by J. D. Tyler
Without those things, an enemy was doomed. Parker seemed to realize this and, too late, tried to double his efforts. It was in vain.
When the creature fended off a strike from Aric, Micah finally got his opening. He leapt onto the bird, taking it to the floor. Clamping his jaws around its neck, he ripped out the monster’s throat.
And he kept tearing, ripping at the body after its eyes went cold and dead to make sure. Really fucking sure it could never hurt him or his mate again ever. At last he became aware of a soft whine and a warm body nudging him.
My mate, come back to me. He’s dead, and he can’t hurt us anymore.
Whirling, his wolf found his beloved coyote standing there, gazing at him with love and understanding. She yipped at him in joy, and he realized it was over. They could start their lives together, follow their dreams, with no threats hanging over them. Only good things in their future.
For his mate, even more good things than she realized.
Yes, let’s go home.
They stayed in their shifted form, curled up together in the back of one of the SUVs all the way back to the compound. Everyone left them alone.
In fact, they didn’t surface for a solid two days, most of that time spent making love.
Micah’s cravings for myst were almost completely gone, and when the urge came, it was a mere echo now, thanks to the love and support of his mate. His life was good.
And that was just about as close to paradise as he’d ever been.
* * *
Defeat a bad guy, throw a party.
Jacee was beginning to sense that was a theme with the Pack, and that was fine by her. The mood outside was festive as some of the guys and girls played football. Sariel and Kalen argued, as usual, over who’d get to hold baby Kai, the doting uncle or the daddy, and of course Sariel won.
Kira had finally introduced Jacee to a little creature called Chup-Chup, who looked like an adorable gremlin but was prone to biting when scared of strangers, so Jacee made sure to hold out her hand so he could sniff her thoroughly, letting him decide she was a friend before scratching his ears. After that, and Jacee sneaking him a piece of hot dog, they were golden.
Some of Calla’s family attended, and Jacee had to admit to her mate that she was fascinated by the vampires. Especially the extremely sexy Prince Tarron Romanoff, who was single, but not for lack of several females vying for his attention.
Micah snorted, eyeing the vampire. “What’s he got that I don’t have?”
She rolled her eyes. First Sariel and now the vampire prince. “Nothing, sweetie. You’re my main man—you know that.”
“Your only man.”
“That’s right.” She made kissy faces at him, and he laughed.
Her mate lapsed into thoughtful silence, plucking at the grass. Why did Micah keep checking his phone? Finally, he said, “Can you wait right here? I’ve got something I have to do.”
“What?” she pouted. “Right now? We’re enjoying this nice day together.”
“Yes, we are. But I promise I’ll be right back. I have, um, sort of a surprise for you.”
She brightened. “Oh! Well, in that case, carry on. We like surprises. Especially if they’re chocolate.”
His brown eyes sparkled with happiness. “Oh, this is better than chocolate, I assure you.”
“If you say so.”
Sitting on their picnic blanket under the trees, she watched him disappear into the crowd. For a time, she simply let contentment wash over her. She’d lost so much in her life, but she’d gained this new family. These people, the Pack, were wonderful. In spite of the rough start and history with Jax, they’d accepted her. They’d saved her life, in more ways than one.
“Jacee?”
She thought, at first, that the woman’s voice was a figment of her imagination. That she’d conjured the ghost because of her thoughts, and somehow her sister was here to watch over her in spirit. But then she looked up.
And if she hadn’t been sitting, she would’ve fallen. Passed out.
Jacee couldn’t breathe. The young woman in front of her was a pale vision of beauty. Too thin, almost as if a strong wind would blow her away. But she was real, long chestnut hair blowing gently around her face, wearing jeans and a pink blouse.
Slowly, shaking, Jacee stood, hand going over her pounding heart. “Faith?”
The woman nodded, crystal eyes flooding with tears. She tried to smile, but her face crumpled. “I’ve missed you so.”
And then they were in each other’s arms, hugging and bawling, barely aware of the attention they were attracting. Jacee didn’t care. “This is a miracle. A miracle.”
“Yes.”
Jacee repeated it, over and over. Cried her heart out, for all the loneliness and pain they’d suffered apart. When they managed to pull themselves together, Jacee took her sister’s hand and urged her to sit on the blanket with her.
“I can’t stop looking at you,” she breathed, staring at Faith. “Where have you been?”
“Like I told Micah, the Hunters took me that night.”
“Wait. You told Micah?”
“Don’t be angry with him,” her sister urged. “That night he came in so badly hurt, he saw me in Sanctuary, where I’ve been staying. He was so out of it, and he thought I was you.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah, I guess it was fate, because it led him to find me and bring us back together.”
“But that was days ago. Why didn’t he tell me? Or why didn’t you come see me?”
That hurt.
“Please, don’t be upset.” Faith gazed at her, earnest. “I asked him to give me a little more time. I’ve been through a lot, and I was afraid . . . you’d be ashamed of me.”
“Never, honey,” Jacee said firmly, wiping her sister’s face clean of tears. “Nothing that’s happened since the night we were torn from each other has been our fault. What happened when you were taken by the Hunters?”
