by Cara Villar
“No,” Osiris answered. “We thought, given recent events, that secrecy was best.”
Is he referring to the Immortal disappearances?
The wolf only nodded.
All-in-all, he was rugged and handsome and I could appreciate that, and, like all Immortals, smelt divine. His sunshine and sea salt aroma suited him right down to his toes.
But he was still a wolf.
Blood on the floor, on my hands… Oh, God, Glenn…
“You need to move away from her,” Vincent said suddenly, his voice gravelly and dark, rough and commanding.
I felt Felix go rigid against my back. “Don’t move,” Felix murmured in my ear, and my heart tripped when he released me, moving to the side, tearing his jeans free of my grasp.
No. No! I clenched my now empty hands into fists and swallowed convulsively. Felt like my heart was trying to leap out of my throat, right out of my dry mouth. A butterfly on amphetamines. Every single impulse in me was telling me to run. Fight. Act. Now.
Brown eyes glazed with pain, bloodied lips, his words…Run, Willow…Just run…
I went utterly still when the wolf took a step forward, a deer freezing in the headlights, waiting for impact. I wasn’t delusional. I was prey, no doubt about it. He was the predator, stronger than me in a way that was unmistakable. Where Felix’s subtle aura reverberated with a hint of his power, only letting a little leak through, Vincent’s was like a sledgehammer. The full impact of his power radiated from him like a furnace blast, uninhibited and pure, potent and addictive. Hot. Though I hated myself for it, I flinched when he stopped before me.
I looked up…and up… and up…and met his eyes, craning my neck to take in the ferocious lines of his face as he stared, motionless, down at me. My fear spiked, and the acrid stench once again filled the air, unfiltered, undiluted; rich in terror and my most horrifying memories. The pounding of my pulse became a steady thump in my ears as he slowly raised his hand, his icy gaze never leaving mine. His fingers brushed my hair aside, and my inner-wolf shivered, feeling his throbbing presence like a full-body caress.
My pulse stopped…then jack-knifed. The sour stench of my fear started to color with my rage, a trickle of acid across the bitterness in the air.
My lips parted on a gasp as his hand settled hot and heavy on my shoulder, like a searing brand, and his nostrils flared, inhaling me again, making me shudder till my claws stretched free, cutting into my palms.
Slowly, ever so torturously slow, he lowered his head, and my breaths became pants, ragged gasps mixing with the thrum of my pulse in my ears. His nose skimmed my neck as he inhaled a cool rush of air, and then a harsh exhale of warm breath. His scent enveloped me, fogging my brain with images of sun, sand, and sparkling ocean, the crisp salt crackling my senses. I could almost feel the sand between my toes, the spray on my skin, the sun warm on my face… No blood. No pain.
A low rumble sounded by my ear.
Blood. Snarling. Pain.
My heart stopped. My eyes flew open.
Wolf.
My arms shoot out before I knew I’d moved, ramming the wolf in the chest and sending him flying backwards. He hit the desk, landed hard, crashing in a spray of limbs, and destroying the thick dark woodwork. A female wolf ran to his side.
“Don’t touch me!” I heard myself scream, a savage harpy squawk, muffled as if through glass. Must keep the wolf back. I bared my teeth and fangs in a feral hiss as the male wolf snarled and launched himself at me. His blood. His pain.
I ran at him. As he went air-born to tackle me, to over-power me with his weight, I dropped to my haunches, front foot forward, sliding across the smooth veneered floor. As he passed overhead, I rammed up, into his stomach, with my shoulders, blasting the air from his lungs and ruining his momentum, tumbling him onto his back. He grunted. I circled to his side, and kicked out, the force of my hit sending him sliding back into the wall where Osiris and Felix had stood mere moments before.
A roar suddenly sounded. My head jerked back to the study. A force slammed into me, sending me soaring this time. The female. She hit me like a two-ton truck. I curled in on myself and hit the wall with my back. Pain exploded through every nerve ending in my spine, radiating fiercely through my shoulders. Plaster and brick exploded around me as I dropped to my feet in a crouch, covering my head with my arms as debris reigned down.
