Taking a deep breath, she started to make her way down the porch steps, but stopped when her cell phone started to ring in her pocket. She’d been carrying the phone with her every day, in the hopes that Perry might call. But this was the first time it had rung since she’d come to the Alley.
The moment she answered the call, her sister started speaking in a sobbing, breathless rush. “Chelsea, I’m so s-sorry. I should have listened to him.”
“What? Listened to who? Perry, where are you?”
Voice cracking, her sister said, “To the guy you’re with. He tried to get me to come back with him yesterday, but I wouldn’t. I told him I wanted to stay with Jason. But everything’s gone wrong.”
“Oh, God.” She was only distantly aware of sinking onto one of the porch steps, the phone still clutched in her shaking hand as the others gathered around her.
“Perry, where are you?” she asked again, nearly choking on her guilt. Feeling ill with it. “I’ll come and get you, but you have to stop crying and tell me where you are.”
“I’m calling from the women’s shelter in Wesley. I hitchhiked here, because I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Okay, that’s good,” Chelsea told her, lifting her gaze to search for Eric, knowing that he’d help her, even though she didn’t deserve it. “Just stay there, honey. I’m on my way.”
* * *
Hours later, Eric still wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up in such a screwed-up situation. One minute he’d been using every ounce of strength he possessed to keep from running across the Alley and grabbing Chelsea up in his arms, the sight of her after everything that had happened damn near killing him. Then her phone had rung, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from going to her when it was clear that something was wrong. The others had all argued that he didn’t owe her anything, telling him to stay behind and let them handle the situation with Perry Smart. But he hadn’t been able to do it. Instead, he’d climbed into Jeremy’s truck with her, and the three of them had driven down to Wesley together.
After a long, drawn-out argument between the sisters at the shelter, Chelsea had finally convinced Perry that the best course of action at the moment, until they had a better understanding of what was going on with Jason and the Whiteclaw, was for them to both go up to the Alley. According to the distraught, nearly incoherent Perry, Jason Donovan had sneaked her out of Hawkley earlier that morning. He’d left her at a rest stop on one of the main highways that cut through the mountains, telling her to find a ride and go back home because she was making things too difficult for him.
The way Eric saw it, either Jason had finally gotten tired of Perry and wanted her gone—or something had happened and he was trying to get her the hell away from Hawkley because he actually cared about her. Were the Whiteclaw after Perry? Did they know that she’d helped Sophia? Or was it something else that had forced Jason Donovan to let her go? Until they learned the answers to those questions, everyone knew that the safest place for the girl was with the Runners.
When they finally reached the Alley, Eric gave a sharp sigh of relief, thankful that they’d made it back without any problems. But just as he climbed out of the truck, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, alerting him to danger. He sniffed the air as he cut a sharp look toward Jeremy, the Runner obviously feeling it, too, his golden gaze scanning the glade. Mason and the other Runners were coming outside to meet up with them, one of the truck’s back doors opening as Chelsea started to climb out, but Eric shoved her back inside. Slamming the door, he growled, “Stay there!” She shouted something through the glass, but he couldn’t hear the words over the menacing howls that suddenly filled the night.
And in the next moment, hell was upon them.
* * *
The ambush happened so quickly, there wasn’t even time to get Chelsea and Perry inside the safety of a cabin, the two women trapped in the truck while Eric and the others became immersed in the battle. Out of nowhere, he and the Runners found themselves surrounded by at least a dozen werewolves out for the kill. With no time to think of how Chelsea would react, Eric allowed the change to wash over him, cloth shredding as ebony fur rippled over his expanding form. Within seconds he and the other Runners had taken the monstrous shapes of their beasts. They stood at nearly seven feet tall, with wolf-shaped heads and powerfully formed bodies, complete with lethal, claw-tipped hands and long, deadly fangs.
With a collective roar, he and the Runners engaged the enemy. It took only seconds to realize that the wolves they were fighting weren’t giving off a scent, which was how they’d been able to infiltrate the Alley without detection. And that wasn’t the only disturbing discovery. Though Eric and the others were fighting for all they were worth, these enemy Lycans were unnaturally strong, making them impossible to take down.
“They’re doped up on some superdrug,” Cian snarled beside him, the guttural words distorted by the muzzled shape of his mouth. The Runner ducked to avoid the lethal claws that were aimed for his throat, then said, “I tasted it when I got a bite out of one. It’s made them stronger.”
“Trust me, I noticed,” Eric grated, using everything he had to hold off the ginger wolf that kept going for him.
“Jason, stop screwing around and take one down!” The shout came from one of the enemy wolves, and Eric could tell by the voice that it was Curtis Donovan. He’d suspected these were Curtis’s men, though he hadn’t been able to identify them by scent. The “Jason” that Curtis had just commanded to make a kill must be Jason Donovan, which meant Perry’s boyfriend had attacked the very men who were trying to protect her. Eric didn’t know what kind of game Jason was playing, but it would end tonight, when he died with the others. They just had to figure out a way to bring these bastards down.
