by Lori Devoti
“Plan? There’s no plan. You heard what I said, what the doctor said. I gave him Caleb. He forgave me the clients I ‘owed’ him—the ones Caleb killed, by the way. Oh, and he threw in you.” She made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat.
“You gave him Caleb.” Samantha had to repeat the words; they were that ludicrous. “You didn’t give him Caleb.” She couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe that this female, werewolf or not, was strong enough or smart enough to capture Caleb if he didn’t want to be caught.
Emotion, hot and angry, flashed behind Anita’s eyes. “You saw me.”
Samantha shook her head. “No, there’s something else going on. I don’t believe you. You couldn’t beat Caleb.”
Anita covered the distance between them too fast for Samantha to think of pulling back—not that she would have, tied as she was she would only have landed on her backside in the dirt.
The werewolf grabbed Samantha by the front of her torn and stained shirt. “You know nothing. I’m the alpha. Do you know what that means?” She didn’t wait for Samantha’s answer, just kept going, her eyes still flashing and her skin flushing. “It means I’m the strongest werewolf around. No one beats me.”
Her breath was hot on Samantha’s face and her fingers twisted the cloth of her shirt so tightly Samantha heard the material tear. It was important to the female werewolf that Samantha believe her and say so out loud.
Samantha lifted her chin. “Only because Caleb never challenged you.” She had no idea of their history, no real knowledge if what she said was true, but she knew it in her gut.
Anita dropped her hold, then with no other warning, slapped Samantha across the face.
Samantha fell. Her face stung, but she could see as the werewolf bore down on her, that she had been lucky. An openhanded slap was nothing compared to what Anita planned to do to her now.
“You’re wrong. He did,” a male voice interjected.
Both Samantha and Anita froze at the words.
A man, stocky and dressed in a T-shirt and camouflage pants, stepped into view. His arms were muscle-bound, so much so they barely crossed over his massive chest.
He glanced at Samantha, but only for a second. Then he stared at Anita. “What is she talking about?”
Her hands curling into claws, Anita turned on him. “The full moon is over, Jake. Get back to your life.”
He took a step forward. “This is my life. You aren’t the only werewolf who cares about the pack, Anita. In fact, maybe you aren’t a werewolf who cares about the pack. If you were you would want the strongest to lead us.”
Anita widened her stance, and Samantha could see the tremor that ran through her. “The strongest does lead us.”
He shook his head and looked back at Samantha. “Who is she?”
“No one.”
“She talked about Caleb.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. After flipping it open, he tossed it onto the ground beside Samantha.
Using her feet to propel her, Samantha twirled in the dirt toward it, but Anita beat her and kicked the weapon out of reach.
“She’s no one, and neither is Caleb. He never acknowledged the pack. He certainly didn’t want to lead it.” She shrugged. “Not that it matters. He’s gone now, and I’m still the strongest.”
“What did you do?” There was anger in the man’s voice, but it was controlled. He was angry, but he was unsure, too. Samantha watched, trying to figure out what was happening, what her best move would be.
“She gave him to the zombie doctor,” she told the stranger.
The man spun, his gaze shooting back to Samantha as if he’d forgotten she was there. The uncertainty was still in his eyes. He shook his head and looked at Anita. “You wouldn’t. He’s a were. Even if he isn’t in the pack—”
“That’s right. He isn’t in the pack. That’s all that’s important here. That and that you shouldn’t be here.” Her hands fisted at her sides, she strode toward him. “Go home, Jake. Go back to your cushy job in the city and do your part for the pack. Collect your paycheck and your bonus, drive your overpriced tank on wheels, work out in your steel-and-glass box of a gym and stay the hell out of what doesn’t concern you.
“Caleb isn’t here and he isn’t coming back. I’m alpha and we both know you can’t change that.”
Samantha belly-crawled toward the knife. Neither of the werewolves seemed to notice; neither seemed to even remember she was with them.
