He had found that tasers worked better than silver for debilitating a Lycan. They scrambled their body’s molecules so they couldn’t keep their animal form, and stunned them in the process.
Oren wasn’t going to slip through the Enforcers’ fingers this time. This time Marcus was going to take in a live Breed for study. This time they would find out what the hell they were dealing with and, hopefully, find a way to fight it. Unfortunately, Oren wasn’t cooperating. He jumped back to his feet and lunged at Marcus before Marcus could even aim the taser.
Marcus’s breath left his lungs with an explosive grunt as Oren barreled into him, hurling him down to the ground with bone jarring force. His taser flew out of his hand. Only instinct, honed from centuries of fighting, saved Marcus from having his throat torn open. He jerked sharply to his side, Oren’s razor sharp claws tearing through the thin material of his black tee shirt and into his shoulder. Marcus swung his good arm. His fist connected solidly with the side of the Lycan’s head, driving him off balance.
Oren shook his head, then surged forward again, his deadly claws aimed once again for Marcus’s throat. Marcus rolled away and up to his feet in one fluid movement, pouring the momentum into roundhouse kick that connected with Oren’s head and brought the Lycan down hard on the ground.
Marcus spotted his taser laying only a few inches away from Oren. With a blur of movement he grabbed it, aimed, and pressed the button. The probes shot forward, embedding into Oren’s chest.
His body began jerking violently from the disruption of his neurons, forcing his body’s change back to a man’s shape. He let out a groan, but didn’t move. Marcus pulled silver chains from another pocket and quickly bound Oren’s hands and feet. Once Oren was secured, Marcus pulled out his cell and hit speed dial.
“Tegan, it’s Marcus. Pick up in the alley at Third and Casino Center.”
Marcus turned his attention to the female officer he had left propped against the wall, noting her labored breathing.
“We also have his victims, one dead, the other still alive, but severely injured. Ask Zeke for a jump. I’m afraid time is against us.”
Marcus replaced his cell in his pocket, turned his attention toward the woman, and crouched down by her, noting the pressure she was applying to her wound with her hands. Thankfully she kept her wits about her in a crisis.
“I have someone coming to see to your wounds,” he explained in a soft, soothing voice.
Marcus noted the lines of strain on her too pale face. Fear lurked in the blue depths of her eyes, along with intelligence. He realized this was a fighter. He felt an unfamiliar stirring deep in his chest as he made a mental checklist of her injuries. It was a wonder she was even conscious with the amount of blood loss she had sustained.
“Take my belt,” she rasped. “My thigh…tie it tight. Need to stop the bleeding.”
He nodded, doing as she instructed with quick efficiency. He heard her hiss of pain and winced with empathy. Even covered in blood the woman was beautiful, her bone structure delicate, her golden blonde brows arched above large expressive eyes. Her mouth was full and luscious, blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail enhanced her high cheekbones, yet it was her courage that called to him.
“It won’t be long, help is coming.”
“I…I can’t… hold on. My partner… need to find him.” Her speech slurred as she slumped, unconscious, against the wall.
A familiar surge tingled up his spine. Turning toward the disturbance, he saw both Zeke and Tegan separate from the shadows. Both were tall men in black jeans and tee shirts, but that’s where the similarities ended. Tegan was golden skinned with long dark hair, Zeke was pale, his white blonde hair cut short and spiked. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and the piercings adorning his ears and left eyebrow gleamed dully in the low light. Tattoos flowed up one arm to the side of his neck in an intricate design which was actually comprised of Atlantean hieroglyphics, denoting his family’s lineage and his warrior class. Zeke’s ability to “jump” his men to any location on a map made him a useful addition to the Enforcers.
Tegan carried a large, black handled case over to the unconscious woman. As the team’s medic, his skills had been in demand much too often for Marcus’s tastes. With only a nod in Marcus’s direction, Tegan committed his full attention to the injured woman.
“Finally got a Were I see. Too bad about the cop though,” Zeke said. “You should have Tegan look at that shoulder.”
