by Mina Carter
Grimacing, she pulled her clothes on and headed for the door. She needed a shower or a bath. There were too many hours between her and hot water, not to mention a zombie attack, a mad dash through a tunnel and a hot sex session with the man of her dreams.
Was he, though…? Was he the man of her dreams, or had she fallen prey to some twisted version of Stockholm syndrome? Putting the thought out of her head, she stepped into the main room.
It was dark and empty. Surprise filled her, and a dead weight settled in her stomach like a brick. After everything, had Jack just up and left her here to fend for herself? She couldn’t make herself believe it, but standing in the middle of the deserted main room, it looked as if she had no choice. She didn’t blame them if they had. She was just human, a liability. She’d slow them down, and without her, they’d be able to cover more ground faster.
Her heart twisted as she walked through the empty room aimlessly. It took less than a minute. With nothing else to do she sat on the edge of the sofa, and pushed the hair back from her face. She should go, head back to the hospital. They’d be worried about her. Probably thought she was dead.
An aching sense of loss filled her and she looked around the room without seeing it at all. For weeks…months even…she’d been complaining to her friends that her life was too boring, too humdrum. Out of nowhere, Jack and his men had crashed into her life. Suddenly, for the space of a few hours, she was part of something bigger. Something out of the ordinary, fantastical and wondrous in a gory way. She’d been a player, admittedly a minor one, in a story straight out of Hollywood or a New York Times bestseller.
Like fairy dust, or pixie gold that disappeared with the rays of the morning sun, it was over. She’d been found wanting and left behind. Rubbing her hands over her face, she fought the hot prickle of tears as they stabbed at the back of her eyes.
She would not cry. How pathetic was that? She was her own woman, not defined by a man. And she certainly wasn’t going to become a blubbering mess because one had decided she wasn’t worth the effort. Even if the bastard had decided to screw her before he disappeared. A bitter smile twisted her lips. Oh well, at least he was true to male form.
The sound of a toilet flushing in the cabin somewhere behind her made her jump. She turned just as Darce stepped out of what must be the bathroom. She’d never been so pleased to see anyone in her life. They hadn’t left her!
“Hiya. Was beginning to think you’d all abandoned me.” She smiled and waved a little, self-conciously. Darce looked up, his eyes human-hazel under the dark bangs of his long hair. He smiled as soon as he saw her, his lips curving broadly. Easygoing and with an aura of enthusiasm, he was an easy person to like. She’d seen him battle his beast and control it, so she knew she could trust him. Perhaps as much as Jack. Probably why he was the pack second in command.
“Heya, gorgeous. No, not at all. The rest are out on watch”
Naked to the waist, he wore the combat pants she’d seen him in earlier, now grubby and stained on one leg. She didn’t ask what the stain was. She had a feeling she didn’t want to know.
“Don’t you guys get cold feet?” she couldn’t help asking as she noted his bare toes peeking out from under the pants leg.
A low chuckle rumbled around the room, the buzz in her ears telling Lillian most of the sound was outside her hearing range. Outside any human’s hearing range.
“Nope.”
He moved past her to the window. Standing to one side, he twitched the curtain and checked outside. Whatever he saw out there made him relax, the slight tension she hadn’t been aware of leaving his broad shoulders. Within seconds, it was back again as his gaze settled on the window opposite.
“Most of us would still be running about half naked in the middle of the Arctic. Apart from Nic—she gets cold easy. Bizarre, if you ask me. She’s got the coloring of a snow wolf, but she bitches at the slightest bit of cold.”
Lillian padded after him on bare feet as he moved from window to window, checking. She tried to move up alongside him to see what he was looking for, but he blocked her with his larger body.
“Sorry, chick, eyes only. I can take a bullet and survive, you can’t. And Jack’ll have my guts for garters if you so much as break a nail.”
She pulled a fake pout and laughed when he rolled his eyes at her. Twelve hours ago, she didn’t know him from Adam, but he was so easygoing it was like talking to her brother. If she had one, which she didn’t, but it was exactly how she’d have expected to treat her brother if she did.
