Illicit Passions

by Crystal Jordan

  “No, I’m going to fucking track these bastards down.” Dom’s jaw firmed. “If you really do go through with this media blitz, don’t expect me to throw myself in front of the bullets when other clans send assassins after your ass. And they will. Maybe the Wolf Council too. Did you stop and think about that, Dad? Did you? Did you think about what would happen to Mom and Paul? They can’t smell an assassin coming. Or did you honestly think everyone was going to go along with you peacefully, because you’re the Alpha?”

  “I did this to protect you!” Michael exploded, red-faced. “By deciding what information the humans—”

  “I’m sure Bastian feels your actions have really protected his mate,” Dominic drawled sarcastically.

  Michael paled, swaying on his feet.

  “That’s enough, Dominic,” Miranda whispered.

  He met her gaze. “I wish that were true, Mom.”

  Bastian set a hand on Dominic’s shoulder. “You have an hour and forty-five minutes. Seconds counts, Dom.”

  “I’ll find her,” he swore. He jerked his chin toward Michael and Hector. “If you’re not going to stop them, you better make sure they don’t fuck this up. You’re good at handling people.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed Bastian’s lips. “Thanks, I think.”

  The bottom line was, he was emotionally compromised. He was so desperate to find Tori, he was liable to make a mistake that tripped up the search. Other wolves would expect leadership from the Beta, and he couldn’t give that, not with any sort of rational objectivity. Which meant he shouldn’t be involved in the hunt. It was the hardest truth he’d ever had to face. It made him feel like less of a man, a pathetic excuse for a wolf, and a terrible mate.

  His baby brother tore out of the house like his tail was on fire, and Bastian said a silent prayer that Dom succeeded.

  Dragging in a shaky breath, Bastian turned to Tomas. “Set up the news conference. Make sure you get CNN.”

  “Consider it done.” The younger wolf pulled out his phone and followed Dom outside.

  “Tori said she could get herself free,” Miranda pointed out softly.

  Yeah, and Bastian had rejected that idea out of hand. Tori hadn’t even made it to the end of the videoconference still conscious. She wasn’t a predator species—she didn’t have the natural defenses wolves had. “There’s no time to wait and see if she’s right. I can’t take the risk that she might be wrong.”

  Paul had parked himself at the computer and was typing frantically. “I’ve traced the scientists’ credit cards to Atlanta and then Chattanooga, where they emptied their bank accounts and went to ground. They did have to use ID to rent cars.”

  Frowning, Bastian considered options. “They have to have taken her somewhere nearby, and unless they’re using kitchen knives, they have to have gotten their hands on medical supplies—scalpels, syringes, sedatives.”

  “I’ll see what I can find.” The human swiveled back to his keyboard.

  Tomas returned to the room. “Alpha, I need your opinion.”

  “What?” Michael looked up from his chair next to Hector.

  But Tomas wasn’t looking at his father. He was looking at Bastian, speaking as if Michael had already retired.

  Just like that the world took another turn into unreality.

  Chapter Ten

  “I thought you were giving them two hours! They have thirty minutes left. You haven’t even waited to see if they do what you want.”

  Hastings’s whine grated on Barbara’s nerves. They had the swan on the operating table, the video camera was running, ready to record the vivisection and Hastings stood there with a syringe full of anesthesia to put the blonde under. Instead of administering the dose, he wanted to argue about the procedure.

  “No, your problem is you haven’t thought anything through since we left Massachusetts. It doesn’t matter what I said to those animals. I don’t trust them anyway. Why would I? They’ve left us hanging before.” Observation and samples weren’t going to be enough. She needed more. She needed to get inside and see how this species ticked. X-rays showed the organs were of a similar size and location as those of a homo sapien, but there had to be other indications besides blood work that showed these weren’t normal humans. Barbara was going to find it before she ran out of time.

  “I never agreed to murdering anyone.” Hastings shook his head wildly, his fingers trembling so hard they made the needle wobble maniacally. He wouldn’t be able to give the swan the shot. He was useless, just as Barbara had suspected all along. Weak. Stupid. A liability.

