by L. L. Raand
Sylvan growled. “I know you want to do whatever you can to help those girls, but—”
“I’m not thinking just about the girls.” Drake pressed her palm to Sylvan’s heart. “If I am Were because of a manufactured virus, we can’t know that the mutation is stable. I’m pregnant, Sylvan. We have to know what this will do to our young.”
Sylvan shook her head. “I already know. I can sense them, so can Sophia. They’re healthy. Trust me.”
Drake nodded. She trusted Sylvan with her heart and her future, and whatever fate their young faced, she would protect them with her life.
Chapter Three
Lara emerged from Jody’s lair and headed toward the river, skirting the edges of Washington Park, crowded with late-day dog-walkers and parents pushing strollers. Keeping to side streets and alleyways, she slid into the shadows whenever a passerby gave her more than a cursory glance. Humans saw what they expected to see—a four-legged, furred creature with a tail and a canine face was a dog, despite her wolf’s larger-than-average size. She was faster than a dog, more agile, and, unlike dogs, able to assess and strategize as well on four legs as she could on two. Her wolf wanted to run, to hunt, and knew where she needed to go. Within minutes she’d reached the banks of the Hudson and turned north. The land bordering the river as it wended into the Adirondack Mountains was largely undeveloped, edged by woods, prime farmland, and the occasional waterfront summer cottage. Farmhouses sat well back from the river, above the floodplains where the river dumped its rich silt when it overran its bank after a heavy rain or spring snow melt. Trails—deer, fox, wolf, and cat—threaded through the woods and pastures, invisible to most humans but as familiar to Lara as the highways she traveled by car. She ran as she never could in skin—her limbs stretching to the rhythm of the earth rippling under her paws, her mouth open, tasting the air, the trees, the undergrowth—absorbing the world through her pores, clear and clean with no artificial barriers to isolate her. Her wolf, unleashed after weeks of pain and imprisonment, ran with an unfettered joy and fierce desire for freedom.
Every instinct drove her north, toward Pack land, toward home. Home, but no longer sanctuary. The Compound, the Alpha’s walled haven in the heart of Pack land, was closed to her. She had petitioned for her freedom, asked to be released from her oath to the Alpha in order to serve another, and the Alpha had granted her request. She was no longer the Alpha’s centuri—she was Gates’s warlord. Although she hunted in pelt, she was more than wolf, more than Were now, and she skirted the borders of Pack land, hundreds of acres of dense virgin forest patrolled only by a network of Were sentries. A doe crossed her path, hesitated at the scent of the predator close by, and, with a wild roll of her eyes and flick of her snowy tail, bunched her muscles and bounded deeper into the forest.
Lara’s wolf took notice but didn’t give chase. She wasn’t hungry. Her blood didn’t rise to the call to hunt. Confused, but unprotesting, her wolf let the deer go and pushed on. Acid burned in her muscles, breath scoured her lungs. Her tongue lolled, her chest heaved. And still she ran, desperate for freedom, wild to purge the pain that lacerated her heart. Weak sunlight flickered through the trees, thinning filaments of gold that laced her pelt as she passed in and out of shadow. Fingers of heat trickled through her fur, but she did not burn. Just as the fire she’d driven through to rescue the Alpha and the Liege had failed to touch her, the sunlight had no effect on her. Lethal to Vampires, the UV radiation seemed powerless to damage her. Not Were, not Vampire. She didn’t fear true death, but death refused to claim her.
She stopped once by a stream coursing down a ravine to drink cool, clear mountain water from a shimmering pool. An owl hooted from deeper in the forest, rabbits and squirrels rustled in the underbrush, and once she scented a whisper of wolf—one of the sentries on patrol, guarding the Alpha’s land. The dark, spicy aroma of Pack teased her senses, stirred an answering surge in her cells.
Ignoring the call, she struck off again, staying downwind of the sentrie’s location. She wasn’t sure of her welcome—a dominant wolf on Pack land, an ally, perhaps, but no longer of the Pack. Her presence might be seen as a challenge to the Alpha, and if challenged, the Alpha would show no quarter. That was the law of the Pack. She had not come to give challenge, and soon she would have duties elsewhere. Jody would rise at sunfall and feed, first from her consort Becca and, if the injuries she’d sustained in the raid on the human labs were not totally healed, from Zahn or another of her human servants. The warlord needed to be there when Jody was ready to convene her forces. Lara was not a guard—Rafaela was in charge of Jody’s Vampire guards, and Zahn oversaw Clan security. But all Jody’s soldiers, human and Vampire alike, were Lara’s to command. She would not have left the lair, even for her wolf’s fierce need, if she thought Jody might be in danger.