“What’re you looking for?”
A frown creased his brow as he moved back to the first window again. Again with the curtain twitch and the serious look as he peered out into the darkness.
“I don’t know. Something feels…odd.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Odd how? We’re in the cabin in the middle of the woods after the zombieclypse at the hospital. You’re a werewolf. There are more werewolves out there. I’d say odd is a relative term, wouldn’t you?”
He blinked, laughed and dropped the curtain.
“You’re right, I’m being stupid. But…you know that odd feeling you get when someone’s watching you, or you catch something out of the corner of your eye?”
She nodded. It was a feeling she had often. Mostly she put it down to working in a place with such a wealth of history. The amount of time St. Mary’s had been a hospital, there were bound to be a few ghosts around the place.
He sighed in frustration and flicked the curtain down again. Leaning against the wall by the door, he ran a hand through his long hair. The ends just brushed his bare shoulders. His very broad and very lickable bare shoulders. But however nice-looking she thought he was, there was no spark of interest within her. Good thing, really. If there had been, she would have been as dumbstruck by his bare chest as she was when Jack was around.
“It’s not just that, though,” he carried on, his expression drawn. “It’s a scent as well. Like a hint of perfume on the air after a woman walks from the room. Warm, like it’s only just left her skin. But when I try and isolate it, it’s gone.”
She edged back on the sofa and curled her feet up under her. It was warm in the room thanks to the small heater, so she didn’t need the blanket lying across the back of the sofa.
“My perfume, perhaps?” she offered. “I didn’t think it was that strong, but perhaps you’re getting a hint of that.”
Darce shook his head. “I can tell the difference. And besides, you’re not wearing perfume anymore.”
Lillian frowned and sniffed experimentally at her wrists. It was faint, but she could still smell the base notes of rose and sandalwood from the perfume she’d sprayed on after her shower yesterday.
“You got a cold or something? Because I am, I can smell it. Here.”
She held out her wrist to him to prove it. Darce’s expression was pained as he shook his head. She got the feeling if he could have backed up, he would have.
“Sorry. Not what I meant. To us, you’re not wearing perfume because we can’t smell it. All I can smell on you is Jack.”
“Jack?”
He nodded, his hair dancing over his shoulders again.
“Yeah. Since you…and he…” He whistled and slid one finger in and out of the circle of his thumb and forefinger on the other hand. “All I can smell is his scent. Mate-marking. It’s so other wolves know you’re taken.”
He could smell Jack on her. A mate-mark. Oh God, why hadn’t she thought of that? With such a sensitive sense of smell, he probably knew exactly what they’d been up to in the last couple of hours. Well, durr… the little voice in her head chided. Wouldn’t take a damn genius to work that one out with all the noise we were making.
Lifting her head, she ignored the flush and went for flippant to cover her embarrassment. “Wait. You’re saying I smell like wet dog?”
His head snapped up at the jibe, his lips parting to retort. Instead, his gaze shifted and went out of focus as though he was co
ncentrating on something she couldn’t see or hear.
Something about the set of his body, the intense focus, made her pause. Sent a shiver of warning through her body. Warily, she rose to her feet. “Lieutenant?”
“Fuck.” The expletive exploded from him with the force of a small nuclear blast. “They’re here. We gotta go.”
The window behind him exploded, spewing glass into the room and across the floor like candies from a broken piñata.
“Go!” he yelled, already across the room and shoving her toward the bedroom ahead of him.
She didn’t argue. She just ran. Darce was hot on her heels as they crashed through the door of the bedroom. He slammed the door shut and wheeled around. Lillian’s jaw hit the deck as he lifted the heavy wooden dresser and dragged it into place over the door as though it weighed nothing.
He turned to find her watching him. Something heavy slammed into the door behind him.
“Window.”