Suspecting they were there to either kill the Smart sisters or to kidnap them, Eric did everything he could to keep close to the truck. But it wasn’t enough, and he soon found himself being driven away by three Lycans who came after him all at once, trapping him against the side of a cabin. Just as they were getting ready to go in for the kill, Curtis told them to move aside, a malicious grin on his wide mouth as he stalked toward Eric. His golden eyes burned with triumph. “I’ve got you now, Drake.”
“You know that the Silvercrest will consider your actions here tonight an act of war,” Eric snarled, flexing his blood-drenched claws at his sides. No way in hell was he going down without a fight. Not when Chelsea’s life was in the balance.
Curtis smirked as he rolled his bulky head over his fur-covered shoulders. “Because of you? I doubt that. Rumor has it that you’re not beloved by your little pack anymore.” He gave a low laugh. “But it doesn’t matter. War is coming, Drake. And there’s nothing you or I can do to stop it.”
“War? What do those sex shows you’re running have to do with war?”
“Wars take money.” A slow, cruel smile curved the bastard’s black lips. “And those little human bitches in the truck over there are going to bring in a premium price—once I’m done with them.”
“You’re never getting your hands on them!” he growled, launching himself at Curtis with a bloodthirsty roar. But the Lycan was too strong. Eric engaged him with every fighting tactic he’d ever learned, but Curtis was too well trained to be caught off guard, and the drug seemed to have made him invincible to pain. Eric was taking a brutal beating, worried that he wouldn’t be able to stay on his feet much longer, when help came from one of the last places he’d expected to find it. In a blur of honey-colored fur, Jason Donovan joined the fight, snapping at Curtis with his slathering jaws.
“You bloody little traitor!” Curtis bellowed, rage fueling his strength as he ripped his claws through Jason’s abdomen, blood spraying in a wide arc as the Lycan went down. Leaping over Jason’s body, Curtis started to launch himself at Eric with his claws extended, going in for a kill strike, when suddenly th
ere was a furious, harrowing cry behind the Lycan. In the next instant, Curtis’s body gave a violent shudder as the sound of gunshot tore through the air, and he dropped to his knees on the ground, a gushing hole torn through the center of his chest. Lifting his gaze, Eric was stunned to see Chelsea standing on the roof of Jeremy’s truck, her eyes wide with shock, the smoking gun gripped in her hands.
Holy Christ. She’d saved his life. Had climbed onto the roof of the truck in the middle of a goddamn nightmare, when she should have been catatonic with fear, and fired a bullet for him.
For me... She did it for me.
That stunning thought staggered through his brain. He needed to think it through, decipher its significance, but there was no damn time. Now she was in even greater danger than before, because Curtis’s men were closing in on the truck.
No! Not going to lose her, the wolf snarled inside his head, its gravelly voice brimming with rage. Not today. Not ever!
Determined to do whatever it took to get her to the safety of one of the cabins before they killed him, Eric started running toward her, when he realized something was happening to him. That he was experiencing some kind of change. He could literally taste the air around him as it crackled against his skin. Smell its heat and life. See everything down to the sharpest point of precision, laser focused with high-octane energy, feeling as if he had a goddamn nuclear-powered well-of-purpose building inside him that was just waiting to be unleashed.
For a single searing moment, he looked at Chelsea, seeing everything he’d been too blind to see before, understanding and recognition slamming into him with jarring, heart-stopping force. He staggered under the impact, the revelation so stunning and bright it hurt his eyes. Then he lowered his gaze to the Lycans closing in on her, his nostrils flaring as his muscles coiled with fury, and he let the primal, visceral surge of energy riding beneath his skin break free. Screams echoed in his ears, accompanied by the sound of shattering bones and the rending, tearing rasp of claws and fangs slicing through flesh. His blood raged as he worked to destroy those who had threatened his woman, annihilating everything in his path.
When it was finally over, Eric’s claws and fangs were drenched in blood, and he found himself standing a few feet away from Curtis Donovan’s shredded body, while the bastard’s men lay mangled and broken on the ground around him.
He’d thought he understood the dark, destructive power that he held inside—thought he’d known what it was capable of. But he’d never had a clue. This had been unlike anything he’d ever known. Violent and unstoppable, an endless supply of strength and speed that he could have never imagined, all held in perfect control, used for one specific purpose: to keep Chelsea alive. To keep her safe. Keep her with him.
Forever.
For the first time in his life, his dark wolf had risen up in all its destructive glory, determined to do whatever it took to protect their mate.
Eric had heard it said that a dark wolf could only fully awaken, embracing its total power, once it had found its true life mate. Like so many things in nature, the rule was meant to keep balance, since it was a dark wolf’s need for its mate that was meant to temper its savage, visceral aggression.
However, the rule no longer applied when that aggression was being channeled toward someone who had threatened the wolf’s woman. In that event, all bets were off, and the threat was destroyed by any means necessary. Which was exactly what Eric had done.
Oh, yeah. He got it now. The crazy, stubborn, smart-mouthed little human was his, and he wouldn’t have her any other way.
The only problem was whether or not she’d have him.
The other Runners were eyeing him with expressions that ranged from shock to gratitude, but the only reaction he cared about was Chelsea’s. He could sense her behind him, could feel the power of her gaze as it roamed his massive, beast-shaped body, and tried to work up the courage to turn and face her.
