Filthy Wolf

by Liza Street

  She sat back on her feet and stared at him. His bruises seemed to be fading, a trick of the morning light. The scruff on his jaw looked scratchy and tempting, so different from what she was used to seeing on the guys she spent time with. She’d always dated clean-cut boys. Boys her parents would approve of. Boys who could wear a tux and unironically order a martini shaken, not stirred.

  There was no moving him, so she’d cooperate with his crazy talk until it was possible to sneak past. “Fine. Tell me about this quote-unquote underlying problem.”

  “You don’t believe me, so I’m going to show you. Can you please trust me for five minutes and…and try not to freak out?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.” He got up.

  Not waiting for a second, she scrambled off of the bed, pushed him behind her, and took five running steps to the door of the camp trailer.

  He was immediately next to her; she hadn’t even seen him move. But he didn’t touch her, didn’t try to restrain her. He simply reached around her waist to unlatch the door.

  Before she could bolt outside, though, he said, “Please don’t run. There are some bad guys in these woods. If you run, it’ll make it hard for me to protect you.”

  He sounded genuinely worried. It made her stop and think. His face was all bashed up after he’d gone out to find Blythe last night.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll stand right here.”

  He sniffed the air, which was weird, then said, “Good.”

  She stepped out of the trailer and he followed her.

  Taking her hand, he led her toward a line of gravel. She focused on the tiny plants poking through the carpet of pine needles and along the edge of the gravel, trying not to think about how good it felt to have his fingers intertwined with hers. What was wrong with her? She’d just met this man and he was nothing like the guys she usually dated.

  Then again, every other guy she’d dated had just about bored her to tears. Or they’d been dating her because of her parents. Maybe, after she got out of this place, it would be time to date someone a little different.

  The pine needles were still wet from last night’s rain, so she had to concentrate on not slipping.

  “Stop here,” he said. “See this line?”

  She followed the line with her eyes. “I see it, yep.”

  “It’s the barrier. We can’t leave.”

  She couldn’t hold in her laugh. “Look, Miguel, I don’t know why you think that, but here—”

  She put out a hand to show him there was no barrier.

  Her hand met something solid.

  “What the heck?” she muttered, trying again. And again her palm stopped against an invisible wall. It was cool to the touch, and smooth. She let go of the guy’s hand that held her right one and used both of her hands to touch the barrier.

  “So,” he said, “magic is real. Like I told you. And we should go get your friend, but we don’t have a way for the two of you to get out of here.”

  “It’s like this all over?” she asked, following the gravel line, her hand out to run against the invisible barrier as she walked.

  “Yes. Most of us in here have walked the boundary more than once, just like you’re doing.”

  “Give me a boost,” she said.

  He sighed. “We can’t get over it, either.”

  “Give me a boost, Mitch.”

  Bending down, he grabbed her around the legs and lifted her up so she sat on his shoulder. He steadied her when she wobbled, his right arm against her thigh. Scars covered the part of his arm where his wrist should’ve started. How long ago had he lost his hand?

  None of her business, she reminded herself. Planting one of her hands on top of his head for extra balance, she reached out with her other. The wall extended high, past her reach, and it felt like it started to curve inward, as well.

  “We’re in a freaking dome?” she asked.

  “That’s what we think.”

  “Why? Why is this here?”

  He didn’t respond right away.

  “You can let me down,” Jessica said.

  “Right.”

  She held onto his shoulders as he bent, then twisted around as he lowered her. When she reached the ground, her front was pressing against his. Heat flared throughout her body. Wow, this dude ran warm.

  Stepping back quickly, she asked again, “So, why is this invisible wall here?”

  “We call this place the Junkyard, and it’s for certain kinds of people who can’t get along with their groups.”

  She frowned. Certain kinds of people. Groups. He was being purposefully vague. “Mikhail, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on in three seconds, I’m going to lose my shit.”

  “This place is like a prison for shapeshifters,” he said. “And my name is not Mikhail.”

  “Shapeshifters,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. This was unbelievable. But so was an invisible wall. Maybe she’d imagined that. She backed up a little bit until her ass couldn’t go any farther. Turning around, she saw nothing behind her.

  Nope, hadn’t imagined it. There was a wall, and it was invisible.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Like werewolves.”

  “Are you going to prove shapeshifters to me now, too?” she asked, taking an exaggerated look at the woods surrounding them. “Do you have one hidden around somewhere, maybe under the bed in the trailer?”

  He pointed to his chest. “I have one in here.”

  Jessica struggled not to laugh.

  “You don’t have to believe me,” he said. “It would be better in some ways if you didn’t. But the fact remains, there are some bad guys trapped in here with us. They aren’t all bad, but enough of them are that you should stay put.”

  “And Blythe is out there with the bad guys? I don’t know what kind of friend you are, but I’m a better friend than that.”

  “No.” He huffed in impatience. “I’ll go get her.”

  “Like you tried to get her last night.”

  His dark gray eyes filled with pain, and she immediately felt bad.