In the last few minutes of daylight, she climbed an escarpment, scrabbling over loose rocks, pushing through underbrush, struggling to reach the pinnacle, needing to see the forest stretching endlessly before her, longing for a glimpse of the majesty that had always been her home. Crouched on a boulder on the very edge of a cliff, she watched the sun set and the moon rise, twin hearts destined to share the universe, always separated as they passed on the edges of the day.
The first glimmer of moonlight silvered through the gray twilight, and Lara’s blood stirred at last. She raised her head and howled, pierced by the primal beauty. Her cries tumbled into the river valley below, echoed to her, mournful and solitary, from the mountain peaks surrounding her. When silence was all that remained, she padded down the steep slope the way she had come. If she ran all the way back, she would reach Jody’s town house only a little after full nightrise.
As she skirted the underbrush toward the water, a sound sliced the still air. Hackles rising, she stilled, her ears pricked, her nose testing the air. She’d heard the cry of a cat. The Catamount cat Weres’ territory was a few miles to the east, and occasionally their raiding parties forayed into Pack land. In pelt, the cats resembled huge mountain lions—tawny-gold coats, four-inch canines, thick muscular haunches, and powerful shoulders. More feral than wolves, the cats were sworn enemies of the wolf Weres. The cats had never been well organized and, as a result of their infighting and lack of a united military presence, had never been considered much of a threat to Pack security—which explained why Sylvan had not wiped them out. But the Alpha’s leniency only extended so far. Cat hunting parties were known to attack wolf young and solitary soldiers, and the standing order to all wolves was to attack on sight, and attack to kill.
Lara hunkered down and slunk through the underbrush in the direction from which she’d heard the sound. The wind had shifted, and she scented nothing she couldn’t recognize—no foreign markings that didn’t belong. She swung her head from side to side but heard nothing unusual. Sound carried in the mountains yet was just as easily distorted and redirected. She might be chasing a ghost, but she needed to be sure. She might not be centuri, might not even be wolf, but her duty remained. She would not turn away from an enemy.
The riverbank narrowed into a rocky stretch bordered by a steep cliff crisscrossed with narrow ledges, outcroppings of scraggly underbrush, and jumbled piles of boulders. Narrow crevices seamed the rock face, providing perfect cover for attack from above. Lara slowed and scanned the lengthening shadows. She perked her ears, heard nothing. Raised her muzzle, sniffed the damp air. Nothing. Across the water another owl hooted. She flicked her ears. Perhaps that’s what she’d heard. She padded forward slowly, searching. A small shower of stones trickled down the slope. One bounced off her shoulder. She froze.
Something moving above? She could see nothing. Scent nothing. But instinct told her she was not alone. She crouched, eased forward. One step. Another. A screech of fury sliced the air, sharp as a blade. Lara froze an instant. An instant that cost her as a crushing weight landed on her back and slammed her to the ground.
Rocks scraped her muzzle, gouged her chest.
Jaw
s clamped onto her neck, teeth tore through the muscles of her shoulder. Claws raked her flanks. Pain exploded in a dozen places at once.
Lara growled, claws slashing and canines snapping. Unable to reach the vulnerable belly or throat, she rolled to dislodge her attacker. The beast rode her back, limbs wrapped around her shoulders and hindquarters, shaking and twisting her neck in powerful jaws. Fire roared through Lara’s chest, rained down her back, and she snarled and thrashed. Her wolf was a seasoned fighter, and now, she was more than wolf. Stronger, faster. Spinning with Vampire speed, she caught a leg in her mouth and locked her jaws, twisting and tearing. Warm, rich, potent blood filled her mouth. Her clitoris tensed, her sex filled. Her teeth met bone.
