“Change?” I whispered, but I knew what he meant.
“They rose again. First as men, completely healed of all the wounds that had killed them. Then they became wolves and followed the others into the night.”
“And then?”
“I called for help, and when they came, I told them I was the only one left. My shoulder was wrecked. Even with surgery, there was too much damage for me to stay in active service.”
“Did you ever see…” I trailed off, uncertain what to call the other Rangers anymore.
“I hunted down every last one, and I killed them.”
I started. “What?”
“I couldn’t let them wander the earth like that,” he whispered.
I laid my palm against his cheek, and he put his hand over mine, holding me to him.
To hunt down his friends and kill them had to have been the hardest thing Dylan had ever done. But he’d done it. For them. He was the strongest person I’d ever known.
Dylan kissed my forehead, then tucked my head beneath his chin. “It’ll be dawn soon,” he said. “We’ll have to get moving.”
I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay there forever, safe in our own little world. But we wouldn’t be safe. We might never be safe anywhere again.
“How did you figure out what they were?” I asked. “How did you learn what you needed to kill them?”
“I listened to the local legends, which were unsurprisingly full of werewolf tales. Then I went to Kabul and bought as much silver as I could and used it to make bullets.”
Dylan went silent after that. I guess there wasn’t much else to say.
I touched his arm, and he glanced up. “You were medically discharged?”
He nodded. “When I came back stateside, I decided to devote myself to medicine—saving lives instead of taking them. Then maybe I’d stop dreaming of wolves with the eyes of my friends.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“How did you end up in Alaska?”
“Everyone who worked with your mother had to believe in werewolves.”
I bet those had been fun interviews. “Why?”
“Keep her calm?” He shrugged. “Or maybe J.T. wanted to make sure we were prepared when they came calling. Not believing can get you killed.”
“J.T. didn’t believe in werewolves.”
“You sure? He did require all of his underlings to carry silver bullets.”
Had J.T. believed, or had he only been covering his bases? If he did believe, then why hadn’t he told me the truth once I was old enough not to panic?
Then again, was there ever an age when learning werewolves were real would not cause panic?
As Dylan had pointed out, not telling me might have gotten me killed. However, J.T. had made certain I was protected, and really, not a werewolf in sight for more than twenty years—as far as I knew.
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. Trying to understand my father’s motivations for anything was always good for a headache.
“Even if J.T. didn’t believe at first,” Dylan said, “I bet he changed his mind at the end.”
Phoebe, you were right.
Aha!
“How did J.T. recruit people who believed in werewolves?” I asked.
Dylan’s lips curved. “Your father had connections everywhere. I’ve heard whispers of a government agency that fights monsters.”
My headache was back.
“I’m sure for J.T., it was a simple thing to locate those who’d had close encounters of the wolf kind and survived,” Dylan continued.
Knowing J.T., he was right.
“We need to go,” Dylan murmured.
Moments later, we stepped out of the makeshift shelter. Snow had fallen while we were inside, just enough to obscure any tracks there might have been. Good news/bad news for us. On the one hand, maybe the snow had obliterated our scent, too. On the other hand, it had covered any trace of Phoebe.
Caw. Caw. Caw.
Several crows swooped out of the trees, dipping low, nearly brushing the tops of our heads, then flying upward. They headed north for a few seconds, came back, and dive-bombed us again.
“Is that normal?” I asked.
“No.” Dylan studied the birds. “Seems like they want us to follow them.”
“Because crows are capable of that level of thought?”
“Got me.” Quickly, we struck the tent and packed up. The crows still circled. Once we were ready, they continued on a path only they seemed to know.
“Is following them a good idea?” I asked.
“I don’t have another one.”
We walked steadily north for hours. The only other animals we saw were a pair of very jumpy coyotes. The two dashed out of the forest so close to me I gasped. They froze, then cowered, abasing themselves at my feet.
“What the—” I began, and the two yelped and ran as if I’d pulled a gun and started shooting.
Dylan and I watched their gray tails wave between the trunks and eventually disappear.
“Maybe they’ve never seen humans before,” Dylan murmured.
Out there, such a thing was possible; nevertheless, the encounter was disturbing. What was it about me that made wolves protective and coyotes terrified? What made all the werewolves want to kill me?
The crows flew ahead. They seemed to know exactly where we were going. Or at least, where they were going.
With the constant repetition of tree after tree that looked exactly alike, the blue-black sky, and the exhaustion of trudging through knee-deep snow, I began to zone out. The first sight of the wolf sailing through the air only made me pause and stare.
Until the beast hit Dylan broadside, and the two slammed into the ground. With the huge pack on his back, Dylan couldn’t maneuver.
He got one arm around the wolf’s throat and reached for the gun with the other, but in the struggle, the weapon skittered away. The animal lunged, and Dylan was forced to use two hands to keep from getting mauled.
I dived for the gun, and as my fingers closed on the grip, the wolf swung around, jaws snapping, teeth catching the meaty area below my thumb. A quick spark of pain, and it released me.