  “I tried, yeah,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. Thank you for trying.” She met his eyes while she said it, so he could see her sincerity. The swelling around his eye was going down, and the bruising over his cheek was fading—in fact, it was nearly entirely gone. “What happened to your black eye, though? It’s like it never happened.”

  He shrugged. “I heal fast.”

  “Nobody heals that fast.”

  “Shifters do.”

  In the years of trying to sort real friends from the fake ones who just wanted to get closer to her parents, Jessica had honed some ability to figure out when people weren’t being genuine. And nothing about this guy was setting off her alarm bells. Yet the things he said were impossible.

  She had to let it go. She’d already wasted enough time with words.

  “Will you try to get her again?” she asked him.

  “I will. But you have to stay here.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. “If you believe nothing else that I’ve told you just now, believe this. A woman in this territory of what is essentially a big pack of prisoners is a terrible idea. We can’t let them know you’re here.”

  His words were chilling. Jessica had never tried to be courageous in her life. There had never been any need. Yet she hated herself more than a little when she nodded at the guy and said, “Fine, Mack. You can go on your own.”

  “Thanks, James,” he said. “It means a lot that you can trust me.”

  As he walked away, she mouthed the name James at his back. Had the gruff mountain of a man made a joke?

  6

  When Marcus was far enough away from the trailer, he exhaled. Deeply. Being around that woman made him tense. Not in a bad way. More in a throat-choked-up, she-deserves-better kind of way.

  She was a human woman, stuck in the Junkyard.

  And her friend was in here, too.

&
nbsp; He wanted to help them both, but his protective wolf tendencies were going into overdrive just from being around Jessica. Even now, his inner wolf was going crazy because he was walking away from her.

  She wanted him to go, though. She was sending him on a mission.

  The wolf didn’t care. The wolf wanted to be close to her, protect her, provide for her.

  It hadn’t been an accident that Marcus had held Jessica’s hand when she tried pushing her hand against the boundary. Given the strong vibes his wolf was giving off, he’d thought maybe—just maybe—she could be his mate. Maybe the wall would let her out of the Junkyard, and possibly him as well.

  Maybe he could see his sister again.

  But of course it hadn’t worked. Marcus couldn’t have a mate. He was broken on the inside—the last year had seen to that. If he’d been whole, he would’ve seen Vince’s pursuit of his sister much earlier, and seen it for the twisted abuse it was. He’d have intervened before it got so bad, and he would’ve planned ahead, taken care of it in a way that didn’t hurt his pack. If he’d done it right, Vince would be the one in the Junkyard, alive and breathing. If he’d done it right, Marcus would be free.

  Now he could never go back to his pack.

  But Jessica wasn’t here for him, anyway. She and her friend hadn’t come into the Junkyard to hook up with bad guys. And every man in here was here for a reason.

  He skirted around the edge of the pond. Past that, he came to a rocky area that looked like it had served as a quarry way back in the day. Now he was approaching the dump, where most of the Junkyard shifters had their dens.

  He tallied the guys he was most worried about. Barnum and Alleman after last night, for sure. Buenevista and Mollin were both assholes, but they hadn’t been around much lately.

  Mathers was dead, thank fuck, but Barnum had been formed from the same mold.

  Past the quarry, he breathed a little easier, because he was past Alleman’s den. Old vehicles sat scattered in clumps like a giant had thrown them in a game of dice. A few grasses and trees rose up, fighting to make life amidst the scraps of industrial machinery.

  He tried to pick up the scent of Jessica’s friend, but couldn’t. Where had they taken her last night? Next he tried scenting Barnum, who smelled like wet earth, but Barnum’s scent was mixed in with everyone else’s. Without any scents to go by, Marcus would be searching the old-fashioned way, with his eyes.

  He stopped short when he came around the skeleton of a giant tractor and saw an old RV squished up close to the tractor’s opposite wheel well. The RV hadn’t been here before, and tracks in the mud showed someone had dragged it over. It had a broken window on the passenger side—too small for anyone to get in or out.

  While he stood there, something moved inside the RV. Then it went still again. He looked around, sniffed the air, couldn’t smell much. Slowly, carefully, he approached the RV.

  A pile of concrete blocks blocked the driver’s door. He walked around to the front of the RV, and the window up there was covered in a giant piece of sheet metal.

  They’d made a cage for her? That was his only guess—that Blythe was inside the RV.

  He had to get closer if he was going to talk to her. Going back around to the passenger side of the RV, he clambered over the old tractor.

  “Blythe?” he whispered.

  In response, a metal pipe appeared out of the window and clocked him in the forehead.

  “Ow, fuck,” he said, falling on his ass into the tractor seat.

  “Back the fuck up,” a feminine voice said, “or I’ll whack you again.”

  He stared at the window but could only see shadows.

  A few yards away, someone chuckled. Marcus turned to look, rubbing his head. He saw a head of dark hair, a wide smile, and tanned skin. Jase, a mountain lion shifter, was laughing at Marcus. Figured. The asshole found everything funny.

  Marcus flipped him off and turned back to the RV. Quietly, so Jase couldn’t hear him, he said, “I’m here because of Jessica. She wants me to make sure you’re okay.”

