First Bite (The Dark Wolf Series)

by Dani Harper

  Assuming he planned to come back at all, said an unwanted voice in her head.

  Shut up, she told it, even as she shouldered her backpack. After being chased by Meredith’s enforcers, she didn’t feel like hanging around any one place for very long—and she didn’t even know where the hell she was. Travis could damn well find her later if he was so inclined. And if not, well, she’d be pretty disappointed, but at least she didn’t need his help anymore.

  At an abandoned garage that morning, he’d spent an hour demonstrating what he called Clothing Retrieval 101. Of course, he made it look easy—one minute he was a wolf, the next, a hot guy who rocked an old leather jacket and jeans. Then he did it twice more. He talked her out of trying it herself, citing that she needed more rest before she shifted form again, but she thought she had the basic points down. In case she didn’t, she’d filled the backpack full of clothes at the thrift store. Best to be prepared. Hopefully, if she practiced enough, her human form would one day be fully dressed when she was finished running on four feet.

  Funny how things changed. Originally, she’d determined to never, ever take on animal form again. Yet she knew darn well she couldn’t have escaped Meredith’s servants yesterday if it hadn’t been for her powerful and agile lupine form.

  And Travis.

  At least she’d had the chance to ask Travis about the werewolf—correction, Changeling—laws he’d spoken of. He’d insisted that Changelings like himself followed a strict code. They weren’t supposed to force others into becoming like them, and they didn’t believe in harming humans. Was it possible that not all werewolves were the brute animals she’d come to hate? She certainly didn’t hate Travis—although his disappearing act wasn’t winning him any points, and she was so going to kick his ass if he showed up again. (When. When he showed up again.) If there was such a thing as a good guy among werewolves, it was probably Travis Williamson. He’d assumed responsibility for her when he didn’t have to, and he’d managed to take pretty good care of her. He was a thief, certainly—something that still puzzled her—yet he had chosen not to be a killer.

  He wanted to kill my sister.

  Obviously that code of nonviolence didn’t extend to Changeling justice. A sudden chill made her shiver as guilt pointed an accusing finger at Neva. She’d just had sex with someone who wanted to sentence her only sister to death. Not that Meredith didn’t deserve it—after all, she murdered people regularly without a second thought. Her followers did, too. But there had to be another way. Had to be. Meanwhile, Neva was left with a question—were all werewolves natural-born killers, just as she had thought? What about Travis?

  Hell, what about me? Neva was a werewolf now, too. Could she trust herself? Was her judgment influenced by the creature that lived within? Would her basic nature change, making it only a matter of time before she took someone’s life? She hadn’t fallen in line like the rest of Meredith’s victims—but was that only a matter of time, too? Would she one day run back to her sister, as anxious to please as the rest of the mindless followers—and just as willing to murder for her?

  Neva’s head hurt from all the answerless questions. Her only chance was to avoid Meredith, and that meant living out her days on the run or in hiding. There was no hope that her sister would either forgive her or forget about her. Not because she missed her or anything like that, of course. There was no love lost between them, and hadn’t been since day one. Meredith would take tremendous pleasure in humiliating Neva and forcing her to do everything she could think of that was against her nature. Especially hurting people. And Neva had no doubts that remaining family members would top the list—Meredith had hinted at that more than once.

  The one thing her sister wouldn’t do was kill Neva, at least not right away. At the fateful party where Neva had been bitten, Meredith had let slip that she had a starring role for her, a key part of some great, grand plan that only her little sister could help fulfill. Neva didn’t know what it was, only that it couldn’t be good. All she’d been able to glean since was that her role involved magic, a truly terrifying prospect. When she was a child reading storybooks, magic had seemed like something wonderful, and hey, wouldn’t it be cool to possess it? From what she’d seen since, the magic possessed Meredith utterly and completely. Her power and her spells were as addictive to her as any drug. Added to her cruel and self-centered personality, it was a marriage made in hell. Whatever Meredith’s great and grand plan was, Neva couldn’t allow herself to be part of it.

