by Unknown
He looked at me, shocked. His shirt gapped open and revealed a thin line of red across his tanned flesh.
While Chris handled the other guard, I took advantage of my opponent’s hesitation and rammed the sword into his stomach. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the strength to carve out his innards, but the blade sank into his flesh a good couple of inches.
I pulled out the sword—which took a great deal of wrenching—and went in for another blow.
He reared back, his face a mask of pain and fury. He snarled at me and reached for Colt’s sword.
What he couldn’t know was three male prisoners were running at him. Before he could take one more menacing step toward me, the men barreled into his massive backside. I twirled away, sword still clutched in my hands, as the giant crashed to the ground.
He rapped his head hard on the concrete floor, offered one fearsome groan, and went still.
The guard scuffling with Chris made the mistake of looking at his downed compatriot. A right hook to the jaw snapped his head back and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
“Let’s get them tied up. Is there a place we can put them?” I said.
“There’s a janitor’s closet down here,” said Chris. “We can lock them inside.”
I offered my sword to him. “Let’s free them.”
Chris smiled. He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a jackknife. “This might be more practical.” He began removing the ties from everyone’s bound wrists.
“It safer for you all to stay down here,” I said to the crowd. “As soon as Grey deals with Kelt, I’ll send someone to get you.”
“Belle!”
I turned at the sound of the familiar voice and saw my former boss, Charlie, stride across the room. He was in late ‘50s and was long-time friends with my father. He hadn’t had any girls, so he’d never needed to worry about sending a daughter to the Choosing. But he was a kind man with a gentle wife and two grown sons who’d joined the Army.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To join my husband.”
“It’s not any safer for you out there,” he said, concerned. “You’re better off in here with us.”
“I’m the alpha’s mate. I stand with him.”
Charlie grasped my shoulder. “What happens to us if Grey doesn’t win?”
“He will win,” I said. “So that question is pointless.” I shrugged out of his grip and hurried up the stairs.
15
I RAN THROUGH the library, dodging carts and books and turned over shelves. Kelt’s werewolves had been destructive, completely inconsiderate of the town and its possessions. Such actions told me Bleed City was in for a world of hurt with Kelt as the Shadow Pack alpha.
He will never be alpha, I assured myself.
I wanted to barrel outside and make sure Grey was still alive, but I managed to calm myself enough to slow down and stop at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows near the entrance. I leaned the sword against the wall and peeked out the glass pane.
A group of werewolves in both human and wolf forms stood on one side of the library’s rock-strewn garden. On the other side were two men taking swings at each other.
Grey and Kelt.
My husband was leanly muscled and fast. He ducked, punched, whirled away. Kelt was clumsier—perhaps because he was heavier, older, or maybe just exhausted. He’d had a busy day of being a complete and utter asshole.
If Kelt’s battered face was any indication, Grey was winning. Hope trilled in my heart. How soon would this be over? Did alphas fight to the death or just until one knocked the other out?
I didn’t know.
Movement caught my eye and I tracked it to a blue flutter near an oversized cactus plant. A blonde head poked up—and I immediately recognized Cacie Lynn.
She held a gun.
Her arms were steady. Her gaze locked onto Grey. She was waiting for the perfect shot. Once her own lover moved out of the way, she would kill my husband.
I grabbed my sword. I couldn’t bust out there because my sudden presence might distract Grey enough to get shot.
I flew across the library, to the far right side. There was a side entrance, one I only knew about because as a little girl I liked “sneaking” into the library. Carolyn and I pretended to be spies who needed to find our enemy’s secrets—which were usually tucked into the books we checked out.
Mr. Sanders had started locking the entrance after one too many teenagers used it to sneak inside and put their overdue books onto the shelves without paying the fines. What can I say? Bleed City bred more than its fair share of book nerds. Ruffian behavior in children or adults was unusual. A run-in with a Shadow Pack enforcer curbed any of those tendencies.
I unlocked the metal door and eased out. My heart pounded so hard it pulsed in my throat and banged in my eardrums. I could only think about stopping Cacie Lynn before she had a chance to use that gun.
Neela’s boots were loose on my feet, but I’d gotten used to their weight. I reached the edge of the building, my gaze seeking out Cacie Lynn. She was still huddled behind the cactus, her gun aimed at the fighting men, waiting for the opportune moment to kill Grey.
I only had seconds.
I rushed across the garden, coming up behind Cacie Lynn. She heard me, of course, as did everyone else in the area. But my focus was on the blonde betrayer who’d been part of this whole mess from the start.
Cacie Lynn’s expression was one of pure hatred, her sweet face only a façade for her true nature.
She whipped her arms up and the gun went off, but I whacked her on top of the head with the flat side of the blade. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped over.
“Arabelle!”
Grey’s voice sounded far away. Further than it should have. I walked toward him, him and Kelt who both stared at me strangely. I guess there wasn’t such a thing as time-out in a werewolf fight because I watched Kelt bunch up his fist and aim it at Grey’s head.
I don’t know how I reached them before he landed that punch, but I did and I kicked Kelt in the shins with my steel-toed boot. He went down yowling. Then I raised the blade and brought it down.
