The Grant Wolves Box Set

by Lori Drake

  Her jaws locked on Shawna’s pitching arm. The witch shrieked in surprise and pain, staggered, tripped over Emma, and went sprawling. Joey rode her down, worrying her enemy’s flesh. Emma scrambled free of the melee and got to her feet, wrapping her arms around her torso as she backed away.

  Joey savaged Shawna’s forearm, teeth rending flesh while the witch screamed in agony and tried desperately to free herself.

  “Tasha! Help,” she shouted, then started throwing punches with her free hand. Her fist impacted with Joey’s furry side.

  Joey clamped her jaws tighter, until teeth ground against bone. The witch screamed and writhed.

  “Goddammit! Why did I even bother bringing you two if I have to do everything myself?”

  Tasha’s complaint barely registered. Shawna’s fist pummeled Joey’s tender skull next. She released Shawna’s arm and planted a paw on the witch’s chest, then leaned down to put her nose right in her face. Muzzle dripping with blood, she growled, reveling in the fear in the woman’s wide eyes as she went still. Cornered. Afraid. Prey.

  “Joey, look out!” Emma’s voice intruded on her inappropriate thoughts. Humans weren’t prey, not even naughty ones that’d curb stomped her.

  She tore her eyes from Shawna and lifted her head, but before she could assess the threat, something—or someone—slammed into her and knocked her to the ground. Joey growled and rolled, jaws snapping at her attacker as she scrambled to get her feet under her again. Arms locked around her, preventing her from rising. A ball of flame whooshed past overhead, close enough that she felt its heat and crackling energy in passing. Only then did she cease her struggles, a nose full of Dean’s familiar scent assuring her that it was a friend, not a foe.

  “It’s okay, it’s just me,” he said. Chris, presumably. Once the danger passed, he released her and she hopped up.

  Shawna was on fire. The ball of flame intended for Joey had hit her instead. The witch screamed and rolled, trying to put herself out.

  “With friends like these…” Chris murmured.

  Joey snorted in response but looked for Cathy, dread weighing like a stone in her stomach. Cathy was supposed to be watching her back. Something was wrong.

  Cathy lay sprawled across the circle she’d set on the ground, not quite fully within its boundary. The pigtailed witch was nowhere to be seen, but it was unlikely that Cathy had knocked herself out. Joey sprinted over to check on her godmother. The older woman had a nasty knot on her head, but she was breathing.

  “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.” The missing witch de-cloaked a good fifteen feet away, hefting a large stone. She smirked, showing no hint of remorse. “At least, I think so.”

  Joey charged, growling. The witch vanished, but Joey was undeterred. She closed the gap with a sudden burst of speed, more quickly than—she hoped—her foe expected. The air shimmered where the witch had been and Joey tracked the movement, adjusted her course, and leaped. The invisible witch squeaked right before Joey collided with her and went sprawling, her veil of invisibility falling away in the process.

  Joey landed lightly on her feet, but didn’t spare any precious time to gloat. Instead, she shifted back to human form and put a knee in the brunette’s stomach.

  “Where’s the charm?” she growled.

  The witch squirmed and slapped at her, having lost her rock along with her dignity. Joey leaned more weight onto her knee. She didn’t have a lot of weight to work with, but when concentrated on a single point it didn’t take much. The brunette gasped for breath and clawed at Joey’s face. Joey caught her wrists, but not before the bitch’s nails raked across her cheek.

  “Joey, here…” Chris arrived on the scene and held out a hand. A silver chain was threaded between his fingers, from which dangled Emma’s pendant, swaying in the open air.

  “Don’t bother,” Joey said, transferring both of the struggling witch’s wrists to one hand. “I’ve got this.” She balled up her other hand and decked the woman. “I was kind of cheesed when you showed up to kidnap my friend.” She struck the witch again, her fist impacting the other woman’s face with a satisfying meaty thud. “But I’ve been kicked in the head.” Punch. “Nearly set on fire.” Punch. “And you clobbered Aunt Cathy with a rock.” She paused and narrowed her eyes. “Now it’s personal.”