She saved us, the wolf growled, its guttural voice thick with possession.
True. But then, that had been before she’d seen the sort of violence he was truly capable of.
Retaking his human shape, Eric wiped a hand over his mouth and headed toward Jeremy, who was standing beside Jason Donovan’s human body and calling him over. Though Eric hadn’t attacked Jason in his rage, the bleeding wounds that Curtis had inflicted were too severe for Jillian to heal.
As Eric dropped to his knees, Jason opened his eyes. “Curtis wanted...Perry,” he rasped, his lungs working hard as he struggled for breath. “He didn’t want me to take her from the club, but I had to. Been trying to protect her, but I...I didn’t trust him. He was getting Roy on his side, so I told them she escaped today. But Curtis wouldn’t let it go—started putting together a search party to go after her. Said he was going to get good money for her, after he’d used her himself. I couldn’t...couldn’t let that happen, so I told them I’d talked to you. Said that her sister was here. Wanted to...to get him here...so you and the Runners would kill him. Didn’t know Curtis would...give us that drug. Just wanted Perry to be...safe.”
Son of a bitch. The kid had led Curtis right to their doorsteps, counting on Eric and the Runners to destroy him, so that Perry would no longer be in danger. He hadn’t been working with Curtis tonight—he’d been setting him up. Leading him to slaughter. And he’d been willing to risk his own life to see the bastard taken down.
Wishing like hell that Jason had come to him for help before all this shit happened, he asked, “Is Perry your mate, Jason?”
Blood slipped from the corner of his mouth as he gave a pained laugh. “What’s it matter if she was? She’ll be better off without me. Hell, dying is the best thing I could do...for her.” He took a shallow breath, shaking his head as he said, “When we met, I t-told her not to come after me. Knew she’d be in danger, because of what I was mixed up in.” His lips twitched with a strained smile. “Crazy girl did it anyway.”
Eric lifted his head, ready to call for Perry, who was still in the truck—but Jason’s fingers dug into his arm, demanding his attention. “Have to...warn you. Roy’s using those sex shows to make blackmail tapes. He’s gonna...force others to fight on their side. You have to stop them.”
Shit. All this time, they’d thought the Donovans had recruited the Whiteclaw. But they’d been wrong. It was Roy’s crazy ass that was causing all the trouble.
“He wants...war,” Jason growled, just as his last breath rattled past his lips.
Ignoring the aches and pains in his battered body, Eric pushed back to his feet, his thoughts on everything Jason had told him...and the woman still waiting behind him. Wyatt tossed him a clean pair of jeans, which he pulled on, before turning to face Chelsea. He didn’t know what to expect from her now that it was over. Fear? Disgust? Who knew how she would react to what she’d seen him do...to the monster she’d seen him become.
She stood less than a dozen feet away, pale but beautiful, her tear-filled gaze locked tight on his. “Your eyes are still completely amber,” she whispered.
He wasn’t surprised, since he now knew the amber coloring was a mark of the dark wolf.
Taking a deep breath, Eric parted his lips, praying he could think of the right thing to say. But he didn’t need to.
Before the first word could fall from his lips, Chelsea gave a choked cry and ran straight toward him...right into his blood-covered arms.
* * *
It had taken Eric and the Runners a good hour to deal with the bodies that had been scattered over the Alley. They were all feeling more than a little battered and bruised, but by some miracle of fate, they’d avoided any serious injuries in the group. By the time they were finally done clearing away the casualties, it was near midnight. Chelsea and Perry had headed into his cabin as soon as the cleanup had started, and he figured they were both asleep by now. But, as he walked through the front door, he found Chels
ea waiting for him.
God, there was so much he wanted to say to her, he didn’t even know where to begin. So much that he needed to try and make her understand. He had no idea how he was going to convince her to give him a chance—only the driving need to make it happen.
He finally got it now—the reason his wolf had been so intense about her...as well as why it had hidden the truth from him. The animal had been protecting them. Had been willing to deny its own nature until it was sure she could accept them both: the man and the beast. He didn’t even know if it had been a conscious decision on the wolf’s part. But he had no doubt that the animal’s powerful instincts were the reason the truth had been kept from him until tonight, when she’d proven that she was willing to drill a bullet into another living thing to save his life. And at a time when he was more monster than man. Despite the frustration he’d had to endure these past days, Eric knew it had been the right choice, and now he would never doubt the beast again. It might be darker than the man, but they were the same. Two sides of one whole. He’d live better for that understanding. That acceptance.
But they’d never be complete without their woman.
As she rose from her place on the sofa, he said, “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”
With trembling fingers, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t want to go to bed until I had a chance to tell you that I’m sorry. For all the stupid things I said last night.” She took a step closer as she licked her lips, her blue eyes wide and bright. “I know I acted horrible, and that I don’t deserve it, but I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance.”
His fingers flexed at his sides, his relief so acute that it hurt. “With me, Chelse, you can have as many chances as it takes,” he said in a low rumble, aching to claim what was his. What he knew, with every fiber of his being, belonged to him.
Dark Wolf Rising Page 24