by Alyssa Day
His primitive side wasn't buying it.
And…his woman? What in the nine hells was that about? Would he beat his chest like an ape next? But the feeling of rightness—of certainty—was too strong to be denied. Savannah would be his woman; he had a very strong feeling about it.
She just didn't know it yet, and he wasn't about to tell her now.
"Sure," he told the thug. He pulled Savannah closer, surprised her with a hard, claiming kiss, and then put his mouth to her ear.
"For appearances," he whispered, lying through his teeth. He would have wanted to kiss her like that whether anybody was there to see it or not. But now wasn't the time to explain that, either.
"Well, then," she whispered back, and then she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him right back. Deliciously. She was all heat and passion and fire, and she kissed him so deeply that he would have sworn she was trying to climb into his soul.
Jake prolonged the kiss, taking her mouth with hunger and need and lightning snaps of pleasure; so much pleasure that he forgot where he was.
"Hey, asshole!" shouted the asshole. "Are you coming, or do I have to tell B.D. and his dad to come get you?"
"I'd better go," Jake told Savannah, still dazed from that kiss.
"You take care of yourself," she said fiercely, her eyes hot, blazing, blue fire. "You come back to me."
"Yes. Always," said Jake, who'd never promised always; had never even promised temporary before. Then he followed the thug to face the reckoning in store, feeding Griffin everything he'd learned as they walked.
You get Savannah out first, if anything happens to me. Do you understand, mage?
Griffin's cool voice held a hint of amusement.
Any other commands, mermaid boy?
Jake took a few more steps, automatically cataloging escape routes as they walked. Finally, almost reluctantly, he replied.
Take care of yourself, too.
And then he cut off communication. He couldn't afford to be distracted during the upcoming confrontation. He had a few tricks up his sleeve, of course. He was Atlantean, after all, and bullets couldn't harm him in mist form. But any sign of a trick or infiltration might mean that the shifters would decide to cut their losses and kill everyone at the retreat, or move on to another gathering where nobody knew they were coming, so nobody could stop them.
He couldn't take the chance.
The scumbags of Humanity Prime could fend for themselves, but their children were blameless. If Jake had to die to protect the children, so be it.
He expected a face-off in a dark room. Or a shootout in the empty courtyard. Instead, the goon led him to … the lunch buffet. The hundred or so adults and twenty or more children were all lined up waiting to fill their plates, or already seated at rows of tables, in what must've been the prison mess hall. The clink of tableware and the sound of conversation and laughter filled the air with the scent of grilling meat. Just one big happy family.
Yeah. Right.
The thug led him toward a table that was set off by itself in the far right corner of the room. Greer, B.D., and an older man who looked too much like B.D. to be anybody but his father were seated at the gray metal table. Jake was grimly glad to see that B.D. was going to have one hell of a black eye, too.
Nobody stood when he approached, not that he expected them to. There were no happy cries of greeting, either. He laughed out loud at his foolishness in the face of probable death.
B.D. looked up at him, his beady eyes filled with suspicion. "What the hell are you laughing about? I see I busted up your face, pretty boy."
"And I returned the favor," Jake said mildly. "So now that the preliminaries are out of the way, what do you want with me? I thought this was my kind of group, and I was glad to get involved after moving down here from the hellish winters in Minnesota, but I'm not gonna put up with shit like being jumped for no reason."
B.D. senior leaned forward and folded his hands on the table in front of him. "Seems like you might have something we want. We could always use tough men in our organization, if you can handle yourself like that when the pressure is really on."
There was something off about this guy. Whatever extra senses Jake had that warned him of danger, every single one of them was screaming at him that this guy was a Big Bad.
"B.D. senior, I presume?" Jake didn't bother offering to shake hands, but he did nod at the man. Senior nodded back at him, while Junior looked like he wanted to kill somebody. Either Jake or his dad, and maybe he didn't much care which. Senior was deadly, but Junior was a nut job, and nut jobs were always more dangerous because they were unpredictable.
Greer, on the other hand, was practically rubbing his hands together with glee. "I was just telling these men that we definitely had a place in the organization for someone with your… talents. I think you could be a great asset to Humanity Prime, and if things go well this weekend, there's no reason why you couldn't be leading your own chapter very soon. Very soon, Mr.…"
"Smith," Jake said blandly, daring them to call him on it.
Greer hesitated but then laughed. "Smith. Of course. I was talking to a nice Mr. Jones last week, from the London, England, chapter of H Prime. Delightful man. Delightful."
"Right," Jake drawled. "So what exactly is it you want from me right now?"
"Not a thing right now," B.D. said, putting a hard enough emphasis on the right now that Jake knew exactly what B.D. had planned for him later. "Enjoy the day and that hot little woman of yours while you've got the chance."
It would do no good to provoke a fight now. He didn't doubt that Greer had guards watching this conversation, or that B.D. and his father had their fingers on the triggers of the guns in their laps. No, better to make a dignified retreat for now, and figure out the lay of the land so he could report in and he and his team could figure out what to do.