  One more punch was all it took; the witch went limp and Joey shook out her hand before sitting back on her haunches. Her knuckles ached, but it’d pass. Chris offered her a hand and she took it, hauling herself to her feet.

  “Two down, one to go,” he said.

  Tasha. Rage bubbled inside her as she contemplated the wrongs Tasha had done to her family. She may have told Pigtails it was personal, but with Tasha “personal” was just scratching the surface. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t want to merely punch Tasha in the face. She wanted to put her fist through Tasha’s face.

  “I think she’s starting to flag,” Joey said, studying her enemy with a critical eye. Tasha was holding her own with the wolves, keeping them at bay with balls of flame and slashing at them with a knife when they got too close. Her magical aura appeared dimmer, and her power suit was visibly torn in places where the wolves had gotten the better of her. Joey’s feet itched to run and join them, but she held off a few moments more. What was it her mother had said? Use her head, not her heart?

  “If I can sneak up on her, I can use this,” Chris said, holding up the necklace again.

  “Can you body snatch her?”

  “I can try.”

  “I’ll help them distract her.”

  “Okay.” His fingertips brushed her bare back a moment before he pressed his hand fully against her skin. “Be careful.”

  Joey sprinted off without making any promises. Calling her wolf to the fore, she shifted forms mid-stride, transitioning smoothly from two legs to four. The ease of it surprised her; she’d never had reason to try it before, but in the moment it felt perfectly natural. A distant howl boosted her confidence further. Backup was on the way.

  Truth be told, Tasha was doing an admirable job of holding three wolves at bay all by herself. The fireballs she slung were tiny in comparison to the one she’d blasted Emma with, but they were still hot. Joey caught a whiff of singed fur. Judging from the scent of fresh blood on the air, both sides had taken a few hits. Ben was limping, but still had plenty of fight left in him.

  Joey circled around to join Sam, creeping up behind Tasha while Adelaide and Ben harried her from the front. She launched herself at the witch’s back. Tasha spun and slashed at her. Joey twisted in an effort to avoid the blade, but it sliced across her shoulder regardless. It was a superficial wound at best, but it burned like fire. Joey skittered back out of reach.

  Tasha spun around and launched another volley of fire at Adelaide and Ben. Her brother ducked the ball of flame, but Adelaide zigged when she should have zagged. Joey watched in horror as the spell slammed into the ground in front of her mother, showering her in dirt and flame and knocking her off her feet. When she didn’t get up, Ben disengaged to run to their Alpha’s aid.

  Outraged, Joey ignored the molten agony in her shoulder and charged again. This time she went low and latched onto Tasha’s leg. Shrieking, Tasha swung the dagger again but Sam leapt to Joey’s aid. His massive jaws clamped on the witch’s forearm and he wrenched his head, shredding her sleeve and the flesh beneath simultaneously. She screamed and the dagger thumped to the ground. The siblings held on, teeth rending flesh.

  Tasha fell, shrieking. “Filthy fucking mongrels! I’ll slice you open and feed your entrails to my cat!” She slapped her free hand against Sam’s neck and power flared around her again.

  Sam jerked and slumped to the ground. Alarmed, Joey relinquished her witch-flavored chew toy and hastened to check on her brother. He was awake, but unmoving other than the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She nuzzled him and he whined. The sound tugged at her heart and filled her with rage at the same time. She rounded on Tasha again, but a phan
tom wind buffeted her before she could lunge for the bitch’s throat. She hit the ground hard, landing on her injured shoulder. Pain blinded her and the wind whipped at her fur.

  Tasha scrambled away and struggled to her feet. Her features contorted in anguish and blood dripped freely from her wounds, but she wasn’t finished. She limped for the blade while Joey fought against the wind. The wound in her shoulder screamed as she clawed her way to her feet, only dimly aware of Chris rushing forward to grapple Tasha from behind. A moment later, the magical glow around Tasha winked out and the gale died down as quickly as it had arisen.

  “What the fuck?” Chris said, releasing his hold on Tasha and taking a staggering step backward.

  Tasha swayed on her feet, but made no further movement toward the dagger. “Joey, are you okay?” Her brows drew together in concern.

