by Amy Pennza
Ahead of her, Max paused and half-turned on the steps. He canted his head up. “What are you thinking about, petite?”
Busted. “Nothing.”
He grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips. “If you keep thinking about nothing, I’m going to toss you over my shoulder and carry you right back up to our bedroom.”
Shivers rippled across her skin. Half of her wanted to goad him into doing it. It wouldn’t take much—a look…a touch. The other half didn’t recognize the nymphomaniac she’d apparently become. A couple of rolls in the hay, and here she was, ready to play caveman.
A torch on the wall shivered. Shadows bounced around the dank stairwell. This was no time to think about sex. Nerves made her stomach flutter.
Understanding lit his eyes. “You have nothing to worry about,” he murmured.
“What if—”
“No what-ifs. You’ve done it before, remember?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know I was doing it.” She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat.
Max squeezed her hand. “You’re older now. Your Gift is fully developed. The headaches have gotten worse in the past couple of years, yes?”
They had, but that didn’t mean her Gift was stronger now, did it? It could just as easily mean she sucked at being a Bloodsinger. Torchlight played over his face. Even two steps below, he was still taller. His broad shoulders filled her field of vision. Like the rocks surrounding them, he was formidable and steady. What she wouldn’t give for a tenth of his confidence.
He must have seen the worry on her face, because he climbed a step and pulled her into his arms. He put his lips next to her ear and said, “When I first suspected you’d inherited your parents’ Gifts, I started keeping track of how many of the Lodge’s latents Turned. The numbers went up every year. When you left for school, I sometimes sent latents along with Remy or Dom to keep an eye on you. Several of them Turned.”
She pulled back so she could see his face. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I didn’t want you to feel pressured to Turn anyone. And once Remy told me about your headaches, I realized the strain might be too much for you. I also wanted to protect you. Bloodsingers are so very rare, petite, and our lore doesn’t tell us much about you. I’ve researched as much as I can, but I had to be discreet. Others will find out about you, but I wanted it to be on your terms.”
For the first time she realized what he’d done for her. Despite his knowledge of her Gift, he had let her go. She didn’t know every Alpha in the country, but she’d met enough to know they wouldn’t pass up any chance to grab more power. By his own admission, Max had loved her since they met. Still, he set aside his own feelings—and the possibility of a future together—to let her decide for herself.
She leaned forward and kissed his jaw. “Thank you.”
“You’re, ah, not mad that I sent Remy to watch over you?”
“You mean spy on me, and you guys really need to work on blending in more. You might as well get matching T-shirts that say werewolf.”
He flashed a boyish grin. “Remy might go for it, but good luck convincing Dom. Ready?”
She could only nod like an idiot. Her stomach was still doing cartwheels over that grin. She let him guide her down the rest of the steps and into the main cavern.
Someone had lit more torches, but the yawning space was still dreary. Dom, Remy, and Aiden rose from their posts as Lizette and Max approached. A fourth man stood near Dom.
Jonah. Lizette turned her gaze to the center of the cage, where a blanket-clad figure sat on the cot pushed against the back wall. As she and Max neared the cage, she got her first look at Nathan Hallerton in five years.
He stood, and the blanket slid off his shoulders and puddled at his feet. “Lizette.” His eyes met Max’s and bounced away. He bowed his head. “Alpha.”
Lizette studied him in detail. He didn’t look crazed or suicidal. Memories of the deranged latent boy all those years ago rose. If Nathan had lunged at her or pounded his head on the ground, she wasn’t sure she could have controlled her emotions, let alone her untested Gift. But Nathan just seemed like…Nathan.
Like most wolves, he was tall, but the lankiness of his early twenties had filled out to a more mature build. His jaw was more defined, his cheekbones more pronounced. He wore loose-fitting running pants and a plain white T-shirt. Easy to remove in preparation for the Turn. Her heart sped up.
