by Leela Ash
What now? Darkness had fallen while she waited in the bank. Back at home, Mom would be putting supper on the table. No doubt, they all worried about her and why she took such a mysterious trip yesterday. She smiled, imagining the look on their faces when they realized that she – their ‘little girl’ still at twenty-three – had saved the day. She’d found a gallant, rich stranger with enough money to redeem their home. Her smile faded a bit, growing sadder, melancholy. How could she explain Brandon to them? His strength. The raw, male power that radiated from him. They’d never understand.
Maybe that was just as well. The thought startled a stifled giggle from her. She certainly wasn’t a child anymore, but she still didn’t want to try to explain to her parents the raw, passionate desire this man made her feel. And something more than pure lust. A bond, a link, like she’d found the second half of her soul.
Perhaps, if they met him, they’d understand. If she could come up with an excuse to summon him to Upstate New York.
Wait. Her eyes brightened. She did have a question for Brandon! That nasty LeMar man seemed to know him. Maybe the two were acquaintances? It was worth asking. Although Hannah doubted the question would drag her mysterious protector all the way up here, she desperately wanted a reason – any excuse – to listen to his deep, rich voice again. To hear him say her name again.
Her breath grew shallow as she dialed the number. Hannah forced herself to breathe, to calm down. She couldn’t reveal her need for him. The embarrassment would kill her.
On the second ring, he answered. No greeting. No pleasantries. Just, “Brandon Lorde.”
How like him, she thought with a fond smile. Strong. A brusqueness that was almost rude – if you didn’t know the protective urge that lay beneath it. Though miles separated them, she closed her eyes and basked in the simple joy of hearing his voice.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
Oh, hell! She needed to say something! “Uh, hi!” Her thoughts scattered, and her cheeks burned as every coherent thought left her. “Hi, um, it’s…”
“Hannah!” Delight dispelled the growl that had crept into his voice. Her heart hammered at the sound. He’d missed her! He felt the same longing as she did. Only a few hours apart, and it was already obvious in his happy tone.
That happiness lasted less than a second. “What’s wrong?” he snapped. Already steeling himself to launch an attack on anything that threatened her.
“Well, nothing… exactly, but…”
‘Not exactly’ wasn’t good enough. “Are you in danger?” She heard a loud rustle from his end of the line, as if he was already snatching up his coat and preparing to rush to her side. His fierce, unquestioning defense thrilled her. Filled her with an echo of the desire she’d felt when the dream united them.
“No, I’m fine. I’m safe. I…”
“What’s wrong then? You’re nervous.”
“Well, it’s just…” She hesitated, trying to come up with a way to make LeMar’s ambush sound less crazy – but still scary. Right now, she wanted a protector in the worst way. Before she could organize her thoughts, however, Brandon decided he knew what enemy needed to be put down.
“Is the bank questioning the check? If they inconvenience you, I swear I will come up there and…”
Hannah gave an exasperated laugh. “Brandon, wait! Just… please, give me a second. I’ll explain if you let me!”
That quieted him. Most men would apologize after running her over like that. However, she was beginning to realize that apologies weren’t really Brandon Lorde’s ‘thing.’ He simply hesitated, sighed, and said, “Please do.”
“Thanks.” Annoying as his fierceness could be at times, she loved it and the challenge of deciphering his veiled emotions. Her family always made their feelings plain, even when she was a girl. Brandon was different. His affection was so swift, so protective. What would it feel like to earn his full love?
Hannah shook her head to drive that thought off. She couldn’t sit here, daydreaming, in the middle of a call. “The bank took the check,” she assured him. “But something odd happened.”
“Yes?” Brandon stuck to the letter of his promise: he didn’t keep talking. Yet that one word was short and sharp, almost an order for her to hurry up and name the fool that dared to inconvenience her.
“Do you know a Stephen LeMar?”
He considered that question at length before answering. “No.”
“That is so odd! He definitely recognized your name.”
“Did he?” Brandon didn’t sound surprised. “I guess it’s not strange. I’m well known in, mmm, certain circles.” Hannah waited, but he didn’t explain what ‘circles’ those might be. “What did this LeMar character do?”
