Slade, Book 1 in Team Greywolf Series

by Eva Gordon

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Henrik smiled. “You saved me from an enemy werewolf.”

  Nothing rang true. He cocked his head. “I don’t remember.”

  “Understandable. You suffer from amnesia as a result of head trauma.”

  “What happened?”

  “You were pushed off a cliff by two enemy spies.”

  “Enemies?” A vague memory of falling down a cliff into the ocean came to mind. They must have been powerful to have pushed him off.

  “You suffered a severe concussion.”

  He must have hit his head on a rock. Odd. He didn’t have a headache. “How long ago?”

  “Four days in a coma. You shifted twice, which is good.”

  “I don’t remember my father.” He brought a shaky hand to his forehead. “Where’s my mother?”

  “I’m sorry, she died years ago. She was a princess of the Yukon pack. You inherited her thick white coat.”

  He closed his eyes. The smells of the tundra and its wildlife flooded his mind. Of a white-furred wolf howling in front of her den. The scent of the white she-wolf’s teat. So long ago. Mother? Sadness clenched his heart. Dead. “Yes, I remember she died.” Yet, her loss felt recent.

  “Think of your father.”

  A few memories filtered in. Visions of running in the forest with his pack. Of an older alpha calling him, son. “My father is a gray wolf with a white patch on his left shoulder?”

  Henrik’s eyes lit up in enthusiasm. “Yes. King Wolfstrom bears that distinct marking. Ja, wonderful, your memories are returning.”

  He touched the base of his neck. “Why do I remember my wolf form and everything else, but not my name?” Nor did he recall this man as a good friend. His smell bothered him.

  “Don’t worry; it takes time, but yes, soon.”

  “I’m a prince, but trained as a soldier.”

  “Yes! You’re one of our strongest commanders. Do you remember your pack army?”

  He sighed in frustration. “No.”

  “Are you ready to see your mate?”

  “Mate? I have a mate?” Of all the memories, the bond of a mate should have been unbroken. He had a hunch of a sweet little wolf. No. His mate would be big and powerful.

  “Agrippa. White fur. Tall blonde.”

  Another vague memory popped in his head. A beloved mate. He closed his eyes and thought with his nose. The scent of sweet wild honey and rose petals gladdened his heart. Mine. “A scent, but nothing more.”

  Henrik wrinkled a brow in deep concern. He sighed. “Good. I’ll bring down a piece of her clothing and that should help.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “Agrippa is on a hunt, but she’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “She left me?” How could his true mate leave his side?

  “Poor Agrippa almost lost her mind thinking you might die. She quit eating and sleeping.” He pointed to an empty chair. “Your father ordered her to lead a hunt to occupy her thoughts rather than furthering her depression.”

  Odd. Several female aromas lingered, but not the sweet scent he recalled. He scanned the room. “I can’t smell her.”

  “Sterile technique.” He laughed. “We are so meticulous we clean off all but the most recent of scents.”

  “Are we in Alaska?”

  “No. Our pack moved after your change to Patagonia, to your father’s castle.”

  “Patagonia?” What the hell were they doing on the opposite pole?

  “Can you stand?”

  He nodded and stood. “What now?”

  “Dress and we’ll go down for a bite to eat. You will stay here for another day and then return home to Wolf Lair Castle. I’ll let your father know you’re awake. He’ll be pleased to see you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Cricket lay on a bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. She sighed. Back at headquarters in her cozy apartment, snuggling with Slade. She blinked. Shit. Cold reality bit her in the ass. Still with the evil cannibalistic oath breakers. Locked in a cage with a queen size bed and a large doggie bed on the floor. She stared at the cushion, her fur shed on it. She’d survived their bioweapon.

  Cricket shuddered as she recalled her last memory; dying in wolf form. Alone. Whimpering for Slade. Had they made him forget and brainwashed him? Would he end up like the other kidnapped weres, laughing in the beer hall and munching on human flesh?

