“One set of prints,” Trace declared.
“Sharon’s?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Undoubtedly he was carrying her. She can’t be conscious. You would know it.”
“How fast can he possibly move carrying a grown woman?”
“One who has been knocked out,” Trace added as he leaned into Melinda’s car again and looked around.
The ground started to shake.
Jackson grabbed onto the open door of the car to catch his balance. The shaking continued, rippling the ground and knocking him off his feet several times. He held on tightly, hoping to keep from collapsing to the ground and perhaps suffering serious injury.
His heart pounded. Where was Sharon? If she was unconscious, could she survive this quake?
When the earth finally stopped its madness, Jackson turned to find Melinda running farther away from the main road. “Shit,” she shouted.
Jackson raced to catch up, following Trace.
Melinda was bent down just around a bend, staring at something on the ground.
“Dammit,” Trace added.
“What?” Jackson was confused.
Melinda stood, her shoulders falling. “Whoever took her did so by car.” She pointed at the tire markings that obviously tore through the dirt where they were standing onto a service road Jackson hadn’t known existed. And perhaps it had existed, until about thirty seconds ago. Now it was a pile of rubble. Impassible. It had buckled horribly just yards in front of them.
Jackson nearly lost his last meal. Fuck.
Melinda faced them both and then turned back around. “Look.”
Jackson jerked his gaze to the spot she indicated farther up the mountain.
A spirit hovered just yards from them.
Half of him wanted to scream with relief. The other half wanted to stomp his feet. Frustration bore down on him until he sank to his knees.
The spirit hovered, shimmering wildly as if it had a message that needed immediate attention.
Jackson turned toward Trace. “Sandhouse. He’s a shifter, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Trace started taking off his clothes.
Jackson nodded. “Go. Get her. Dammit.” He leaned forward onto all fours and pounded the ground with his palms, wishing he had the ability to shift and find his mate. He’d never felt so helpless.
Melinda turned toward her car and stripped quickly, setting her clothes in the seat and shifting so fast Jackson hardly noticed.
Trace muttered an apology to Jackson and leaped into the air, changing forms before he hit the ground.
Two men suddenly emerged from the trees, running hard.
Jackson nearly jumped out of his skin when they startled him. And then he recognized them as the men from the school auditorium. He’d never been so relieved to see anyone or anything in his life. He pulled himself to his feet, regaining some strength.
As if he suddenly had powers he’d never before been aware of, he knew these two men weren’t human. They weren’t wolves, either. They were definitely something else entirely.
The one with slightly longer hair nodded at Jackson but spoke to his brother. “I’ll go with Melinda and Trace. You help Jackson.”
Jackson should have been shocked. He wondered for a moment what the hell the guy was going to do to catch up. And then he had his answer.
The taller man didn’t even bother to take his clothes off. He simply turned toward the retreating backs of Melinda and Trace, jumped into the air, and hit the ground—on the paws of a grizzly bear.
Fuck me.
It was an amazing sight, one Jackson might appreciate another day in another place.
“Come on,” the other man said. He turned toward the main road. “Let’s catch up by car.”
Bless him. If he hadn’t come along to guide Jackson, Jackson would have been left standing between the trees for who knew how long, waiting for information. The only person he could communicate with was Cooper, and Cooper didn’t have any of the details.
Jackson jogged behind the serious man.
“How will we know where to go?”
“No idea. We go with our gut. I’m Isaiah,” he twisted around to tell him. “Sorry to meet you officially under such horrific circumstances.”
“Jackson. And I appreciate your help.”
“No worries. I know it can suck to be the human left behind to worry. We’ll find them.”
“Can you communicate with your brother?”
“Wyatt?” He gave Jackson a quizzical look. “Of course. I can communicate with all my brothers.”
Jackson nodded. In human form? Did he even care right then? Not really. The important thing was that Wyatt could keep Isaiah aware of their location.
Jackson in turn could alert Cooper.