  She jerked her chin toward the door. “Leave then. See how long it takes the cops to pick you up. You won’t even get to make history first.”

  “You’re insane,” Hastings breathed.

  “What did you just say?” The corner of her eye twitched. Those were the words her department chair had used before he’d fired her. Something in the back of her mind snapped, and she lunged for him. “What did you just say?”

  Tori woke to the sound of an argument. Her mind swam for a moment, her head pounding. Bright light shone down on her so she didn’t want to open her eyes and be blinded. Bastian’s face flashed through her mind, but she pushed the image away. She had to focus now or she’d never manage to see him again. Swallowing hard, she made herself listen. And heard what she didn’t want to. They were deciding whether or not to gut her like a fish right then and there. Great. She could feel the tight grip of restraints around her wrists. Wriggling them showed no give. She didn’t think she could muster the strength to break free. There was no way out.

  Not in her human form anyway.

  Her shift would have to be swift, so they didn’t have time to react. She took a few deep breaths, steeling her nerves. Her heart rate sped, her muscles tensing. The arguing grew louder, angrier. When she heard the crash of metal and the sound of struggling, she turned her head and opened her eyes. They fought over a needle, grappling to get the upper hand while Tori lay on a cold metal table.

  Now was the time, if she was going to make her escape.

  Freeing the animal within her, she let the shift take her. Feathers erupted from her skin, her body reshaping itself in the space between breaths. She wriggled free of her clothes. Wings spreading, she surged upward into flight. The low ceilings hampered her liftoff, but at least she could move.

  The scientists stopped fighting, shouting and scurrying to find some way to cage her.

  “Get her!” Dr. Powell waved her arms in the air as if she might reach Tori. “Hastings, get her!”

  “I’m trying, Barbara!” Hastings came at Tori with a broom, jumping and swatting while Tori careened into the top of a tall cabinet, knocking things off it and into the man’s path. She jump-flew to the operating table to do the same with all their sharp, pointy surgical tools.

  “Ha!” Barbara slashed with a scalpel, ripping open the skin beneath Tori’s left wing.

  Screeching, she flapped her wings and pecked at the woman. Barbara scrabbled back, colliding with her partner and they both fell on their asses. Launching upward, Tori wheeled around, trying to find an exit.

  There wasn’t one. Not that she could open without hands and human body weight.

  Fuck.

  She had to get one of them to open the door. Hissing loudly, she dived at the man on the floor, striking at him with her beak, clawing at him with her feet. He pedaled back, his shoes squeaking on the linoleum. His arms covered his face as he screamed.

  Whirling up again, Tori tried to avoid the slash of Barbara’s scalpel. Spittle flew from the woman’s mouth. “I’ll kill you, you fucking animal. I’m going to cut you open and pull out your insides for the whole world to see. You’re not human—you’ll never be human. You’re no better than a lab rat!”

  That was it. Until that very moment, Tori had been focused on escaping, but now her powerlessness and rage coalesced into something far more dangerous. They all thought she was helpless because she wasn’t a predator. Fuck. That. Sh
e’d been drugged, kidnapped, terrorized, and this woman was going to pay for her crimes. Right now.

  Circling, Tori waited for an opening and dove again, driving her beak into the woman’s eye. Blood and gore exploded from the ruined socket and the sound that issued from Barbara’s throat was one that would haunt Tori for the rest of her days.

  Pain exploded through her as Barbara swung blindly and jabbed her scalpel into Tori’s side. Bellowing, the scientist tried to wrap her hands around Tori’s long neck, but she used her claws to rip through the skin of arms and wrists. Flapping her wings at the woman’s face, Tori flopped backwards and scrambled away. The scalpel slipped free as Tori lifted off, but the wound was deep. This was not good. She was airborne, but in agony. Still, she wouldn’t die, and she had both her eyes. Unlike Barbara Powell.

  She’d call that a win. Mostly.