  Her body ached. How long had she been bedridden? Vague memories of the medical staff coming in and out to check on her tickled her brain. They kept her hydrated with an IV drip bag. The staff talked. An urgency. The humans had to leave the facility. The launch of stage one. Oh, shit. Were they talking about releasing Variant Midgard? Here? Or nearby.

  They had already killed hundreds of humans. Now they would kill millions. Not on my watch. Weak, but fully awake, Cricket removed the IV and stood on shaky legs. She grabbed a robe and glanced at the small bathroom. Looks like I am still housebroken.

  As she shuffled to pee, the wall camera followed her. Great. No door. Oh well. Enjoy the show. She gave the camera the middle finger and relieved herself.

  Cricket washed her face and stared in the mirror. Gaunt, pale with dark circles beneath her eyes. Her frizzed hair screamed for a shampoo. I look awful. A shower would have been helpful, but why keep a guinea pig clean?

  Wolfstrom and an assistant entered. “Feeling better?” He gestured for her to sit on the bed.

  “I will after a stack of pancakes and a ticket for the next plane out of here.” His assistant took her vitals, and she only wished she had the strength to bite his probing fingers.

  Wolfstrom smiled. “Breakfast will be brought in. As far as a plane ticket, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  “No problem, a bike will do.”

  Wolfstrom snorted. “I’m happy you are well enough to be disrespectful.”

  You ain’t seen nothing yet. “Hard to be a polite guinea pig after surviving Variant Midgard.”

  His eyes lit up, and he nodded. “If you had not shifted, you would have ended up like the traitor. He melted into a puddle of toxic waste.”

  “Accurate description.” She had to stop the mad wolf before he unleashed the virus on the human population. Cricket furrowed her brow. “So my wolf kept me alive?” When she began to burn with fever, she shifted. “I imagine you tested other omegas. They too must have shifted.”

  “We experimented on omegas, but even in human form, none developed the infection. But you, being so human, did. And the news is better.”

  “Better for you.”

  “I made a new discovery.”

  “Good, I hope you write a good article about my suffering in the Journal of Werewolf Medicine.”

  “You, my dear, are the antidote to Variant Midgard. We have your blood serum and are already synthesizing the cure. Worth millions of bars of gold.”

  “Besides the profit, why bother developing a cure?”

  “Why not? We wish to keep the humans that vowed to help us achieve supremacy or ones who will help us continue to maintain valuable infrastructure.”

  And occasional finger food. “So I get to live?”

  “Yes. Something about you being almost human allowed you to survive the change. Perhaps, you will be the mother of a new race.”

  The idea of having pups had always been out of the question. No werewolf wanted a runt for breeding. Did he mean she would breed with humans? She snarked. “Can I pick my mate?”

  “Not necessary. Come spring, our fertility expert will harvest your ova. Imagine what type of pups you might produce. That is, if you cooperate. If you don’t, we’ll have you over for dinner.” He laughed. “As dinner.”

  “Not getting a touchy-feely warm vibe being used for the puppy mill trade.”

  “Join our cause, and you will be my honored guest and assist me in the lab.”

  Wipe out humans with a global pandemic? Not happening. Still, she needed in. Cricket lifted her chin. “All my life, pac
ks considered me the lowest of the low, but it sounds like here I may gain respect.”

  He chuckled. “I know you are being insincere, but if you should come around to the proper way of thinking and prove your trust, I will make you an honorary beta. So take your pick, beta member or runt on the menu.”

  Saw through me. Duh. “I’d hate to give you indigestion.”

  “Good. Then we agree.”

  “Can I see Slade?”

  “He’s adjusting. As best as he can, considering he’s re-learning his lost memories.”

  Her heart sank. No. “You mean implanted fake memories.”

  “Henrik’s new amnesia drug and mind therapy worked. The prince is a new lycan. Oh, don’t look so sad. He no longer feels the pain of losing his entire pack and of having strong feelings for a lowly runt.”

  “We were just friends.”

  “You two might have fooled your packs, and even yourselves, but trust me, the emotions you elicited from him were more than for a fellow pack member.”