  Joey took a cautious step back, ears flattening in confusion. Her eyes caught on the dagger where it lay nearby. A menacing growl rumbled from her throat and she put herself between the witch and the dagger, baring vicious, red-tinged teeth in warning. Her eyes darted from Tasha to Chris and back again, watching as Chris shook his head and looked around him in confusion.

  Not Chris. Dean.

  “It’s okay, it’s me. It’s Chris,” Chris said, wearing Tasha’s skin now. “We have to end this.”

  Joey’s shoulder was still on fire. For all her bluster, she could barely put weight on that leg. She knew shifting forms was a bad idea, both because of the wound and because Dean—once again himself—stood right there. She did it anyway. Spots appeared in her vision as the pain flared, but she clenched her teeth and pushed through it, gathering her wolf back into her and tucking it away. It was only a few torturous seconds, but it felt like an eternity before she knelt on the ground in her human skin once more.

  The wound didn’t look like much. A few inches long, it curved down from the top of her shoulder along the back of her arm. But she could tell it wasn’t healing the way it should. She did her best to ignore it, looking at Chris-Tasha warily instead.

  “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but you could’ve done that a little sooner.” Joey bit her lip and glanced at Sam.

  “Not while she had the dagger. I tried.” He offered her a hand up.

  She ignored the offer, not wanting to touch Tasha. Instead, she picked up the dagger and gasped as a tingle ran up her arm. The burning in her shoulder subsided as the flesh knit, even faster than normal. The tingle spread until her whole body prickled with it. Looking up at Chris-Tasha again, she gasped as she saw Chris's face super-imposed over the witch’s.

  Joey pushed to her feet. “End this. How do we do that?”

  “You know how.” Chris's expression turned grim.

  Joey looked down at the dagger in her hand, then back at him. “That’s murder.”

  “She’s a psychopath. Look around you, Joey. Look at what she did.”

  Joey knew what she’d see if she looked around her: a ring of scorched earth, injured parties and shattered dreams. She closed her eyes with a sigh. “You have no idea how often I’ve thought about what it would be like to end her, but not like this. Not when she’s defenseless. God.” She opened her eyes, gazing at his ethereal face. “Not with you inside her.”

  “It’s okay, I—” He frowned, and the image of his face flickered.

  “Chris?” Joey stepped closer, putting a hand on his arm.

  “She’s fighting me. I don’t—I don’t know how.” His visage flickered again and he growled, clamping a hand on Joey’s shoulder. “Do it. Do it now!”

  Joey looked at the dagger in her hand, hesitating. “I can’t.”

  Chris's knees buckled. He slid to the ground before Joey could catch him, but she quickly joined him, kneeling at his side. Tasha’s body bucked and writhed, magic flaring around her briefly before winking out again.

  “Joey, please. I don’t know how long I can keep this up,” he panted, desperation in his eyes. He caught her hand, bloody fingers curled around hers where she held the dagger.

  Tears stung her eyes, but Joey let him guide the dagger into position. The tip of the blade pressed against Tasha’s stomach, angled up. “Please don’t make me do this, Chris. Please.”

  “We’ll do it together, on three. Okay? One… two…”

  Joey marshaled her will and slid the dagger beneath Tasha’s ribs before he got to three, thrusting it upward to do the most damage. Tasha’s body jerked and arched, fingers slipping away from Joey’s. Tears spilled down Joey’s cheeks as she shoved the dagger deeper, watching her enemy’s body convulse while the superimposed image of Chris's face twisted in agony, flickered, then vanished.

  It was like losing him all over again. This time at her hand. Joey howled in anguish and fell over Tasha’s lifeless body, sobbing uncontrollably.

  Warm hands caught her shoulders, drawing her away from the corpse. She turned, breathing in Dean’s scent as his arms wrapped around her and she buried her face against his chest. His fingers stroked her hair as he held her.

  “Shh, it’s okay. I’m okay,” he murmured, pressing his lips into her hair.

  Joey lifted her head and blinked through tears, looking into Dean’s eyes. “Chris?”