The sword missed his skull, but sliced through his long, brown ponytail. He screamed like I’d actually stabbed him. I don’t think I really meant to decapitate Kelt, but I was getting sick and tired of him hurting people I loved.
“Does cutting off werewolf hair hurt?” I asked Grey, befuddled by Kelt’s odd reaction. The man was grabbing at the hair now scattered across the ground like it was strands of gold.
“Shadow enforcers wear their hair long as a sign of strength. Getting it cut off by an enemy is the ultimate insult.”
Good. I hoped Kelt choked on his defeat.
I felt suddenly, unaccountably tired. I was sweating, too, particularly on my left side. I slid my hand down my T-shirt, frowning when it came away red. “How very strange,” I said. The words tripped over my tongue.
“Sweetheart.” Grey scooped me into his arms. “You’ve been shot.”
“Oh.” I looked at him, but blackness edged my vision and his face went all blurry.
As Grey turned to walk away, Kelt snarled and bounded to his feet. I opened my mouth to shout at Grey, but before I could utter a warning, a coffee-brown werewolf appeared like a wraith. Neela. She grabbed Kelt’s leg and jerked him off his feet.
Other werewolves joined her. After a moment, I couldn’t see Kelt at all as the wolves snarled and snapped. He screamed as they tore at his flesh, but I had no empathy.
None at all.
Grey didn’t even turn around. He strode away, obviously confident in pack justice.
“We won, right?”
“Yes, Arabelle. We won.”
Those were the last words I heard.
I DREAMED OF THE OCEAN. I’d never seen the Pacific—never gone outside the borders of Nevada—yet I stood on the beach, my toes digging into cool, wet sand. Night clung to the water and to the sky, clutching bo
th in slippery black folds. A curl of moon hung in the midnight sky, the only light in an otherwise stygian world.
I walked into the ocean sedately. The water covered my calves, my hips, my waist. I felt at peace. Buoyed by its strength. Its unaccountable warmth.
As the water hit my shoulders and my feet left the sand, I heard him.
“Arabelle!”
I felt pulled in two directions. One toward the horizon. The other toward shore.
I tread water, considering.
Forward—into the ocean, into the arms of God.
Backward—to the shore line, into the arms of man.
One man.
Grey.
MY EYES FLUTTERED OPEN. As I looked around the room, I wondered if I’d died and gone to heaven. A very luxurious heaven that had big, dark furniture, gold and brown accents, comfortable bedding—and was that a chaise? Beyond that, I saw a huge hearth with bookshelves all around it.
“Arabelle.”
I turned my head. Grey lay next to me. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. I reached out and touched the hair that had sprouted along his cheeks and chin. “You grew a beard in a day? How often do you werewolves have to shave?”
He choked out a laugh. “You’ve been unconscious for nearly two weeks. I’ve had doctors, healers—hell, I even called Lisa Pearson to come look at you.”
“But I’m not a werewolf.”
“You are the best werewolf I have ever known.” He kissed my lips, my cheeks, my forehead, even my eyelids. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“What happened?”
“Cacie Lynn shot you.”
“I whacked her with Colt’s sword.” I gasped. “Colt!”
“He’s fine. He came through surgery like a champ. He’s been back here for almost a week, driving me crazy, as usual.”
“I would like to see him. I owe him an apology for using his sword wrong.”
Grey chuckled. “You used it exactly right.”
My head throbbed, and my side was really quite sore.
“My parents? Aunt Lila?”
“Everyone’s fine. There were tunnels hidden under the elder’s house. She took everyone out that way. Cacie Lynn is in prison awaiting tribunal.”
“Kelt is dead.”
“Yes. The pack took care of that.”
“I cut off his hair,” I said. “I didn’t mean to.” I glanced at Grey. “I think I was aiming for his head.”
“That act was enough to denigrate him in the eyes of the pack. Keeping it long is a tradition of enforcers. It represents strength. It’s like your Samson and Delilah story.”
“I cut off his hair … and he lost his strength?”
“It was the ultimate symbol of his defeat.”
I was glad that Kelt was dead, and out of our lives. “How is Neela?”
“She’s … Neela. After Kelt was defeated, Mac took off. I have enforcers looking for him, but I doubt we’ll find him.”
“I don’t think Mac was a good person.”
“Nor was he a good werewolf,” agreed Grey.
“I’m not sure Neela is a good person, either.”
“We’ll see,” said Grey. “She’s young. Impulsive. Ruled by her anger.”
“She has daddy issues.”
He smiled. “That, too. She’s still taking sabbatical to the Earth Pack. She needs to learn patience.”
I couldn’t say that I liked Neela all that much, but maybe given time we could learn not to snarl at each other. She’d shown her true loyalties, and for that, I would always be grateful.
“I’m tired, Grey.” I yawned. “By the way, where are we?”
“This is our bedroom.”
“Sweet mercy! It’s amazing.”
“Wait until you see the rest of our place,” he murmured. “I’ll show you the compound. I’ll show the whole world, Arabelle. Just please stay with me.”