Her chin jutted out, Anita shoved her face into Jake’s. He was taller than her, but not by a lot. What he gained in height she made up for in attitude.
She lifted one lip and snarled.
Samantha’s fingers closed over the knife’s handle. She turned it around and began to saw on her binds, praying the blade wouldn’t fold up on her as she did.
Jake hadn’t moved. He hadn’t struck the female daring him to do so, but he hadn’t backed down yet, either. Desperate to be free before he did, Samantha doubled her efforts and sliced one finger open in the process. Too busy to curse, she shifted the knife so the sharp side of the blade once again ran over the rope. She bent her wrist up and down, moving the knife as she did.
The blade gnawed its way through the rope with heart-tearing slowness. Samantha concentrated and kept sawing.
“An alpha does what is best for the pack,” Jake muttered, but his gaze wavered, dropped down.
“An alpha decides what is best for the pack,” Anita countered. She pulled her already impressive frame taller.
Anita was battering the other werewolf down. Samantha didn’t know how, but she could see the transformation. It was as if the larger male was melting, shrinking as she watched.
She didn’t have time to worry about him. The blade was almost through the last of the rope. As it snapped through the final strands, her cramping fingers lost their grip on the tool. It fell from her grasp onto the dirt. She pulled her wrists apart like the Hulk bursting free from his human form.
Jake’s gaze darted toward her; his stance shifted.
Samantha saw his notice, but didn’t pause to analyze it. She pounced on the knife and again began sawing, this time on the ropes tying her ankles.
Jake looked up, his eyes meeting Anita’s. He sucked in a breath as he did.
His actions meant something; Samantha could tell by the still that settled over the pair. More sure than ever that she needed to be free, she ignored the blisters forming on her palms, ignored the cramping in her fingers and ignored the questions forming in her brain. She didn’t know what she would do when she was free. She couldn’t outrun a werewolf; certainly couldn’t win a battle against two of them. But she also couldn’t lie here helpless and let whatever fate Anita had dealt Caleb just unroll.
The blade slid through the last of the rope.
Samantha was free. The knife still open and gripped in her hand, she staggered to her feet.
Jake didn’t move his eyes from Anita’s face, but Samantha sensed he knew she was free, sensed he expected something of her.
She glanced down at the knife, and then at the tapered back of the female werewolf.
He wanted her to use the blade on Anita.
Samantha had killed before, but it had been a zombie, an already dead creature. Could she kill Anita, even to save Caleb?
Jake pulled in a breath that filled his chest. “I saw Caleb defeat you. I know the truth. You aren’t the strongest. You aren’t the alpha…not anymore. If Caleb isn’t here to claim the position, or doesn’t want to claim it, it’s up for grabs. Open challenge rules.”
“Open challenge? And do you think to try me?” Anita’s voice was confident as ever. She tilted her head to the side and laughed. “You can’t beat me. And, as you said, Caleb isn’t here. He won’t be here ever again. So, who’s going to take me on?”
“Me.” Arm held out and weapon ready, Samantha threw herself over the space that separated them.
Caleb would be here again. Samantha wouldn’t let Ani
ta win.
As Samantha moved, so did the werewolf.
Samantha slashed down with the knife. The blade tore into Anita’s shirt, over the werewolf’s shoulder and down her arm, leaving ripped cloth and an angry red line of blood in its wake. The blow she delivered wouldn’t be fatal, at least for Anita.
Angered by Samantha’s attack, it was almost guaranteed the alpha would kill her.
Anita roared and lunged, but Jake shoved her from the front.
Thrown off balance, the alpha landed on the ground. Snarling, she rose on all fours. Her back arched and her neck stretched.
There was magic in the air. The hairs on Samantha’s arms crackled. She couldn’t swallow. She was about to see a shift, about to be the victim of that shift.
But Anita didn’t change. Blood continued to seep from her wound and animal noises continued to flow from her throat, but she stayed completely human.
Her body began to sway. She twisted to look at her wound. “Silver,” she spat. “You cut me with silver.”