And with perfect timing, Cooper entered Jackson’s mind. “I’m on foot now. Headed your way. Is everyone okay? That tremor was harsh.”
“I’m with Isaiah. Wyatt went with Melinda and Trace. I’m heading back to the side of the highway where we found Melinda’s abandoned car.”
“That makes no sense at all. But I should cross your path any minute.”
Jackson followed Isaiah at a jog. Seconds later they were next to the squad car again.
He shuddered and tried to ignore the possibilities. Sharon was gone. Taken by a madman who probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill her the first chance he got. He didn’t trust Sandhouse for a single second. Obviously the guy had lost his last marble. In fact, he had her unconscious. Undoubtedly his aim was to block her from communicating. And it was working.
But why? Was the Sojourn deputy so out of touch with reality he stooped to kidnapping a woman simply because he didn’t like the color of her skin or the people she chose to live with?
A flash of fur jumped in front of Jackson. Even though he’d known it would occur, it still took his breath away.
Cooper was truly magnificent. Larger than Sharon, and seemingly even larger than himself at the moment. He cocked his scruffy head at Isaiah as if questioning the man.
Isaiah pointed up the mountain. “Directly north. You should be able to catch up. My brother Wyatt is with them.”
Another spirit popped up out of nowhere. Jackson watched as Cooper stumbled to a halt, growling.
Isaiah leaped forward and put a hand on Cooper’s fur. “This one’s mine. It means you no harm. It will guide you. Relax. Follow it.”
Cooper stared at Isaiah for several moments and then nodded his large head and twisted to meet Jackson’s gaze.
“Go. Sharon needs you. Isaiah’s right. I can feel it in my bones. We’ll drive around to the other side of this section of the mountain and find you.”
Cooper nodded again and turned around. The spirit fled off in front of him as Cooper took off at a dead run. “What is he?” Cooper asked Jackson in his head.
“A bear.”
“Of course. A bear.” His tone was sarcastic even in Jackson’s head.
Jackson stared at the spot he’d last seen Cooper. The man took off so fast it made Jackson blink. The wolf shifters seemed to have more stamina than humans. Much more. He wasn’t a weak man, either. He worked out. Stayed fit. But nothing could prepare him for what he assumed the shifters were about to do. He spoke into the silence. “Do you freaky shifters have extra strength even in human form?”
Isaiah laughed. “I suppose in a way. Not really so much extra strength as the mindset that we can do the same things in human form as bear. It isn’t a reality. Just a mindset. We get worn out at times too.”
Jackson took a deep breath and wrenched open the driver’s side of Trace’s squad car. “I don’t know where you came from or how far you just ran, but get in he-man.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sharon’s head hurt like she’d been hit by a two-ton brick. She winced as she awoke, squinting her eyes and blinking in the darkness. Where the hell was she? And why did her head hurt so badly?
And what was that smell?
The gr
ound shook beneath her, yanking her the rest of the way awake. She jerked to sitting and shivered. She was on the hard ground. Even though her eyesight was usually amazing, she could barely see more than the faintest specks of light coming from anywhere. Slivers. Not enough to ascertain where she was.
The Earth shook again, harder this time. A deep rumble climbed up through her body to make her fine hairs stand on end.
An earthquake?
She tried to shake the cobwebs from her mind and winced again at the pain. Everything was a blur. She couldn’t form a complete thought.
Suddenly she heard movement and realized someone was coming toward her.
“Hello?”
“Ah, you’re awake.” The deep voice belonged to a man. He crouched down in front of her and cupped the back of her head, almost lovingly, but something was off. “Sweetheart, you scared me. You’ve been asleep for hours.”
She couldn’t think. Who was this? Why didn’t she recognize the voice or the words? She licked her lips. Her mouth was so dry.
“Oh, right. You must be thirsty.”
Yes. She was.
The man held a water bottle up to her lips and helped her tip her head back to drink from it.
Sharon guzzled it, but he removed it too soon, making her whimper.