“I’m right here,” I said.
“You left for a while.” He looked at me. “I’m in love with you.”
“I’m in love with you, too,” I said.
“I thought as much—after you took a bullet for me.”
“That’s what wives do for their husbands.”
“When you’re better, I’ll reward you probably.” His gaze turned wicked then he gave me smacking kiss. “Rest now, sweetheart.”
“Okay.” I settled into his embrace, resting my head against his chest, the beat of his heart my very own lullaby.
It is a wonderful thing, I tell you, to be loved by the alpha.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michele Bardsley is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of paranormal romance. When she’s not writing sexy tales of otherworldly love, she watches “Supernatural,” consumes chocolate, crochets hats, reads on her Kindle, and spends time with her fur babies.
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TEMPTED BY THE NIGHT
THE HEROES OF NEW VEGAS
COLLEEN GLEASON
Fifty years after civilization as we know it is destroyed, the world is a different place: filled with immortal Strangers wearing powerful crystals, overgrown roads and cities, and the sad, desperate zombies that roam the earth.
But some things haven't changed...and when two old friends become involved in a life-threatening situation, they start to realize that maybe there is more to their friendship than just memories…
Luke Desmond broke off his engagement, leaving town when he realized he was about to marry the wrong sister. Marisa Bengotti couldn’t forgive him for breaking her sister’s heart…and for not knowing that he’d always held hers.
When Luke reappears, in danger and on the run from bounty hunters, Marisa finds herself caught in a web of danger and deceit--putting at risk not only a secret she has sworn to protect, but also her bruised heart.
With the bounty hunters closing in, Marisa and Luke join together in a dangerous game that could keep their world from being destroyed…but will their hearts survive?
Tempted by the Night © 2015, 2016 Colleen Gleason
All rights reserved.
Cover design: Syneca Featherstone
CHAPTER 1
May 2060
Somewhere in the former
State of Nevada
M arisa laid the bundle of daisies and lilies on top of the grave, then settled back onto her haunches to look down at the stone marker.
“Hi, Dad,” she said, kneeling next to the tufts of grass that sprang up around the crude gray slab. “I brought tiger lilies for you today—and daisies, even though I know you never really cared for the way they smelled.” She grinned and pushed up the glasses that threatened to slip off her nose. Too much time with her nose in a book—or two—in low light had strained her vision. Or so her father had claimed. “Do they have daisies where you are?”
She imagined Dad, who’d been dead for two years, calmly yet firmly insisting that whatever heavenly gardeners there were should keep the daisies from growing near his patch of the afterlife. At least now he was with her mother—a woman Marisa had never known—and Grandma Nell.
“You’ll be glad to know I’ve begun working on the—” Frowning, her heart doing an awkward skip, Marisa cocked her head and listened intently.
No, she hadn’t been imagining it. Beneath the rustle of leaves, mingling with the calls of a grackle, there was a distant mechanical rumbling. Her heart in her throat, Marisa scrambled to her feet, the one-sided conversation with Dad forgotten. Still listening intently, she peered through the overgrowth of trees.
It was impossible to
see more than a few yards beyond this small clearing, between the underbrush and trees and the crumpled remains of early twenty-first-century civilization. Topless houses, sagging roofs and caved-in walls, glassless windows, and rusted-out cars sat amid a tangle of trees, vines, and choking vegetation.
The rumbling sound was drawing closer. There was no mistaking the rare but distinct—and eerie—noise. A four-wheeled vehicle was barreling over the raw terrain, perhaps following roads that had long ago cracked and buckled from the events of half a century ago.
There was no reason to be worried, Marisa told herself, swiping damp palms on her trousers. If it were the bounty hunters—which it pretty much had to be, because who else would be in a truck or other mechanical vehicle?—she had no reason to be concerned. They’d been to her place before when Dad was alive, though only once since. But they’d checked over all the books. There hadn’t been a problem.
But as she started walking—well, it was more like jogging—back to the settlement, Marisa couldn’t keep her anxiety at bay. With the help of the Waxnicki brothers, Dad had worked long and hard to make the secret chamber look like nothing more than a pile of old rubble…but there was always the chance this would be the time the bounty hunters looked too closely at the jumble of stone, dry wall, and timber. They might notice one of the slabs of lumber wasn’t really attached…
Her heart was in her throat now, and Marisa tried to convince herself it was mostly because she hadn’t been expecting this today. Not that the residents of River Vale ever knew when the bounty hunters would come. The men in trucks (MITs) simply showed up, their impending arrival heralded by the chilling sound of their vehicles rumbling closer and closer.
By now, Marisa was rushing along the pathway back to the small village. The path had once been a paved road, but over the fifty years since the Change had occurred in June of 2010, the pavement had cracked from disrepair. Grass and wildflowers grew in the broken areas, making the uneven road look like a jigsaw puzzle. Signs that once announced River Vale and amenities in what had been the nearby town of Shelby were rusted, bent, and faded. An occasional rusted car sat in its own patch of grass and brush, and there was even a faded blue metal thing known as a mailbox.