Samantha stared at the knife in her hand, then up at Jake. He nodded.
Still shaking inside, Samantha strode forward and pressed the poisonous metal against the weakened werewolf’s throat. “That’s right, and if you try to stop me from saving Caleb, I’ll show you how he taught me to kill a zombie. You ever kill a zombie, Anita? You know the trick?” She tapped the werewolf on the back of the neck, through her hair. “The brain stem. You pith them just like a frog in biology lab. One quick shove, a twist and voila, one dead zombie. Or in this case, alpha.”
Anita growled, but she didn’t move. Samantha leaned closer and wrapped her fingers into the other woman’s hair, just like Anita had done to her. Then she jerked the werewolf’s head back and whispered in her ear, “So, do I win the challenge?”
The alpha lowered her head.
The male werewolf moved forward and took the knife from Samantha’s hand. Then he shoved Anita to the ground and pinned her there with his knee jammed into her back.
Samantha staggered to a stand, stared at the pair, but only for a second. She had to get back to Caleb.
No one followed when she ran—not to stop her and not to help her, either. She was on her own.
Chapter 22
C aleb strained his neck to one side. The silver strapped around his body burned. Anita had insisted on the chains. She’d said the doctor wouldn’t buy the trade otherwise, and Caleb had agreed because it was the only way to save Samantha. He had pulled on a pair of pants then waited as Anita, her hands gloved, had looped the metal around his body.
The silver burned his skin and drained his energy, but it wouldn’t kill him—not unless it was driven into his heart.
But by the looks of the way the doctor was scampering around his lab, Caleb doubted he had any plans to do away with his new prize yet.
After Anita and Samantha had left, the doctor and his zombies had vacated the cave. They had taken him maybe a hundred yards through the woods to a converted bus. Inside was a fully operational lab.
Caleb shifted his eyes side to side, taking in the expensive equipment and wondering exactly how the doctor had paid for it, how he had paid Anita, for that matter.
The doctor approached, a needle in his hand. With cool professionalism he swiped a cotton pad that reeked of alcohol across Caleb’s arm, then pricked his vein with the needle. The blood flowed smoothly into a vial attached to the needle. Caleb watched, dispassionate.
Perhaps the doctor wanted to add werewolf-making to his menu of offerings.
“I am so happy you agreed to work with us,” the doctor murmured as if Caleb wasn’t still draped in silver and completely helpless. “I have been wanting to study the effects of werewolf blood on my Life After vaccine.”
Life After. So, that was how he sold his zombie conversion. Bile rose in Caleb’s throat. The man was sick.
“Anita had given me a few vials of her blood, but not nearly enough,” he said, switching an empty vial for the full one.
The news that Anita had sold her blood to the doctor shouldn’t have surprised Caleb, but it did.
“I asked her for a werewolf before, but she wouldn’t agree to the exchange. She did, however, give me your name.”
Caleb’s teeth ground together. So her loyalty to their kind hadn’t extended to him.
“I didn’t realize at the time how perfect you were. Of course, once I learned more about you…” He popped the current vial off the needle and removed it from Caleb’s arm. After pressing a bandage to the wound and wrapping tape around it, he stepped back. “It was too bad about your parents. I’m afraid early experiments didn’t always go as planned, but then with all advancements costs must be paid.” Without another word he picked up the vials and strode from the room.
Behind him, Caleb lunged forward. His parents. The doctor knew them, of them. Rage raced through Caleb, but his body, weakened by the silver and loss of blood, fell back against the table.
He stared at the bus’s white ceiling. He’d found his family’s killer and he couldn’t do a thing about it. He could only lie here and wait for the doctor’s next move.
Caleb had been left lying on the table for hours. He had lost track of time. The doctor and a few zombies had come and gone, taken more blood, poked at him, swabbed the inside of his mouth and left him again.