  Wrong. Rylee ordered Slade to protect her. Sure, sexually they clicked, but who wouldn’t? Slade was hot. And they were both unattached, attractive and working together created a sexual tension so great you could slice it with a box cutter. Forbidden sex had its kinky benefits. Add a little danger to the mix and the fire of need, and desire ignited.

  “You, of course, will be his final test.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If seeing you doesn’t bring back his memories, he truly is ours.”

  “What if he does?”

  “Then Henrik must go back to his lab to create a stronger drug. Unfortunately, the stronger the dose, the more likely of sending him into morphopsychosis or even death.”

  Cricket squeezed her hands into tight fists. I’ll kill you first, ass wipe.

  Wolfstrom turned to his assistant. “After breakfast, return Cricket to her room in the castle.”

  “Yes, master,” said the male beta.

  Wolfstrom looked at her chart.

  She asked, “What does stage one mean?”

  He frowned then slowly smiled. “My, what big ears you have.”

  The better to stop you. “Something about an evacuation of this facility.”

  “Ah, yes. Only for humans. Our omegas are carefully prepping the vector drones to release Variant Midgard.”

  She swallowed. “So that’s how you will initially deliver the bioweapon.”

  “Precisely. The small drones will infect millions and then the infected will spread it several hundred times around the globe.”

  A chill coursed through her. “How soon?”

  He beamed. “I’ll announce it at the full moon rally.”

  “Will I be there?”

  “You will be my honored guest. I’ll see you in the morning at Wolf Lair.”

  Cricket bowed. “Have a nice day, then, master.” I might be a runt and you a fucking alpha, but I’m going to end your plans.

  “Oh, I shall. I’m meeting my son for lunch.”

  “I didn’t know you had a son.” Obviously, he must. An entire litter of them, but he’d never mentioned a queen or family. Then again, they weren’t on friendly terms.

  Wolfstrom glanced at his watch. “I’ll introduce you to Prince Bain.” He chuckled as if he thought meeting his son amusing. Being raised by the crazed alpha tainted by Griswold’s blood probably had turned his son into a sadistic sicko.

  The beta poured her a glass of water. “I’ll return with your breakfast and vitamins.”

  “Let me guess, pre-natal pills?”

  The beta didn’t respond. He bagged her trash and left.

  An hour later, the beta nurse returned with the standard white coveralls. Cricket dressed and followed him out of the facility and into the van. The bridge lowered, and they drove into Wolf Lair Castle. Upon entering the castle, she scented Slade. He must be on the same floor. In her suite, her luggage lay next to her bed. After a shower, she’d put on some fresh undergarments and makeup. She lifted the suitcase and set it on the bed. She reached in and took out a fresh pair of panties and her cosmetic kit. Good all here. She opened her compact and gaped. A small paper stuck out from under the soft pad. Three numbers. The coordinates. Jack hadn’t been a complete ass after all. She sniffed the paper. Odorless. Evil or not, his death meant something. She memorized the numbers and swallowed the paper. The problem was finding a way to send the coordinates to Team Greywolf.

  Chapter 17

  “I’m Prince Bain?” he asked himself as he paced in the huge private dining room he didn’t recognize.

  The door opened and a tall regal-looking older alpha flanked by two alpha guards entered. “At last, son, you are well.” He embraced him with a firm, almost crushing hug.

  Coldness rather than warmth chilled him. No recognition. Nothing. He sniffed. The man’s scent did not ring any kinship bells, however, they had met. Another scent on him caught his attention, stilled his heart. Wild honey, warmed like mead and fresh rose blossoms. Female. His. He relaxed, but remained confused.

  The big man released him. “I’m King Wolfstrom, your father.”

  “Father?”

  “Do you remember?”

  “I only remember us hunting in the woods, but nothing more.”

  “Well, that’s something. Please sit.” His father pointed to a seat next to the head of the table. The king’s chair.

  He sat. Several omegas entered carrying platters of fresh food and wine.

  Wolfstrom sat and poured them each a glass. “Henrik said your brain injury may never bring back old memories, but trust me, we’ll get you back in the fold.” He sipped his wine. “Back with Agrippa.”