  Hastings screamed when Tori turned on him. Shielding his eyes, he ran. He shoved open a door and Tori was after him like a shot, diving hard to make it before the door swung closed.

  And…she…was…out!

  The door tried to rip out a few of her tail feathers, but she squeaked through. A shriek of rage came from behind her, and she heard Barbara slamming open the door again, but Tori was up, up, up and beyond the mad scientist’s reach. Free, but not yet safe. There wasn’t much in the way of towns or even homes below her—no lights, no chimney smoke. Even if she found someone, she didn’t know how friendly they’d be with a naked, bleeding woman showing up on their doorstep. Maybe friendlier than she wanted and then she’d be in real trouble.

  But she’d flown these mountains before, and she got her bearings after a few minutes. A flick of her wing and she turned toward shifter land. The birds were closer than the wolves, and Ajax would help her contact Bastian.

  She just hoped she made it there in time to stop him from making the biggest mistake of all time.

  Hurry—that was all she could think. She flapped her wings as fast as she could. Her muscles burned and lungs strained as she pushed for speed, but she was hampered by her wounds and weakened from the repeated druggings. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

  “We are here today to confirm that human-animal hybrids exist. We want to confirm the reports of Jeff Nichols.” Michael spoke at the press podium and nodded to the reporter who lurked off to the side of a crowd of news crews. “And to acknowledge the validity of Dr. Powell’s and Dr. Hastings’s DNA research.”

  A ripple of reaction went through the crowd, a few coughs of smothered laughter that made Michael flush. In anger? In embarrassment? Bastian wasn’t sure, but he knew his father had been Alpha long enough that he was not used to being mocked or disbelieved when he spoke. The older man shifted his weight and glowered until people settled again.

  “We’ll be demonstrating for you,” he continued in a tone barely above a growl. His gesture took in Hector, who stood next to him, and himself. Bastian, Paul and Tomas sat in the front row along with Miranda and Phaedra.

  Bastian’s gut churned with anxiety. They’d managed to pull off this news conference within the allotted time, but every moment of it had been agony. The seconds ticking by on the clock felt like years. Was Tori unharmed? Was the most vibrant, beautiful, amazing woman he’d ever known still breathing or had her connection to him gotten her killed? The very thought made him want to vomit.

  Moving so they stood on either side of the podium, Hector and Michael faced the dozen cameras aimed at them. Then they began to shift. Fangs punched through their gums and claws sprouted from their fingertips. Hair covered their skin, then their bodies began to twist, their clothing tore to shreds as they stooped and transformed into their animal forms.

  The crowd gasped, everyone surging to their feet and scrambling back. A few shouts rang out, and the female reporter sitting beside Bastian fell out of her chair, hand covering her mouth with horror. Shit. They hadn’t considered the reaction to having a full-grown wolf and leopard unleashed on a pack of humans. These were animals they feared, animals that could kill them. They should have had a non-predator species here, but they didn’t.

  Michael quickly shifted back to human form, while Hector remained a leopard.

  “Do you all believe me now?” Michael demanded. “Shape-shifters are real.”

  Bastian glanced around and saw trepidation flash across the faces of the reporters. His father’s massive physique and gruff demeanor said strength and power in the wolf clan, but these people saw those same qualities as something to fear.

  His father wasn’t handling this well. Another knock to the invincibility of the Alpha. Bastian should be too old to be so disillusioned by this, but that was the month he was having. He needed to save this, fast. Whether they knew it or not, every shifter in the world was counting on this introduction to human society going well.

  Grabbing the robe his mother held, Bastian hopped up on the stage and shoved it into his father’s hands. “Here, put this on, will you? Your junk is on national TV.”

  A few giggles and snorts of laughter followed that remark, and Bastian turned to the microphone. He smiled, the easiest, most charming grin in his repertoire. “Ladies and gentlemen, I know this is a surprise to all of you. If you read Mr. Nichols’s articles or heard about Dr. Powell’s and Dr. Hastings’s research, you probably laughed it off. But I’m telling you here and now that shifters have been among you for millennia. You know us already. We can be your neighbors, your coworkers, your politicians, your favorite actors—”

  A man in the back shouted, “Which politicians and movie stars are shifters?”