“They told me you were dead, and then they used me. Forced me into service for them as a prostitute.”
“But you were just a kid!” Jacee was horrified.
“You see why I needed time? I was rescued by Prince Tarron’s men, brought here to heal. Then I learn you’re here, successful and mated to a handsome wolf who’s part of this really cool team, and I just felt like this broken, used-up thing.”
“Baby, you’re anything but. You’re beautiful and strong. And we’re going to help you heal, every step of the way.”
“We?” That one word was full of hope.
“Yes, we. Will you stay?”
“At the compound, yes. But I’ll ask Nick for my own room once I’m released from Sanctuary. I’m not going to intrude when you’re newly mated, and that’s final. And before you protest, I really don’t want to hear you guys going at it, so yeah. My own place.”
Jacee blushed. “Well, when you put it like that . . .”
“But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere for the time being. That’s the important thing.”
“Yes, it is.” They hugged again, until a shadow loomed over them.
“Did I give you enough time to recover from my surprise?”
Jacee smiled up at her wonderful mate. “I don’t know if I’ll ever quite recover from this one, but you’re forgiven. Forever.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that.” He smiled at Faith. “How about we introduce you to some of our friends?”
She smiled shyly. “I’d like that.”
For someone who’d spent the last few years trapped in her own special brand of hell, Faith was very good with people, and they loved her right away.
Especially a certain vampire prince, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.
Jacee filed that information away for another day.
She was so happy and couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt so blessed. After Faith had gone back to her room at Sanctuary, and the party died down, Jacee finally stole her mate away and showed him just
how happy she was.
They made love long into night.
“Micah?” she murmured later. “When we build our house, can Faith live there if she wants?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” He kissed her lips. “She’s family. She can stay with us, if she wants, or wherever, as long as she wants. Don’t you know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy?”
She did know.
And she planned to spend the rest of her life making her wolf smile, too.
Several weeks later . . .
* * *
Cold. So cold. Thirsty.
Starving.
Can’t make it.
Yes, you can. One more step.
Another. Keep going.
The wolf panted, so thin his bones rattled in his body. His fur was matted, dirty. Skin covered in sores, paw pads bloody. He’d traveled for so long, but now was in such bad shape, he moved purely on instinct. On will.
As if there was a homing device in his brain, he’d know when to stop.
The driveway was almost a surprise. The endless Shoshone simply stopped and, suddenly, civilization. Lifting his head, he blinked up at the buildings. One was new? He barely had time to register that, took two steps, and collapsed.
That was it. He was done.
He’d made it, and now he wouldn’t die in some unmarked grave, all alone.
Suddenly there were shouts, footsteps on the gravel. Someone bent over him, and his wolf opened one eye, but he couldn’t see more than a blur. Couldn’t shift to speak, to answer his brothers’ rapid-fire questions.
Where did this wolf come from?
Who is he?
My God, it can’t be.
His answer came only in his head, dredged from the depths of near-forgotten memory.
My name is Ari.
And I’m home.
Turn the page for an excerpt from the first book in the Alpha Pack series,
PRIMAL LAW
Available from Signet Eclipse.
Kira Locke had thirty seconds to lift the samples and get the hell out. Every second counted.
And then, technically, she’d be a thief. A criminal. The police wouldn’t know quite what to do with the items she’d stolen should she be caught, any more than she knew what to do with them if she wasn’t. Her brilliant plan had included getting them out of here, not where to go afterward. Or who to give them to. Who did she dare to trust when she offered little more than some dead tissue and a couple of wild accusations? Who would believe her?
A metallic scraping noise from somewhere down the hallway caused her to jump, her hands trembling so hard she nearly dropped the precious containers. Scratch that thirty seconds. Shit. Quickly, she checked the lids once more to make sure the formaldehyde didn’t leak out, and then slipped the small film-sized canisters into her purse.
There. Let’s see what Dr. Jekyll and the ghouls are up to.
The scraping sound came again, louder this time. Closer. The steady, heavy tread of boot heels on concrete, the systematic opening and closing of screeching metal doors announced that one of the night guards was making his rounds. Checking all of the labs and other rooms in this restricted area of her place of employment that she had no clearance to breach.
Make that former place of employment, if she got caught.
The footsteps came nearer, another door squealed open, and she silently cursed the bad luck that A.J. had called in sick tonight. The young guard would’ve covered for her, considering that he harbored the same suspicions Kira did about something being hidden in this place. Something terrible. Then again, it was probably good that her friend hadn’t known what she’d planned to do tonight because now he couldn’t be accused of helping her.
Heart in her throat, she considered her options—find a spot to hide and hope the guard moved on, or stroll nonchalantly from the room and try to fool him into thinking she had every right to be here. Play it cool, and then get lost.
A sinking feeling in her gut told her the second choice was out of the question, and that the cops were the least of her worries. Glancing around the lab, she zeroed in on the long worktable built on a solid base, the only object large enough to shield her from view. After switching off the light, she skirted the edge, moved to put the table between herself and the door, and crouched. Just in time.