"Later, dudes." He turned and walked away, ignoring the spot in the middle of his back that was itching like crazy in anticipation of the bullet he was sure was going to come flying at him, but he managed to make it to the buffet line without getting shot. He would take a plate of food to Savannah, and they would hole up in the room and talk about what to do next. While he was still filling a plate with salad – women liked that stuff – the woman who been occupying his mind nonstop since he'd met her the night before showed up and put her arms around his waist. She gave him a quick hug and then grabbed a plate of her own.
"That's a nice healthy lunch," she said, looking at his plate with interest. Then she picked up the tongs and loaded a cheeseburger with the works and a pile of french fries on her own plate.
Jake took a quick glance around, but nobody was paying any attention to them, so he quickly dumped the salad back in its bowl and went for the cheeseburgers himself. He took two of them and a large pile of fries, and then they each grabbed a glass of lemonade from the end table and went to find a place to sit. Savannah was slightly ahead of him, but when she started down the middle aisle he cleared his throat to get her attention. She turned immediately and walked back to him.
"What's up?"
He lowered his voice. "I need to be somewhere on the edge of this group, where we can make a quick retreat if we need to. Also, there is no way in the nine hells that I will sit with my back to Greer or anybody else at his table." He tilted his head, just a fraction of an inch, toward the table where B.D. and his dad were deep in conversation with Greer.
"Oh, that's not fair. They're ganging up on us," Savannah said indignantly.
Jake laughed. "Well, you know the saying. All's fair in love and… And whatever the heck this is."
She sighed but then led the way to a table at the outside corner of the mess hall. No one else sat at it but a boy and girl who looked so alike they had to be siblings.
The weird part–the almost surreal part–was how normal it felt. The air smelled like grilled meat and onions. People were laughing and talking; calling out to friends sitting near them. It had the feel of a fam
ily reunion or community party, rather than a meet-up of human supremacists with dangerously bigoted views. Not to mention, there were probably as many as thirty rogue shifters somewhere in the mix, pretending to be part of this big happy family.
The thought of it sent chills racing down Jake's spine.
Before they could sit, however, the two children at the table started up a running litany of questions. "Who are you?"
"Where did you come from?"
"What's your name?"
Questions for anybody with nothing to hide would've been easy to answer. Jake, on the other hand, had plenty to hide and wanted to be somewhere far away from the younglings.
"Let's head outside to one of those tables." But when they got to the courtyard, he had a better idea.
"Why don't we go up?" He tilted his head and Savannah followed his gaze to the top of the wall where the sentries were patrolling.
"Are we allowed up there?"
"Ask forgiveness, not permission, right? And anyway, you're talking to the newest H Prime chapter leader."
Her mouth fell open, but she didn't ask, so they climbed the metal staircase. One of the guards met them at the top of the steps.
"I can keep a lookout for a while, if you want to go grab some food," Jake said, before the man could ask any questions.
"Sounds good to me," the guard replied eagerly, not even questioning Jake's authority to make the offer. Definitely not a military background.
"Hunger beats rule-following," he told Savannah, grinning, as they watched the hungry guard clatter down the steps.
The breeze was cold, but when they turned around they were facing an incredible view. Open fields for miles, and the sunlight glinting off the river in the distance. They sat down near the edge of the roof with their plates, and Savannah bit into a french fry.
"Excuse me for a minute. I need to contact the rest of my team and tell them what's going on and find out what they know."
"You have a phone? Why didn't you say so? We can call the police or the FBI!"
"You don't have a phone?" Jake, who had never owned or even made a call on the telephone, asked.
"I realized after you left the room that I'd forgotten my purse under the registration table, but when I got down there, somebody told me that Callie had taken it with her for safekeeping. I haven't been able to find her yet, not that I'm really convinced she'd let me have it." She narrowed her eyes. "I had better get that phone back. It has my life on it."
Jake had no idea what she was talking about, but he wasn't sure it mattered at the moment. He needed to talk to Denal and see what was going on. He closed his eyes and reached out.
Denal. We need to talk. I've got innocents here, and we need to get them out of the way before anything happens. What's the timeline on getting the P-Ops people in here?
There was a silence, and then Lucas's haughty voice sounded in Jake's mind:
Denal, our fearless leader, had to return to Atlantis to deal with some emergency.
Griffin spoke up next:
I can handle the guards and, in fact, any obvious guns in the compound. What's the situation there?
Jake blew out a breath. Not the best time for Denal to disappear on them, and what kind of emergency could be more important than this? Anyway, they didn't have time to wait.
The situation is bad, verging on horrible. I have no way to tell who's a shifter and who isn't. I haven't seen any sign of the werewolf prince, either. Maybe he isn't here after all.
Lucas jumped in:
He's there. I found the rogue shifters' base a few miles away and listened long enough to get their plans. They're planning to attack at midnight on the full moon, which is tomorrow. They know there are children inside, Jake. They don't care. The words "collateral damage" were repeated several times.
Jake's appetite vanished.
Those bastards. If only I knew which one was the leader, I could get a fix on his people.
Lucas again:
Easy enough.
An image popped into Jake's mind, carried by the pathway and the strength of Lucas's focus. It was B.D., senior. He was the shifter leader.
He's the bear?
