When Charlie and Gwen reached the hidden entrance to the cave, she pulled aside the bush and urged him forward with a nod. Most men had to duck under the low archway, but Charlie passed with clearance to spare. Gwen selected the flashlight app on her cellphone and illuminated the dark, winding tunnel.
Charlie stayed close to her side. He was trembling so badly his teeth chattered. All of her fledglings had all shown some level of fear on the first night but nothing like this.
The consort led the way to the cell, pausing to light the candles set in the stone walls. Charlie didn’t protest when Gwen locked the heavy iron door behind him. He plopped down on the cot and the thin, vinyl-covered mattress crackled as he fidgeted. Gwen settled into her rocker and chose a book from the basket.
“So what now, do we just wait?” he asked.
Gwen nodded.
The little man rested his elbows on his knees, cradled his head in his hands and began to sob. “My wife is going to kill me!”
His sadness shook her. Alex had told Gwen early on that everyone who was fated to become a werewolf had gone through life without forming lasting human relationships. They came to the pack with nothing—and no one—to lose. Any loose ends that might remain were tied up by a pack member who specialized in such matters.
Charlie was the first fledgling to express his concern to her about leaving someone behind.
“I’m so sorry, Charlie,” she said. “Tomorrow morning we’ll meet with the pack’s fixer and discuss your options.”
The little man looked up and wiped his nose. “Options?”
“Some choose to become missing persons and assume a new identity. Some live among the humans for most of the time and return to the pack during moon week. Of course, that can’t last forever. Because you’ll age much more slowly, you’ll eventually have to—”
“I could become a missing person?”
Gwen shrugged. “That’s one option. But then you could never see your wife again.”
Charlie dropped his head again and his shoulders began to shake. It took Gwen a moment to realize he was laughing—not crying. When he looked back at her, he was beaming. “And I’d never have to see that miserable witch again? She’d think I was dead or something?”
Before she could answer, Charlie wheeled around and stared up at the skylight. The edge of the three-quarter moon was just crossing into the opening. He stood motionless for a moment, then slowly removed his clothes, never taking his eyes from the ceiling.
Unlike the other first-nighters she’d witnessed, Charlie barely moved as the physical transformation played out. His short, flabby body grew tall and lean, and thick, dark fur sprouted from his pale skin. When his face stretched into a long snout, he became almost handsome. He turned his back to her and spread out his arms as if showering in the lunar rays.
Gwen was surprised by his calmness. Maybe the quiet, mild-mannered human he’d been had some influence over him even now. She wondered if she’d be spared the usual first-night vitriol the fledglings usually screamed at her.
When the moon was at the exact center of the skylight, Charlie threw back his head and howled. He turned to face her and her gaze was drawn to the huge erection rising from his groin. His black lips curled back and he stalked over to the cell door.
“Do you like what you see, bitch?” he growled. His voice had dropped to a low, full bass.
Here we go. Gwen almost chuckled at her earlier optimism.
Struggling to appear nonchalant, Gwen crossed her legs and pretended to focus her attention on her paperback.
She glanced up just as Charlie wrapped his long claws around the iron bars and shoved his foaming snout in the gap. “Don’t ignore me, you stupid cunt! I know you want me. I know you want to suck on my big, hard cock. I know you want me to fuck you until you can’t sit for a week. And as soon as I’m done with you, I’m going to go find that yellow bitch that bit me and I’m going to fuck her senseless too!”
His last word was drawn out into a howl that echoed off the stone walls. He shook the barred door, then turned and began storming around the cage, kicking at his discarded clothes. When he reached the cot, he grabbed the metal frame and tugged. The bolts holding it to the stone floor groaned but held firm. After a few more tries to dislodge it, Charlie turned his fury to the mattress and pitched it across the cell.
Gwen couldn’t help but flinch when the pad hit the bars. She was about to turn back to her book when something skittered across the shadowy floor near her chair. Certain it was a mouse, she reflexively lifted her feet and yelped.