“He’s the president of C&L Enterprises.” Still no sign that any of this was familiar to Brandon. “He wants to buy our farm.”
“Is he threatening you?” Her guardian’s growl returned. “Trying to pressure you into selling? I can have a vicious weasel of a lawyer there by tomorrow morning if this LeMar is bothering you.”
“No. Well, he was, but he wasn’t threatening.” Not true in the least. But how could she explain that to Brandon? She couldn’t say that LeMar seemed cloaked in power, a cold, bitter reflection of the strength she’d felt in him. He would think her mad. “He just offered us more money.”
“I see.”
Now she felt like a fool. She’d called him over nothing. Over a silly flight of nerves that even she couldn’t explain.
Brandon wasn’t writing her off so quickly, though. “Hannah, there are reasons why a Shif…” He coughed. “Why someone in my social circles might want to possess your land. Very badly. Many people in my circles could also offer you a great deal of money, if you were interested. Which I know you are not,” he added quickly, as she started to protest.
Silence stretched. Just when she was about to apologize for wasting his time, he spoke again, voice soft. “This may sound like a very odd question. Did this Stephen LeMar remind you of anything? A person? An animal, even?”
A van pulled into the parking space behind her, its lights on bright. Hannah raised a hand to shield her eyes. “Actually, he did. He…” She thought of LeMar’s rugged handsomeness, the threat of anger and power he radiated. “He kind of reminded me of you. A really nasty version of you,” she added.
“There should not be anyone like me in Beverly.” The growl was back, stronger than ever. Hannah, however, had absolutely no idea what he meant by that. “Was there anything about him that stood out? Some mark woven into his clothes? An unusual ring? Anything?”
How did he know that?
The van door opened. Its light stayed on bright and she prayed the careless driver would remember to dim them. “He had a strange cufflink. Red stone. It had an image of a weird dragon on it. Looked like it was tearing its own wings off.”
“WHAT?”
Brandon’s roar of shock and outrage blasted through the phone, startling her so badly she nearly dropped her cell on the floor.
“Why are you upset? What does that mean?”
“Hannah, listen to me.” A fierce worry softened his words, though he ignored her questions. “You are in danger.”
Her mouth went dry. Some part of her mind scoffed at the warning. Danger? In Beverly, New York? He couldn’t be serious. Then she remembered LeMar’s eyes, his incandescent fury when she’d refused his offer. No, she believed Brandon. She didn’t understand his warning, but she didn’t doubt it.
“Get your family and get out of town. I will take care of this. Stay at a motel. Do not return until…”
Her door yanked open.
Beside her stood a large man dressed in motorcycle leathers. A cruel, wolfish face leered at her from beneath thick, matted hair. “Time to go, girl,” he said as he pressed a damp cloth to her face.
Hannah dropped her phone and grabbed his wrist, struggling to twist free. His hand never moved; it was like trying to bend an iron bar. Something sweet and r
otten filled her lungs as she fought, clawing at him. Black clouds bubbled up at the edge of her vision, and the world around her faded out.
The last thing she heard as the darkness claimed her was Brandon’s voice, frantically shouting her name.
Chapter 7
Smell returned first. Rotten food, stale sweat, and… wet fur? As her consciousness returned, dark, guttural growls came with it and an eerie scratching. Like the sound of a bear’s claws on a tree.
Hannah opened her eyes, her head still pounding from the drugs they’d used on her.
She sat on the dirty floor of an old barn. Cold drafts seeped through the holes in its walls, bringing welcomed fresh air. The long-empty barn reeked of dogs and unwashed people. Half a dozen lanterns made more shadows than light. She lay slumped, arms twisted behind her back and handcuffed around one of the thick posts that held up its roof.
Six leather-clad brutes lurked by at the edges of the room. She recognized the one who’d grabbed her. Oddly, none of them seemed interested in the woman they’d kidnapped. Instead, they stared nervously at the floor ahead of her, where a familiar figure crouched, his back toward her.
