by L. L. Raand
Lara pulled her head away, yanking her shoulder free from Zahn’s mouth. Zahn moaned, nearly unconscious, deep in the thrall, mindless with pleasure. Lara’s clitoris still pulsed under Zahn’s, a tender knot forming mid-shaft. Zahn’s bite had triggered her wolf’s instinct to join. “No!”
Lara staggered to her feet, Zahn’s blood and hers running in rivulets down her chest, over her breasts, matting the dusting of pelt down the center of her abdomen. Somehow Zahn had known what her wolf needed. What she needed. More than blood, more than sex. A joining that could never be hers. Empowered with Zahn’s blood, her wolf did not recognize the truth. She would never mate. Weres mated for life, and she was already dead. Lara threw the sheet over Zahn, paced to the door, and flipped the lock.
With sunfall still an hour away, she should be tired, but she wasn’t. She was Vampire, but she was Were, and she needed more than blood. Needed more than the bite of the human she did not want. She spun around, pulled the door open, and bounded into the corridor, her wolf breaking its chains at last. Her vision grayed into the sharp lens of the predator. A human guard. By a door at the end of the hall. She smelled sunshine beyond that door. Beyond that door a staircase led to the outside, led to freedom. Naked, covered in blood and sex-sheen and victus, she leapt the length of the hall toward the guard. His eyes widened and his dark face turned ashen, but he stood his ground, his automatic weapon still holstered on his thigh. Brave man.
“Step aside, Human, or you will die.”
“I have orders that no one leaves until moonrise, Warlord,” he said, his voice raspy.
“You will obey me, soldier, or you will die this day.”
“The sun has not yet fallen. Zahn ordered—”
Lara grasped him by the neck and tethered him to the wall, his feet ten inches off the floor, his face less than a breath from hers.
“I am the Warlord of the Liege’s armies. I am your master. You take your orders from me.”
“Yes, Warlord,” he wheezed through the thin column of air she allowed him to suck in. “But the sun—”
“I am not afraid of the sun.” She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. The daylight was not her enemy. “While I am gone, you will see that no one approaches Liege Gates’s quarters. No one enters the Liege’s chambers except Zahn until I return. Not for any reason. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Warlord.”
“Open the barricades.” She let him down, and he nearly fell but regained his feet and snapped a salute, fist to chest.
“Yes, Warlord.”
He punched numbers into a keypad, pressed his palm to a plate on the wall, and stared into a retina scanner. Locks ratcheted open and the reinforced steel door slid soundlessly aside. She bolted through, up the stairs, and into another long corridor. A soldier at the far end held another door open as the last shafts of sunlight flickered outside, refusing to surrender to the night. For the first time since she’d been turned, Lara felt her Wolf ascend, body and spirit, and she let her come. By the time she soared through the camouflaged exit and out into the street, she was in full pelt and ready to hunt.
Chapter Two
“I feel fine,” Chris said, looking as if she was about to jump off the examining table. “I need to get back to the labs.”
“I’ll decide when you’re ready to return to duty.” Drake folded her arms in front of her chest and deliberately moved into the young lieutenant’s personal space. Chris, naked except for her jeans, still showed signs of injury despite having shifted to pelt after being caught in the explosion that had leveled the research wing at Mir Industries that morning. Her right shoulder and neck were bruised and swollen, and traces of debris remained embedded in a latticework of lacerations that trailed down her bare arms. Her shift had been too short or the damage too severe for her wolf to heal completely. Chris was the head of security, and she had to be feeling responsible for the explosion. She wasn’t at fault, but try telling a dominant wolf she couldn’t control everyone and everything within her sphere. A fruitless task. Drake ought to know, she was mated to the Alpha wolf. She dealt with the challenge of trying to reason with a Were driven by instinct on a daily basis. “You’re not going anywhere just yet.”
Chris rumbled low in her chest, not a challenge, but a sign of displeasure and irritation. Drake could live with that. After all, she could hardly expect a wolf like Chris to roll over and give her throat at the first sign of a harsh word. She eased back an inch, giving Chris’s wolf room to stretch. “Now, let me see you raise your arm.”
