Taming the White Wolf, page 7
That was cold logic and hard truth. Her heart disagreed, whispered that Devlin was a good guy. She couldn’t afford to take a chance.
Once inside, she relocked the door and sank down onto the floor. “What am I going to do?” It was time to be smart. So far, it had been nothing more than minor vandalism and scare tactics. It could easily escalate.
“I have to get out of here.” Scrambling over to her closet, she tossed her duffel bag on the bed and began to stuff socks, underwear, and clothes into it, paying little attention to what she jammed inside. Speed was of the essence. Some internal clock was ticking down. She didn’t want to be on the streets after dark.
Her stomach churned. She stopped and placed her hand on it and swallowed hard, praying she wouldn’t lose the pretzel she’d eaten. “Three or four nights should do it.” That would be long enough for them to give up and move on, right? If it wasn’t, she was screwed, in more ways than one.
With that in mind, she pulled a battered knapsack out from under the bed. Everything she’d need for work went inside—laptop, external hard drives, portable speaker, and more. She glanced around the small space. It had been her home for eight years. Her first two years in the city had been spent renting rooms in other people’s spaces. This was the first place that had belonged solely to her.
Heart pounding, she gathered her belongings. “I can start again.” But she didn’t want to. Anger and resentment gave her an adrenaline boost. She wished she was strong enough to kick both their asses. Since she wasn’t, running was the best option.
Purse, knapsack, and duffel loaded onto her body, she listened at the door and peered through the peephole. Assured the hallway was empty, she left and didn’t look back. When she reached the ground floor, she kept going. There was a basement exit that locked from the inside. She doubted many people knew it was there. She’d discovered it by accident one day when she’d been searching for the building super. If anyone was watching the front door, they wouldn’t see her leave.
It was dark in the basement. Not wanting to take the time to find the light switch, she pulled out her phone. She had multiple voicemails. Ignoring them, she pressed the flashlight app. The bolts on the door were rusty and stiff. “Come on.” She pulled and pushed. Setting her phone down, she used both hands.
Squeak. The first one gave. The second bolt slid easily.
Wiping her hands on her pants, she grabbed her phone and eased the door open.
Chapter Seven
Where the hell is she?
Devlin fueled his anger rather than letting fear take control. He’d been searching for hours. He’d been all over the park, catching a faint trace of her on a bench. He’d lost it shortly after. There were too many smells—people, animals, food, pollution, garbage. It messed with his senses. Now he was back where he’d started—her apartment. She’d be safe inside. She had to be. The alternative was unacceptable.
Heading for the stairs, he paused. Her scent was heavier here, as though she’d passed recently. It went up, but it also went down. Curious, he detoured to the basement. With his preternatural vision, the darkness didn’t hinder him. The hint of her floral soap was almost buried by the stench of fear.
She’d bolted.
Furious at himself for assuming she wouldn’t run, he found the exit. It was unlocked. He stepped into a narrow alley that ran behind the building and the one next to it. It exited several doors down. If a regular human had been watching the main doorway, they’d have missed her. But he was anything but human.
He pulled out his phone and called her. Unsurprisingly, it went to voicemail…again. “Call me, damn it.” He swallowed back his growing anger. “I’m worried about you. Just let me know you’re okay.”
Tucking his phone away, he summoned his wolf. It was time to hunt.
He didn’t shift, but all his senses kicked into overdrive. The light was fading, the streetlights flickering to life, and Zoe was out there alone. Letting his wolf take the lead, he followed her trail down the street away from her building, stopping at the intersection. He had three choices—right, left, or straight ahead.
…
Someone was definitely following her.
Weighed down by bags, Zoe broke into a trot. Walking around the city hadn’t prepared her for this. She was panting and sweating. Not a great time to realize she needed more cardio. Not to mention strength training.
She stepped into the shadows of an empty building. There was no welcoming light. No sign of people. Most of the windows were boarded up. There were a few places where the boards had been ripped away. Whether it was about to be rehabbed or demolished, something new would spring up again before long. There was no sign of anyone that she could see. No sound of suspicious footsteps. But her instincts were too sharp for her to ignore.
Traffic on the streets and sidewalks had thinned out to almost nonexistent. This was primarily a residential neighborhood. People were either home for the day or had gone out for the evening. It might have been smarter to head for a busy area, but she’d wanted to do the opposite of what might be expected. Now it was too late.
A low whistle pierced the air. “Zoe.” The voice had a singsong quality to it. Like one child taunting another on the playground. It was Pietro. He’d stopped under a streetlamp, purposely allowing her to see him, the bastard. Despite her precautions, somehow he’d found her. “Don’t run away. You’ll spoil my game.”
It might have been smarter to barricade herself in her apartment and call the cops. But that was only a preventative measure, not a solution. Not unless Pietro was locked up for good, and that was unlikely. She had no proof other than her word against his. And that was assuming the authorities could find him. Given his tenacity and the ease with which he’d tracked her down, this wasn’t the first time he’d done this.