While Charlie continued his tantrum, Gwen pulled her cellphone from her pocket and turned it into a flashlight with a brush of her thumb. She tentatively swept the beam around her until it landed on a smooth cylinder near one of the chair’s rockers. Definitely not a mouse.
Setting her feet back on the floor, Gwen reached down and snatched up the plastic pill bottle. She twisted the label and directed the phone’s glow. Acetylpromazine. Though she had never heard of the drug, she could guess at its use and was certain who’d stashed it in the cell. Gwen’s gut twisted when she realized that Jenny hadn’t outgrown her wildness; she’d just masked it with some sort of sedative.
Closing her eyes, Gwen tried to tune out the fledgling raging behind the bars. Snippets of information bubbled up from her subconscious. What had Charlie screamed? “That yellow bitch that bit me.”
Gwen’s eyes flew open. Yellow bitch. Yellow dog. When Grandpa Chaney had come to Tommy in his dream, he’d warned of the “yellow dog”. The image of the little blonde hippie shifting into a golden-furred werewolf flashed into Gwen’s mind.
No.
She stood and hurried down the tunnel, just out of Charlie’s view, and swept her finger over the cellphone screen. Flipping to the contacts page, she tapped Alex’s picture. The device chirped then blinked a “No Service” message.
“Shit.”
Gwen took a few more paces toward the mouth of the cave and tried again with the same result.
“Fuckity fuck!” she muttered, then moved closer to the hidden entrance.
Stopping to turn her ear in the direction of the cell, Gwen could hear Charlie still raging in the darkness. Ahead, she saw the pale moonlight shining through the brambles obscuring the opening.
Okay, just think. She glanced at the time on the screen. The sun would be up in about—shit—ten hours. She knew she really should just hunker down in the cave and wait it out, then find Alex in the morning.
On most moon nights Alex would have shifted by now—along with the other pack members—but when she had a new wolf in the cave, he tried to stay available by phone.
Gwen weighed her options, her gaze darting from the dark corridor to the exit. Though it would be safer to stay put until dawn, the urge to call Alex was overwhelming.
The journal left behind by her predecessors hadn’t covered this particular contingency, but it had mentioned one thing again and again, you’ll just know.
* * * * *
Gwen stood at the mouth of the cave, toying with the amulet that hung from her neck. The sign of the werewolf—a spiral in an inverted triangle—had been worn as protection by human consorts since the beginning. The simple silver pendant gave her a sense of security, but she knew that was only part of the equation.
She swiveled her head, letting her gaze trace the arc of the entrance. The phone still displayed the “No Signal” message. Alex’s warning rang out in her mind—If you’re in the confines of the cave—and you’re wearing the necklace—nothing can harm you. But he’d been clear—one didn’t work without the other.
Gwen held the cell out at arm’s length. The shortest of the five signal bars flickered. Come on! Cool night air blew across Gwen’s hand as she extended the phone into the bush blocking the entrance. When she had a solid bar, she hit redial. The screen indicated “dialing” and she held her breath.
“Connection Lost.”
Dammit!
Dropping
her arm to her side, Gwen craned her neck, scanning the clearing beyond the cave. Sensing she was alone in this corner of the forest, she took a deep breath, pushed the branches to one side then stepped from the shadows. She was three paces from the rocky shelter before she could get a solid connection.
Her eyes darted across the perimeter of the clearing and she squeezed the amulet so tightly it stung her right palm. With the other hand, she pressed the phone to her ear listening to the digital ring. Come on! Pick up Alex!
“Gwen?”
The sound of his voice fell over her like a life preserver and she closed her eyes for an instant before speaking. “Alex, the yellow dog—it’s Jen—”
The impact sent Gwen sprawling and the phone flew across the clearing. She had landed flat on her back and the air was jolted from her lungs. Panic gripped her as she tried to pull oxygen back into her body with a sickening wheeze.
The lithe golden werewolf was straddling her waist and had Gwen’s wrists pressed to the cold, hard earth with her hot claws. Pinpoints of light danced through Gwen’s field of vision and she felt the sticky warmth of blood oozing from the side of her head.