  Silence from the RV. Then the woman said, “Other than a bunch of stinky creepers talking about who gets to be my mate, I’m fine and dandy, thanks. Always wanted to live in an RV and play whack-a-mole with guys’ heads.”

  He took a step toward the van, but the metal pipe appeared in the window again.

  “Don’t even think about it, douche-wad. You could be lying about Jessica.”

  “True,” he said. “But I’m not here to hurt you.”

  “Refreshing,” she said in a wry voice.

  “Do you want out of there?” he asked.

  “Like it would do any good,” she said. “I spent half the night banging into an invisible brick wall. So if you have a way through that, come back and let me know.”

  So she already knew about the magic to some extent. Good. “Yeah, I’m working on that,” he said. “I’ll let you know. I’ll come back later with food.”

  “No need. Some other douche-wad is already taking care of it. I hate you all, you know.”

  He could hear the truth in her words, and it seemed fair enough. “All right. I’ll see you later, then.”

  She didn’t respond, but he caught a flash of orange-red hair before she returned to the shadows.

  Jase’s laughter caught his attention again, so Marcus went around the RV to see him.

  “She’s a piece of work,” Jase said, jerking his chin toward the RV. His gold and green eyes were shining with humor.

  Marcus rubbed his forehead. “Ya think? How’d she get herself barricaded in there?”

  “Alleman was using it as a little cage for her. That backfired when she grabbed the pipe and started hitting him.”

  “Nice,” Marcus said.

  “Barnum and Alleman are organizing a big battle to ‘win’ her.”

  “When?”

  Jase clenched his jaw. “Two weeks.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “They’re trying to make it into a big thing,” Jase said. “Build up suspense and let people train up for it. But I’m not going to let it happen.”

  “There’s only one of you,” Marcus said.

  “I’m not the only decent bastard in this Junkyard.”

  Marcus scoffed. “So, what, you’re going to form an alliance? The Junkyard Shifters United?”

  “I’ll start a pride if I have to.”

  Well, good luck to him, trying to get this crew of misfits into something resembling a shifter group. Marcus would believe it when he saw it.

  Two weeks until the fight, though. Well, it would allow him time to figure out how to get Jessica and her friend out of the Junkyard.

  “You’re bringing her food?” he said to Jase.

  “Yeah. I have to dodge that pipe of hers every time. She’s strong.”

  “Good luck.” Marcus walked away, rubbing his head. He wasn’t sure how Jessica was going to feel about any of this, but it seemed to him that Blythe was safe enough for now.

  Actually, he could guess how Jessica would feel—she’d be pissed that he wasn’t coming back with Blythe. And rightly so. Trying to explain the Junkyard and its rules and dangers to a human who hadn’t even believed in magic until this morning was impossible.

  At least Jase was feeding Blythe. Which reminded Marcus that he should bring some food to Jessica. She had to be hungry—Marcus was, too.

  He stopped at his cabin and opened up the ice chest that had been delivered a few days ago. After putting several things into a sack, he left again.

  He came back to the trailer, but instead of going inside to see Jessica like his wolf wanted him to do, he walked the few extra yards to the barrier and looked toward the cabin outside. He didn’t see Grant or Caitlyn, but both of their cars were in the drive.

  Picking up a small rock, he hoisted it to throw at the side of the cabin. Just before he tossed it, though, Grant came out of the garage. His light brown hair was neatly trimmed, unlike Marcus’s darker hair, whic
h was starting to fall into his eyes. The mountain lion shifter was messy in other ways, though; he was a painter and streaks and splotches of different colors stained his hands, arms, and clothes.

  “Grant,” Marcus called.

  Grant turned immediately, changing his trajectory from his cabin door and over to Marcus at the barrier. He nodded at Marcus. “How’s it going?”

  “I need a witch.”

  Frowning, Grant said, “The only reason someone in the Junkyard wants a witch is to get past that wall.”

  “It’s not for me,” Marcus said. “Two humans got through last night. We need to get them out before the others harm them.”

  Grant rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “Damn. I’ll do what I can, of course, but the witch, Maddie, didn’t seem all that concerned with Caitlyn’s plight when Caitlyn got stuck in there. She only agreed to help us if we could get a white crystal from the quarry for her.”

  “I can get a white crystal,” Marcus said.

  Grant shrugged. “You can try. I don’t know that it’ll work, necessarily.”

  That didn’t sound reassuring at all. “But the witch helped you two get out,” Marcus said.

  “Not exactly,” Grant said.

  Marcus remembered how Lena and Carter had simply walked over the gravel line, as if nothing had been keeping them inside at all.

  “Mates,” Marcus said.

  Grant nodded.

  Of course. It always came down to that. Which wasn’t helpful. Marcus had already tried that. Besides, even if for some crazy reason the fates decided that Marcus was able to have a mate, and that mate was Jessica…what about Blythe?

  “But you’ll get in touch with the witch for me?” Marcus asked.

  “I’ll definitely try. Is there anything else you need over there?”

  He’d need about ten tons of patience if he was heading into the trailer to talk to Jessica, but he doubted Grant had spare patience lying around. “Nah, I’m good.”

  “The humans,” Grant said. “Are they women?”