He grabbed her hand, dragging her after him like a trailer on tow as he ran over the soft surface of the bed. The window didn’t stand a chance against however many pounds of determined werewolf, the glass shattering in a discordant aria. Her heart slammed in her chest, a painful tattoo as she clambered through the ruined opening. Not quickly enough for Darce, though.
“Sorry, chick. We gotta haul ass.”
His apology was short as he grabbed her bodily. She gasped as her feet left the ground. The next instant her world narrowed down to a close-up view of naked werewolf back and a tight ass pumping away just below her. Holding her tight over his shoulder, Darce ran.
Shouts and gunshots rang around them. Howls of warning and rage filled the night air. Fear locked her muscles as she clung to her rescuer to avoid being thrown off. She locked down the little voice in her head that was screaming about being the pathetic female in need of rescuing.
Darce was a werewolf. He was stronger and faster than her. If he felt the need to get her out of a danger, then she wasn’t exactly going to refuse. What were her choices, anyway? She could either let him manhandle her or complain and waste time. Or get killed. None of those options, particularly the last, appealed.
The world became a frightening place. Darce ran through the blackened forest with her across his shoulder like some kind of freakish lump. With each shot that whistled by them, she winced. Each time he leaped over something in their path, she flinched. As a teenager, she’d always loved roller coasters, rides that got the heart pumping and the adrenalin running. Now she was on the ultimate thrill ride as they ran for their lives, and all she wanted was for it to stop.
The gunfire slowed, petered out behind them as the humans chasing them couldn’t keep up. Darce crashed through another clump of trees and came to a stop. As soon as her whirling senses told her they were stationary, she wriggled.
“Put me down. I can run,” she promised, but he was already sliding her down from his body to the floor. Unlike with Jack, the movement wasn’t sensual. His body was hard and comforting in its strength. Even though he was built as nicely as his boss, there was no answering spark within her. It was as though that switch had been flipped and the only guy she’d ever respond to again was Jack.
Darce stood motionless, his head cocked to the side as though he was listened to something. She tried to do her best not to breath so he could hear better. The forest was silent, mocking her own attempts at listening. She couldn’t hear shooting or howling anymore.
Her gut twisted. Had they killed all the wolves…? Oh my God, please let Jack be okay.
“They’re still out there. Following us.” His voice was a low murmur. “We’re on silent running now. No vocal warnings until we RV.”
“RV?”
“Rendezvous. Standard protocol. If the shit hits the fan, we cut loose and make our way to a pre-defined location,” he explained, looking up. He nodded toward the mountains to their left. “If we get split up, head parallel to those until you hit a road. Follow it into the pass to the next town. Someone will find you.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Lycan was with the woman, and fuck was he fast. Antonia swore under her breath as she followed their frantic flight through the night-darkened forest. Even carrying the woman didn’t seem to be slowing him much, and Antonia struggled to keep up, despite the fact she wasn’t carrying anything heavier than a pistol in a shoulder holster.
She’d ditched her rifle. It would only snarl her up as she travelled through the treetops far above the ground. Besides, she had natural weaponry, and they were far more effective than any bullet.
He pounded along the ground, moving low and fast. The woman’s weight didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, from his breathing and heart rate, Antonia suspected he hardly noticed the weight across his shoulders at all. He didn’t slow his pace, not even to leap over fallen logs or to clamber up the rock formations that littered the forest floor like some giant child’s discarded playthings.
She switched direction when he did, following the lee of the mountain range above. The trees were denser here, which slowed her down. Not much, but enough she had to expend more energy than she liked to boost her speed. More energy expenditure meant she burned through her resources quicker. She would have to feed before the night was out and, being this far from the base, that meant a live donor.
The obvious choices were the men under her command. Her lip curled. They were pumped full of shit to keep them from being infected, which meant their blood would taste…well, like shit. But unless she got lucky and came across a civilian camping out in the woods who’d somehow missed the firefight when they attacked the cabin or the numerous werewolves stampeding through the trees, then she had no option.