Gwen forced herself to look up at her attacker. Jenny’s emerald eyes flashed in the moonlight.
“I’m going to kill you real slow and it is going to hurt like a motherfucker!” The beast snarled and spittle rained down from her snapping jaws. “I will fuck you up so entirely that even your precious Alex won’t recognize you, bitch!”
With a mighty effort, Gwen expanded her chest and drew in the blessedly cool air. Her neck felt raw and she realized she had snapped the heavy silver chain that held her amulet. The medal was still clenched in her bloodied right fist. Jenny released her grasp and brought back a paw as if she intended to swipe off Gwen’s head.
In an instant, Gwen’s perception shifted so dramatically that it shook her like a crack of thunder. It was as if every second were divided into a hundred individual movie frames. Jenny’s razor-sharp claws curled as she prepared to strike. Thick saliva dripped from her long, pointed teeth. Her green eyes were illuminated by the moonlight and seemed to glow from within.
Gwen repositioned the amulet so one long side of the triangle was flat against her palm. She pressed her fingertips tightly against the silver until the point extended just beyond the heel of her hand. With an animalistic growl, she thrust forward and buried the tip deep into one flashing emerald iris.
Hot fluid spurted from Jenny’s eye socket and sprayed Gwen’s bruised wrist. The beast wailed and flung herself onto the cold ground. While the screeching werewolf clawed at her face, Gwen scrambled on all fours toward the cave entrance, still clutching the gore-covered amulet.
If you’re in the confines of the cave—and you’re wearing the necklace—nothing can harm you.
Pain radiated from so many individual points, it was as if Gwen’s entire body throbbed with each beat of her heart. Fighting to remain conscious and keep moving forward, Gwen reached out for the bush and yanked aside low branch. Summoning up the last of her strength, she stretched out her arm.
The amulet was within an inch of the entrance to the sacred cave when a fresh agony ripped through her body. Jenny was upon her and had sunk her vicious fangs into Gwen’s calf. Gwen screamed as the flesh was torn from her leg.
Jenny took another bite—this time digging into Gwen’s hamstring—and began yanking her prey away from the cave.
This is how I’m going to die, Gwen thought. As soon as the notion entered her mind, she amended it. If this is how she was going to die, she was going to do everything in her power to take that hippie bitch down with her.
Gwen twisted and struck out with the amulet but couldn’t find her mark. The strength seemed to drain from her body with every swing. Believing she had only one shot left before she passed out, Gwen dug deep and pulled back her arm for a final strike. Before she could bring down her hand, Jenny repositioned herself and bit hard on Gwen’s inner thigh.
The gush of blood was unmistakable. Gwen knew her femoral artery had been punctured and it was only a matter of time before she bled to death. As the life force drained from Gwen, her mouth went dry. She went limp as Jenny dragged her toward the tree line.
The last thing Gwen registered before she slipped into unconsciousness was the flash of velvety golden-brown fur and the roar of the big cat as he burst from the underbrush and pulled the werewolf from her body.
Chapter Eight
Alex knotted the last stitch in Gwen’s leg then tossed his bloody gloves into the trashcan. He had worked throughout the night and the first weak rays of dawn were lightening the sky.
Sergei had been pacing out in the vet clinic hall, muttering in Russian and running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. He wore borrowed hospital scrubs and the hem of the pants barely covered the giant’s calves. On each pass by the door, he’d glanced at the table where Gwen lay.
While Alex had sutured her wounds Tommy Longtree and Jeremiah Morgan had employed every remedy their individual traditions afforded. The werewolf shaman had circled the operating room, loudly reciting an incantation that sounded like Latin. He would pause occasionally to draw herbs from his pockets and lay them on Gwen’s chest.
Tommy sat on a rolling stool at the head of the table hunched over the unconscious human consort with a palm flattened against each of Gwen’s temples. His eyes were closed and he was muttering a prayer so softly that Alex couldn’t make out the words.