“Oh, sweet girl. There’s plenty. Don’t worry. But you need to take your pills. Here.” He pressed something to her lips. “Be a good girl. Open up. You can use the rest of this bottle to swallow them.”
She pursed her lips. What was going on? Something was off. Terribly off.
He chuckled. The sound was wrong. His breath was wrong. His entire body felt wrong. He acted as though she were his, but she didn’t believe it. She didn’t know his scent.
Right? Could she belong to this man she couldn’t place in her mind?
“My sweet, sweet girl, you need to take your meds. They will help with the headaches. You know that. Did you forget?”
“Where are we?” she asked, trying to get her bearings. She would give anything if her arms and legs would obey her and help her stand. Or better yet, shift. But she could sense that wasn’t possible. She was too weak. Tired. So tired.
Her mouth fell open to take a deep breath, and the man slipped the pills between her lips and tipped her head back. He reached in farther and pushed them all the way to the recesses of her mouth and held the water up to pour it down her throat. “That’s it. Be my good girl. You’ll feel so much better soon, sweetheart.”
The pills went down without her blessing. She couldn’t stop them. It was either that or drown. Water fell in streams down her face and throat. She choked, and he righted her, petting her hair roughly. “See? Not so hard. You’re such a good girl.” The man sat and hauled her into his lap so her cheek rested against his chest.
She tried harder to focus, but the world was fading around her… Something was terribly wrong…
»»•««
“Where are we heading?” Cooper projected toward the two people with him.
Melinda was exhausted. He could tell by looking at her. Even in wolf form, she was running out of steam. She needed water. Hell they all did.
“I’m not sure, but it’s far,” Wyatt stated into Cooper’s mind. “We can only follow the spirits. They will guide us.”
Two of them led the way, one of the wolf variety and the other of the bear variety. Trace ran alongside Cooper. Even the idea that the spirits were leading this ruse was unsettling. What if they were wrong?
“Why are we in animal form? Sandhouse couldn’t have carried her this far. He had to have a car.”
“He did,” Melinda responded. “And the last set of tremors took out the road. We were stuck.”
As if on cue, the ground shook again. Several tremors had rocked their foundation in the last hour. Cooper was worried. And rightfully so. They were heading in the direction of the epicenter. Why would Sandhouse risk heading directly toward a possible volcano? Unless he simply didn’t intend to survive and was willing to sacrifice his own life as long as he took out Sharon’s as well. Fissures in the ground not far from them were spewing gasses into the air. He could see them in the distance. If lava began to flow…
He shook the thought from his head. He had no other choice.
“Cooper. Dammit.” The voice was Jackson’s. It would suck to have been left behind. If Cooper had been told to wait around pacing while Jackson ran after Sharon, he would have had a coronary.
As it was, he’d gone quite far. No way could Jackson have kept up. They weren’t even on a path. Cooper, Trace, and Melinda could run very fast in wolf form. And Wyatt had proven himself as a strong member of the grizzly family also.
“I’m so sorry. Jackson. This is out of my control. My gut tells me to keep moving. Following these spirits.”
“Where? How far?”
“I wish I knew.”
»»•««
A loud rumbling sound jerked Sharon from a deep sleep. She bolted to sitting as the noise filled her ears, and she cupped her hands over them to drown out the sound. Where was she? In bed? No. The ground was hard. Cold. Outside.
She couldn’t see anything.
Someone scared the shit out of her when they yelled out, “Fuck.”
She twisted toward the direction of the shout just as a flashlight lit the area.
A man stood several yards from her, his back to her, his flashlight dancing around a pile of rocks. “Fucking goddammit.” He ran his free hand through his hair.
Sharon winced. Everything about this situation screamed at her to be cautious. The vibe she got radiating from the tall man with the dark hair was pure evil.
Think. She glanced around again, trying to be quiet so he wouldn’t realize she was awake.
Did she know him?