  He allowed his father to take the first drink and then drank half the glass. This man could not be his father. His inner wolf’s hackles rose. An imposter. Yet, the scent of the female kept him under control. Mine. She was the clue. “How long have I been mated to Agrippa?”

  “A year. You planned to try to have your first litter in the spring.”

  “That will have to wait.”

  “Nonsense. You will.”

  “I can’t. At least until I remember who I am.”

  His father’s tone grew harsh, and he banged a fist on the table. “You will obey my command.”

  A flash of a distant argument filtered into his mind. Leave the pack again for another stupid adventure, and I’ll disown you. It was the same anger his father displayed now. Yet, not the same. “We fight all the time.”

  Wolfstrom demeanor relaxed. “Apologies, I forget you just woke from a coma.” He chuckled. “Yes, we often butt heads, but only when it concerns the pack’s future.”

  He perked up as his awareness of their antagonistic relationship increased. “Yes.”

  His father nodded and bit into a succulent piece of steak.

  The meat was high grade, but he wasn’t as famished as he imagined he would have been while in coma for days. Nothing made sense. Nothing but the scent of the female on his father’s clothes. The scent his wolf wanted to bathe in. “Father, did you meet with Agrippa before she left?”

  “Yes. We visited you and then I had my driver take her to my private jet.”

  “I see.” He returned to his steak and downed it in three bites.

  “Once you scent her up close, you’ll know.”

  “Of course, Father.” Agrippa. Her scent? Wait. His inner wolf flared its nostrils. The scent of weeds and poison. Not his mate.

  “Henrik thinks a few more sessions of neuro-therapy will help.”

  No. “I’m fine. I think what I need is to run in the forest.”

  “I agree. Shifting will be good.”

  “I can sniff around and get my bearings throughout our home.”

  “I’ll have two of your betas join you.”

  “I prefer to be by myself, unless you think I’m a danger to others?”

  “Go ahead, have a run of the castle.” He poured himself a second cup of red wine. “You don’t mind if I join
you?”

  “No, of course not.” He ate the rest of his meal and studied his father. His head throbbed from trying to remember. His wolf felt the emotion of anger, yet, he loved his father and a vague memory entered his mind. In his dreams, a woman’s voice explained his father crossed the veil to offer his love. Who was this woman? Yet, this man was very much alive.

  Wolfstrom offered him a small platter of pieces of meat covered in bacon juice. “Have some.”

  He flared his nostrils and flinched. No wonder his father’s imbued essence indicated corruption. His so-called father ate humans. “Are we cannibals?”

  “Certainly not. We don’t eat lycans.”

  “But we are forbidden from eating humans.” Lycan law forbids it. That much, he remembered. “We can’t be related to Griswold.”

  “Do you not remember any of our exclusive precepts?”

  “So, I’m the son of an oath breaker.”

  “Many view us as such, but you must remember you are a descendant of Gunter Wolfstrom. Your grandfather had a vision of a human-free world, where lycans take their place as masters of the earth. Supremacy over the weak.”

  He rubbed his brow. “This bothers me.”

  Wolfstrom threw his napkin next to his plate. “You seem to recall your sensibilities while being raised in American territory and nothing on how you currently feel.”

  “How do I feel…about…eating human flesh?” His stomach roiled at the thought.

  “It’s your favorite delicacy.” He took a piece of human meat and chewed it, then smiled. “Your tastes will return in time. Agrippa, your mate, eats nothing but human for breakfast.”

  No way in hell would he have pups with a she-wolf cannibal. “I’m done.”

  “Shall we meet in say an hour to roam as wolves?”

  He pushed his plate back. “Yes. Can someone show me to my den?”

  Wolfstrom signaled to one of the betas. “Take him to his apartment.” He smiled. “Sleep well, my son.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  After a restless night, Slade woke in his master bedroom at Wolf Lair and sat. The den looked familiar, but devoid of emotion. Empty. Soulless. The room’s sterile smells failed to illicit memories. He rubbed his brow, got up, and entered the bathroom. He washed his face and then stared in the mirror. Who am I?