Then I was up again, striding back into the fray, pulling my chains free from my wrists. My gaze sharp, crystal clear, focused, sparkling with gold, and my gums ached with the need to tear and maul.
Wolf. Destroy.
The male came at me again, growling his feral need for retribution.
Time stopped. I saw every move they would make, every move I would make, recognized the tensing of muscles that anticipated moves, watched eyes flicker with intention, and I knew. I knew what I would do.
Time sped up.
I dodged the punch the male threw, sliding right and flicking out my wrist, wrapping the silver chain around his forearm. He hissed in pain. I yanked him forward, slipped under his outstretched arm as he stumbled, and wrapped the titanium chain around his throat. He gurgled.
The female lunged. I jerked the males chained wrist around, smacking her in the face. She gave a yelp of surprise and faltered. I released his wrist and flicked my wrist again and the silver chain shot out, snapping around her neck, and I yanked to tighten it, cutting into her flesh.
“Red!”
I froze.
“Red, stop!”
Stop?
Blood. Pain. Wolf.
I was supposed to stay still…
I flinched, my mind yanking abruptly out of its pain-hazed need to survive memories long-since passed. “Tell them to stand down.” I demanded, never releasing my grip on the chains. The female glared. The male snarled. “Tell them!”
“Des, Mark.”
My gaze flickered. Vincent. Wolf. Sunshine. Sea salt.
“Stand down.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” the female, Des, snapped.
I yanked the chain and she cried out, the silver burning into her skin, cutting deeper. The male, Mark, cursed, and then slowly lifted his hands in the air. A tense moment later, Des did too.
A practiced reverse flick of my wrists, and both were free. Mark darted away from me like I burned, probing his neck with ginger fingers. Des continued to glower, not even moving. I returned my chains to my wrists.
“She’s had a weapon on her the whole time…” I heard someone—Porcia, I think—softly murmur. I switched my gaze to her, and she met my gaze with a wicked little grin and a wink. She wasn’t concerned. She seemed almost…impressed.
Osiris moved into my line of sight, staring at me, contemplating me in that cold, blank way he had, his fingertips pressed together in a casual pose of contemplation. Then he turned to the giant blonde man moving to his side. “So, Vincent. What say you?”
Those sky blue eyes appraised me from head to toe, but they were heated, proprietary, and I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. This was a wolf, and, unless I was beating them to death, I really didn’t know how to stay still with one so close —especially one whose whole aura made me itch.
“There is definitely wolf in her. And Vampire too. Though I sense her wolf more.”
“As we do her Vampire side.” Osiris nodded, thoughtfully. “Though she appears to have a remarkable set of talents, regardless of sires.”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “Remarkable?” He snorted. “As always, the master of understatement, Ozzy.”
Ozzy?
He tilted his head, a decidedly inhuman action, and considered me. “Why did you push me, darlin’?”
I scowled at the endearment.
“You growled,” I answered simply.
His brows shot up in surprise. “That’s it?” he asked.
I shrugged, feigning a calm I was far from feeling. “Where wolves are concerned, I shoot first and ask questions later.”
A slow, sex
y grin curved his lips, and it transformed his face like a punch in the gut. His gaze pierced mine, icy and firm with promise. “Mayhap, darlin’, I’ll show you the difference between good growls and bad growls.”
The urge to take his head off was making me fist my hands at my sides. And then I realized…. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” My brow’s hit my hairline, while Vincent’s furrowed in confusion.
A low chuckle sounded behind me. “You didn’t tell him, Osiris?” Felix asked.
I glanced at him, and noticed he had blood on his lip. I frowned.
“Tell me what?” Vincent asked.
I turned back to see Osiris pursing his lips, and pointedly keeping his gaze on the floor.
Felix gave me a little push toward the big, blonde wolf. “Why don’t you formally introduce yourself, pet?”
I glanced at him again, and saw a particularly evil looking grin on Felix’s face, like he was relishing what was about to happen.
