Triple the dosage it is, at least for this week, he mused.
He forced himself to focus, as difficult as it was. He needed to find the cure, then be rid of this girl once and for all.
Otherwise, she would almost certainly be the death of him ... in one way or another.
11
When Ro returned from her grocery run with Coop, she found her father resting, but Dean wasn’t anywhere in sight. Anger flashed through her. “Did he bail and leave him here?”
“Relax, he’s probably working on the cage or in the lab. He wouldn’t leave.” He nodded to the doorway. “Head down to the first floor, then take the second door on the left to the basement. I’ll put the groceries away.”
Anger still simmering within her, Ro found the aforementioned door and opened it to find a darkened stairwell. The light shining up from the bottom emboldening her, she followed the stairs down to where the landing opened up to a basement larger and stranger than any she’d seen before.
Fluorescent lights lit the space over a concrete floor, but that’s where her recognition ended. Long counters lined the walls. Tables dominated the center of the room, topped with various machines Ro could only imagine served some scientific purpose.
Tubes, bottles, and beakers of varying sizes, filled with assorted chemicals, littered one of the counters. A table in the middle of the room housed a portable centrifuge and a propane fed Bunsen burner array. An ice bucket held test tubes of what looked like blood, and next to it was a tray with a couple of glass vials containing miniscule amounts of a pale blue liquid. She wasn’t sure what it was, but something drew her to the blue vials. She picked one up and held it to the light, admiring the color.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dean stepped from behind what looked like a large freezer, condensation from the cold air billowing around him. He slammed the door shut, stormed up to her, and grabbed the vial out of her hand.
“I was just...”
“Unless you have a lot of money to pay for these, don’t touch them.”
Offended, she stepped away and said with a frown, “I wasn’t going to break it.”
“Let’s get something straight. You might be some scary-ass hunter, but this is my lab. Down here, I’m the boss. So don’t just walk in and touch things you don’t know anything about. You could have contaminated everything and set me back weeks.” He put the vial back onto the counter and surveyed the rest of the bottles while she glared at him resentfully, annoyed at his attitude.
Even though he continued to scowl at her, he looked slightly ridiculous in plastic safety goggles and purple disposable gloves. That greatly offset her sudden urge to pop him one in the mouth. She took a deep breath. This wasn’t getting them anywhere, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be any way for them to spend a week together.
She decided to start again. “Maybe if I understood more of what you’re doing, I’d know what not to touch.” He continued to glare at her, so she blew out a sigh. “Listen, I’m putting a lot of trust in the assumption that you actually know what the fuck you’re doing, so rather than giving me attitude about being curious, why not just tell me a little about your research?” She gestured to the ice bucket containing the test tubes. “Is that my blood over there?”
“Some of it is yours, some is mine.”
“And...?”
“And I’ve got several different tests ongoing. First off, I’m trying to see what makes you different from, say, Coop and me, of course. Contrary to what they show on TV, I can’t just whip up a cure because someone snaps their fingers.”
“I didn’t snap my...” She gritted her teeth, refusing to be baited. “Okay, fair enough. Any progress on helping Dad get better?”
He pulled off his goggles and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m also running a few tests between your blood and your father’s.”
“I thought we were talking about a simple transfusion. You don’t think that will help him anymore?”
He stared at her for a beat. “Honestly? I’m not sure, but I don’t want to do anything without having more data first. I just want to run some tests to make sure transfusing him with some of your plasma is safe.”
“But we have the same blood type and I’m his daughter. I’m also a hunter. I don’t think you’ll find anyone else more compatible.”
He nodded. “I get that. We also have to take into account that he’s infected with wolf venom, saliva, whatever you want to call it. The resulting immune response may ... adversely affect him in his weakened state.”
“But he’s getting worse by the day. Waiting obviously isn’t making him better.”
“I know, but I want to go about this cautiously, not hot-headed and irrationally.”
She wanted to punch the smug look off his face. “Then I suggest you cautiously work at a much faster pace. You promised me you would help him if I came here. I swear, if you’re stalling for some reason...”
“I’m not stalling! You have no idea how science works, do you? These types of breakthroughs don’t happen overnight, and no amount of threat or bravado can speed that up, so kindly go do something that hunters do. Shoot a tree or skin some animal, but back the fuck off and let me do my work.”
His last sentence came out in a near growl and, for a moment, she could have sworn she saw a flash of red behind his eyes, as if the wolf had pushed its way to the forefront. Her own instincts kicked in for a moment and she balled her fists before catching herself and backing down. She reminded herself that she still needed his help. She didn’t have the scientific expertise he boasted of. As much as she hated to admit it, he was probably the only person who could help her father.
Frustrated, she turned on her heel, but then spotted the door at the far wall. Curiosity overrode her anger, so instead of leaving as she’d intended, she found herself drawn to that end of the room. She ignored Dean’s calls to wait and purposefully strode to where a heavy security door sat ajar.
Ro reached for the light switch just outside the door, but Dean caught her by the wrist. “Don’t,” he said, but she snatched her arm away. She snapped the light on and pushed the door open, a sudden chill overtaking her upon viewing the room beyond for the first time.