Unless… An image of being wrapped around the cute as all hell Lycan she was chasing popped into her head. His arms ’round her waist, hers across his shoulders as she bent his head to the side to bare his throat. The big vein pulsed under his tanned skin, calling to her. His amber eyes shone with lust and need as she bent her head, her fangs full and aching in her mouth—
No! That is so not fucking happening. Not in a month of Sundays. Ever. She shuddered and carried on moving, ignoring the heat that washed through her body. Lycans were filthy creatures, the lowest of the low. No way would she lower herself to drink from one. Even one as sexy as the Lycan she was chasing. Besides, she had enough crap going on with the virus already in her veins. She didn’t need to add another to the mix, even for kicks and giggles.
Reaching a clearing, the pair below her stopped. Clinging to a branch, she stopped herself in the same instant. Her nails, elongated and razor sharp, bit deep into the bark. A silent shadow she watched what was going on underneath her branch. She wasn’t worried they would look up and see her. If Lycan eyes couldn’t distinguish her from the darkness, then a human had no chance. And the wind was the wrong way for him to catch her scent. She crept forward on her branch until it dipped under her weight.
“…someone will find you.”
Find her? What was he going on about? She wished she’d caught the first part of the sentence. Was the wolf cutting the human woman loose or something? Out here in the darkness, miles from anywhere?
Wriggling, she gained another couple of inches. The wood beneath her creaked. Below her, the Lycan’s head snapped up as, beside him, the woman drew closer. His eyes glowed amber-green as the light from the moon struck them. She froze.
He could see her. Instead of that preternatural gaze sweeping the shadows among the branches seeing just the darkness, he focused directly on her. Surprise was stark on his face.
“Go.”
He pushed the human female away, detaching her hand from his arm and shoving her toward the small, barely visible track they’d been following. Antonia’s lip curled back in a snarl, hatred and anger welling up inside her. What was the female doing near him, why was he touching her? Her talons retracted, freeing her from her perch. She dropped to the forest floor and landed in a crouch.
“Run. Now!” her Lycan bellowed at the human, his eyes not leaving Antonia’s as he dropped into a fighting crouch. She scuttled to the side, trying to find a way around him. Instinct and rage rode her. Her gaze locked onto her target, the delicate woman behind the Lycan. She was pathetic, human and weak. Nothing like Antonia.
She wouldn’t be able to defend herself, not against the claws and ferocity of a Blood’s anger. Just one swipe of her extended claws and the woman’s throat would be ruined, her lifeblood pouring from her veins. A low rumble left her throat. The human was a dead woman—she just didn’t know it yet.
Their eyes locked, blood darkness against human warmth. The human gasped as she read her own death in Antonia’s eyes. Her hand flew up to her throat as she stumbled backward. She almost fell, her feet slipping on the wet leaves underfoot.
“Run!”
The human did as she was told, triggering every predatory instinct within Antonia. All she wanted to do was run, chase her rival down and put her out of commission. The Lycan sidestepped, putting himself between Antonia and her prey. She snarled at him in fury, flashing her fangs.
“Now, now,” he chided, shaking a finger at her. “Put them away unless you intend to use them, there’s a good girl.”
She wanted to rip that finger off and shove it where the sun didn’t shine…she wanted to close in and lick it before sucking it between her lips, then watch the heat flare in his eyes. The urge to rip into him with claws and teeth warred with the need to throw him to the forest floor, tear his clothes from his body and ride him until they both screamed in pleasure.
She staggered, the internal battle tearing her in two. What the fuck was wrong with her? He was a Lycan, a freaking dog. A mutt she’d been ordered to put down. Or catch and muzzle.
“Get out of my way.” Her words were low and guttural, the presence of full extended fangs in her mouth made speech difficult. “Or I’ll rip your head off and dance in your entrails.”
“Sure you will, sweetheart.” He blew her a kiss, his words light and joking. “And I’ll put you over my knee and spank that luscious backside of yours.”