“Stand,” Dexter said.
Meg rose on shaking legs. Her eyes were clenched shut and her hands clasped in front of her as she was begging for her life.
“Please don’t kill me,” she said. “I’ve never hurt anyone. I swear it.”
“She’s a dweller,” Brock sent.
“Why were the trolls attacking her then?”
Different types of dwellers seldom interacted with each other at all. The trolls had given this woman a beating. There were bruises marring her face. Blood trickled from her nose and her lip was split.
Except, as Brock observed through Dexter’s eyes, the cut sealed itself. Her bruises faded and her skin absorbed the blood.
“Open your eyes,” Dexter said. His voice wasn’t as dispassionate as usual. He was agitated. That wasn’t good.
“She said she won’t hurt us,” Brock sent. “The trolls might have been attacking her because she doesn’t prey on humans. We’ve seen it happen before.”
Meg let out a whimper. “I won’t hurt you. Please…”
“Open them.”
“Dexter, give her a—”
Brock’s thought cut off as she opened her eyes. Light spilled out of them. They were gleaming bright gold.
Dexter raised his left sword—the one infused with silver—his arm aligned to slash her throat.
“Stop!” Brock pushed the command through their link, holding Dexter in place.
“She’s a werewolf,” Dexter thought. “There must be others. We need to kill her quickly and find them before they find us.”
“I’m the omega.” Meg practically screeched the words. Her hands were shaking. “I’ve never killed anyone. I’ve never even transformed. I thought the Blades only killed monsters who are a threat to humans.”
“Monsters?” Brock thought.
“You’re a werewolf,” Dexter said. “All werewolves are threats.”
Damn, Brock should have made Dexter keep his mouth shut, too.
“What about Marcus?” she said. “He’s a werewolf and a Blade. He protects people.”
Dexter’s voice remained cold. “We’re not recruiting.”
Meg shook her head, her brow furrowed. “I don’t want to be a Blade. I’m not a fighter.”
“Then what do you want?” Dexter said.
“I want to be with Marcus.”
That ship had sailed. Marcus was mated to Tessa, Brock’s foster-sister. Their bond was the only thing keeping Tessa sane after Marcus had been forced to turn her to save her life.
“And Tessa,” Meg said.
Brock’s control slipped. Dexter dropped the sword in his right hand and grabbed Meg by her neck, lifting her from her feet as if she weighed nothing. She grabbed his wrist with both hands, her legs kicking wildly as she sought the ground. The collar seemed to be protecting her throat from being crushed, but it dug into her skin. Fresh blood trickled over Dexter’s fingers.
“How do you know about Tessa?” Dexter said.
Brock was wondering the same. It was what had made him slip and lose control.
Most dwellers were aware of Marcus by now, but Tessa had only been with the Blades for a few weeks. She hadn’t recovered enough control since becoming infected with the werewolf parasite to go on patrol yet. No one should know about her but the Blades stationed in Providence and Brock’s other replicants. How did Meg know?
“Put her down,” Brock sent. “We can find out another way.”
Dexter ignored him.
“Please,” Meg gasped. “They’re my…pack.”
“We destroyed that pack sixteen years ago,” Dexter said.
“Not all of us.” She sucked in a breath, eyes widening as she spoke so fast her words blurred together. “I mean, I survived. And Marcus. I wasn’t there when it happened.”
“Dexter, you’re scaring her,” Brock thought.
“Good.”
The collar around Meg’s neck started to hum and snap. Dexter’s hand tingled as an electric current coursed through him. Meg seemed to be getting the worst of it, though. She yelped, pinching her eyes shut as her body spasmed from the charge.
“What the hell?” Brock thought.
The current stopped, leaving a faint smell of scorched flesh in the air. Meg twitched, tears running down her cheeks.
“Interesting accessory,” Dexter said.
“It helps me…control myself.” Meg had to work to get enough air to speak. Between being electrocuted and Dexter’s grip, it was a wonder she could speak at all.
“Shocks me,” she gasped. “Please. I can’t change.”
Brock tried to push a command through, to get Dexter to put Meg down, but Dexter was fighting back, drawing on Porter’s mind as they combined their willpower in an effort to fend Brock off.
He didn’t give a shit that they were trying to protect him. They were using their link against him—the same link that had trapped Brock in a hospital bed for years.
He snapped.
“Have it your way,” Brock thought.
He blasted his way into Dexter’s body, knocking out the part of DP’s consciousness that had been occupying it. The Porter replicant was going to have a headache for a while.