Steel reinforced bars encased the four sides and ceiling of the cage. Each wall was bolted securely to the floor with one side firmly anchored to the concrete of the basement wall. Two sets of heavy manacles hung from the far side. From a fifth chain hung what could only be described as an oversized dog collar. She walked in further and began to examine it all, mesmerized by what he and Coop had set up as a way to keep Dean contained.
“The manacles are silver plated so they should help slow me down a little,” Dean said from behind her, his voice softer and more controlled than before.
She never thought she’d be able to feel sorry for a wolf, but looking back at him, she felt a smidgeon of sympathy forming in her gut. She’d never considered a werewolf, a whelp, as anything but a blood-thirsty animal, even in their human forms, but this man seemed determined to prove otherwise.
Her eyes met his, blue as the sky on a clear day. She tried to remember his feral gaze from that night in the alley, the coarse fur and bared teeth, but in the artificially bright light, she was having difficulty recalling the moment.
“Do you think it’ll hold?” she asked.
“It has to,” was his tired reply.
She turned away to examine the lock on the cage, the bolts on the floor, the manacles and the chains connecting them to the walls. “Looks pretty solid. Do you have any other safeguards in place?”
“The security door is the same type they use in government facilities – three inches thick and with an electric lock. There’s cameras on all four walls and no windows. And if I somehow get past all of that, there’s Coop. He has an air rifle equipped with enough tranquilizer to stop a charging water buffalo. If that’s not enough, well, I’m open to suggestion.”
She stared in
to his eyes again. She’d never heard of any wolf going through the lengths he had to protect others from his actions. Much as she hated to admit it, she realized she admired him for it. Before she could betray her thoughts, though, she said, “I only have one, but I’d really hate to have to put a bullet in you before you help my dad. Speaking of which, you’d better get back to work.”
She pushed past him and escaped the confines of the cage before he could say anything more.
12
She ran through the alley, the wolf close behind. The sound of its paws upon the pavement seemed a breath away, the claws ready to catch upon her shirt and tear the fabric and skin beneath.
She was out of bullets, had wasted the last when her shot had gone wide and missed entirely. She’d been careless, too quick to pull the trigger instead of calmly taking aim as her father had taught her. Risking a desperate gambit, she turned and pulled her knife from its sheath, prepared to throw it, but was too slow. The beast lunged and was atop her, its heavy weight pressing down and stealing her breath.
She struggled to free herself but it was too strong. Her forearms were pinned beneath its powerful hands. She realized she should be afraid, but wasn’t. She wanted to end this, to be free of this life. She was so very tired of the battle and the chase – of the loneliness.
She stared into its eyes, dark pupils surrounded by red. The wolf looked down at her, its hot breath humid on her face.
As they gazed at each other, understanding seemingly bloomed between them and she ceased her struggle. Its eyes changed, morphed from red to clear blue, the fur receding to reveal unlined skin with a generous amount of stubble, dark hair, strong arms, and a smooth, well-muscled torso.
Dean.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and when that didn’t work, touched her tongue to her lips. His eyes shifted down toward the not-so-innocent movement. A beat passed, then two, the resulting anticipation nearly driving her insane.
The first touch of his lips on hers was soft and feather light before deepening into an explosion of sensation. Without warning, he pressed against her with a hunger that rivaled that of the beast inside of him. Yes! This was what it felt like to be desired, devoured, to be tasted and savored.
The weariness left her body and the same hunger he exhibited swelled up within her.
Her hands crept up to grasp at his strong shoulders, to weave through the hair at the nape of his neck as his lips left hers to nibble at the base of her throat. His hand wandered down, slipped beneath her shirt to the soft skin beneath. She gasped, the sound mingling with his ragged breaths.
His lips wandered further until becoming encumbered by the fabric of her shirt. He lifted his head, his eyes spearing into hers as he grasped at the collar of her blouse and tore it open. He grinned appreciatively, almost reverently, until the smile transformed into something much more rakish, dangerous.
Ro wasn’t scared, though. Far from it. It was as if her entire being had been awakened from a deep, yet restless sleep. She wanted more of this beautiful man, regardless of the beast within.
Flesh on flesh, they grappled, each wanting more but not getting nearly enough. His hands reached down, grasped at her waist, then her hips, and divulged her of the rest of her clothing.
Never before had she felt such primal need, and she welcomed the freedom from inhibition, suddenly realizing that she had craved this her entire life.
♦ ♦ ♦
Ro woke with a start, the dream fresh in her mind. Her clothes were damp from perspiration, and her respiration came in hitched breaths.
What the hell was that?
It had started the same as her nightmares, but with a new ending, one she hadn’t been expecting. She hadn’t had a dream like that in forever.
Actually, now that she thought about it, she’d never had a dream quite like that, at least nothing that came close to what she’d just experienced.
For a moment she lay there, savoring the memory, debating whether she might fall asleep again and rejoin it in progress, but then rational thought began to sneak in, overwhelming the sleepy euphoria.