“Really, Prima,” Chris said, her tone a fraction more conciliatory as she lifted her injured right arm. “I just twisted it. I’ve had worse on a hunt.”
“That may be.” Drake slid her palm under Chris’s elbow and grasped her wrist with the other hand. She’d learned very quickly after her transition from human to wolf Were that the one thing every wolf understood and accepted was the law of the Pack. And, as the Alpha’s mate, she was at the top of the Pack in rank and power. “But since I’m the doctor here, let’s let me make the decision.”
Chris sighed. “Yes, Prima.”
Smothering her smile, Drake ranged the shoulder, elbow, and wrist. Chris—blond haired, blue eyed, chiseled and muscular like all of Sylvan’s soldiers—sat implacably, but Drake felt the thrum of tension streak through Chris’s frame as she stressed the shoulder gently. “You’ve got a tear in the tendons around your shoulder.”
“It’s just a little sore,” Chris muttered.
“I imagine that it is.” Drake carefully released Chris’s arm and walked behind the table to look at her back. The skin over the broad muscles was shredded. Not serious, but painful. The shoulder was a different story. “You’ll need to shift and stay in pelt the rest of the night to heal these wounds and get your shoulder back in shape.”
“But, Prima,” Chris said, twisting on the table to look in Drake’s direction, “I need to get back to the lab to secure the area and begin our search. We’re not even sure there aren’t more devices in the rest of the buildings.”
Chris’s eyes rose to Drake’s. The challenge was unintentional, but Drake growled nevertheless. Without iron discipline, a Pack of Weres ruled by primal instinct would splinter into chaos. Chris immediately ducked her head.
“If you delay your healing,” Drake said, “you may have permanent damage in the shoulder. I doubt the Alpha would be pleased to find her lab’s head of security functioning at less than a hundred percent.”
Chris’s chin shot up, but she wisely did not meet Drake’s eyes. “I would never give the Alpha less than my best.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. And that’s why I want you in pelt, in your quarters, until morning.” She put command in her voice, her tone sending the same message a curled lip and lowered ears would have if she was in pelt—the warning of a dominant wolf to a lesser member of the Pack to mind her place.
Chris sucked in a breath. “Yes, Prima.”
Drake slipped her palm behind Chris’s neck and squeezed, the comfort of her touch reminding Chris that she was an important part of the Pack and important to Drake. “You did well today. You guarded the Alpha’s back, and you saw that your Packmates were safe. You’ve done your duty, and in a few hours, you can resume.”
“Thank you, Prima,” Chris murmured, shivering slightly under Drake’s touch. Wolves needed the physical comfort of their packmates, especially their leaders. At first, Drake had found the casual physical affection disconcerting, and on occasion, when it involved Sylvan, more than that. Sylvan was her mate, and even though Sylvan constantly reasserted her authority and her dominance by touching her wolves, no one, Praetern or human, would touch Sylvan without Drake’s permission. Sylvan. A wave of electricity rippled over Drake’s skin and she stepped back.
“The Alpha is coming,” Drake said, sensing Sylvan’s approach through the unique bond all mated Weres shared. Her pulse quickened and her body readied. “I’ll be sure to let her know you’ll be back on duty t
omorrow.”
Chris jumped down from the table and picked up her shirt, not bothering to put it on. Most wolves rarely bothered with clothes when in the Compound. “Thank you, Prima.”
The door swung open and Sylvan strode in, bringing with her a surge of power that washed over Drake’s skin like the heat of a furnace. Muscles danced beneath the sleek surface of Sylvan’s naked torso, her bronze skin gleamed with a sheen of pheromones, and gold shimmered in her blue eyes. She was more wolf in skin than many lesser Weres in pelt. Her gaze skimmed Chris.
“Alpha,” Chris said, her tone a salute.
“How are you, Lieutenant?”
“Fine, Alpha.”
Sylvan’s attention moved to Drake, a question in her eyes.
“The lieutenant’s on the mend, Alpha,” Drake said. “By tomorrow she’ll be fine.”
“Good. When you return to duty,” Sylvan said, “organize teams and begin the search through the rubble. It’s doubtful we’ll find any physical clues as to who planted the devices, but any remnants of the bombs might help us identify them in the future. I’ve suspended operations until we can examine all the wreckage.”