A sense of hopelessness washed over her. Despair threatened to choke her. Maybe she shouldn’t have ignored Devlin’s calls. It didn’t come as any shock that he’d somehow unearthed her number. He was nothing if not tenacious. For all his skulking around, he hadn’t scared her. Not like Pietro did.
“I’m not happy with you, Zoe.” The way he said her name left a sick feeling in her stomach. “Didn’t you like the gift I left you?”
What was he talking about?
He held up his hand. Long claws extended from the tips. This was no movie magic, no special effects. This was real.
She slapped her hand over her mouth to silence the scream that wanted to escape. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. The marks on her door. It had been him. If she stepped out of the shadows, he’d see her. If she ran, he’d catch her. She had to find a place to hide.
When he turned his back and looked in the other direction, she made her move. She crept to one of the windows where some of the boards had been pulled away. Carefully, she eased her bags off her shoulders and pushed them through the opening. Then she threw her leg over the sill and followed.
It was a tight squeeze. A nail or jagged piece of board dug into her upper arm, leaving a long gash. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. Blood trickled toward her forearm.
Ignoring it, she hunkered down and pulled out her phone. Her hands were trembling so hard she almost dropped it. This might be the biggest mistake of her life, but she was out of options.
Whoever or whatever he was, Pietro was a monster. Devlin had tried to warn her. Fingers shaking, she pulled up the missed calls, saved him as a contact, and tapped out a short text with her location.
Something scraped not far from her. She stuffed her phone into her pocket and held her breath. The pounding of her heart made it difficult to hear. She listened intently, praying it was a big rat and not her stalker.
…
Devlin grabbed his phone when it vibrated, his heart stopping when he read the text message. His blood ran cold. The rogue had found her.
Fear threatened to choke him. He took precious seconds to pull up the GPS on his phone and plug in her location. He wasn’t far. Stuffing his phone away, he ran. He had enough sense not to push it to preternatural speeds. There were too many people around, too many recording devices. That could lead to bigger problems.
His wolf was howling, battering at him to get out. Mine! The word echoed inside him with each footfall. With her life in imminent peril, he could no longer deny the truth that had been staring him in the face since their first encounter. Whatever was between them went beyond mere sexual attraction. It was primal. Natural or the result of magic, the need to protect her was ingrained in his DNA, as much a part of him as the color of his hair and eyes.
Too long. It was taking far too long to get to her. He’d seen firsthand what rogues did to their victims—the torn flesh, the blood, the lifeless bodies. His mouth went dry. If anything happened to her…
Whatever had brought them together, they were bound in some unexplainable way. If the rogue killed her, there would be no holding back his wolf. And if he broke the most basic rules of werewolves—exposing his differences to humans—the packs would petition the gray and black wolves to get rid of him.
His wolf was on high alert as he whipped around the corner onto a quieter street and caught the scent of the rogue. His gaze arrowed in on an abandoned building.
Hang on, I’m coming.
…
Curled into a ball to make herself as small as possible, Zoe sucked in a faint breath and curled her fingers into fists. Her top was stuck to her body with sweat, even as she shivered. The primal urge to run was almost overwhelming. She resisted. If she moved, he’d know where she was.
“You think I can’t see you?” His laugh was so close it sent goosebumps racing down her arms. “I already know where you are.”
Glowing eyes appeared in front of her. Gasping, she scrambled back, digging her heels and hands into the rotting floor. Her back slammed into a corner. She was trapped.
Something brushed her face. She batted at it, but it was already gone.
“I can touch you whenever I want. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.” His excitement and pleasure sickened her. He was getting off on her fear.
Fuck that! And fuck him.
She was no victim. If she was going to die, she was going to do her best to take him with her.
Hang on until Devlin comes.
She couldn’t afford to wait. She patted the ground with her hand, searching for something to use as a makeshift weapon. The area had been cleared out. There wasn’t even a scrap of wood lying around.
“It’s time you see what I really am.” Clothing rustled. Was he undressing?
She dove for the opening in the window, desperate to escape. He rammed into her from behind, sending her sprawling. She turned her head and put out her hand, managing to keep from hitting face first.
Shocked and aching, it took her a second to recover. Move! The survivor in her screamed the warning. She rolled to the side just as something large landed where she’d been. It wasn’t the shape of a human. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark. There was enough light filtering in through cracks in the boarded-up windows so it wasn’t pitch-black. She scanned the area, searching for her attacker. Her mind didn’t want to acknowledge what she’d seen. Or thought she’d seen. Maybe fear had pushed her over the edge into delusions.
A low growl reverberated a few feet away. Glowing eyes watched her. Her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her throat tightened, making it impossible to scream. She inched closer to the window. There was no way Pietro wouldn’t be on her if she tried to escape. That wasn’t her goal. No, it was the broken piece of wood hanging by one nail.
When he lunged, she dove. Hands extended, she grabbed the board and yanked with all her might. It ripped free and swung with her momentum, hitting the creature behind her.
Yelp!