  Another reason for her to have quietly committed suicide. She’d much rather have given up her own life than risk killing another. Or giving Meredith any more power. Travis couldn’t possibly understand what he’d done by saving her. But it was too late now.

  She left the cover of the bushes and walked to the truck, then thought better of it. The vehicle was stolen, for crying out loud, and with her luck, she’d be pulled over for some minor traffic infraction and the theft discovered. Instead, Neva walked a couple hundred yards down the highway and stuck out her thumb. There wasn’t a lot of traffic, but she only needed one sympathetic driver.

  Where should I say I’m headed? Travis hadn’t mentioned a destination. They’d simply been heading straight east because Meredith lived on the West Coast. Why not angle a little to the south? Winter was coming, and she hated being cold. Florida sounded good. From there, she could even leave the country altogether. South America? Maybe Brazil. They spoke Portuguese, and she knew basic Spanish, which was similar, right? Or maybe she needed an entire ocean between her and Meredith’s pack. She’d always wanted to experience the culture in Hong Kong—

  No, no, and no. I’m thinking like me! Surely Meredith would guess what kind of choices she might make. And what she didn’t guess, she might be able to divine through magic. Meredith was forever creating spells, and the level of power she’d achieved was truly terrifying. Who knew what she could do? Was she watching Neva right now?

  “Get a grip,” Neva scolded herself again, and made herself feel better by flipping a finger at the air, just in case her nemesis was watching. She needed to do something completely out of character, pick a location that Meredith would never associate with her. Greenland, maybe. Oh, goody.

  A few minutes later, an eastbound eighteen-wheeler began to slow and move to the shoulder of the highway where she stood.

  The big tawny wolf ran full-out, its belly low to the ground and its tail streaming straight behind it like a golden banner. Jaws gaped wide to gulp air, and its ears were flattened to its broad skull. Inside the powerful lupine body, Travis wrestled with his animal self as if it were a runaway horse, one that had seized the bit between its teeth so that no amount of tugging and sawing at the reins would sway its course. Of course if it had been a horse, he would have sold it on the auction block in a New York minute.

  As for the wolf, he was stuck with it.

  As his lungs burned, he finally seized control from his animal persona—and promptly tumbled down a steep embankment, bouncing off the loose soil and gravel until he landed in the oily water at the bottom of the reed-filled ditch. Pop cans, beer bottles, and fast-food wrappers bobbed around him as Travis rose slowly to his feet and shook himself. He picked his way through the distasteful mess until he could climb up the bank and into the cover of the forest beyond. There he plunked his furry ass beneath a tree and berated his animal persona.

  What the fucking hell was that about?

  His alter ego snarled and snapped its teeth together with an appalling ring that would have chilled the blood of anyone close enough to hear it.

  Travis was simply pissed. You don’t get to come out of nowhere and take over, not unless my life’s in danger. So what the fuck is the problem?

  Mate.

  No, no mate. Not for you or me. I had sex. Just nice, ordinary, human sex. Hell, there had been nothing ordinary about it, but he wasn’t about to discuss it with his alter ego. So get over it already.

  Mate. Mine. Ours.

  Some
long-ago memory niggled at Travis’s brain. He remembered his grandfather instructing him, “The wolf within has its own primal rules. If a Changeling’s life is in danger, the wolf will emerge to defend it. It will also rise to the surface, unbidden, to defend a mate at all costs. And like our brothers, the wolves of the forest, Changelings mate for life.”

  Travis slammed that mental door shut and barred it. She isn’t. No way. She can’t be. She doesn’t even like us all that much.

  The wolf made a noise of derision. Likes very much.

  Natural wolves were adept at reading the most subtle of cues in body language, expression, etc. Changeling wolves were even better at it. Travis found himself both elated and annoyed by his wolf’s certainty. So we like each other, so what? We’re two consenting adults who got it on. That’s what humans do. And that’s the end of it.

  Mine. Ours.

  You’re not even listening. You can’t choose her. I won’t choose her.

