straighter. “Would you like to discuss this personally?”
“Please,” Rupert answered.
Phelan glanced between the two powerful men as Elliot considered Rupert.
“Very well,” Elliot said. Pushing Zak back with his foot, he stepped away from the wall carefully so he wouldn’t tread on the creature’s delicate bits.
Zak’s ends pulled back and he wobbled after the vampire, trying to get another hold on the man’s cuff.
Stopping behind the couch, Elliot rested his hand on its back and looked down at Karl and the unconscious girl. “Do you need us for anything?” he asked the medic.
“I’ve got this,” Karl said as he lifted the ice pack up to look at the bump on the woman’s head. “I’ll let you know when she wakes up.”
Disengaging Zak’s teeth from his pants again, Eliot picked up the fay and set him on the girl’s legs. “Stay in case Karl needs you,” he ordered.
Zak sneezed at him, but shook himself into dog form before lying down.
Elliot patted the back of the couch, glad to be free of the little fay’s teeth for a while. He glanced down at the chewed cuff of his pants before he turned to face Rupert and Phelan. “If you like, we can discuss this in the kitchen,” he suggested, getting his mind back to where it needed to be.
Rupert nodded and started across the living room.
Phelan looked down at the injured woman before turning to join his alpha and Elliot in the kitchen. He wanted to stay and make sure the girl was okay, but he had a lot of explaining to do. The bad part was he wasn’t sure he could explain what happened.
***
The inside of Krissy’s head felt like a drum and bugle corps had spent the day in there practicing. And they had been bad. She moaned in pain and moved, trying to get more comfortable. As she twisted, something cold slid across her forehead.
“Hello,” a male voice said gently, somewhere to her right.
Krissy froze. Memories of the attack in the park raced through her mind. The image of the furry beast melting into something it shouldn’t have popped up again. The weight of a living creature resting on her legs moved, and she screamed. Thrashing, she kicked and wiggled away from the beast as she ripped the cold pack from her head and threw it at the thing. Bright light flooded her vision, adding to her disorientation. She cringed away from the light as her back hit something hard. She started to climb over it.
“Wait,” the male voice cried.
Arms wrapped around Krissy as she fell backwards. Flashes of green and white passed her eyes as the man caught her and brought her thumping into his chest. She started to thrash to get free, but his arms held her in place.
“You’re okay,” he said, trying to calm her. “Shhh. That’s just Zak. You’re safe.”
As her fight instincts subsided, Krissy held the man’s shirt and breathed hard. Her heart hammered as he stroked her back, hushing her.
“You’re okay,” he repeated again.
Krissy forced herself to focus on the man. She could feel his concern swirling around her, but it was not the type of agitation that came with impending danger. The fact that he was more concerned about her hurting herself than their surroundings helped to soothe the terror that had driven her over the arm of the couch. The sound of running feet had her tensing up again, but the man’s hand patting her on the back calmed her.
“What happened?” another male voice called.
Krissy pressed her face into the man she was curled against. His broad chest was firm under her hands, and he held her in a comforting way.
He patted her back again before answering. “Zak scared her, and she fell off the couch.”
Slowly, Krissy opened her eyes and turned her head so she could see out into the room. At first, all she could see of the spacious area was a large television sitting on top of a wooden entertainment system. Something black and fuzzy came bouncing into her line of vision, and she cringed back into the man’s chest.
“Leave her alone, Zak,” the voice behind her called.
The small, black blob whined and flopped down on the rug.
“No one’s going to hurt you,” the voice behind her reassured her again.
Krissy turned to look at the person talking to her. He was gorgeous, if a little pale. Long blond hair framed his fine features. His eyes were an unusual mix that Krissy wasn’t sure what to call, but they were gentle and filled with concern. He knelt just a few feet away, blocking her view of the rest of the room. “Hello,” he said with a smile.
Krissy relaxed her death hold on the man whose lap she was sitting in.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” the man kneeling next to them said. “You hit your head pretty hard when you fell. Are you all right?”
Krissy stared at him, trying to string the right words together to answer his question. “Werewolf,” she squeaked instead.
Amusement flashed in his eyes, and his smile widened. “Yes. There was a werewolf.” He held his hand out towards her. “Did it bite or scratch you?”
Krissy shook her head, doing so slowly so she wouldn’t aggravate the pain in her head. She stared at his hand for a moment before accepting it.
“Good,” he said, drawing her from her seat. “What’s your name?”
“Christina,” Krissy started. She paused and drew in a breath, trying to clear the fluff and ache from her head so she could think clearly. “Krissy. Krissy Midlton,” she corrected. As she unfolded from the first man’s lap, his hands helped lift her so she was standing to face the tall blond. She looked up into his face, stunned by his height. He was at least a good foot taller than she was, but he held himself in a way that made her comfortable.
“I’m Elliot,” he said, introducing himself. “What you did was very brave, but you should never intervene when werewolves are fighting. It’s very dangerous.”
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“I didn’t know they were werewolves,” she said. Her mind was still not holding thoughts properly.
“That’s understandable. Werewolves have kept their existence a secret,” Elliot said.
The way he spoke made her think he dealt with werewolves all the time. Krissy stared at him as if he were mad.
“Tell me,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “What made you jump into the middle of their fight?”
“The dog was hurting him,” Krissy said before she thought about her words. She stopped and corrected herself. “I mean, the werewolf.” The fact they were standing here discussing werewolves as if they actually existed was too surreal for her to deal with.
“I see,” Elliot said. “So it was a reaction to seeing someone in distress.”
The tone in his voice rubbed Krissy the wrong way, and she opened her mouth to tell him off but stopped. She could see in his eyes that he sincerely wanted to know her reason for taking action. “Yes,” she said, keeping her answers short and sweet.
“And what made you think you could stop a dog or wolf from attacking someone?”
Again, there was a sincerity in his eyes that showed he wasn’t trying to reprimand her with his questions. He really wanted to know. “I can…” She stopped, not wanting to reveal her abilities. She’d already learned she should never tell anyone about her gifts. Brushing her mind up against his, she tried to tell if he was the type of person she could trust.
Surprise flashed in Elliot’s eyes. “You’re an empath.”