“It’s already stopped bleeding. I’ll be alright. And that’s not a Were. This one is a Pure Blood,” Marcus informed him, his eyes on the unconscious Lycan.
Zeke whistled at that. “No shit? Fox won’t be too happy about us keeping him.”
“He has no say in the matter.” Marcus’s tone held steel. “We have Tribunal law on our side and he has shit.”
“I just want a front row seat when he goes off on you for pulling that card on him. He has no love for the Tribunal,” Zeke chuckled.
Marcus ignored that. It was no secret that the King of the Lycans and The Head of the Enforcers didn’t get along. They existed in an uneasy truce that they grudgingly accepted, but neither liked.
“Zeke, take our friend Oren to his new lodgings. Tegan, what are her chances?” Marcus didn’t watch as Zeke left his side, picked up Oren’s unconscious body, and dissolved into the shadows.
Tegan cast Marcus an impatient glare before turning back to his work, binding the woman’s leg to stop the flow of blood. Her neck was already cleaned and bandaged along with the nasty swipes across her torso. Her ripped shirt showed glimpses of the stark white bandage against the paleness of her skin.
“It would be better to just let her bleed out,” Tegan growled, keeping an eye on his work. “If she lives she will change, and that change will dictate the rest of her life. Which will be shit.”
“I will decide what to do with her, your job is to patch her up and keep her alive,” Marcus snapped, frustration reaching a boiling point. They all were at the razor’s edge. One small push and there would be no coming back from it.
Tegan was a blur of motion. One moment he was tending the cop’s wounds, the next he was up close and personal. His words bit out between clenched teeth.
“The decision on this is for Temple Fox, not you.”
“Back down before I take you down,” Marcus warned, his voice cold and even.
“Just try it,” Tegan spat, his body tight ready to spring as he moved in even closer.
Marcus made no movement as he regarded the other Enforcer, knowing any move would just heighten Tegan’s aggression. One drawback to having a Were-panther on your team was they tended to be hot headed. With Tegan the panther was always just below the surface, ready to take a swipe.
The shrill ring of Marcus’s cell phone cut through the air. Without a word, Tegan turned his attention back to the unconscious woman.
“Talk, it’s your dime,” Markus barked into the phone. He listened, his jaw tight. “Fuck! How the hell did he get to it?” he exploded, pacing in agitation. “Fine. Get back here to transport the cop.” Marcus put the cell phone back into his pocket and gave Tegan an irritated look. “Oren is dead.”
“How the hell did he manage that?” Tegan asked.
“Silver nitrate. Must have found a way to slip it into his mouth when we weren’t looking. By the time Zeke got him to the holding cell, he was dead.”
“So we still have nothing to go on. Shit, we can’t continue like this. Has there been any word from the Tribunal? Any leads?”
“They have nothing but conjecture. The only thing they will say is what we are experiencing is not just isolated to our location. It’s spreading out to every populated city around the world,” Marcus stated flatly.
“Let me guess. Since we were the first city hit, they expect us to figure it all out for them.” Bitterness dripped from Tegan’s words like acid.
“That’s why I want the cop. If Oren was infected, it stands to reason that she will be too.
”
“You still need to let Fox know. We can’t afford to piss off the Lycan’s leader,” Tegan pointed out.
The only sign of irritation Marcus showed was the sudden twitch of his jaw. As much as he would personally enjoy pissing Temple Fox off, he knew Tegan was right.
“Fine. You tell him that Oren is dead and we’re keeping the cop for observation. She is under Tribunal jurisdiction and protection until such time as I decide otherwise.”
That should at least keep Fox appeased and buy the Enforcers some time, something of which Marcus felt they had precious little.
Chapter Three
Sharp, stabbing pain shot through every part of Tambra. It choked her with its intensity as it pulsed through her body with the beat of her heart. Her stomach churned with nausea. Cool, soothing hands held her up as she retched.