But that one instant was enough. Blood dripped onto the snow, bright red against stark white, the sound a patter of rain in the sudden silence.
I lifted my gaze and stared into familiar, human eyes.
“J.T.?”
Chapter 9
T he wolf with my father’s eyes jerked back. No recognition, no remorse—not a big shock in either the man or the beast. He swung his huge, furry head toward Dylan, and I shot him.
Fire sent me stumbling back. Dylan threw the animal off and scooted away from the flaming, howling thing.
I dropped to my knees, the gun sliding from my limp fingers and onto the ground. Dylan crawled across the snow, yanking the pack off his back and pulling a first-aid kit out of a zippered pocket.
I took one look at the tiny blue box with the red cross on top and began to laugh. “I don’t think anything in there can help me now.”
He grabbed my injured hand, yanking off the torn and bloody glove. “Why didn’t you run?”
“You think I’d leave you behind, let J.T. tear out your throat?”
In the middle of hunting through the jumble of tiny tubes and bottles, Dylan glanced up. “J.T.?”
“Didn’t you see his eyes?”
“I was a little more worried about his teeth.”
“It was him,” I said firmly.
“I’m sorry you had to shoot your father.”
I remembered what I’d seen in those eyes. Not that J.T. had been warm and friendly, but he’d never been a stone-cold killer—until he’d turned furry.
“That wasn’t my father. Not anymore.”
Dylan found a small bottle of alcohol. “This is going to sting,” he said, and doused me.
I hissed as the liquid hit the punctured flesh, then gritted my teeth while he rubbed in antibiotic ointment and b
ound the wound.
“Will that help?” I asked.
“Won’t hurt.”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. I reached out with my good hand and lifted his chin. “I’m going to change now.”
“Yes,” he said simply.
“You’ll kill me then?” He winced. “Do for me what you did for your friends, Dylan. Promise.”
He gave a sharp nod—he’d do what needed to be done—then leaned forward and kissed me. Gently at first, then harder, more desperate, as if he could stuff an entire lifetime of embraces into the hours we had left.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he dragged me into his lap. I lost myself in the scent, the taste, the heat of him. Images tumbled through my mind—naked, sweaty sex atop the snow. If we did it right now, I was certain we could finish before I turned into a wolf and tried to kill him.
I pulled away, though it wasn’t easy, but I wasn’t sure how long I had, when I’d begin to want more from Dylan than his body. When would I begin to want his blood?
We were both breathing heavily. His lips were swollen, and I’m sure mine were, too. A vein pulsed in his throat. I couldn’t stop staring at it.
I had a sudden image of him rising above me, plunging into me, again and again, and at the final moment, when the orgasm rushed over us both, I would bite down and let his life blood spill free.
I scrambled off Dylan’s lap and scooted away, wiping my mouth, staring at my shaking hand, relieved to discover it wasn’t covered in blood. “Maybe you should just shoot me now, before…”
“No.”
“What if I hurt you? What if I kill you?”
“I know how to stop a werewolf, Carly.”
That he was talking about me, or what would soon be me, sobered us both.
“How long?” I asked.
“Within twenty-four hours.”
“When the moon comes up?”
He shook his head. “Day, night, full moon, or new—the first time, it doesn’t matter.”
“What will happen?”
“Carly—”
“I want to know!”
My voice was too loud in the suddenly silent forest. Even the crows had deserted us. I took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m sorry. It would help if I knew what to expect.”
Dylan pressed his lips together, as if he wanted to keep the words in. Then he sighed, and they tumbled out.
“Lycanthropy appears to be a virus, passed through the saliva. You’ll become feverish, delirious. You’ll remember things that haven’t happened—at least, to you. A kind of collective consciousness that gets passed like a germ. You’ll experience the thrill of the hunt, the love of the kill, the taste of the blood.”
Oh, hell, that was happening already.
Dylan stood and began to set up camp.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t let you—” He yanked the tent free in one angry movement. “You should be inside when—” He broke off.
Where I was when I died didn’t matter to me, but it seemed to matter to him. At least, setting up camp was something to do. Until I grew a tail.
“Why do we seem to be running into one at a time?” I asked. “If the werewolves want me dead, wouldn’t it be simpler to send a whole pack and tear me limb from limb?”
“Who knows what’s in their mind? Joe and J.T. might have been scouting. The pack may have split up to cover more ground.” His gaze drifted over the prehistoric trees. “There’s a lot of ground.”
Which reminded me of what we’d been doing out there in the first place.
“When this is over, you have to find Phoebe.”
He frowned. “Of course, I’ll find Phoebe.”
“Tell her I love her. That I always have.” My voice broke. I’d really wanted to see my mother again, to explain that I hadn’t deserted her. “Tell her I’m sorry.” I glanced at the still-smoking wolf. “About J.T.”
Dylan took my good hand. He didn’t seem able to bring himself to touch the one that throbbed and stung and radiated heat. I couldn’t blame him. “You had to.”
