As best we could tell, there was no one else inside the small building. We sneaked out the back and around the side without encountering anyone. I put my hand against Elijah's chest and motioned around the corner. There was a guard standing there, I could smell him. The wind was blowing just right to carry the scent of his cologne to where we stood. The building must have been sound proof for him to have not come running when I'd shot the two men inside. One look at the surrounding woods told me we were in the middle of nowhere, but I was still afraid that someone might hear if I shot him. I passed the gun to Elijah and removed the shoe lace from my right boot. I moved slowly toward the unsuspecting guard, careful not to make a sound. Just as I looked around the corner, he turned away to light a cigarette, and I struck.
Before he knew what hit him, I'd strangled the guard and begun to drag his body out of sight. As I re-laced my boot, I looked up at Elijah. He was obviously trying to remain neutral about seeing me strangle someone. I knew a cop face when I saw one. It was one of those looks that said, no matter what happens, I will not think about it now. There would be plenty of time to have nightmares later.
I fished some car keys out of the guard's pocket. “Let's hope there's a parking lot on the other side, because I don't see anything in front,” I told Elijah.
He nodded and began to move down the wall toward the back of the building. We found more than cars waiting for us on the other side. Emerging from the woods all around was what could only be described as a pack of werewolves. There were at least thirty of them, not enough for a true pack, but what else do you call a bunch of werewolves? They were still in human form, but there was no mistaking the current of sex and violence that radiated from them. You could almost reach out and touch the scent of lycanthrope in the air. I let one of them take me by surprise and wrestle me face down to the ground.
"We've been given orders to detain you and your little boy toy at all costs,” a female voice said. “Not so tough without your weapons, are you?” the voice taunted, still out of my sight.
I turned toward Elijah, where he struggled against a choke hold from another female lycanthrope. There was no easy way out of this. I looked into his innocent blue eyes and knew that the only way to escape was to make the one person who'd never looked at me like a monster change his mind.
A pair of spiked vinyl boots appeared in front of my face. “I'll never know what Marco sees in you,” the voice continued from directly above me.
As I laughed I heard my voice drop lower, into a deep and evil rumble before I replied, “Please, let me show you."
The werewolf on my back was caught by surprise as I flung him off of me. My eyes began to burn, and I knew that they had turned to amber. The werewolf that I'd just dislodged from my back lunged at me. I threw an uppercut as razor sharp claws shot from my fingertips, catching him under the chin.
Pieces of his throat landed on the ground beside him as I ripped my nails across his wind pipe. I rode his body to the ground while I stabbed him through the ribs with the claws on my other hand. I rose slowly. Blood dripped from my hands as I looked into the face of the woman who'd taunted me. She might have been attractive had it not been for the look of complete hatred on her face.
She was taller than me and thin, with long, curly red hair that was beginning to frizz, thanks to the humidity. Although I thought it was creepy that Marco was dating someone who slightly resembled me, I noted with some satisfaction that my breasts were bigger. She had to be Marco's girlfriend. There was no other explanation for that level of hatred in a woman I'd never met before.
"I can't believe he named that goddamned club after you,” she spat.
Yep, she was Marco's girlfriend. I sneered at her with nothing short of malice. I don't know if it was some hidden feelings for Marco, or just the alpha female in me, but I wanted to hurt this woman. What she said about the club had only confirmed my suspicion. That would explain why I'd sensed so many werewolves that night. Marco owned club Red.
"You must feel special,” I said silkily.
She growled as her eyes turned wolf amber and I felt my blood boil. How dare she threaten me? I barely kept the growl from my voice as I said, “Come get it then ... Bitch."
Just as I'd expected, she lost her temper and swung wild. I leaned into her as I covered my head and rammed my elbow into the underside of her bicep. She yelped like an injured dog as I grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to put my left knee through her side. A rage such as I'd never felt before broke over me. It was the rage that I'd held in over the past week, watching Marcy flirt with Alfred, imagining what he must have been dreaming when he'd called her name. For all I knew he had spent the night at her house last night, and now this bitch was going to get in my face about Marco? I should have screwed his brains out when I'd had the chance. Maybe then I would've at least gotten some sort of satisfaction. Oh, but I would have satisfaction, if I had to take it out of her hide. Enough was enough, and I'd more than reached my limit for bullshit and bitchy women.
I grabbed her by the hair and snatched violently to the right, knocking her into three other werewolves. A tall man with claws for hands ran toward me. I dropped to the ground and delivered a brutal heel palm to his left knee, shattering it so badly that the bone protruded from his jeans. He howled as he fell to the ground, where I broke his neck with a loud snap. The red headed shewolf staggered to her feet and lunged at me. I caught her in the chest with my boot, just as hard as I possibly could. She coughed and blood dribbled down her chin as she fell back to the ground.
The woman who'd been strangling Elijah flung him at the ground with an eerie inhuman howl as she began to transform. In mid transformation, her face suddenly exploded and she collapsed. It took me a minute to realize that Elijah, who was still armed, had shot her through the back of the head.