  Bastian tsked and wagged a playful finger. “Nice try. I’ll let them out themselves when they’re ready.”

  The reporter shrugged. “I had to try. That’d be some juicy news.”

  And this wasn’t? Bastian kept that thought to himself and continued his campaign to make these people like him. “What I’m trying to say is that we are regular people. You can’t tell who we are just by looking. Most of us go to work every day and try to make a living, just like you. We try to do the best we can to keep our families safe and happy. The reason we’ve been reluctant to come forward before now is our fear of you.”

  “Us?” asked the female reporter in the front row.

  “Yes, you.” Bastian nodded. “There are all kinds of myths and hysteria about werewolves that could make people think shifters are dangerous or a threat to people, when nothing could be further from the truth.”

  The woman tipped her head to the side. “So, a werewolf doesn’t bite people during full moon and make them werewolves too?”

  He gave her a wolfish grin. “Is that an offer? Because I only bite in bed.”

  She blushed and tittered. “Are you single?”

  Celebrity sex symbols were better than lab rats, so he smiled slowly. “No, but my brothers are. Stand up, guys.”

  He shot them a look. Who cared if Paul was human or not? These people didn’t know that. He was good-looking and ladies flocked to him. That was all that was required at the moment. Both brothers rose, faced the cameras and reporters, and each of them smiled easily at the women in the crowd, who sighed audibly.

  “But seriously,” Bastian continued, “being a shifter is genetic, like hair and eye color. We don’t drink blood or bite to change humans into werekind. We’re just people.”

  “People who turn into animals,” someone muttered.

  “Yes, we do change into animals.” He shrugged and set his hands on the podium, leaning forward earnestly. “But it’s an ability we’re born with. We can’t help it any more than we can help being born brunette or blond. It’s important that the world realize that. We don’t do anything wrong to become this way. There’s no devil worshipping or witchcraft or hocus pocus involved. This is a genetic condition we inherit from our parents.” He let out a breath, sensing the emotions in the room had shifted more to curiosity than hostility, especially among the females. “I’m sure you all have a lot of questions, so—”

  About twe
nty hands went up at once, a few people yelling out questions without being called on.

  “One at a time, please.” Bastian lifted a palm and the room quieted. He pointed to Nichols. “Jeff, I think you deserve first shot at a question, considering you’ve been on this story for a while now. Annoying the crap out of us too.”

  Several reporters chuckled at that, and Nichols wore a grin as he stepped forward to speak.

  The cell phone in Bastian’s pocket buzzed, but he ignored it. If the police or the wolf trackers had news on Tori, they’d been instructed to call Paul, not Bastian. Paul had a phone that could get reception absolutely anywhere, so communication on this mission was his job. Bastian needed to focus on handling the humans, and he’d guess that any shifter who’d tuned in for this broadcast—especially the Wolf Council or any other clan leader—would be calling him to threaten his life.

  Suddenly Paul was out of his chair and striding out of sight. Bastian felt his heart stop, but then Nichols asked his question and Bastian answered by rote, trying to remember to be charming, funny and sincere. He had no idea if he managed. For the rest of his life, he’d never remember the next few minutes, though he’d see them often enough on television.

  Paul stepped back into the room and mouthed, “She’s safe.”

  Relief so intense it staggered him whipped through Bastian. He had to lean against the podium for support. Thank God. Thank you, God. She was alive. She was safe. Nothing else in his world mattered as much as that.

  Paul’s lips kept moving, and the words were distinct: “Ajax is going to murder you.”

  She’d have to get in line behind the Wolf Council. Bastian had had no illusions going into this press conference. He’d known what was coming for him, what was on the line.

  He’d traded his life for Tori’s.

  Chapter Eleven

  Three weeks later, Bastian miraculously remained alive. He still wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but he wasn’t going to complain.