Shadow Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  “I came to the aid of my wolf Were allies,” Jody said. “The transfer of power from Francesca to you was not my goal.”

  “Are you saying you are displeased?” Zachary showed no signs of annoyance or concern, merely curiosity.

  “I’m not sure it’s the best time for a new regime, but I’m sure you will represent us well.”

  “You have learned some diplomacy, it seems.” Zachary laughed, his dark eyes locked on Becca’s.

  Becca trembled as the sensation of a soft caress whispered down her spine. She pressed closer to Jody and stroked her arm. “Jody, it’s time to leave. I hunger too.”

  “Of course. I should not have kept you waiting so long.” If Jody was surprised by her forwardness, she gave no sign of it. She nodded to her father and guided Becca toward the nearest entrance. Zahn and her soldiers fell in behind them.

  “What is it?” Jody murmured.

  “I…” Becca shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s all right. Tell me.”

  “I felt as if your father was trying to enthrall me.”

  “Sexually?” Jody hissed softly. “It wouldn’t be the first time he competed with me, but he must know we are blood-bonded and you would not be open to his call.”

  “It wasn’t sexual exactly, or not just that. It was more like he was…searching my mind.”

  “He is very old and very powerful. Even I did not detect his probing, but I’m not surprised. I’m sorry.”

  The limo was waiting for them at the end of a long enclosed walkway, shielded like the windows to keep the ultraviolet rays away from the Risen as they departed. Jody handed Becca into the rear seat of the reinforced limo, its opaque glass completely filtering all ambient light. When the door shut them in and Becca felt safe at last, she leaned her head against Jody’s shoulder. “You have no need to apologize for your father’s actions. But what do you think he was trying to discover?”

  “You’re an investigative reporter, remember? We hold official Friends of the Pack status. I’m sure he hopes to learn something that will give him an advantage in his new position.”

  “Do you think he was able to tell anything?”

  Jody’s hand tightened over hers. “Ordinarily, I would say absolutely yes. But you are no ordinary human. The fact that you could recognize his thrall is unusual. Already you are able to perceive my thoughts and shield yourself from others. He knows that now.”

  “But he’s your father. Surely, he wouldn’t—”

  “He is my sire. I carry his lineage, but my connection to him is only important as long as I follow his edicts and pledge to secure our dynasty no matter what. I don’t know that I can do that.”

  “And if you break with him?”

  Jody’s jaw tightened. “Then he would declare me deshert—severed from the line of succession. And I would become expendable.”

  *

  Drake made her way down the long tunnel under the Compound to the holding cells. The simple stone rooms, barricaded with silver-impregnated bars, were designed to detain rogue Weres awaiting the Alpha’s judgment and punishment. The lone prisoner was a Were, but a renegade, not a rogue. She and two others had been part of a raiding party that had trespassed on Pack land, attacked a patrol, and later attempted to ambush Sylvan’s war party. Her punishment should be death, but circumstances were not always black and white, even though wolf law was.

  “Wait down the hall,” Drake said to Beryl, the muscular lieutenant on guard duty.

  “Yes, Prima.”

  “I am the Timberwolf Prima,” Drake said to the young female crouched on the bare iron shelf bolted to the wall. She’d been given clothes—standard sentrie garb—black T-shirt and BDUs. She was barefoot, her cinnamon hair tangled about her long sleek neck. Even in the dim light from the wall sconces, her green eyes glowed with wolf fury.

  “I remember you,” the prisoner said.

  “Yes. We fought.”

  “Yes.”

  Drake respected the young Were’s courage. She did not deny the crime for which she should die. “How are your wounds?”

  The prisoner dropped her chin so her gaze fell on Drake’s chest. “Healed.”

  “Good. What is your name?”

  “Tamara.”

  “Tamara, tell me what Bernardo said about the missing pregnant females.”

  “Why? You won’t believe me.”

  “You are alive,” Drake said. “Doesn’t that tell you something? You attacked our patrol. You attacked me, and yet the Alpha has not killed you yet.”

  “I know.” Tamara’s belligerent tone softened with confusion.