Another scream tore through the night and the pressure on her neck relented. Her hind legs made purchase on the stony bank, and she levered her body into a sharp curve, snapping the bone between her jaws. Claws tore through her side, slashed through muscle, and she released the leg, snarling wildly. She arched her back and the weight disappeared. Spinning quickly, she faced her attacker. A huge mountain lion, ears pinned back, green eyes nearly black with rage, screamed a challenge. She was a beautiful beast, sleek and muscled, her jaws wide, lethal canines gleaming, covered in blood. Lara’s blood. Lara was smaller but quicker, and she leapt, hungry for blood, primed for the kill. She buried her teeth in the cat’s throat, pressing her body close to the cat’s underside. If she exposed her belly to the churning limbs and deadly claws, the cat would tear her innards from her and rip out her throat while she strangled on her own blood. A cat this big might even be able to kill her, but not today. Today the kill was hers.
Lara squeezed the cat’s windpipe closed and dug her claws into the cat’s sides, tethering herself, refusing to be dislodged even as the cat screamed and rolled, thrashing, slashing, a whirlwind of furious power. But even the strongest enemy could not fight forever without air. Lara’s belly burned, her shoulder gushed blood, but she held on. The cat grew weaker, fell, and didn’t rise. Howling triumphantly, Lara straddled the prone form, shaking the cat’s giant head in her jaws. Her sex pulsed, verging on release. Her belly quivered, tight with need. She sensed the cat’s heartbeat slowing, tasted the life leeching from the blood that poured down her throat. Another few seconds, and she would have her kill. Another few seconds and she—
A foreign sound cut through the fury of her bloodlust. A weak cry, thin and forlorn. Lara stilled, listened. The cry came again, was joined by another. Lara released her hold on the cat’s throat, raised her head, peered into the darkness. Another shape materialized, coming fast, silently—another wolf. Lara sprang off the cat and crouched beside the bloodied, motionless body, facing the intruder. She growled a warning. Her kill. Hers.
The wolf, a slender gray-and-white female, hesitated, ears back, tail straight, hackles raised. Snarled a challenge. A sentrie, a young one, and one Lara knew. Lara glanced at the cat. Barely breathing, barely alive. She sniffed the air again, caught another scent beneath the blood and pheromones clouding her mind. Young. The cat had young.
Wait, Lara signaled to the sentrie. Guard her. If she moves, kill her.
The younger wolf crouched, growled softly, eased forward an inch at a time. Preparing to spring. Refusing an order. Lara snarled. She should kill this wolf, but…something was wrong. She shifted, stood upright. “Misha, stand down.”
The sentrie quivered, whined, and shook. An instant later Misha crouched on the rocks, head lowered. “I’m sorry, Centuri, I didn’t…I don’t know why…I didn’t recognize you.”
“Never mind that now,” Lara said. “Guard this…”
“Lara!” Misha warned, dark eyes wide.
Lara spun around. The cat Were had shifted as Weres often did when dying. Her hair was the same wild tawny color as her pelt had been, lying in tangled curls around her shoulders. Blood still trickled from the slashes in her throat and long sloping belly. Teeth marks scored her full breasts. Bone protruded from her right forearm. She had fought ferociously, even when dying, and she was still beautiful in death.
Lara stared. She had vanquished an enemy and all she felt was crushing emptiness. Inside, her wolf howled with pain and fury. Lara knelt beside the fallen female. Who are you?
Eyes the color of spring leaves, shimmering with pain, met hers. Blood trickled from the corner of her wide, generous mouth. “Please.”
Lara leaned closer, not sure she hadn’t imagined the sound, barely a breath. Who are you?
“Kill me, not them. Please not them.”
“No,” Lara whispered, the words an oath. “Not them.”
Chapter Four
Raina stared up into the face of her enemy, struggling with her last ounce of strength to stay alive. Weak. So weak. And everywhere, the pain. So little left after she’d fought so hard, for so long. Never once had she begged, never once had she bargained. Her pride, her honor, her fury wouldn’t let her bend. And she’d almost won. Almost. Until this enemy had come out of the mist broadcasting such deadly power she’d had to stand and fight. She’d fought to the last and lost, and now her pride meant nothing. Just as her life meant nothing. She had nothing left to give except her life, and even that was not enough. Raina waited for the final blow, the last searing agony.
Her enemy’s eyes were twin fires, crimson flames dancing in an amber blaze, endless depths that caught and held. She’d die a captive in those eyes. Raina’s vision dimmed and she forced herself to move. Instantly, rivers of pain flooded her consciousness from every direction, driving off the creeping fog of death. Beyond her own silent screams she heard nothing, a silence so absolute she almost smiled. The cubs had learned, almost too late. They would be hiding now, as she had taught them. Wary, vigilant, motionless. Waiting for her to return. The pain in her heart was worse than anything her body endured.