Brock took a deep breath, filling Dexter’s lungs, reveling in the strength of his body. Steady legs, straight back, strong arms. Arms that were being used to hurt someone he suspected was an innocent.
He quickly lowered Meg to her feet. He kept his grip on her neck, but relaxed it, focusing all of his senses on her to detect any signs that she was about to attack. He also kept the silvered sword handy.
Her skin was warm and softer than he’d expected.
“Brock, what are you doing?” DP shouted in Brock’s head, as frantic as Brock had ever heard him. “She’s dangerous. You can’t let yourself be unprotected. Let me back in.”
As bizarre as it was that the replicants referred to themselves as “we” when their consciousness was occupying both of their bodies, it was even stranger to hear them use “me” and “I” when they were stuck in one form. None of them understood why their speech patterns changed.
“Calm down,” Brock sent.
“I don’t know what will happen to you if that body is killed while you’re in it. The strain could—”
“Kill me a couple of days early?”
DP didn’t have a response for that.
In three days, Brock would turn thirty. He would complete another three-year cycle. He would split again. And this time, it would kill him. Probably all of them.
“Progenitor…”
“I know you’re scared,” Brock sent. “I am, too. But I can handle this, and—” He sighed. “Can you blame me for wanting to experience more with what time I have left? To be able to feel fresh air and walk around without help?”
He felt DP recede, but it wasn’t enough. Brock put up the mental barrier he’d developed over the years—his only way of getting any privacy with four other consciousnesses tied to his own.
Most of the time, he blocked them without even thinking about it. Doing so while borrowing one of their bodies was a bit trickier.
He took another deep breath and let it out slowly, enjoying the moment of quiet and being alone.
Except for the werewolf he had by the throat.
He watched her neck work as she swallowed, lips parted and eyes wide. When he smiled, she flinched.
Whatever DP thought, Brock didn’t sense anything threatening about her. All he felt was the softness of her skin, a slight trembling in her frame.
His fingers—Dexter’s fingers—still tingled from the collar shocking her while she’d been freaking out earlier. She’d said it helped her control herself. Knowing that she’d rather be electrocuted than hurt people, Brock couldn’t bring himself to fear her at all.
“Sorry about that.” He released her, and slowly sheathed his sword in one of the scabbards strapped to his back. He hoped he didn’t nick Dexter’s favorite jacket trying to hit the opening sewn into the bla
ck leather.
DP would be having fits if he could perceive Brock. He knew he should step away from Meg to give himself more time to react in case she attacked, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. If she decided to gut him, she wouldn’t even have to stretch her arm.
“I understand,” Meg said. “You’re a Blade. I’m a werewolf. Of course you took action to defend yourself, but I promise you—I swear to you—I won’t try to hurt you.”
The words poured out of her in a flood. She was trying so hard to put him at ease.
Brock reached out to gently grasp her arms, wanting to reassure her as well. The motion had been instinctual—as was her reaction. And it made his blood boil.
Her eyes screwed shut, her jaw clenched, and she turned her head, her entire body stiffening as she waited for the first blow. In that moment, he was certain of one thing. The beating from the trolls wasn’t the first she’d endured.
“Meg…”
She trembled, but didn’t open her eyes.
It was too much. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.
—
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Thank you for reading Pack!
Cassandra Chandler
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling author Cassandra Chandler uses her vivid imagination to make the world more interesting, spawning the ideas she turns into her whimsical Science Fiction romcoms and darkly evocative Paranormal and Urban Fantasy Romances. Fast-paced and funny, lighthearted or dark, her stories will introduce you to characters you want to be friends with and worlds where you’d like to build a vacation home.
Look for More Titles by Cassandra Chandler
The Blades of Janus
PACK
PROGENITOR
The Department of Homeworld Security
Gray Card
Resident Alien
Business or Pleasure
Tied up in Customs
Entry Visa
Duration of Stay
Duel Citizenship
Invasive Species
Export Duty
COALITION RECKONING
Import Quarantine
Homeworld for the Holidays
Nothing to Declare
THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMEWORLD SECURITY OMNIBUS 1
THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMEWORLD SECURITY OMNIBUS 2
The Forbidden Knights
FORBIDDEN INSTINCT
The Summer Park Psychics
WANDERING SOUL
WHISPERING HEARTS
LINGERING TOUCH
THE SUMMER PARK PSYCHICS OMNIBUS
Other Works
CRAFTING A WRITER’S LIFE: Building a Foundation
Coming Soon
The Blades of Janus
PERIHELION
Pack Page 29