  No choosing. Is.

  Is. That one tiny word carried an enormous amount of information, and Travis felt the weight of it as surely as if he’d shouldered an elephant. Is. With that single word, the wolf was telling him that the choice wasn’t arbitrary, or a matter of convenience, or anything else that Travis had foolishly hoped. The bottom line was that Changelings recognized their true mates.

  And the wolf had recognized Neva, probably from the very beginning.

  Between one breath and the next, a number of puzzle pieces snicked into place. Travis realized that it was the wolf that had found Neva in the first place. The wolf had saved her. In fact, the wolf had been leading him every goddamn step of the way to the final act.

  Changelings not only recognized their mates, but claimed them in true primal fashion. Through sex. Nothing could break the bond once forged. But Neva was blissfully unaware of what had just happened. Maybe he should just shut up about the whole thing and hope that the relationship would progress naturally and she’d want to stay with him. There was only one little problem, one little detail he hadn’t told her and hadn’t planned on ever telling her—or anybody else. But he’d have to.

  And what were the chances she’d want anything to do with him then?

  Travis wanted to shriek curses, but the best he could do in this form was howl like an anguished soul in hell. Loud and long, the ululation rose from his throat again and again until he couldn’t utter another note. And still the truth stabbed him viciously, the truth that his wolf was a fucking loose cannon. It could rise of its own free will and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it. Yeah, sure, it was supposed to do so only under extreme circumstances, as if the wolf was a wise weapon that knew best how to defend him or another Changeling. Well, his idiot wolf had taken over once before—and the tragic consequences had changed his life forever.

  He screamed silently at the animal within. This is how you damned us in the first place!

  FOURTEEN

  Baker had tried since dawn to resume his human form. Nothing had happened except he’d given himself a pounding headache from the mental exertion. His lupine body, however, was considerably refreshed after a night’s sleep. Best to get gone while he had the energy to do it. Not knowing if he’d ever see it again, he left his family’s land and struck out in an easterly direction.

  Miles later, he still had no idea where the hell he was going. He needed help, but had no fucking clue where to find it. Only another werewolf could tell him what the damn key was to Changing his form, and where was he supposed to find one of those?

  As if in direct answer, his nostrils detected a scent just south of him. A werewolf, but not one he’d encountered before—so maybe it didn’t work for the bitch queen. That didn’t necessarily mean it was friendly, of course. In fact, the way his luck was running these days, it would probably try to kill him.

  It was a chance he was willing to take, however. He ran in the direction of the scent.

  Private planes were such handy little things, Meredith thought. The nearest airport to her destination had been ridiculously small, of course, but in this case it was an advantage. No one was checking cargo. Not that they’d have seen anything, anyway. From a tiny glazed clay pot, Meredith had dabbed a finger’s worth of greenish-black ooze the consistency of old honey on the forehead of each of the dozen werewolves she’d brought with her. Humans were easy to fool, and with just a few words, the substance enacted a veiling spell that would hide them from mortal eyes. Despite the fact that it was broad daylight, the wolves would be nothing but a blurred shadow, a mere gust of wind as they passed. Meredith rubbed some between her breasts and assumed her own lupine form, feeling both the tingle of the spell and a swell of pride at her own skill and craftsmanship—the concealing charm was of her own clever design.

  She leaped effortlessly from the aircraft door and bounded over the tarmac and into the fields beyond, with the pack following at a respectful distance. Thanks to her magic, the location shown her in her scrying bowl was fixed in her mind like the North Star, and her cross-country path was a nearly straight line.

  Secure in her preparations, Meredith was exhilarated. She loved her lupine self. She adored her luxurious silver pelt, of course. What if she’d been drab gray or brown like so many of her pack? Her hairdresser changed the color of her hair easily, but changing the color of her fur? Dye wouldn’t work, and the magic required would be complicated. Thankfully, she was spared those concerns since her wolf’s unique beauty completely suited her regal station. Elegant looks aside, however, what she loved most was the raw power of the animal persona: teeth and muscle and speed. Endurance, too—natural wolves could run nearly forever, and werewolves, even longer.