“Hi, Nathan,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”
A rueful smile touched his mouth. He kept his eyes on the ground a few feet in front of him. “I’m not sure I believe you, but it’s good to see you, too.” He pushed his fingers through his thick brown hair—a gesture that tugged at her memory. He’d always been at his hair, mussing it when he was tired or anxious. Which one was he now?
Either way, he probably didn’t want to drag this out any more than she did. She cleared her throat. “I… Um, I should warn you that I’ve never deliberately Turned anyone. I have no idea how this will go…or if it’ll even work.”
He darted a look up before refocusing on the ground. “I’ve got nothing to lose, and I’m running out of time.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’ll kill my mother if my Alpha has to put me down.”
Looking at him now, it was hard to imagine him in a violent rage like Jonah had described. Nathan’s easygoing personality was partly why she’d been attracted to him in the first place. With their constant power struggles and the weird rules about eye contact, the wolves at the Lodge had confused and frightened her. Nathan had seemed so normal in comparison—like the human boys she’d known in school back in California.
Beside her, Max rumbled, “We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Lizette had to clench her jaw to keep her mouth from dropping open. Had he actually just reassured Nathan?
Max looked at her. “Tell me what you need.”
If only she knew. When she healed, instinct sort of took over. Injuries pulled at her, and something compelled her to help. Max had said the Bloodsinger Gift was an offshoot of healing. Maybe the same rules applied. “I think I need to be touching him. That’s how it works with healing.”
“All right.” He gestured to Dom, who pulled a key off his belt, unlocked the door, and stepped back.
She walked in, Max close behind. He stopped just inside the door instead of hovering over her. Relief washed over her. The last thing she needed was more pressure.
Nathan shot Max a nervous look. With a start, she realized this was the first time he and Nathan had seen each other since the forest. That thought did nothing for her heart rate, which ratcheted up several beats. Sweat beaded on her upper lip.
“Don’t be nervous,” Jonah said from outside the cage, where he stood next to Aiden.
Great. Just what she needed, someone who could smell every spike of nerves or jolt of fear. For a second she considered asking him and the others to leave, but she discarded the idea. Max would never allow it. Nathan might look harmless, but he wouldn’t be here if he was.
But if she had any hope of Turning him, she had to be free to concentrate. She couldn’t get rid of her audience, but she could ignore them. She sat on the cot and patted the spot next to her. “I think it’ll be easier if you’re relaxed.”
With another wary glance at Max, Nathan crossed the cell and sat. He held himself apart from her, his body rigid.
Not the best start. She hooked one knee under her and turned so she could face him. Up close, the angles of his face were sharper and more defined than she remembered. He’d lost the last traces of baby fat from when they dated. The last time they sat like this was in the movie theater in town. “Maybe you should close your eyes.”
His brown eyes widened, and he started to look toward the door.
“Don’t worry about him, okay? Just…close your eyes and think about your wolf.”
“I don’t have a wolf.”
Had he always been this difficult? She tamped down h
er irritation. “Yes you do. It’s just buried. I’m going to call it out.” Maybe.
He looked like he might argue, but he closed his eyes.
What now? Too bad there wasn’t another Bloodsinger she could have talked to. Although if Max was right about the Bloodsinger in Spain, the only other wolf with her Gift didn’t want to chat.
Nathan’s body was still rigid, but at least he wasn’t looking at her. The tiny hairs on her nape lifted. She could feel the stares of the others as everyone waited for something to happen. During a healing, this was when she cut herself and transferred blood. But this wasn’t a healing.
To her knowledge, Haley was the last latent she’d Turned. They hadn’t done anything special—just shopping and a beer run. Werewolf metabolism was so high, Lizette hadn’t put up too much of a fuss when Haley suggested a beer and pizza night. Lizette had felt like a cool older sister, letting her younger sibling kick up her heels with an alcohol buzz. Together, they’d put away three large pepperonis and a case of Bud Light.
There had been no chants or magical rituals. After their binge eating session, they’d vegged in front of the TV with a stack of Ryan Reynolds movies. Haley had looked up from her nest of throw pillows on the floor. “This is exactly what I needed after SAT prep last week. I haven’t been that stressed out in forever. This is so relaxing.”