  He nodded, but she pulled away anyway, fingers scrambling for the hilt of the dagger protruding from Tasha’s lifeless body. As soon as her fingers closed around it, she felt that tingle again. She yanked the dagger out of the corpse and turned back to find Chris's features superimposed over Dean’s.

  Chris's eyes widened, fixed on the dagger in her hand. “Whoa, once was enough thank you.” He didn’t make a move to defend himself, so he couldn’t have been that worried.

  “I can see you,” she said, touching fingers to his cheek in awe and wonder.

  He tilted his head, leaning into the touch. “Joey—”

  “You don’t have to go, you know,” she said, interrupting. “We have the dagger, you can stay here with us. With me.”

  His lips curved in a sad smile. “What kind of life would that be? You don’t know what it’s like, being here but not really being here. I can’t take over someone’s body long term. And what if, god forbid, the dagger fell into the wrong hands?”

  Joey knew he was right, but hated to admit it. She sighed, looking away. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”

  Chris turned her face back toward his with gentle fingers beneath her chin. His eyes sought hers. “Joey, I—”

  She interrupted him again, this time by pressing her lips to his. He made a surprised noise but pulled her close as his lips moved against hers, returning the kiss and then some. Joey quickly became lost in the moment as passion sparked between them, burning as hotly as it had on that Mexican beach. The rest of the world faded away until there was nothing but the heat of his mouth on hers, the warmth of his hands at her back and in her hair. Desire pooled at her center, drove her to slip one hand up the back of his shirt to feel the heat of his skin beneath her fingers.

  He moaned when she did and broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers. She longed for more, but held onto him instead, lifting her chin to brush her nose against his. He lifted his head to look into her eyes. This time he touched a finger to her lips to keep them still.

  “I love you, Josephine Grant. I always have, and I always will.”

  Joey’s heart somehow melted and broke at the same time. Tears clouded her vision once more, spilling down her cheeks when she blinked to clear it. She didn’t know what to say. That she knew? That she loved him too, but she was so confused she wasn’t sure how anymore? That it was just too damn late to matter anyway? In the end, she couldn’t say anything because a little part of her was dying inside, faced with having to let him go all over again.

  He gave no indication of disappointment over her silence. Instead, he drew her head down so he could kiss her forehead. Then he gathered her into a warm hug.

  “Come on,” he said, bringing her with him as he got to his feet. “Remember what you promised
me, okay?”

  She nodded, biting her lip. “Never give up. I remember.”

  Chris cupped her face with both hands, brushing tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “All those things we talked about doing but never quite got around to. You go and do them. No excuses, no regrets.”

  She nodded, mutely.

  “Keep dancing. Find yourself another partner, and for god’s sake let him lead.”

  Joey barked a quiet laugh at that, not quite able to keep it in.

  Chris smiled and leaned down, lips brushing hers once more. It was a soft, tender kiss this time. The sort a lover might give in the early hours of dawn before slipping away.

  She curled her fingers around the back of his neck with a sigh, holding him there just a moment longer before stepping back, eyes still closed. More tears leaked from beneath her lashes. She didn’t want to open her eyes and see the double image of Chris's face over Dean’s. Instead, she held a picture of Chris, the real Chris, in her mind. He was smiling. Laughing. Vibrant and full of life.

  Perhaps sensing what she was about—he’d always known her better than anyone—Chris said quietly, “Goodbye, Joey.”

  Before she could lose her nerve, Joey lifted the dagger and curled her fingers around the blade. The sharp edges bit into her flesh as she bent the weapon between her supernaturally strong hands until it snapped at the hilt.

  “Goodbye, Chris,” she whispered into the cool night air, letting the two halves of the dagger fall to the ground at her feet.

  All was quiet for a moment, and then she heard Dean—the real Dean—exclaim, “God fucking damnit, would you QUIT DOING THAT?”

  30

  Joey smelled the rich columbian roast even before the mug was placed under her nose. It still took her a moment to reach for it. She looked up at Ben as she did, murmuring a quiet thank you. He settled beside her on the bench with his own mug and draped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. The scent of scotch tickled her nostrils, but it was too faint to be in her own mug. It must’ve been in his. Closing her eyes, she leaned against him.