She tried to push it out of her mind, to remind herself that Dean, no matter how smart or good-looking, was a wolf, and that all those pretty trappings hid a monster inside.
♦ ♦ ♦
Dean awoke, annoyed at being interrupted in the middle of what he’d been doing to her. After a moment, though, he realized that he was in bed alone, that everything had been a dream. He looked to the empty bed on either side of him as if to confirm those truths.
Holy shit, what a dream, he thought. It had brought to life some of the thoughts which had been swirling through his head earlier about the sharp-tongued redhead asleep down the hall. Evidently, he was failing miserably at keeping those thoughts at bay. He didn’t know why he was so affected by her. He didn’t need or want the distraction. What he needed was to find a cure so he could finally escape from this unwanted existence. Everything else was secondary, especially a dalliance with a woman who, so far as he knew, would have shot him without a second thought had he not been helping her father.
Knowing that sleep wouldn’t come again for a long time, he decided to make use of his insomnia and get some work done. He pulled on a t-shirt and quietly opened the door. He could hear Coop snoring from his room so he walked softly past it and down the hall. No sounds from Ro or her father’s rooms, which was just as well. Both of them needed their rest and the more quiet he had for his work, the better.
Besides, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d react to seeing her at that moment.
He made his way down to the lab, each step moving him farther away from her intoxicating presence. He didn’t need the distraction she brought with her waking presence and especially didn’t need her peppering his subconscious mind with wet dreams. Hell, he’d felt like a fucking schoolboy.
Once he got down to his lab, his nerves began to calm, the distance from the hunter seeming to help ease the hormones that had raged within him after the dream. He couldn’t let himself be preoccupied by thoughts of her. He needed to focus, especially now that he had her blood. He had more than enough work ahead to occupy his attention.
He decided to start with some of the same experiments he’d conducted with John’s blood, marry them with the information he’d discovered about aconite and other herbal remedies. His mind clearing of all but science, he pondered different formulations and combinations, while considering whether lycanthropy was spread like a virus, bacteria, or some other mechanism.
He booted up his laptop and scanned the notes he’d typed in. He knew the answer was there somewhere, that some combination of hunter blood, herbal medicine, and perhaps even some pharmaceuticals would provide the cure he needed, the cure that would perhaps finally set him and many others free.
He just needed a little time and a lot of focus.
13
Ro wasn’t certain how she felt as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. As her breathing slowed and the dream began to fade, she wondered how the hell she had gotten into this mess, how she’d let herself get talked into staying in a remote mansion with a werewolf, his bodyguard, and her wolf-bitten father. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought she was on some crazy reality show: Paranormal Secrets of the Rich and Famous.
Her father still rested fitfully, his fever waxing and waning randomly. It seemed no matter what they did to allay his symptoms, what treatments they tried – he wasn’t responding. She pushed that thought away, refused to believe he wouldn’t survive this. He was the strongest person she knew, ornery and tough. If anyone was going to beat a wolf bite, he would.
His condition puzzled her, though. She’d learned from him that hunters were supposed to be immune, so why wasn’t he getting better? Was there something she missed, something else she was supposed to do for him? She’d studied the canons, practically memorized them word for word, but she’d never seen anything about how to treat a wolf
bite in a hunter.
She’d assumed they’d heal much like any other non-fatal wound. Though hunters didn’t have regenerative abilities like werewolves, they were more resilient than the average healthy human, with faster than normal healing capabilities. If she went by her training, her father should have been back on his feet several weeks ago, but instead he was declining by the day.
The thoughts floated in her mind, jumbled, reassembled, but the solution was elusive. Frustrated, she climbed out of bed and padded downstairs in search of some liquid sustenance of the high proof variety. Maybe that would work in settling her mind enough so she could get some sleep.
A quick search of the kitchen yielded nothing more than the groceries she’d bought the previous day, so she moved to the adjoining rooms but had no luck there, either. She remembered Coop’s story about meeting Dean in rehab and had the sinking feeling that the house was dry. Good for them, but not so much for her.
Maybe there was something in the lab, she reasoned. She doubted she would find anything other than chemical grade alcohol, but she knew many a doctor who stashed a bottle of Scotch in their office.
She descended the stairs to the basement, a small curl of excitement in her stomach, something akin to the feeling she got when she’d successfully sneaked her first drink from her dad’s liquor cabinet. She’d gotten a smack in the face for her stupidity after he’d found her passed out in front of the TV, half empty whiskey bottle on the table. She’d paid more when he dumped her fully clothed in a cold shower and told her, “Drinking’s for celebrations and funerals. Getting drunk, though, is for idiots. I find you passed out again, I’ll skin your behind. Now sober up and go to bed.”
The hangover she’d experienced after had been one for the record books. She’d puked for what seemed like hours, then wished her brain would explode and put her out of her misery. Her father predictably took no pity on her and made sure that her training regimen that day was extra rigorous.
Lycan Moon: An Urban Fairy Tale (Lycan Evolution Book 1) Page 10