Stephen LeMar. Somehow, that didn’t surprise Hannah.
He crouched delicately on his heels to avoid soiling his suit in the dirt and rat droppings that littered the wooden floor. He was the source of the odd scratching. She couldn’t see over his shoulder, but he dug at the floor with something she couldn’t see. A knife, by the sound of it.
Gingerly, Hannah rose to her feet. The movement drew the bikers’ attention for the briefest of moments, and then they returned to staring obsessively at LeMar. She flexed her arms as much as the cuffs allowed. Bumps, bruises, stiffness… but no major injuries. A tug confirmed that the cuffs were locked, and not toys.
It wasn’t going to be easy to escape. What about rescue? They hadn’t gagged her. LeMar didn’t seem like the type to overlook something so obvious, however. If she could scream, it probably meant there was no point doing it. Several ancient farms lay scattered in the woods around Beverly. The nearest help might be miles away.
The scratching stopped. LeMar put his hand on his knee and considered his work.
No. Not a hand. A claw.
Hannah gasped in shock. What protruded from the sleeve of his immaculate suit wasn’t a man’s hand. It was a green-scaled claw, tipped with inch-long talons that glinted wickedly in the lamp light.
He turned. Seeing her shock, he smiled. Fangs filled his mouth. Curved daggers that had no place in any human being.
Drugs. It had to be the drugs they’d used on her. Hannah pinched her eyes shut as the room started to spin. When she opened them again, LeMar’s hand was normal once more.
But the world wasn’t.
Her kidnapper had carved… no, scratched an elaborate rune on the floor. Energy glittered in its crevices, a sickly yellow mist. LeMar kicked dirty straw over his work, then retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped his shoes clean.
Worse, the bikers had shifted subtly in some mad, terrifying way. Their manes of hair seemed wilder, shaggier, like the coats of great animals. Yellow eyes reflected in the lamp light now, in a way no human eye ever did. And was it her imagination, or did their flickering shadows look like great wolves?
Drugs. Hannah swallowed and clung to that explanation like a life preserver. It had to be drugs.
“Right.” LeMar tossed his soiled handkerchief aside. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Wait!” Hannah cried. Another voice yelled that word at the exact same moment: the biggest biker.
LeMar glanced between the two of them. “What?”
She spoke first. “What are you doing? Why did you kidnap me?”
“It’s an experiment. You know what I am, right?”
“A jerk?” she suggested. “A treacherous, conniving Worm?”
To her surprise, he laughed with delight. “You have no idea how right you are. Do you?” His eyes narrowed suddenly. “Or are you less ignorant than I suppose?”
She had no idea how to answer that, so she just glared at him.
“You know you’re Kindred, yes? No? No.” He nodded. “As I suspected. You don’t know what Brandon ‘Lorde’ is. You have no idea why he’s giving you a fortune for some old thing. The only thought in your pea-brain is ‘Oooh, how lovely! Look at all the monies!’” His voice grew thick with contempt. “I’d tear the truth out of you – if I thought you possessed it. Fortunately for you, you’re an idiot. The information I could rip from your guts isn’t worth the dry-cleaning bill I’d rack up for this suit.”
Though her heart hammered, she fought to keep the fear from her face. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he terrified her. “What kind of experiment involves tying a girl up in an old barn?”
“One that requires bait. The object you gave to Brandon. It was a gold coin, yes?” Although she said nothing, he continued as if she’d agreed. “I thought as much. I want to see if that coin was Blood Gold.”
“I have no idea what that is.”
“I’m sure,” he said drily. “Trust me, if I thought you did know, I’d be disemboweling you right now. Dry-cleaning bill be damned.”
LeMar smiled at her. Hannah didn’t smile back.
“So, anyways,” he clapped his hands and turned toward his minions, “if I’m right, Mr. ‘Lorde’ will show up here tonight.”
Hope blazed in Hannah’s heart. Would he really come to save her? Would he risk his life for a woman he’d only known a day?
Of course. He had given his word, sworn to protect her. Even after only a day in his presence, she knew it would tear his soul apart to break his word. He was a man of honor, and he would come for her.