Lizette had agreed. Between school and her job, she’d been wound unusually tight, too. But Haley’s visit was fun and…peaceful.
Peaceful.
Lizette straightened her spine. What had Max said? “You can turn a latent simply by being in close proximity to one.” That’s all it had taken with Haley—that and a few beers. Lizette hadn’t been worried about grading assignments or when she could squeeze in a run. For the first time in forever, she’d been truly in the moment.
She rubbed her palms on her jeans and took Nathan’s hands.
His eyes flew open. “What are you—”
“Just trust me.” She lowered their joined hands to the cot between them. “Have you ever been drunk?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Alcohol. Have you ever had too much to drink and felt buzzed?”
“Yeah. It takes a lot, but yeah.”
“Good,” she said before he could ask questions. “Imagine that feeling. Try to think of that hazy, relaxed feeling you get when you don’t care about anything except the things around you in that moment.”
He started to glance outside the cage.
“Don’t worry about them.” She squeezed his hands. “Look, do you want to Turn or not?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then follow my directions. Close your eyes and relax.” Inspiration exploded like a firework in her brain. She knew how to do this—she’d studied it for years. “We’re trying to convince your animal side to come out. That means we need to mute the human side as much as possible. The wolf is simple. It’s only concerned about now. We can’t turn off your brain, but we can shut down the anxiety and the worry. I’ll help you.”
That seemed to convince him, because he nodded and let his eyes drift shut.
She closed her own eyes. “Think about right now. The cot is underneath you. How does it feel? Hard? Sturdy?”
“Uncomfortable,” he muttered.
This might turn into a healing, after all, because she was going to punch him if he didn’t start cooperating. “Okay. Take deep breaths and really focus on the flow of air in and out of your lungs. These are routine things we do all day, and you probably don’t ever take time to appreciate the feeling of just breathing.”
His heart rate slowed.
“That’s it. In and out, nice and easy.” She lowered her voice to a murmur. “Listen to the sound of your breathing. Listen for the sounds around us. The torches on the wall snapping. The heart rates of the wolves outside the cage.” As she said it, she picked out the various rhythms herself. Max’s was the loudest, which made sense since he was closest to her. Dom’s and Remy’s were both slow and even. Faint pulses sounded from the far side of the cage, where Jonah and Aiden stood.
Nathan exhaled, his hands loose in hers. They were different from Max’s. When Max slid his palm up her thigh, calluses had abraded her skin. Nathan’s hands were smooth, his fingers shorter and rounder, whereas Max’s were long, with strong, square nails.
Warmth rushed across her skin. Outside the cage, someone sucked in a breath.
Remy spoke in a hushed voice. “She’s doing it.”
Lizette opened her eyes on a gasp. Nathan’s were screwed shut, his face contorted as if he were in pain.
Like Haley. At Lizette’s apartment, she’d doubled over. “Maybe it was something I ate,” she’d moaned.
Then her skin had started stretching.
Nathan’s body jerked. Lizette clamped down on his fingers and held tight.
Heat swept a rapid path from her head to her fingertips. Fire burned under her skin. She gritted her teeth. This hadn’t happened with Haley…or had it? When Haley had clutched her stomach, Lizette had rushed to her side, ready to heal her if necessary. The electric surge of her Gift had hovered just out of reach—as if waiting for her to tap it. But Haley’s reaction hadn’t been sickness. She’d Turned that night, right in the middle of Lizette’s apartment.
With Lizette’s help.
Nathan’s eyes popped open. His mouth worked like he was trying to speak.
Outside the cage, Jonah moved toward the open door. Dom blocked his path. “Don’t interfere.”
“Something’s wrong. He needs help.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Dom grabbed Jonah’s jaw and forced him to look at the cot. “Watch. He’s Turning.”
Nathan tipped sideways off the cot and collapsed on the stone.