Marco's disgruntled girlfriend struggled to her feet again. Her otherwise pretty face lost some of its appeal as she began to grow fangs. I decided that I wasn't going to wait for her to come at me again as I charged forward and grabbed her by the hair so hard you could hear it tear loose from her scalp. Over and over again, I slammed her into the ground, picked her up by the hair, and slammed her again. Chunks of her frizzy red curls began to fall out in my monstrous hands. With each fall, I heard her bones break, like a wooden toy cracking beneath pressure. I could hear the howls of the werewolves around me, and gunfire echoed in my ears, but I kept slamming her, flinging her limp body like a filthy rag doll. I dropped her to the ground, threw back my head and screamed. It was the same rage filled battle cry that I'd heard on the first full moon after my attack.
I grabbed her again and began throwing her at the crowd. I hurled her mercilessly into them, just to watch her bounce off again, and again. When at last I threw her down, she just lay there, broken, in a twisted heap. The crowd of werewolves had drawn back, whether they were afraid, or just shocked, I couldn't tell. I straddled her waist, propped a clawed hand on either side of her head, and looked at the pack around me, some still in human form, others well into the change.
"I've got a message for you to deliver to Marco,” I growled threateningly. And without further ado, I broke her neck so hard her head spun around backward to face the crowd.
"Oh no, love, not Marco,” said a deep voice with a thick Australian accent.
Bade Garren stepped through the pack into the clearing. I growled low and menacing as I bared my teeth. Bade wasn't exactly handsome, but he wasn't unattractive either. He and Marco were like opposite sides of the same sadistic coin. He had shoulder length hair of the palest gold and a creamy white complexion. They were both muscular though Bade was perhaps an inch or two taller. To see them standing together was enough to conjure thoughts of hedonistic pleasures in the most faithful lover.
Bade Garren's body was a masochist's paradise. He had a flare for the dramatic and was into S & M, so his wardrobe was no surprise. Tight black vinyl pants clung to his muscular legs like a caress. He wore a flowing black satin j
acket, held open to reveal the white perfection of his chest. Through one nipple a silver stud glinted in the fading light of dusk. Werewolves have an extreme allergy to silver. Direct exposure to the internal organs, such as being shot with a silver bullet, almost always results in death. The stud must have caused him constant pain and I'm sure that's why he wore it.
I decided to play with him a bit if I could, to buy enough time to recover my strength. If I did not fight our way out, we would die in that clearing. Elijah was out of ammunition and I was outnumbered. Not to insult him, but Elijah was no match for a fully grown werewolf.
I retracted my claws as I rose to my feet, but my eyes were still blazing amber.
"Bade,” I purred, putting as much sex as possible into my voice. “I would have expected you to keep better company,” I said as I kicked the woman's body at my feet.
"Think highly of me do you?” he asked. His sarcastic smirk added a charm that I would have liked to ignore.
I remembered how I had let my feelings flow to Alfred and wondered for a moment if it would be possible to do the same to Bade. I concentrated on what I wanted him to feel, what I wanted to be in my voice when I spoke again, and it felt as if a door opened in my mind. Something warm and hot flowed beneath my skin, giving me a fever that I had previously only felt behind my eyes when they had turned. It was like flipping a switch in my head, but instead of turning on a light, I had turned on what could only be described as pure sex. I was unsure of this new ‘talent', but I wasn't going to waste my one chance of delaying Bade and whatever it was he had planned.
"I have never put you in the same category as Marco,” I said, and my voice no longer sounded like my own. It was deep, earthy and sensual, a bedroom voice in every sense of the word. Truthfully, I thought much worse of him. But, when I spoke, I was delighted to find that at least some of what I had intended was felt by the wolves around me. I heard a few who were closest to me, gasp in response to the sound of my voice.
I moved closer to Bade. No one tried to stop me. As I spoke, I felt my voice take on a hypnotic quality. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I whispered as my voice flowed over the crowd like silk.
Bade visibly jumped when I spoke, his eyes rolled and his lids fluttered slightly.
"How do you do that?” he said, breathlessly.
"I'm not doing anything ... yet,” I caressed his bare chest, leaving a bloody trail across his pale skin.
"Lying bitch.” He winced as I moved around his silver nipple piercing.
I bent over his chest. My lips hovered mere centimeters above his nipple as I breathed against his skin, “What reason would I have to lie?"
"What reason would you have to tell the truth?” he pointed out.
I bit down on his skin and tugged on the piercing, not enough to cause pain, just a little pinch. He threw his head back and cried out.
"Why have you brought me here?” I asked as I looked up into his pale blue eyes. His full pink lips parted as I bit harder, bringing a growl from his human throat that was frightening and out of place.
"I need a sample of your blood.” Bade placed his hands on my shoulders, his nails were beginning to form into claws and they bit into my flesh. I have a high tolerance for pain, and in small amounts I sometimes enjoy it. But this was a pain that I was not expecting and for a moment, my concentration wavered.
Bade looked down at me with my teeth attached to his nipple. The grin that spread across his angelic features was nothing short of evil.
"Clever,” he purred appreciatively. “But it won't do you any good, love."