The door swung open, the light flipping on again. The guard paused and she could picture him eyeing the area, trying to decide if anything appeared out of place. His boots scraped the floor as he moved inside a bit farther, and she huddled like a frightened rabbit in a hole, certain that any moment he’d decide to step around the table. Catch her there and call her boss, Dr. Gene Bowman. And if the pompous prick knew she was snooping, what was in her possession, and what she suspected . . .
Go away, please. Please. Her pulse hammered at the hollow of her throat and she was certain he could sense her fear. Smell it, sour and thick in the dank air.
Gradually, his steps retreated after he flipped the lights off again, and closed the door. Only when his tread faded down the corridor did she slump in relief, dragging a hand through her hair. Taking a few deep breaths, she stood, the temporary reprieve at an end. She still had to get out of the damned building unseen, though at almost midnight with nothing but a skeleton crew, the odds were slightly better.
Right. Keep telling yourself that.
Clutching her purse straps in a death grip, she eased toward the door. Turned the knob and slowly inched the weighty metal door open. A bit at a time, just enough to slip out and close it again. Her patience was rewarded with the tiniest squeak of hinges, but even that small noise sounded like a trumpet blast to her ears.
The corridor was clear. Of course it couldn’t be dimly lit with lots of inky shadows to hide in, like in the movies. The tunnel-like space was as brightly lit as a football field at halftime, and if the guard came back, she was toast. At least the lack of cover meant no one could sneak up on her, either.
Walking fast, she forced herself not to break into a run. Just a few more yards and—
“Nooooo!”
She froze, heart thundering, eyes wide. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered.
Straining her ears, she listened. Nothing. The faint wail of despair might’ve been her imagination—the product of nerves and too little sleep. For a crazy second, she felt compelled to turn around and search for the source. To find out once and for all whether the spirit that constantly begged for help at all hours of the day and night was real, or if she was out of her mind.
A door opened at the end of the corridor and a burly guard stepped into view. “Hey! What’re you doing down here? I need to see some ID.”
Kira turned and ran, ignoring the man’s angry shout. Fast as her feet could carry her, scrambling to think of another way out, she hit the door at the far end and kept going. A service elevator loomed ahead, which she assumed was for deliveries, being located at the back of the building and away from the general staff.
And if it was for deliveries, it should open near the parking lot.
She punched the button, nearly frantic. The elevator doors slid open, but the guard wasn’t far behind. Leaping inside, she hit the button marked L—Oh, God, let it mean “Loading Zone”—then the one to close the doors, slapping it repeatedly.
The fat guard rounded the corner, belly jiggling, face red, hand on the butt of his gun. “Stop!” He drew the weapon, kept coming, one pudgy hand reaching out to catch the doors.
Too late. He missed, ruddy mug disappearing from view, and the box lurched, started upward. According to the panel the ride was only one level, but it seemed an eternity. Right now, the guard was probably on his radio calling for backup to stop her from getting away with . . . whatever it was she had in her purse.
And if her suspicions were correct, and she was apprehended? Bye-bye Kira, never to be heard from again.
The elevator stopped, and she held her breath as the doors opened. Nothing but dark, empty space greeted her and she hu
rried out, scanning the large area. It did, in fact, appear to be some sort of loading area, or garage. A couple of vans emblazoned with the NewLife Technology logo sat empty on the far left. Those were pretty much the contents of the cavernous space, save for a few discarded boxes.
Across the way, there were two big bay doors wide enough for just about any kind of truck to pull through, and to the right of those, a regular door with a lit EXIT sign above it. She took off, not caring how much noise she made. She had to get the hell out of there and to her car, now.
She pushed outside, into the night, the heat of June in Las Vegas hitting her like a slap. The still-soaring temperature, however, was the least of her worries. As she ran around the corner of the building toward the main employee parking lot, shouts sounded from just ahead and to her right.
“Shit!”
Two guards, including the burly one, burst from a different exit, clearly intending to cut her off. Her old Camry was just a few yards ahead, and she sprinted faster, fumbling with her key chain, pressing the button to unlock it. As she yanked open the driver’s door, a series of loud pops rang out, pelting the side of her car.
“Oh, God!” Jumping inside, she slammed the door, tossed her purse onto the other seat, shoved the key in the ignition, and fired it up.
She peeled out, fishtailed, then straightened the vehicle and sped toward the company’s entrance. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed that a couple of men in suits had joined the guards, who were waving their arms in agitation. The men broke off from the guards and jogged toward a dark sedan parked close to the building.
Kira turned her attention to the small guardhouse at the entrance, the orange-and-white-striped arms extending across both the in and out lanes. Normally, she’d stop and swipe her badge to raise the arm, but with two goons chasing her who were probably also armed and ready to shoot first, ask questions later? She’d skip the formalities.
Flooring the accelerator, she gripped the steering wheel tight and rammed through the barrier, cringing at the awful crunch of wood and metal. She risked another look to see the arm go flying, snapped like a toothpick. The dark sedan was now in hot pursuit.