Lucas:
Yes. His son, who looks just like him, is the raptor. Mother must be a bird shifter. Stay clear of the son, Lucas. He's completely insane and has gutted several of his own pack, just for the fun of seeing them die.
Jake sighed.
Little late for that, but I'll do what I can from now on.
Griffin's voice cut into the conversation:
How exactly did you get all this information, Lucas?
An icy wave of darkness leapt out at Jake from the mental pathway, but then Lucas answered.
Easy. I killed all of them but one, and he was eager to talk to me, then.
Griffin:
Lucas! You can't act as judge and jury all on your own. You should know that by now…
Jake cut in:
What did you do with the last one?
There was a silence, and then Lucas answered without a hint of emotion or regret:
I killed him, too.
Jake broke off the communication and opened his eyes, at first seeing nothing but the image of a pile of dead shifters and Lucas, bloody and defiant, standing in the middle of the room. Then his mind cleared and he realized Savannah was grimacing like she was in pain, rubbing a spot on the underside of her arm through her thick jacket.
Adrenaline flooded his brain at the idea that she was hurt. He was instantly ready to fight, protect, defend. "Did someone hurt you? Tell me, now," he commanded.
She raised an eyebrow and gave him a disbelieving look. "Enough with the orders, please. Nobody hurt me, or at least not on purpose. That guy B.D., the one you got into the fight with? Remember how he caught me in the bar last night when I tripped? He must have scratched me. It was kind of raw this morning, but I put antibiotic ointment on it. It's just a little sore now."
Jake dropped the burger he'd picked up and leaned forward and grabbed Savannah's shoulders. "He scratched you? Show me. Now."
"Jake, chill out," she said, pulling away from him and picking up another fry. "It's just a scratch."
He looked for the other guards, but both of them were on the far side of the wall, so he leaned in and grabbed Savannah's arm. "You don't understand. B.D. is a shapeshifter. A very powerful one. If he scratched you, he did it on purpose. And the full moon is tomorrow."
The fry fell out of her hand. "A shifter?"
"Yes," he said, staring into her eyes with every bit of intensity he had. She had to believe him, so they could fix this. She had to believe him. "Savannah, B.D.'s a falcon. By late tomorrow night you may be growing feathers."
For—according to what she'd told him earlier—only the second time in her life, Savannah fainted. Jake caught her before she hit the ground. He sat there on the cold concrete, staring down at the beautiful face that had already become so important to him. She had become so important to him.
He blasted out all the rage and pain he couldn't let the guards hear onto the mental pathway in an inarticulate roaring bellow. Griffin answered immediately:
What is it? What happened?
Jake shoved all that pain and rage down deep inside, so he could access it when he needed it, and he suddenly understood why Lucas had done what he'd done to the shifters.
Griffin called out to him again, and Jake took a deep breath and answered.
B.D. is going to die.
7
Savannah opened her eyes and looked up at Jake, who was holding her in his arms. "Not again."
He smiled, just a little, and stared down at her with concern darkening his beautiful green eyes. "This is all my fault, but we're going to fix it. Our healers – our former high priest – somebody is going to know how to reverse this. You haven't shifted yet, so there's still a chance."
She sat up and moved away from him, but she was too scared to be embarrassed.
"So. Feathers?" She to
ok a deep, shaky breath. "How do you know it's feathers?"
Jake gathered their mostly untouched plates of food. "We should get down from here before somebody starts asking questions."
She stood, feeling unsteady on her feet but forcing herself to be strong. "Feathers," she repeated, trying not to cry.
Jake glanced around again and then looked at her. "B.D. is…" He couldn’t do it. He couldn't give her this terrible news.
She grabbed his arm, nearly making him drop the plate. "Just tell me," she demanded. Nothing could possibly be worse than not knowing--the only way to face adversity was to meet it head on, her dad always said. Of course, Savannah had ignored every other part of her dad's advice, so she wasn't sure why she was starting to listen now, but she decided she'd take comfort where she could find it. "Tell me. Now."
"He's a falcon shifter, Savannah. Since he's the one who scratched you, it's most likely that you'll turn into a falcon, if you shift. His dad's a bear, so his mom must be a falcon. Which means the odds are you'd turn into a bird shifter, if I understand the genetics correctly, which I'm not promising."
Savannah felt dizzy again. All she'd had to worry about before was where her next paycheck might come from, or the red tape of getting a visa for Madagascar, but now she had to worry about shifter genetics. A strange, almost hysterical laugh tried to bubble up from inside her, but she refused to let it escape.
"But you said you know somebody who can help, right? If this is really happening, someone can help –can stop this?"
He shook his head and started down the stairs. "No, not stop it, exactly. More like reverse the virus; it boils down to the same thing, though. No shifting."
She stopped on the top step and grabbed for the rail, because she felt dizzy again. "I feel like a hypocrite being so terrified of becoming a shifter when I'm trapped in his damn place with a group of people I despise for being prejudiced against anyone supernatural, but this was never part of the plan. I don't know how to cope with this."
"And you're not going to have to," Jake said firmly. "I will reach Griffin, he'll reach Denal, who will get in touch with our healers. You're going to be okay."