  Still, as swift as she had been, no one was in the evergreen bower when she arrived. Sending her wolves downwind into a thicketed gully to wait until she called for them, Meredith paced carefully around the natural shelter. Her acute senses immediately told her that Geneva had been there, and so had a male werewolf. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, plus something more—

  The unmistakable smell of bonding.

  Meredith resumed her human form in a fury, and birds fled from the surrounding trees. “How dare he try to claim her?” she screamed in the empty bower. “She’s mine!” As a leader, she actively discouraged sex of any kind between the wolves in her pack—it wasn’t a difficult spell—because pair bonding bordered on magic, a natural earth magic that was at odds with her own. It set in motion powerful forces that could possibly disrupt her control of her servants.

  Meredith’s hold on Geneva had been tenuous to start with. Now this! And what if this new bonding affected the elaborate spell she’d labored so long and hard to create? “No. No, no, no, no, no!” Having almost lost the chance to enact her masterpiece once, Meredith wasn’t going to stand for anything interfering with her plans again. Not her brat sister, not a bonding, and certainly not the werewolf who had stuck both his nose and his dick where it wasn’t wanted. With rage and frustration mounting, she began mouthing the words that would eventually set the bower and all the trees that surrounded it on fire—

  And stopped in midsentence as the breeze brought her new information. Her fiery rage gave way to icy calculation, and a sly smile parted her red, red lips. Someone was coming—and she was so going to enjoy making his acquaintance.

  Travis loped toward the bower, all too aware of how long he’d been gone. He’d have a lot of explaining to do—assuming that Neva was even still there. Goddess only knew what she thought of him taking off in such a hurry. Regardless, he had things to tell her, things that couldn’t wait. He should have told her first, of course, but who knew that things were going to get physical so fast. Not like he’d made any frickin’ effort to slow it down or stop it…

  Hell, might as well have tried to stop an avalanche with a bucket. The intensity of the attraction, and the raw need, coupled with the lupine instinct to lay claim, had simply overwhelmed all else.

  Now, however, his thoughts were clear
as crystal. He couldn’t continue, he would not continue, without telling Neva what she needed to know about him. It was the right thing to do, even if it meant she never spoke to him again. Funny how doing the right thing often resulted in unpleasant consequences. And these would be soul damaging. Good thing my soul is ruined already.

  He yearned to catch her scent, pull it deep into his lungs until it became part of him, but with the wind behind Travis, it wasn’t going to happen. She would sense his approach, of course. Would she be excited, glad, relieved that he was back—or just annoyed by his disappearance? If he’d been in his human form, he might have laughed a little at that. Of course she’d be pissed at him.

  Moments later, his heart leaped as he caught a glimpse of her in the bower. Relieved that she was still there, he slowed his pace and shifted form before he approached the part in the trees. “We have to talk, Neva,” he began. “I have things to tell you.” She stood on the far side, facing away from him, hugging herself as if cold. His first impulse was to go to her and wrap his arms around her, but he had things to say, difficult things that he dared not risk being distracted from.

  “I know I told you that Changelings don’t kill humans, that it’s our highest law,” he began. She nodded without turning around. Was she mad at him? Jesus, she wasn’t crying, was she? He hurried on, determined to get the words out. “But that doesn’t mean it never happens. I didn’t tell you about me and my brother. My younger brother, Jackson. Hell, we were both young—I was maybe twenty in human years, he was fourteen.” Travis took a deep breath and tried to steady his voice, but it was so damned hard to talk about this. Hard to even think about this, after spending decades trying to avoid the wretched memory. Maybe it was a good thing after all that Neva wasn’t looking in his direction. He might never get the words out if she did. “We were running as wolves, just messing around, you know? Wrestling, fighting, seeing who could jump the farthest, who was the fastest, that kind of shit. And we started chasing a deer, a mulie, the biggest buck we’d ever seen.