Without waiting to see what would have happened next, I bit down on the silver stud as hard as I could and ripped it from his flesh. He roared as he flung me away from his chest. His claws that were dug into my shoulders got stuck in the leather cat-suit and ripped it completely from my torso. I was left with only ragged leather sleeves clinging to my arms.
Bade stormed toward me menacingly, his face contorted with furry as he stood above me. I spat the stud at him, with a bit of his nipple still attached. He backhanded me across the cheek and I thought my head would explode. I rolled to my stomach and tried to get to my feet, but he grabbed me around the hips, digging his claws into me again. I leapt into the air as I did a rolling dive at the ground. I felt the last of my suit being ripped from me, but it got stuck around my boots. The force of my forward jump had snatched Bade to the ground. He began climbing up my body as I struggled to free myself from the cat-suit stuck around my ankles.
It sounded as if a battle was raging in the distance behind me, but I couldn't turn to see. By that time, Bade had me pressed to the ground with my arms above my head. Having super human strength has its advantages when your opponent is an ordinary man. But when faced with a male werewolf I was forcefully reminded that I am still a woman, and often times less strong.
I bucked forcefully under his weight, causing his body to bounce.
"Hold still,” he growled as he fought to reach his pocket while trying to hold my wrists with one hand. Having had no desire to find out what was in Bade's pocket, I kept bucking as hard as I could. The only real disadvantage of that was with each bounce his heavily muscled body knocked the breath out of me.
"You're heavy,” I panted.
He laughed. The sound surprised me. In the midst of what was now clearly a battle, I had not expected to hear laughter.
"I'd say that's the least of your worries, love,” he grunted, still struggling to hold me down.
Gunshots echoed through the woods and werewolves howled with a mixture of anger and fear. Alfred had come for me. There was no other explanation. I wondered what had become of Elijah, and the thought made me more desperate to escape. I began to jerk as violently as possible with my hands and feet restrained.
Just then someone snatched Bade from atop me. I glimpsed a dark hairy figure that could only have been a very large werewolf, and judging from its anatomy, it was male. There was something oddly familiar about the color of its hair, but before I could put the pieces together, I was cracked in the back of the head again, and again I was lifted from the ground by the blow.
"Son of a bitch,” I moaned as I rolled over to face the same bastard who'd nailed me with the bat the day before.
His self satisfied smirk was too much to endure. Extending my claws once more, I snatched him off his feet. I meant to kill him before I passed out. My feet were still bound by the half of my cat-suit around my ankles, so I began to pull myself up his body, using my claws to gain leverage.
He started to change, but I was already strangling him. When he was almost unconscious, I rolled off him, grabbed the bat, and began whacking him in the forehead. The world swam around me and my head bobbed forward of its own accord as I growled, “How-do-you-like-that-you-son-of-a-bitch."
Last I remember, his forehead was clearly dented. I looked up, and had only a second to realize that a very large boot was coming straight at my already battered head.
* * * *
I awoke to find myself in unfamiliar surroundings. After blinking a few times, I realized that I was lying on the sofa in Alfred's lab. I tried to sit up. The pain in my head was instant and overwhelming, a cruel assault on what was left of my senses. I had a feeling of movement behind me and could only hope it was Alfred. After a few seconds of holding my breath, I began to sense his familiar presence. It was such a comfort that I nearly cried. For the first time in a few days, I was alone with someone whom I was not trying to kill, and they were not trying to kill me.
"Bade,” I rasped.
I found my voice barely audible and my throat dry. Alfred was instantly looking over me. He sat down beside me, placing a cool cloth over my forehead. I saw concern in his dark eyes. I also noticed for the first time the beginnings of crow's feet, those delicate little bastards that start their walk across our faces somewhere between middle age and death. I thought about how often I made Alfred worry, and knew they were my fault.
"That bastard,”
I tried again to speak.
"No kidding,” he said blandly.
"Will I live?"
"You've already begun to heal.” That was good news to me, but Alfred seemed angry. I didn't understand. I'd been beaten worse before.
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Chapter Seven
I slid my hand down the length of my thigh underneath the blanket that covered me and realized Alfred had found me naked in the woods with my pants around my ankles. Surely he didn't think I would be this calm had I been raped? I thought I would ease his mind. I reached up to where his hand still rested lightly on my forehead.
"I'll be ok,” I said.
He snatched his hand away and stood up.
"I'm sure you will,” he snapped.
That bastard! Ok, now I was pissed. I tried again to sit up and follow him. I stumbled over the edge of the sofa, my naked ass smacking the floor. The effect was somewhat less than the graceful ascent I had hoped for. I snatched the blanket around me and stalked toward Alfred's rigidly set shoulders.
"What the crap is your problem?” I asked his back. “Hey, tall, dark, and asshole, I'm talking to you!"
No one else unraveled me like Alfred did. How dare he ignore me? “Prick,” I breathed as I turned away. Oh, that got a reaction.
"I'm a prick?” he yelled, making it a question.
"Yeah,” I answered, deliberately misunderstanding him.
He stomped furiously toward me. You could see small veins popping out on the side of his neck.
"I save your ass, your naked ass, and I'm the prick.” This time he stated it as if it were a fact that he wasn't at all happy about.
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