It was the same sound an injured dog would make, but this was no dog. Standing on four paws, it was bigger than any canine she’d ever seen, its fur blending with the shadows. It was the wolf-like creature that had been in her hallway, the one that had left the slashes on her door. And it had been a man. It was crazy. No one would ever believe her. Somehow, someway, Pietro was a wolf.
Werewolf. It was the stuff of horror movies and nightmares.
“Stay back.” The words were little more than a strangled whisper. She fisted the wooden board with both hands.
A menacing growl was his reply.
Sweat trickled down her back. Regrets poured through her mind—all the things she should’ve said, should’ve done. She shook her head in denial. She was not dying here. Not if she could help it.
Realistically, her chances weren’t great. Not if she didn’t get help. She was under no illusion she could fight off a wolf, not with a flat-ended board. If there was a sharp point on the end, she could have used it as a stake.
He might be a werewolf, not a vampire, but she figured if you stabbed any creature in the heart it would die. Maybe. What did she really know? If anyone had told her werewolves were real, she’d have laughed at them, thought they’d lost their mind.
Devlin had tried to tell her, and she’d done just that. Hindsight was a bitch.
A growl right next to her had her swinging. This time, she got nothing but air. Her attacker was toying with her, enjoying her fear. She didn’t care what his reasons were. Every second that passed brought Devlin closer. Assuming he didn’t ignore her summons after she’d told him to get lost.
Her stomach dropped. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that he might not race to her aid. Talk about a stupid assumption. He owed her nothing, had probably written her off. She’d called him delusional, told him to go away, and ignored his calls. No, like always, she was on her own.
She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. Of all the possible endings to her life, she’d never once pictured dying in an abandoned building, a casualty of a werewolf attack.
Her fingers flexed on the board. She held it like she would a baseball bat. “You think you’re so tough? Show yourself.” Maybe it wasn’t smart to provoke him, but she was tired of his cat-and-mouse game. If she could goad him into making a mistake, maybe she’d have a chance. “You’re nothing but a coward, you mangy fleabag.”
Huge paws slammed into her chest, driving her to the ground. She shoved the wooden board up, jamming it between his powerful jaws before they closed around her neck. The muscles in her arms strained and bunched. The wood snapped like a toothpick.
I am so dead.
Curling her hand into a fist, she punched him in the throat. Too bad she couldn’t hit him between the legs. All males—human and animal—were vulnerable there. Barring that, it was eyes, nose, and throat.
Sharp teeth shredded her shirt. She brought up her foot and kicked. He jumped back and spit a piece of cloth onto the ground.
Her arm was still bleeding. It hurt like a son of a bitch, as did the rest of her. She grabbed the two pieces of wood off the floor. When he’d broken it, it had created jagged edges. Perfect for gouging eyes. She rubbed the corner of her mouth against her shoulder and glared. “That all you got?”
But the wolf was no longer looking at her. No, his gaze was pinned on the opening. Her heart leaped. Was Devlin out there? She needed to warn him. It wasn’t right that he risked his life for her. Or maybe it was a stranger. Unless it was an entire SWAT team with automatic weapons, whoever was out there wasn’t prepared to take on what was in here with her.
“Run. Get help,” she yelled. Her voice gained strength, determination flooding her. “Run!”
Boards were ripped away, widening the opening. Heart thudding, her fingers flexed around her makeshift weapons. Pietro spun around and leaped toward her. Caught off guard, she screamed and fell, waiting for sharp fangs to rip out her throat and razor-sharp claws to rake her skin.
Something huge and white rammed into her attacker. He flew and smashed into a wall. No, not into it. Through it. The force demolished the drywall and cracked the wall studs, sending clouds of dust into the air. It was another wolf. Pietro was big, but this one was enormous. It turned its head and caught her gaze. The pale eyes were familiar.
With a low growl, Pietro attacked. The two large wolves collided in midair and crashed to the ground. Zoe scrambled out of the way as they rolled toward her. The fight was vicious. Even though she couldn’t see clearly, there had to be blood everywhere. Huge claws and fangs ripped and tore.
Horrified, she watched, unable to look away. She was breathing too fast. Her head began to spin. Her stomach lurched. The room was closing in around her. Cupping her hands over her mouth, she forced herself to take deep, slow breaths until she was no longer in danger of passing out.
I have to get out of here.
She crawled to the opening but couldn’t make herself grab her things and go. She couldn’t leave Devlin.
He’s a werewolf. He’s no different from Pietro.
Except he was. He’d tried to warn her, to protect her. Failing that, he’d come to save her. In the entirety of her life, he was the singular person who’d ever come when she’d needed him.
Swearing under her breath, she grabbed the broken pieces of wood, holding one in each hand, jagged edges pointed out. If she got an opening, she’d help.
It soon became clear he didn’t need her assistance. The white wolf had the other one pinned to the floor, powerful jaws wrapped around his neck. The smaller wolf clawed and gouged, but the bigger one did not relent.
Pietro shifted back to a man. She blinked, unable to believe what she’d just witnessed. She’d seen it with her own eyes, yet her brain wanted to deny the facts.
“Killing me won’t stop it. There are others,” he rasped out.
She took a step toward them. What did he mean by that?