  “The Alpha has annexed the Blackpaws. You are ours now.”

  “What does that mean for me?”

  “That is for the Alpha to decide, but she will treat you fairly if you tell us the truth. What did Bernardo say?”

  “He told his lieutenants that the Timberwolves had abducted our females because you wanted our young.”

  “When did they go missing?”

  “I’m not sure—not long ago. My uncle is…was one of Bernardo’s lieutenants. One of the missing females was a cousin of mine.”

  “And that’s why you trespassed on Pack land.”

  “Yes.” Tamara growled softly. “Retribution was owed.”

  Beryl took a step toward them, a warning rumble rolling from his chest.

  Drake waved him off. Tamara was right. Wolf law was simple and clear. When a crime was committed, retribution was expected. Wolf Weres might be rational, but at their core they lived and ruled by strength and will. Even the most submissive Were was capable of tremendous physical violence, and only the power of the Alpha prevented Were society from shattering and primitive instincts sending them all into chaos. “Retribution is due only if the accusations are just. They’re not.”

  Tamara stopped growling but her eyes still blazed. “Gray said that too.”

  “She’s right. We do not prey on other wolves. We do not endanger pregnant females or young. In time, you will believe that. Now, tell me about the females. Who are they, and when were they due to whelp?”

  “Both were mated to soldiers and should have whelped any day.”

  “Were they or their mates out of favor with the Alpha?”

  “The mates were lieutenants, but they weren’t part of the Alpha’s guard.”

  “What was your role in the Pack?”

  “Sentrie, Prima.”

  Drake wondered at that. The young female was a ferocious fighter, but her scent was not that of a typical dominant. “You’re unmated.”

  Tamara stiffened. “Yes, Prima.”

  “The Alpha will want to speak with you. In the meantime, make sure you eat and regain your strength.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I am your Prima, and I ordered it so.”

  Tamara shuddered. “Yes, Prima.”

  Drake signaled to Beryl. “See that she is fed.”

  Beryl’s lip curled but he nodded curtly. “Yes, Prima.”

  As Drake climbed the stairs back to ground level, her skin electrified and heat washed over her. Howls rose from the ramparts. Sylvan was near. Bounding up the remaining stairs, she burst out into the Compound. A warrior called down from atop the stockade, “The Rover approaches.”

  Drake strode to the center of the Compound. “Open the gates.”

  Soldiers rushed to carry out her orders and the tall, heavy gates swung wide. The Rover barreled through and pulled up a few feet away in a shower of red dust. Sylvan jumped out, her golden gaze locked on Drake. Power rushed throughout the Compound and the wolf Weres welcomed her back with a chorus of shouts and growls and wolf calls.

  “You’re late,” Drake said, caught in the fierce pull of Sylvan’s gaze.

  Sylvan’s hand came around her neck, clasped her tightly, and dragged her close. Sylvan’s mouth covered hers, hot and hard and tasting of cinnamon and pine.

  Drake gripped the back of Sylvan’s shirt, her blunt claws punctu
ring the fabric to claim flesh. “I missed you.”

  “First I want you,” Sylvan murmured, “then we’ll talk.”

  *

  Dr. Veronica Standish arched as another orgasm tore through her, her throat constricting on a silent cry of anguish and unbearable pleasure. Luce fed at her throat, while between her thighs Francesca pierced her sex and drank of her blood and essence. She’d lost track of time, lost track of everything except the endless sea of release.

  Distantly she heard Francesca say, “That’s enough for now.”

  Veronica tried to grasp Luce and keep her at her vein, but she couldn’t move. “Please, just a little more.”

  “Not just yet.” Francesca leaned over her, her milky complexion flushed with the blood Veronica had given her, her turquoise eyes flaming with lust and power. “We must take very good care of you.”

  Francesca kissed her, and the surge of erotostimulants flooding her blood pushed her to the brink again. She writhed, desperate to orgasm as Francesca trailed a scarlet nail down her throat.

  “After all,” Francesca said, her voice a steely purr, “you are our best chance to destroy Sylvan and all her followers.”