Sadistic Vampire
Arching a brow, I turned back to Vincent, gave him the same innocent expression I’d worked on Felix before knocking him out, and held out my hand. “Red Riding Hood.”
There was a gasp, a beat of silence, and then…thump. I think Mark passed out.
8
“Ow, ow, ow! Ow!”
“Stop moving!”
“What the hell are you doing back there? Hacking it out with a meat cleaver?” I snapped. Frost made a strange noise, and I twisted my neck to see him across the counter. His face was completely blank as I eyed him suspiciously.
“You just shoved a wolf Alpha across the room and you’re complaining about a piece of plaster stuck in your shoulder?” Porcia barked, incredulous.
My shoulder hurt like hell, the pain not quite kicking in until my adrenaline had peaked and started to subside, and then it had kicked in with a vengeance. Porcia’s ‘delicate touch’ was just making the spike of wall plaster imbedded in the back of my (non-scarred, thank God) shoulder irate. Here I thought that, being as she was so dinky and all, she’d have gentle hands.
Boy, how wrong I’d been!
“The plaster I can handle. It’s what you’re doing that’s got me freaked!” I wriggled on my bar stool, trying to subtly draw away from her and into the dark marble countertop of the island.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded and poked—hard.
“Ow!” I swatted her hand off and jumped from the stool. “No more touching!”
Porcia rolled her eyes and dropped her hands into her lap, tweezers between her fingers. “You’re such a baby!”
“Were you a butcher in a past life?”
“Were you this much of a wuss?” she drawled back, not worried in the least.
My mouth dropped open.
“Here.” Frost held out his hand suddenly and I jumped, snapping my mouth shut on a bitchy retort.
Damn. He could be so quiet sometimes I forgot he was there!
“I will do it.” His voice was slightly accented, deep, soft, smooth as honey.
I tilted my head at him as he took the tweezers in hand. He stood me side-on to him, peering over my shoulder. I tried to peer too, but he straightened too quickly.
Ice blue eyes, almost colorless like a winter sky, looked into mine. I could smell snow, feel cold wind on my skin, and hear the frosty ground crunch under my feet.
And then, “Ow!”
“All done,” he said suddenly, turning away.
I blinked, startled, dizzy. What the hell?
“Hey, what—”
He held up the shard of plaster, about two inches long, covered in bright scarlet, and then tossed it in the trash.
“That’s it?” I asked, wide-eyed, then swung a scowl at Porcia.
She just smiled winningly.
“Are you a sadist too?”
She laughed as Frost turned me, lifting a swab that smelt distinctly sanitized and smoothed it over my shoulder. “It’s healing already,” he observed softly, my mind turning over his words, trying to discern the accent.
Russia, maybe?
“I don’t heal as fast as Vampires, but faster than Weres,” I replied, startling myself. Obviously a part of me figured it was okay to be revealing the secrets that kept me alive for so long. Not alone anymore. No. No, I’m not.
“Must come in handy,” Frost replied, cleansing, the sting minor under his surprisingly gentle touch.
“Handy.” Porcia snorted, and I glanced over to see her rolling her eyes again. “A lot of things about you seem to be coming in handy.” She beamed suddenly, bouncing in her seat. “Oh-my-god! I’ve never seen anything like that. You threw, threw, Vincent…what? Like fifteen feet without even trying? And then!” She clapped. “You took on his lieutenants. The highest ranking pack members after him, and you made them look like pups!”
I cringed. I still didn’t know what had come over me, but after the wolves had gone back into the library with Osiris, and Felix disappeared to ‘catch a quick bite’—really?—I’d all but collapsed on the floor. Porica said it seemed like shock, my mind trying to process something it didn’t understand. I remembered the sheer terror of having to just stand there as the enormous wolf prowled around and sniffed me, the utter fury at being helpless while he lay hands on me, and then…
Nothing but a cold, dark calm.
“I doubt they’re going to take too well to being called pups, Porcia,” I admonished, glancing at Frost’s carefully blank face as he reached over for a large square band-aid.