“I could get started sooner,” Chris said, “with the Prima’s permission, of course.”
Drake shook her head.
“As the Prima commands,” Sylvan said, her tone leaving no room for discussion.
“Yes, Alpha,” Chris said, a sigh escaping as she departed.
Sylvan grinned as the door closed behind the security chief. “I take it she’s not happy about being stood down?”
“She is your wolf,” Drake said. “She’s not happy unless she’s in the thick of the hunt, but she’s not yet fit for duty. She will be.”
“Are you all right?” Sylvan murmured, skimming her hand under the back of Drake’s T-shirt and up between her shoulder blades, tugging Drake tightly into her body.
Drake slid an arm around Sylvan’s shoulders and kissed her. She hadn’t seen her for over an hour, and even a few minutes’ separation was intolerable now that she was pregnant. Even before she’d been pregnant, with their mate bond so new, she was physically uncomfortable whenever Sylvan was out of sight. The constant need to touch her was all-consuming. And only hours before, Sylvan had been in mortal danger. They hadn’t been alone since the explosion—she hadn’t had time to reassure her wolf that her mate was safe. Drake rumbled and rubbed her cheek on Sylvan’s. “I’m all right now that you’re here.”
Sylvan grazed Drake’s neck with her canines and buried her face in the curve of Drake’s shoulder, drawing deeply of Drake’s midnight-and-oak scent, absorbing her heat, tasting the pheromones that coated her skin—centered by the unique chemicals that called only to her. Drake was her mate, her strength, her life. “I love you.”
Drake slid her fingers through Sylvan’s hair and tugged her head up until their eyes met. “I love you…and you’re going to need to learn to be more careful, Alpha.”
Sylvan grinned her infuriating grin, the cocky lift at one corner of her wide, generous mouth that said she’d do exactly what she wanted because, after all, she was the Alpha. “You don’t need to worry.”
Drake nipped at Sylvan’s lip hard enough to taste the potent pheromones Sylvan released when she was aroused. “Do you think I can’t make you?”
Growling low in her throat, Sylvan lifted Drake and turned her until Drake’s back was against the door and Sylvan’s hips were tight into her crotch. Drake wrapped her legs around Sylvan’s ass and her arms around Sylvan’s shoulders, tilting her head back to give Sylvan her neck. She wasn’t submitting, she was inviting.
“You think you can control me?” Sylvan grumbled, her voice thick and heavy as her wolf rose to her mate’s challenge. She licked Drake’s neck and bit lightly. Beneath her, Drake’s abdomen pressed against hers, and inside, Drake carried their young. Sylvan worshiped her as the mother of her young and exalted in a mate who challenged her in every way.
“I would never want to control you,” Drake said, fisting both hands in Sylvan’s tawny gold hair. “I would only ever want to love you.”
Gold eclipsed the blue in Sylvan’s irises and the bones in her face shifted until the elegant arches and curves became lethally sharp, brutally beautiful. Her canines lengthened, and the press of her sex grew heavy and hard between Drake’s legs.
“I would take you back to our den,” Sylvan said, “and take you slowly, all night long. I’d show you how much I love you. But—”
“I know,” Drake said, pushing one hand between them and hooking her fingers inside the waistband of Sylvan’s jeans. She slashed the denim open with her claws and pushed her hand lower, closing around Sylvan’s distended flesh. “But you have time to take me.”
She stroked and Sylvan threw her head back, eyes wild, canines gleaming. Sylvan was already hot and hard in her palm, and if she kept stroking her, she would make Sylvan come. She loved having that kind of control over her mate, the most dominant of all the Weres, but she needed Sylvan closer. Her wolf raged at her to join, shredding her control. She needed Sylvan in every part of her. “Inside. I need you.”
“Hold on to me,” Sylvan growled, her words so guttural they were barely recognizable. Drake clamped an arm around Sylvan’s shoulders but kept her fingers closed around Sylvan’s clitoris—squeezing, tugging, preparing Sylvan for what she needed. Sylvan tore Drake’s pants away from Drake’s hips and shoved her own jeans lower. “Release me.”