“If I’m wrong – which I doubt – then you’ll spend a mildly unpleasant night tied up here.”
“And in the morning?” She didn’t ask if he’d let her go. He enjoyed this vicious teasing.
LeMar bowed his head in mock sorrow. “Sadly, you just deposited enough money to cover your brother’s debts. So, your family needs more bills.” He turned to the largest biker, the one who’d asked him to wait. “I suggest a car accident.”
“Like the one we did for the boy?”
They were the ones who’d run over her brother Danny?!? Shock and icy fury flooded through Hannah.
“No, no hit-and-runs. She knows too much. If you think you can pull off a coma, that would be great.” As she stared at him in fear and outrage, LeMar shook his head. “Scratch that. Too risky. She could recover. Easier to make it fatal. I hear funerals are expensive too.”
Satisfied with his plan, he strode for the door. Leaving Hannah too stunned to speak.
One of the bikers cleared his throat. “Wait.”
LeMar paused. “What’s your problem?” he growled.
“Where are you going?”
“Out. I don’t explain myself to my servants.”
True lupine growls rumbled up from all the leather-clad men. To her shock, their shadows twisted into the shapes of full wolves, crouched and furious. LeMar was not intimidated. He straightened, and his arrogant, domineering gaze swept over them. Under it, the bikers withered and ducked their heads.
Only their leader still dared to speak. “What are the six of us supposed to do if a Dragon shows up?”
She couldn’t have heard that word. It was impossible. Though her throat went dry as she remembered the scoundrel’s scaled ‘hand.’
LeMar shrugged. “Try to survive? I’d suggest running away; it will probably improve your odds. Up to you. Not my problem.”
Hair sprouted from the men’s hands. Hannah grew dizzy as their faces lengthened and burst out with dark, shaggy fur. Angry snarls rumbled in broad chests. Yet none of the… Werewolves? Did she truly dare use that word?
She swallowed, hard. Yes, werewolves. Mad as it sounded, that’s what they were. Uncontrollable shivers swept over her at the truth of that terrible, crazy thought.
/> And LeMar? What was so terrible that it cowed werewolves?
The pack leader was the only one who didn’t completely submit. Hannah felt a grudging respect for the way he struggled to protect his pack. “Why aren’t you staying with us? Together, we can take him.”
LeMar sighed and began to speak in a tone adults used with particularly stupid children. “Because you’re expendable and I’m not.”
A chorus of snarls and snapping burst from the bikers. Their muscular forms shimmered, blurred. Clothes and leather faded, replaced by mangy brown fur. Before Hannah’s astounded, terrified eyes, six wolves appeared where the men had stood a moment before. All of them bayed, howls of rage that resounded through the barn.
Stephen LeMar answered their anger with a fury of his own. Light burst around him as he threw his arms wide. Green scales flooded over him, and he suddenly grew, towering over both Hannah and his minions. His fingers twisted into lethal talons, his jaw lengthened, and a long, sinuous tail unwrapped from his body. In the blink of an eye, the handsome businessman had disappeared. Replaced by a raging, furious Dragon that threatened to shatter the beams that held the barn roof aloft.
No. Not a Dragon. Despite her terror, a calm voice spoke in the depths of Hannah’s mind. Dragons had wings. LeMar had nothing. Just two masses of scar tissue at his shoulders where wings ought to be.
Shock and horror rose, almost overwhelming her. Nothing in her loving, ordinary life had ever prepared Hannah for this. Yet, now, in her darkest moment, she found a quiet strength. Faced with monsters out of legend, some part of her wanted to break. To give up and crawl, weeping, into the depths of her own mind. To hide from the danger and chaos.
She refused. She forced herself to look at the raging creatures howling for each other’s blood. This wasn’t drugs. This was real. If her safe, comfortable world fell apart, then so be it. She was strong enough to face reality, however terrifying it might be.
Because she wasn’t alone. She had him.
Brandon.
What had they called him? A Dragon? Not a maimed Worm like LeMar, either, if a pack of werewolves feared to face him.