Lizette jumped to her feet. She winced in sympathy as Nathan pulled his knees to his chest and moaned. The first transformation was agonizing, but touching him would make it worse. During her own initial shift, even the air brushing her skin had felt like tiny ice picks in every pore. She’d rolled on the forest floor, uncaring what she looked or sounded like.
The skin on Nathan’s neck bubbled. He screamed—a high-pitched yowl that bounced off the cavern’s walls and ceiling. Jonah clapped his hands over his ears. Lizette almost did the same. The abrasive sound burrowed into her brain and battered against the inside of her skull. She stumbled back, disoriented.
Strong arms circled her. Max pulled her against his chest and put his mouth to her ear. “I’ve got you, petite.” He kissed her temple.
Gratitude swept through her like a river. She leaned into the hard slabs of muscle, resting her head against his collarbone. Max was a rock at her back—solid, unrelenting. Hers. She clutched his thick forearm with both hands.
Never letting him go.
Nathan flipped to all fours. His back bowed. The sound of ripping cloth filled the air. Small pops fired one after another as seams burst. His shirt split apart, revealing the bony vertebrae of his spinal column. It stretched and stretched, the skin around each disk turning white.
Lizette closed her eyes.
There was a wet crunch. A split second later, Nathan screamed.
The warm, pungent scent of blood stung Lizette’s nostrils. She opened her eyes. Yellowish-white bone protruded from Nathan’s broken back. Bile scalded Lizette’s throat. Her stomach pitched and roiled. The exposed vertebrae marched down Nathan’s back like a gruesome zipper. On either side, bright red meat shivered as the bones shifted.
“This is the worst of it,” Max said in her ear.
She couldn’t imagine anything worse. Nathan screamed again—a long, agonized wail that ended on a gurgle. His spine popped from the wound with a thick squelch.
Lizette jumped. Max tightened his embrace. Had she looked like this when she Turned the first time? She must have. The pain had been unbearable, but time had dulled her memory. Now the horror of her first transformation came rushing back. She remembered the sickening feel of bone sliding against bo
ne, the searing burn as her tendons shredded like cooked meat. She had become pain, her brain incapable of coherent thought.
More cloth ripped, and Nathan’s sweatpants fluttered to his knees. Red stained the waistband from narrow streams of blood trickling down his flanks. He collapsed to his forearms, his head dangling between his shoulders. The skin around his naked hips bubbled. Short gray hair bristled along his arms, sprouting in thick patches.
Outside the cage, Jonah clung to the bars. He looked over at Lizette, tears in his eyes, and nodded.
Lizette nodded back. Whatever else happened, at least the events of five years ago had been put to rest. She didn’t have to worry about Jonah or Nathan sticking a knife in Max’s back.
Or one of them getting themselves killed for sneaking into Max’s territory.
That scenario was much more likely than the former. She couldn’t imagine anyone taking Max down.
Two loud pops punched the air like gunfire. A second later, Nathan’s forehead hit the stone floor as his dislocated shoulders stopped supporting him. The hair on his hips and legs thickened until it looked like he wore fur pants. His fingernails lengthened to claws.
Finally. Lizette exhaled a relieved sigh. Behind her, Max murmured, “Well done, petite.”
On the ground, Nathan shook his head as tawny fur sprouted along his face and neck. His nose lengthened to a snout tipped by black. Short whiskers sprang from his muzzle. He shook his head and sneezed.
Sympathy swept through Lizette. Her muzzle always itched like a son of a bitch when she Turned.
Finally, a gray wolf lay panting in the middle of the cage. Nathan’s wolf was the typical tan and gray of the timberwolf, with a streak of dark brown fur running from his snout to the top of his head. His tail thumped once on the ground, then shuddered in place as if he lacked the strength to lift it again.
It would be a long time before he learned how to control his lupine body. Walking on four legs was wholly different from getting around on two. For weeks after her first Turn, Lizette had tripped over her own paws, and more than once she’d crashed to the ground, much to Remy’s amusement.