  Chapter Three

  “Tell me,” Sylvan said in a low growl as she pulled Drake up the broad stairs to the second floor and into her office. She slammed the door and pinned Drake against it, her mouth on Drake’s neck an instant later. “Is everything all right?”

  Drake tipped her head back, exposing her throat even more. Sylvan’s canines, large and lethal, pressed against her jugular. “It is now.”

  Sylvan raked a blunt-tipped claw down the center of Drake’s chest, slicing open her black T-shirt. A hot mouth closed over Drake’s breast and fire churned deep in her belly. She gripped the back of Sylvan’s shirt and tore it from collar to hem, ripping at the shreds with both hands until Sylvan’s slick skin pressed against her nakedness. Her wolf’s restless anxiety drained away, replaced by a cell-deep urge to bond, to reclaim her place by her mate’s side, to complete their union. With Sylvan back on Pack land and her power radiating to all within miles of the Compound, the Pack would calm too. And Drake would be filled.

  Reading her as she always did, Sylvan looked up and murmured, “I would never stay away if I could help it.”

  “Show me,” Drake said, scraping her teeth along Sylvan’s jaw.

  Sylvan’s lips drew back in a feral grin, a supremely arrogant glint in her wolf-gold eyes, and she dropped to her knees. She pulled the snap and zipper on Drake’s BDUs apart and shoved the pants to the floor. Drake barely managed to kick one leg free before Sylvan took her distended clitoris deep into her mouth. Heat flashed up her spine, her abdomen tensed, and pelt rolled beneath her skin. Drake readied, and at the first press of Sylvan’s canines to the base of her clitoris, a shattering release cascaded through her. Her claws burst from her fingertips, and she raked Sylvan’s shoulders, needing more.

  Hearing her silent call, Sylvan lunged to her feet, pushing her clothes off with one hand and spreading Drake’s legs with the other. She thrust her hips between Drake’s thighs, her clitoris notching seamlessly beneath Drake’s. With a tilt of her hips and a sharp thrust, she locked them, ensuring their essences would blend when she came. Gripping Drake’s wrists, she held her against the rough wooden door and kissed her hard, too close to wait. She’d waited too long already, and the primal drive to mate ruled her. One thrust, two, and her abdominal muscles clenched. Her release was fast and furious, a thousand claws rending her soul. She threw back her head with a howl and spent herself in Drake’s depths. When Drake’s canines slid into the mate bite on her chest, she came again. Panting, emptied, she collapsed and felt her mate’s arms come around her, shielding and welcoming her.

  Drake stroked the damp hair on the back of Sylvan’s neck and cradled Sylvan’s head against her shoulder. She throbbed inside, feeling Sylvan’s power fill her. “I love you.”

  Sylvan sighed and kissed the pulse in Drake’s throat. “I love you. How are the young?”

  Drake threaded her fingers through Sylvan’s hair and kissed her temple. “Strong and well.”

  “I wish I never had to be away from any of you.”

  “I know.” Drake caressed Sylvan’s back, tracing the planes and muscles as familiar to her as a reflection of her own face. Still, every touch was a miracle. Sylvan was hers—hers to guard and defend and love. And hers to support. “But you must do what is needed for the Pack. If I can’t always be with you, I will always be here when you return.”

  “I couldn’t do this without you.” Sylvan pushed back, her thighs still trembling, the thunder of blood in her pelvis still reminding her of a need greater than any she’d ever imagined.

  “You’ll never have to.”

  Sylvan kissed her, ending with a sharp nip on her lower lip. A reminder this quick coupling was only the beginning. “Come. Tell me what’s been happening here.”

  “All right, but I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

  “You never have to let me go.”

  Drake licked the side of Sylvan’s jaw and tugged a bit of skin with her teeth until Sylvan growled and gold danced in her eyes. Satisfied, Drake pulled off the remnants of their clothing and headed for the closet. She found shirts and pants for both of them and, taking Sylvan’s hand, led her to the leather sofa in front of the huge stone fireplace. Reclining next to her, she said, “All the young are fine. Callan reports a few scattered cat sightings, nothing organized, along the northeast corridor. No perimeter breaches. And I’ve talked with the Blackpaw prisoner about the raid and also the reportedly missing females.”