“Not yet,” Drake whispered, shuddering as her clitoris tensed and she readied for her mate. She stroked Sylvan, feeling the furious beat of her blood and the slick wash of sex. She fingered the tender undersurface of Sylvan’s clitoris and dipped inside her. Sylvan’s hips jerked and she snarled, a dangerous, lethal sound that made Drake’s nipples tense and pelt flare down her abdomen. She was so, so ready but she wanted more. She licked the mate bite on Sylvan’s chest and Sylvan spasmed in her hand.
“No more. I can’t…” Sylvan grasped Drake’s wrist and pulled her hand free. Surging forward, she slotted her distended clitoris below Drake’s. Their flesh, their spirits, bonded, sealing their union. The hard knot of need between Drake’s thighs exploded, and she coated Sylvan with her essence, marking her. Sylvan roared and buried her canines in Drake’s shoulder, coming with her. Drake scissored her legs around Sylvan’s hips, keeping Sylvan inside as Sylvan thrust through her orgasm.
Sylvan held Drake tightly as her legs buckled and she went to the floor, cradling Drake in her lap. Sylvan’s chest heaved and her belly rolled with pleasure. Gasping, she twisted until her back was against the door. “You take everything.”
Drake curled into Sylvan’s arms and kissed her throat. “I know.”
Sylvan sighed, and for that brief moment, she was free from the burden of rule. She was only Drake’s. “Thank you.”
Drake murmured contentedly and caressed Sylvan’s breast. “For what, Sylvan?”
“For giving me a place to rest.”
“Always.”
Sylvan rubbed her cheek in Drake’s hair. “I talked to Niki and Sophia.”
“How is Niki?” Drake asked.
“Healed, she says. Sophia agrees, and I trust her assessment.”
“Niki’s lucky. You both were.” Drake kissed Sylvan’s chest. “I imagine Sophia is having the same talk with Niki that I had with you.”
“Niki is my general. She was born to fight. Sophia knows that.”
“I know, but love changes perspective sometimes.”
Sylvan nuzzled Drake’s throat. “It does.”
“You need to eat and get some sleep, love.”
“What I need I have—you.”
“You have me.” Drake stroked Sylvan’s face and kissed her. “But the Pack needs you strong, and if you’re going to face Francesca, you need to be at your strongest. I don’t trust her.”
Sylvan laughed. “You don’t like her.”
“You’re right, I don’t. And not just because she’s touched yo
u. She’s the Chancellor of the City and Viceregal of the Eastern Vampire seethe because she’s clever, self-serving, and powerful. Don’t underestimate her, Sylvan, and don’t believe her at her word.”
“I don’t intend to.” Sylvan paused. “There’s something else. Something you need to know.”
Drake tensed, hearing the distress in Sylvan’s voice. “What is it?”
“Sophia told me something tonight that her parents have kept secret ever since they joined the Pack when Sophia was a young child.”
“Something about Sophia’s transformation?” Drake had known subconsciously all along that the Pack medic was no ordinary mutia. No ordinary turned-Were. Sophia was different than other Weres, just like Drake.
“Sophia wasn’t bitten, wasn’t turned by a Were—rabid or otherwise. She was…created by an experimental virus that was being studied in a human laboratory.”
“Studied? Developed, you mean.” Bitterly, Drake thought of Gray and Katya, two of their female young who’d been held captive in a laboratory and studied, their bodies biopsied, their blood analyzed, their sex glands stimulated to force emissions. Cold rage spread through her chest. “Why? What were the experiments supposed to do?”
“The Revniks thought they were working on a cure for Were fever, but what was really going on was an attempt to create Weres or at least replicate Were traits. Obviously, they were only partially successful. Most of the subjects died, but Sophia didn’t.”
“Sophia was only a child. She shouldn’t have lived,” Drake pointed out.
“That’s what makes her unique. The Revniks think the experiments are still going on.”
“That might explain the infected humans you liberated from the lab. And the dead girls who appeared to die of Were fever,” Drake said, dread settling in her depths.
“Yes,” Sylvan said quietly.
“The experiments, the partially turned humans, the viral contagion—it would explain me,” Drake said.
“Possibly,” Sylvan said.
“The Revniks need to study me,” Drake said.