“Find the young,” the centuri ordered, never moving her gaze from Raina.
“No.” Raina gasped, the slightest movement unbearable. But she forced her head back, gave her throat even as she felt the blood from her wounds pouring down her chest. “My life…in exchange for theirs.”
“I already have your life,” her enemy growled. Her gaze never faltered. Hard, merciless eyes. Hard, cold, deadly beauty.
Raina shuddered. She had nothing left to offer, but for them she would sacrifice her honor. “I know things. Tell your Alpha—”
“Who are you?”
The words echoed in her mind as if she had heard them before. But they were only the echoes of the question she’d asked herself as she’d hidden alone in the mountains, hungry, hunted, homeless. “I am Raina. Alpha to the cat Weres.”
Her enemy, with the burning eyes and chestnut hair, grabbed her by the throat. “I should kill you now.”
Raina groaned, tears of anguish leaking from her eyes. She couldn’t use her right arm. The slightest motion pushed her to the brink of unconsciousness. Weakly, she used her left to grip her enemy’s arm. No honor, no pride. “Sanctuary. I seek sanctuary.”
The centuri swung her head around and spat out an order. “Call Callan and Niki. Tell them we have a prisoner.” The stony face, utterly cold, achingly beautiful in its remote austerity, turned back to her. “If you die, Cat, I will feed your cubs to our pups.”
Raina snarled. “One day, Wolf, I will claw your heart from your chest.”
The cool beauty smiled and she tightened her hold. “You’re welcome to try, but I am hard to kill.”
Raina gasped, fighting for air. Her chest constricted, her vision clouded. If she died, this wolf would kill her cubs. She tried to sit up, failed. So weak. And the blood still gushed from her wounds.
“Centuri,” a young female said, “they’re coming. Elena too.”
“Good.”
“I’ll get the cubs.”
“No!” Raina thrashed. “No.”
“Lie still,” her captor snapped. “You need to stop the bleeding. Can you shift?”
“Too weak,” Raina lied. She could shift
, but the energy to transform would sap her last reserve and she’d probably lapse into unconsciousness until she healed. She could not trust these wolves with her cubs.
“What kind of Alpha are you?” the wolf said derisively.
Raina’s eyes blazed. “Alpha enough to—”
“Don’t struggle. You’re no match for me at full strength.” The haunting eyes narrowed. “If you bleed to death, your young will die.”
“When they are safe—”
“You don’t have that long. Don’t fight me.”
Raina tensed as the wolf leaned over her, strands of chestnut hair falling across her breast, ghosting over her cheek. Something deep inside her stirred, came to life in a way she’d never known. “No.”
Be still. The words, a sensuous command, reverberated inside her head. And then she was running through golden meadows under a summer sun, her cubs at her heels. They were young and strong, frolicking, tumbling, filled with life and wild spirit. Wind ruffled her fur, and she breathed sunshine and sweet clover. Warm lips slid over her neck, a luxurious mouth caressed her skin. Raina shivered. Heat flooded her body, curled in her depths. Her loins filled, pulsed with life and power.
She roared and she was running again, free and strong. Her limbs stretched, her muscles soared, and the calls of her young, vibrant and beautiful, filled her senses. Her nipples tensed. Her belly tightened. Tendrils of pleasure skated over her skin, teasing and tormenting, promising unbearable excitement. A second of piercing pain in her neck made her tense, and the fire returned, burning her to cinders. Raina cried out as the orgasm consumed her.
Lara licked the rents she’d made in Raina’s neck, sealing the wounds with the feeding hormones that filled her mouth. Raina arched beneath her, warm and alive—so beautiful, so tempting. Lara’s breasts brushed Raina’s and her nipples tightened. The cat’s orgasm flooded through her, and Lara drank her pleasure, struggling not to drink her blood. Raina had none to give—she teetered on the brink of death, and Lara did not want to let her go. The cat was the enemy, but she had fought valiantly, and she was still fighting. Fighting to live, to protect her young. Her eyes, glazed with pain, had been filled with strength and endless loneliness. Lara recognized the soul-deep sadness. Growling, she forced the image of Raina’s wounded eyes from her mind. The cat Were might be useful to the Alpha—the only reason she needed to keep her alive.