Porcia shrugged, swinging her feet. “I don’t care. Vincent adores me.”
“He does.” Frost, with a sigh.
“And, FYI, I’ve never seen anyone move like you did. I mean, seriously, where the hell did that come from?”
“That’s a good question.” Felix suddenly appeared, strolling into the kitchen, and my breath left me in a shuddering wheeze.
He looked…flushed. Like…sex flushed. I glared at the counter top.
“We should spar. It’d be fun.” He was topless, his hair damp from a shower, his eyes sparkling with mirth. He wore black sweat pants and nothing more, his skin gleaming like a polished pearl in the artificial light of the kitchen, making the dark lines of his swirling tattoo deliciously lickable. He looked so damned edible that I didn’t actually understand what he just said.
Counter top, Red! Oh yeah.
“Spar? Fun? Why?” Wow, my conversational skills are epic.
Felix smiled and shrugged, the action making all kinds of glorious things happen with his pecs and biceps.
Drool.
“Could be interesting,” he said as his eyes dipped down to my bracelets. I jolted, wrenching my gaze away and concentrated on a bit of gauze between my fingers.
“Don’t shower until the wound’s finished healing,” Frost told me softly, helping my arm back into my button-down sleeve. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour or so, by the looks of it.”
I spun around to face him, so I didn’t have to look at Felix anymore. “Russia?” I asked.
He gave me a smile as soft as his voice.
“No,” he replied.
I frowned. “Romania?” I asked, trying to remember all the places where it might snow, because well let’s face it; he hardly looked as if he was fond of the sun before he was a Vampire.
Frost laughed. “No.”
I pursed my lips in thought, and then cringed. “Sweden?” My geographical knowledge sucked.
Frost tossed the bloodied swabs in the trash and smiled again. “No, not there either.”
Porcia laughed. “It’s the accent. It’s so warped; no one can figure it out.” She wrinkled her nose as she smiled. “So glad I got rid of mine.”
Felix stood beside me at the breakfast bar, tossing down bread and meats, relishes and spreads. My eyes snagged on a packet of pepperoni and my mouth filled with saliva. Jeepers, I was starved. I peered up at Felix, wondering if I could steal the packet without him noticing.
“Yes, bec
ause sounding like a high school queen bee is so much better.” Felix grinned. Porcia lifted her hand to her head, her forefinger and thumb making an ‘L’ shape. Felix laughed.
“Switzerland?” I asked Frost. He slid into a stool next to Porcia, and shook his head smiling.
I went back to eyeing the pepperoni and thinking of snowy places.
“Where are the wolves now?” Porcia asked, letting her head flop onto Frost’s shoulder.
“They have been given privacy to discuss the situation in the library. Osiris is in his den making calls,” Felix informed us, as he buttered slabs of bread and slapped on some slivers of ham.
I wondered, as my mouth watered, what they were discussing in the library. Whether to keep me or kill me? If it was the former, they could bugger off. If it was the latter, they could bugger off. I wasn’t a pet or easy prey. However intimidating Vincent might have been.
Blah.
“Is Mark awake yet?” I asked. Apparently, it wasn’t the shock of my identity that had caused him to collapse, it was the fact that I had broken his ribs with my shoulders, pulverized them with my foot, and then shredded his lung with the shattered pieces when I hauled back with my chain around his throat. His body was healing, and the pain caused a blackout. I felt mildly guilty.
“Yes. He’s sat up, partaking in the discussion,” Felix answered blandly, spreading on horseradish sauce, then some roast chicken, cheese, onions, tomatoes, the pepperoni—sad face—and some more cheese.
“What are they talking about?” I asked then, my eyes fixed on the clubhouse sandwich he was building. Gherkins, garlic sauce, shredded beef…Drools. Probably for Mark. He was bound to be hungry after all that healing.
“You,” he answered simply, slapping a piece of bread on top, setting the massive sandwich on a plate, and then slicing it into two triangles.