“Remember that. When you have to.”
He pulled me into his arms. His grip was bruising, but his cheek against my hair was gentle.
I clung to him. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted Dylan’s embrace to be the last thing I remembered before the virus took me.
I got my wish.
Heat flowed over me like lava, burning away the last vestige of myself. My skin became too small for my body. I wanted to burst free, to run through the trees, roll in the snow, chase something human.
Images spilled into my mind—places I’d been, people I’d known, then eaten. I should have been horrified; instead, I was energized. Strength, power, the world was mine.
I could run for hours and never be tired. I could chase things and catch them. I was no longer alone. I had the pack. Soon I would join them, and everyone would be afraid.
I howled as ravenous hunger thundered in my head and pain tore through my soul. Something was coming, and that something was the dark side of me.
Chapter 10
H ell isn’t hot or fiery red or full of lost souls. Hell is cold, black, silent, and lonely.
The darkness was a cool, velvet cloth across my face. Something stirred there, a scratch, a swirl of movement, and I skittered back, cringing.
The snick of a match, and my eyes closed tight. I didn’t want to see what awaited me on the other side.
“Carly?”
Dylan’s voice. That couldn’t be right, unless I’d—
My eyes snapped open, terrified I’d find him covered in blood and gore, because of me. But he appeared exactly the same as the last time I’d seen him.
He finished relighting the stove, which had gone out. Soft firelight lit the tent. He looked as tired as I felt.
“You okay?” he asked.
I glanced down, patted my naked chest, my face, tested my teeth. I held my hands out in front of me. No fur, no claws, no fangs.
“What the hell?” I asked.
Before I finished the last word, Dylan dragged me into his embrace. Then we both held on.
“I had the gun in my hand,” he whispered. “You were growling, snarling, saying terrible things.”
“I was seeing terrible things.” Although at the time, I’d kind of liked them. I trembled.
“Cold?” He rubbed my arms, then leaned away, returning with the wolfskin and settling it around me like a cloak.
“What happened? I—” Sounds and images flickered through my mind. What was real? What was not? Why was I still alive?
“You didn’t shoot me.” I sighed. “You really need to shoot me.”
“You didn’t shift, Carly.”
“The night’s still young.” I frowned. “Isn’t it?”
“The night passed. And another day, and now it’s night again. It’s been thirty-six hours since you were bitten, and you’re still you.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” I felt different somehow—stronger, calmer, more me than I’d ever been.
“Any desire to rip out my throat, drink my blood, rule the world?”
“No.” Although all this hugging in the dark was making me desire other things.
“I don’t know what happened,” he continued, “but you’re not a werewolf.”
“Just because I didn’t change yet doesn’t mean I won’t.”
“Everything I’ve learned about lycanthropy, every person I ever spoke with was adamant about one thing: first change within twenty-four hours. It’s inevitable.”
“Or not.”
“I touched you with silver. Not even a wisp of smoke.”
I yanked the bandage off my hand. Only faint red marks remained where J.T. had bitten me.
“None of this makes sense.”
“Does anything about werewolves make sense?” He pulled me into his arms again. “Let’s just enjoy the miracle.”
I snorted.
“Hey.” He leaned
back to peer into my face. “Miracles don’t happen every day.”
“In my experience, they don’t happen at all.”
“Poor baby,” he murmured, his lips trailing from my temple to my cheek, then hovering over mine. “No magic in your life. I can fix that.”
“Promise?” I whispered, our breath mingling.
In answer, his mouth crushed down. Our teeth clanked, our tongues mated, our clothes flew every which way. This was the miracle—what we’d found together, what we felt for each other. I never wanted to let him go.
The tent was cool, but the wolfskin was warm. Burrowing beneath it was like coming home. Just as making love with Dylan was like finding my mate.
I stilled. Occupied with nibbling his way from my lips to my chin, down the slope of my neck to my breast, he didn’t notice.
Mate. What a strange thing to think.
His mouth closed over my nipple and tugged. I forgot all about it.
His warmth spilled over me like a wave. His body covered mine; he was already hard against my belly. My fingers fluttered over his back and stilled when they encountered his scar.
Fury flowed through me, heating from within. No one touched Dylan but me. No one marked him, ever. If he hadn’t already killed the wolf that had dared, I would have.
Anger pulsed in my blood, fueling the desire. I rose up, pushing him onto his back. He flipped over with a grunt. I guess I’d shoved a little hard.
I wanted to do things with him I’d never done with anyone else, things I’d never wanted to do. Lowering my head, my hair cascaded over his skin, a curtain between myself and the world. He sighed at the sensation, his breath catching when I rubbed my cheek over his belly, then my tongue over his tip.
“Carly,” he began, then gasped when I scored him with my teeth and drew him into my mouth.
He leaped in response, seemed to grow and pulse. The power flowed through me. I was in charge. He could do nothing but submit—on his back, vulnerable, clutching, begging, needing what only I could give. I was so turned on I moaned.
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