He was a shifter. She could scent that. He was not her mate. He was not a relative. She would be able to detect those things too, wouldn’t she? What was the matter with her? Did she have amnesia? She couldn’t come up with anything about herself. Who were her parents? Siblings? Did she have a mate?
She flinched when the man bent down, set his flashlight on the ground, and grabbed a large rock to toss it aside. Hastily, he grabbed another. And then another. When he stood taller and reached for a rock above his head, he started an avalanche of falling stones. They cascaded all around him, knocking him to his ass.
She screamed out, unable to stop herself.
The man twisted around to face her, climbing to his feet. “This is all your fault, you know.”
She winced. What was her fault? She had no idea what he was talking about.
He stepped closer, pointing at her. “If your people hadn’t made a mockery out of our species, we wouldn’t be here. You forced my hand.”
She pursed her lips, struggling to find anything in her brain that would fill in the holes. Her brain wouldn’t cooperate. It was one giant gaping hole.
The man paced, his hands on his hips. He glanced back at the pile of rocks and kicked one. “Fuck,” he screamed.
She looked around. Where were they? A cave? Whipping her gaze back to the pile of debris, she decided they were indeed in a cave, and the entrance was blocked.
He rambled some more. “I had a mate once too, you know. And that bitch was white, just like you. I denied it. Walked away.” He spun around again to face her, his voice rising. “It’s wrong. An abomination. We aren’t meant to mix the races. My people were here long before you pilgrims arrived. Centuries. You stole our land, raped our women, and that wasn’t enough? No. Now you have to continue to mate with our men and women.
“Well, enough is enough. I’ll teach your family to fuck with nature.” He turned back toward the pile of rocks and picked up another one to toss it aside.
Sharon tried to make sense of his weird lecture. He was Native. She could see that. And he didn’t think the races should mix. But did they have a choice? Wasn’t it Fate who determined who each wolf shifter was destined to mate?
The man
was crazed.
Another pile of rocks fell when the man grabbed one and yanked it loose. Shocking her, he stumbled backward.
She gasped as more rocks tumbled from high off the ground. The noise was deafening. She scrambled back farther, shoving with her feet.
The man screamed. His anger wafted off him in waves that she could feel from yards away. With a battle cry, he launched forward, shouting obscenities at the rocks as he continued to grab them. They fell faster. He didn’t care.
Right in front of her eyes, a larger chunk fell toward him.
He screamed again as it slammed into him, and he fell backward so hard his head hit the ground with a thump, bouncing off the ground before coming to a rest.
A plume of dust rose into the air.
Sharon’s heart pounded. She didn’t dare move. She didn’t even know what to do. Was he dead? She inhaled long and slow, staring at his face. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose. His eyes were open wide, unblinking. Yeah. He was dead.
Thank God. She didn’t know why, but she was alert enough to know this was a good thing.
Now, where was she? She tried to stand and found her legs too weak and wobbly. Her head throbbed. A sense of déjà vu flooded her system. She squeezed her eyes closed and breathed. In. Out. Slow down. Whoever he is, he’s dead. And he was evil. Don’t give him your power.
After a few minutes, she managed to pull herself to standing. She made her way across the dirt until she stood next to the man. She had no desire to approach him, but she did want the flashlight now half buried under the rubble.
She lifted several rocks out of the way and snatched it from the ground. A quick scan of the area told her she was indeed in a cave of some sort, perhaps trapped now that rocks had fallen. And there was a duffle bag off to one side. She shuffled toward it, unzipped it, and found several bottles of water, protein bars, a jacket, and a bottle of pills.
On closer inspection of the medicine, she knew nothing more than before. The bottle contained something called diazepam. It meant nothing to her.
She shrugged into the jacket and sat back down on the floor. She needed to think. Setting her pounding forehead on her folded hands against her knees, she attempted to assess what had happened to her. She could remember nothing. Her mind was a complete fog. How had she ended up in a cave in the dark? And was that an earthquake she’d felt?
Sharon's Wolves (Wolf Masters Book 10) Page 24