In the cloudy darkness of her mind she saw disjointed images of herself running though an endless dark corridor, the rank smell of death and decay clogging her nose and mouth as she ran. The scene changed, and she was on a moonlit beach, watching the waves break. The waves rushed toward shore, then turned to blood, boiling up to engulf her. She opened her mouth to scream and choked on water, sputtering as she felt those cool hands once again soothing her. A deep, lightly accented voice spoke to her and even though she couldn’t understand his words they gave her comfort. The voice was somehow familiar to her, though she couldn’t place where she knew it from, nor did she want to stir from the dark place where that voice spoke to her. She didn’t want to leave the darkness, where there was no pain and she could just float along contentedly.
She felt something wet stroking lightly up her arms, neck, and face, chilling her fevered skin. Once again the pain came crashing through her with the force of a hurricane. Searing, white-hot agony thrummed through her body and when the darkness claimed her she welcomed it gratefully.
****
Marcus leaned wearily back in his chair and scraped his hand along the stubble of his jaw. Gods, he couldn’t remember ever being this tired. Zeke had quickly teleported them to the small medical room built deep below the unassuming home Marcus had built years ago for the Enforcer’s headquarters.
It had taken Tegan hours to repair the damage Oren’s claws and fangs had inflicted on the female. He had been unable to replace the blood she had lost, so it had been touch and go for a while. Once stabilized, Marcus had her put in the guest room adjoining his so he and Tegan could monitor her recuperation. The alteration from human to Lycan was accelerating rapidly. Whether she could survive the change when so many others had perished was still to be seen.
For three days Marcus and Tegan worked on saving her. Three days where Marcus refused to leave her side. When her fever raged out of control he cooled her down with ice, he held her head as she threw up, and he saw to her every need. He slept fitfully beside her bed on the floor during the day, afraid to sleep too deeply in case she needed him. His entire world had narrowed to this one small female, lying pale and still, on the bed before him. He had gone through her blood soaked clothes and found her identification and address, committing it to memory. Her name, Tambra Ellis, fit her. She was beautiful as she laid there with her thick golden hair fanned over the pillows in deep waves, and her long lashes forming shadowy crescents against her cheeks. She looked vulnerable, but Marcus knew the strength she had. This was a fighter who refused to give up. She was bound by duty to protect and serve, just as he was. He figured that was what compelled him to stand vigil over her.
A hoarse groan broke the heavy silence as she stirred. He leaned closer in his chair, ignoring the urge to brush his fingertips against the soft skin of her cheek.
Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open, blurrily focusing in on him. He watched the play of emotions on her face with intense fascination as confusion, recognition, and finally horror chased one another over her pale face. He placed a restraining hand on her shoulder as she struggled to sit up.
“Easy now, you’ve been pretty sick.”
His bare hand on her naked shoulder make her gasp.
“Who undressed me?” Tambra croaked out.
“That would be me. Your clothes were beyond repair. I fear they had to be disposed of. Now that you are feeling better I will see what we can clothe you in. Would you care for some water?”
She gave a small nod, warily took the proffered glass, and pressed it to her lips.
“Go easy on that, you haven’t been able to hold anything down for a few days,” he cautioned.
“You’re the man from the alley aren’t you?” Tambra asked, softly studying him after she had taken a cautious sip of water. “You saved me from that…thing. Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
He watched as she took in her surroundings. The massive bed with an ornate wooden headboard carved with vines and flowers. A beautiful blue and purple glass paned Tiffany lamp sitting atop a large end table. The heavy window curtains of dark blue damask which were shut tight, giving her no idea if it was day or night. The tall armoire, carved with more vines and flowers, near the door. Neither spoke a word until the glass was empty. Only when she held it out to him did she break the silence.
“You want to tell me where the hell I am and where my gun is?”
“You’re in my home. I’m Marcus Valerian. I brought you here after the attack. Your weapon is secured in my safe for now.”
He watched her closely as her memories of the battle with the Lycan rose to the surface.
“Cody!” she cried, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, but Marcus grabbed her arm, stopping her from rising.
“Where are you going?” he demanded. She gave a pointed look at Marcus’s hand on her upper arm.