  Sylvan’s eyes sparked. “Your assessment?”

  “I believe she’s telling the truth—that there are missing pregnant females and Bernardo lied to his lieutenants by telling them we were responsible. He might not have intended for them to attack us, but he knew of the abductions. I think he was involved.”

  Sylvan growled and her canines lengthened. “How could any wolf, let alone an Alpha, betray his Pack and put a pregnant female at risk?”

  “I’m afraid it’s worse than we thought. They were ready to deliver, and I’m worried about who has the young.” She paused, sensing Sylvan’s control thinning, and rested her palm on Sylvan’s chest. They’d been in battle mode for weeks, still had injured Weres recovering in the infirmary. Sylvan had been wounded, so had she, and the imperative for Sylvan to safeguard the Pack was enormous.

  “Tell me the rest,” Sylvan said.

  “The immune systems of newborns—any newborns—are immature. If you wanted to use a viral mutagen or a chemical agent to produce the Were fever syndrome, then a newborn might be the perfect subject.”

  Beneath her palm, Sylvan’s body shuddered. Fury loosed her wolf. The bones and muscles in her torso slid and shifted, enlarging and growing heavy. The sharp planes of her face and angle of her jaw thickened. In half-form, midshift, she was larger, more muscular, more brutal, than any Were alive. Drake shared her rage, but she needed to calm her. Sylvan in battle frenzy would incite every Were within range and the dominants would end up fighting each other if no enemy presented itself and Sylvan was not there to channel their aggression. Everyone in the Compound would be at risk.

  Drake stroked Sylvan’s chest and the cleft between the thick columns of her abdominals. When silver pelt burst free beneath her fingers and trailed down the center of Sylvan’s stomach, she slid her palm beneath the waistband of Sylvan’s pants, cupped her sex, and massaged the heavy glands buried deep on either side of her clitoris. Sylvan groaned, her claws tearing at the leather. Pushing down between Sylvan’s legs, Drake opened Sylvan’s fly, uncovered her, and took her deep. Sylvan thrust and Drake slid one hand between them to massage her while she sucked until, with a guttural growl, Sylvan released again.

  Drake caressed her with her mouth until the rigid columns of her thighs softened. “Your wolf needs to run. This is not enough.”

  “You’re always enough. Y
ou settle my wolf,” Sylvan gasped. “But you’re right. As soon as I can, we will run.”

  Drake held herself above Sylvan on both arms and kissed her. “Then make it soon. We both need it, and so do the centuri.”

  “I will. But we must find those females.”

  “Yes, and we need to integrate the Packs,” Drake said. “The Blackpaws need a strong leader now.”

  “I’ve left warriors at the Blackpaw camp. I’m not sure Bernardo’s lieutenants can be trusted.”

  “I agree,” Drake said. “The prisoner—Tamara—tells me she is a sentrie, but I sense she may be more.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Keep her and other young soldiers like her here, train them with our sentries. Then we can promote from within and replace any of the lieutenants whose loyalty is suspect.”

  “A good plan, but it will take time.” Sylvan’s wolf had calmed and her eyes had lost their gold sheen of ferocity. She pulled Drake down against her chest. “What of Torren?”

  “I’ve not heard from her since she left Nocturne after the battle. She has returned to Faerie with the souls she’d claimed.”

  “And Misha? Has she heard?”

  Drake sighed. Torren was ancient, the Fae Master of the Hunt and one of the most powerful of the Fae royals. Misha was a dominant young wolf, barely out of adolescence. A mating between an ethereal Fae and an earthbound wolf should have been impossible, but the old barriers seemed to be breaking down as Vampires bonded with Weres, wolf Weres with cats, and, apparently, Fae with Weres. “She is here, but I have not questioned her. I thought it best for you to speak with her.”

  “Yes, that is for me to do.”

  “Our first priority must be to find the Blackpaw females and their young.”

  “Yes.” Sylvan pushed upright, firmly back in control, although the gold never completely left her midnight-blue eyes. “And this time, whoever is responsible—human or Praetern—must be held accountable.”