Alex took a deep breath to clear away the crushing fatigue. He added a dose of antibiotics to Gwen’s IV, arched his back to work out the knots, then stared down at his unconscious mate.
The first time she’d been on this table, he had been X-raying her sprained ankle after the cougar—after Tommy—had ambushed her. Back then, Alex had been so turned on by her scent that it had taken all of his willpower to control his urges. That day—and those feelings—suddenly seemed like a fading dream.
Alex found a post-op warming blanket in one of the cabinets beside the operating table and spread it out over his patient. Wrapping his fingers around her wrist as if checking her pulse, he waited for the familiar tug of longing he always felt when they touched. Its absence was jarring.
Gently placing Gwen’s hand back on the table, Alex rubbed his forehead. He tried to convince himself that the stress of the situation was short-circuiting his emotions, but he feared it was something more permanent. It seemed that the instant Jenny had sunk her teeth into Gwen, everything had changed.
The best he could hope for was that this change in his feelings for Gwen was some sort of purgatory—a limbo between her life as a human and that as a werewolf. Perhaps the old feelings would rekindle once she’d been inducted into the pack.
On his next pass, Sergei sheepishly poked his head in the room. “How bad is it?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, the alpha held no anger toward his predecessor. Sergei couldn’t be held responsible for the actions of his mate and Alex felt that he owed him a straight answer. “Bad,” he said simply.
Sergei slumped against the doorjamb. “Will she die?” he asked.
“No, but she’s going to have a tough go of it. If Tommy hadn’t—”
Clearing his throat he looked back at Sergei. “It could have been worse.”
Jeremiah rose and crossed to the operating room sink. He had refused gloves and when he held his hands under the faucet, the water turned pink with Gwen’s blood. Meeting Alex then Sergei’s gaze in turn he jerked his head for them to follow. The three men left Tommy to his healing and walked down the hall to the employee lunchroom.
Alex rooted around in the cupboard above the break-room fridge and found a bottle of whiskey. He snagged three stained coffee mugs from the dish drainer and joined the other two men at the laminate table. They each took a shot and waited for refills before anyone spoke.
Jeremiah was the first to break the silence. “Are you certain the attack took place after moon rise?”
> Alex pulled his cellphone from his pocket, brought up the call log and tapped the time-stamped entry beside Gwen’s name. “Positive,” he said.
The shaman glanced at the screen then nodded. “Well, that’s a break. She won’t shift until the next lunar cycle. It will give her time to heal.”
“And?” Alex prodded.
“And give us time to find someone to take her place as human consort. But, Alex, we’ve got to be realistic. We’re probably going to have to borrow someone from another pack or even transport her to another enclave. It’s not very likely that she’s going to meet her first moon in our sacred cave.”
“Oh shit!” Alex blurted then slapped his hand against his forehead. “Charlie Kerrigan is still locked up in the fledgling cell.”
Alex scrolled through his contact list and selected Tiny Wainwright’s number. The pack’s tattoo artist not only lived nearest the sacred cave, he was also one of the most levelheaded wolves Alex had ever met. He answered on the first ring and listened silently to Alex’s instructions. Tiny was to grab Gwen’s keys from the book basket beside her chair, release Charlie, get him something to eat, then keep an eye on him and await further instructions.
“Looks like we don’t have a full cycle to find a temporary consort,” Alex said.
While Sergei and Jeremiah looked on, Alex made calls. The alphas from two neighboring packs said their consorts were already tied up with fledglings.
A third insisted that he’d be happy to help, but his human had gone on a bender when he realized their cell would be empty this cycle and was currently sleeping it off in the drunk tank. If they could bring Charlie there, their consort should be sobered up before nightfall.
Alex ended the connection. “Looks like somebody’s going to have to drive Charlie over to the town of Jefferson. I need to stay here and tend to our patient.”
“May I?” Sergei offered.
Alex shrugged. “Be my guest.”
Sergei pulled out his phone and punched in a number. When the call was answered he spoke in Russian. Alex only recognized da as “yes” and dasvidania as “goodbye”.
Her Alphas Page 8