“Let go or you’ll bring back a bloody stump. I need my gun.”
He chuckled but released her arm. “You can’t leave here, not yet.”
“Are you aware you are committing a crime by holding an officer of the peace against her will?”
“I am well versed in your law.”
Tambra clenched her jaw at his flippant attitude. “Then you are also aware I can arrest you right now for kidnapping and interfering with an ongoing investigation.”
“Tell me, how would you explain what happened to you to your superiors without landing yourself in a Psych ward?”
Her chin rose, a look of challenge in her eyes. “So you’ll keep me prisoner here?”
“Not unless you insist on leaving. You were a Lycan’s chew toy and survived.”
“Spit out what you have to say because I don’t have the patience to play this out,” Tambra snapped.
Marcus let out a pained sigh, rising from his chair. Tambra’s eyes widened as she craned her neck to look up at him.
“What do you know about werewolf folklore?”
“Like Lon Chaney’s Wolf Man?”
“No. I’m speaking of the legends. Tales told around the campfire.”
“I’ve never camped and I’m not much of a reader. If there isn’t a movie about it, then I don’t know it. I’m a twenty-first century kind of girl. Look, I’m sure this will be very interesting and all but I’m kind of strapped for time. I have a boss to answer to and a partner to find. So, if you could just find me something to wear-”
“You can’t leave unless you want the innocent blood on your hands.”
“Just say what you have to say, time’s a wasting.”
“You can’t leave until after your first shift. Maybe even your third or fourth. I don’t know and we don’t know how well you will take it.”
Tambra gave him an incredulous look. “Are you telling me I am turning into a…a dog?” She jumped up, pulling the comforter around her, and headed for the door. “Look buddy, I don’t know what your damage is, but I want no part of it, okay? I’ll just call a cab and be on my way.”
Marcus moved to the door in a burst of speed, and stopped with his arms folded across his chest, lips compressed into a thin line as he glared at her. He drew his br
ows low in a scowl.
“W…what the hell are you?” she stammered, unable to mask her unease.
“I am not here to harm you. I have been the one tending to you as your body adjusted.” “You haven’t answered my question,” she pushed.
“That’s because it’s not relevant to the situation.”
“Like hell, asshole. If it affects me then it is my business.”
Marcus liked her toughness, finding it remarkably refreshing. Her strength was impressive, not many could make it through the beginning stages of the change when turning from human to Were, yet she had fought through it. She had overcome it all, despite how badly she had been injured.
He used his most reasonable tone to calm her, knowing that the next few minutes was crucial to keeping her receptive to what he had to say. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, making his tone as calm as he could manage. “At this time the only thing we need to focus on is your change. You are not out of the woods as of yet. There are too many things that could go wrong.”
Her eyes widened in horror as she took a shaky step backward.
“Oh, God. This isn’t happening. It can’t be real. Werewolves don’t exist.”
“Believe me, they do exist. Denying what you have seen will be foolish and dangerous, for you and everyone you’re around.”
“No. I don’t believe this. I won’t believe it. There has to be some logical explanation for what I saw.” The sharp edge of hysteria rose in her voice. “I will not turn into a dog. I don’t even like dogs.”
That made him smile despite the seriousness of the situation. She was absolutely adorable and he was in deep shit because of it. Yet, he couldn’t seem to make himself care. “Wolf, not dog. You were bitten by a Lycan, not Lassie.”
“Ha, ha, laugh it up big guy. You don’t have to worry about fleas.”
Laughter rumbled out of him, surprising him as much as it seemed to anger her. Tambra stood in front of him, her golden hair tumbling wildly down her back, clutching the comforter tightly to her breasts. Her blue eyes glittered with anger and Marcus fought the urge to pull her into his arms and stroke her soft, creamy skin. He clenched his hands into fists and kept still. She was still too pale, evidence of the weakness he knew was plaguing her but, damn, she was magnificent. A true warrior, ready to fight regardless of the fact she couldn’t win.
Dark Passion Rising Page 2