The doctor had known about Caleb’s family, was responsible for their deaths. In a different world, a world before Samantha, the information would have sent Caleb into a blind rage. He would have forgotten everything except his desire to see the doctor’s blood on his hands. But now while he still wanted revenge, he wanted something else more—Samantha’s safety.
He had sold himself for that, and as long as he thought Anita and the doctor were keeping their part of the deal, he would keep his.
The door rattled. The doctor or one of his zombies back for more blood. Caleb leaned his head against the vinyl tabletop and closed his eyes. This was his new life—for as long as his blood lasted.
Cool hands grabbed him by the arm, jerked at the needle the doctor had left jammed in his arm during his last foray for blood.
Caleb’s eyes flew open. He stared into hazel eyes overflowing with worry and anger.
Samantha. She was here.
Forgetting the silver draped around him, he jerked upward. The chains scraped across bare skin. The previously untouched flesh sizzled. The stench of newly seared skin filled the room.
Samantha pulled back her hands and stared at him, horror replacing everything else.
“Get out,” he rasped. The doctor had let her go once. He wouldn’t do it again.
Ignoring him, she lifted the chains from his body. It was a wasted effort; they were padlocked in the back and twisted in such a way it would take hours to unwind them. He tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. Instead she lay on the table beside him and wedged her body under the chain. So she was pressed chest to chest to him, shielding him from the poisonous silver.
Staring down at him, she whispered, “I’m not leaving you here.”
Her hair fell forward, framing her face. He wanted to reach up and brush it away, but with his arms pinned at his sides, he couldn’t.
“I only agreed to go because I thought…” Her words tapered off. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, could feel her breath warm on his lips. She smelled of worry and woods, flowers and spice. She smelled of Samantha.
He lifted his head and captured her lips with his.
Her lips were soft and timid against his, making him realize how afraid she was. Still, despite that fear she’d come here to save him.
“I won’t leave you again,” she murmured, her lips pressed against his.
His brain told him to send her away, to lie and tell her he didn’t love her, didn’t need her. That it was the only way to save her.
“I can’t—” he started, but she stopped his words with a kiss.
“I know you’re a werewolf. I know you killed Al
lison. I know both should bother me, and I’ll admit they did, but neither matters. I love you. Nothing can change that.”
She loved him. Despite everything he was and had done, she loved him.
Strength roared through him. As much as the chains would allow, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, devoured her, worshipped her.
She loved him and he loved her. Nothing else mattered.
“No!” The doctor stepped into the room. In his hand was a syringe and it was filled with a green-colored liquid.
Caleb knew immediately what it was and what the doctor planned to do with it.
His arm raised over his head, the doctor raced toward them. Caleb flipped over, taking Samantha with him. The needle plunged into Caleb’s back, and the icy-cold liquid flowed from the syringe into his body.
Every muscle in his body constricted. His throat closed. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move his weight off Samantha even though he knew he had to be crushing her.
“Caleb,” she yelled. Her hands were trapped against his chest, her face cradled against his neck. She clawed at him and screamed his name again.
“Stupid wolf.” The doctor cursed. “Bring me more,” he bellowed. Bodies shuffled into the room. Zombies.
“Grab them, flip them over.”
Hands, cold and hard like bone, gripped him by the shoulders. Still convulsing, Caleb could feel his body being flipped. The doctor turned to the side and plucked a second syringe from a tray.
Caleb gritted his teeth and fought. Fought the poison tearing through his body, fought the hands trying to flip him over.
“Hold him,” the doctor ordered one of his zombies. He leaned toward Samantha, the syringe hovering, a bead of green liquid clinging to its tip.
“It’s okay, Caleb. It will be okay,” Samantha whispered. But Caleb knew better. He knew if he lost Samantha nothing would be okay ever again.
The twenty-year-old leash he had kept on his wolf snapped. The hold the silver had on him disappeared. In a rush he shifted—one second he was Caleb the man confined by silver chains and the next he was a snapping, snarling wolf, wiggling free of those binds.