Alpha Pack 4 - Hunters Heart (3 page)

camp, packing her tent and supplies, and then making sure

the fire was completely out. Then she headed down the

trail on the way to her next site.

Thoughts of the blond man were never far from her

mind as she hiked. She much preferred to think of him

rather than the terrible dream, or the disturbing bellow

from some strange animal. Could a grizzly bear make a

sound like that, if it was in dire pain? She didn’t think so.

But out here, what could be large enough to make that

noise and be heard for miles?

Don’t think of it. Think of him.

She put the mystery animal from her thoughts and lost

herself in enjoying the day. She tackled a couple of steep

switchbacks, and by noon, tired and sweating, finally

stopped to rest. Dragging off her pack, she rolled her

shoulders with relief and bent to reach inside for her

water.

A familiar stench hit her nose and she straightened

slowly. Blood and rotting flesh. Standing stock-still, she

turned only her head, scanning the area for signs of the

remains that must be nearby. Up ahead, she spotted some

broken branches off to the side of the trail. Beyond that,

perhaps thirty yards into the foliage, there was something

lying on the ground. Studying the lump, she thought she

saw blue jean material, maybe a boot.

“Aw, shit.”

Quickly, she grabbed her handheld radio from the

backpack. If it was a body, she’d have to call the rangers’

station and report it, then wait for them to arrive. She

needed to check in with them anyway, let them know she

was all right. Carefully, she ventured off the trail and

picked her way to the lump on the ground. As she got

closer, her fears were realized.

“God in heaven,” she whispered.

Once, the body had been a human, but whether it was a

man or woman, she couldn’t say. The corpse had been

literally torn to pieces. She spotted part of a leg, an arm.

The torso was mostly gone, eaten. Huge teeth had ripped

massive chunks of flesh from its victim, the marks so big

she couldn’t fathom what creature had made them. There

was no head to be seen.

Stumbling a few steps away, Daria fell to her knees and

vomited. Her stomach turned inside out, though, thankfully,

there wasn’t much to purge due to her lack of breakfast. As

the heaves subsided, one thought screamed into her brain.

What if the killer is still here?

Swiping at her mouth, she pushed up and slung her

backpack to the ground, radio in hand. Then she dove for

the water hooked to the side and rinsed her mouth several

times. Took a long drink. She had to call this in, but did

she dare wait around for the thing to come back for

seconds?

Raising the radio to her face, she was about to depress

the button when a low growl made every hair stand on

end. Turning slightly to the right, she blinked, not sure

about what she was seeing. As it stalked forward, head

lowered, she sucked in a breath.

The creature was a snow white wolf. It wasn’t very

large—female if she had her guess. The she-wolf made

another threatening rumble and continued to advance. All

sorts of useless knowledge came to mind, such as the fact

that there had never been a documented case of a wolf

attacking a person.

Tell that to this one.

Daria depressed the button on her radio, intending to

speak to the rangers, but she was too late. At that moment,

the wolf launched itself forward. With a cry, Daria

abandoned her belongings, spun around, and ran for all she

was worth. And knew she’d done exactly the wrong thing.

Her dad would rake her over the coals for making such a

rookie move.

Legs pumping, she veered off the trail, searching

frantically for a good tree to shimmy up. But there were

none with the branches low enough. Snarling, the wolf

snapped at her boots. She pushed on, faster.

As she topped a rise, the terrain suddenly fell away and

she skidded to a stop, right at the edge of a deep ravine.

“Fuck!”

She whirled to find the she-wolf right
there
. Panting,

baring her teeth. Teeth that were nowhere near big enough

to have caused the destruction of the dead hiker, but that

hardly mattered right now. Looking around, she scanned

the ground for a rock, anything. She didn’t want to throw

her radio and risk damaging it, but it might make a good

club.

She and the wolf locked gazes in a standoff. Daria was

struck by the intelligence there, the lack of madness. What

the hell was going on? Then a crash sounded from the

forest. And another. The sound of heavy steps. More

hikers? Maybe help was here.

The moment of distraction cost her. The wolf gathered

itself, leapt, and knocked her backward. Daria staggered,

tried to regain her balance.

And stepped into thin air. She fell, screaming, and then

her back connected with the rocky ground, knocking the

breath from her lungs. She tumbled, ass over elbows,

rocks gouging and scraping, tearing her clothes. The slide

went on forever it seemed.

Until she came to an extremely abrupt stop that made

her bite her tongue. Warm blood flooded her mouth. She

tried to move, but couldn’t. She was lying mostly on her

back, her body wedged in a crevice formed by some

boulders. Her left arm stuck out at a weird angle, bloody

bone protruding through the skin. Trying to move, to get

some sort of leverage, only caused waves of agony to

pound her battered body.

Her radio? She moved her neck, attempted to see. There

was nothing but rock all around, and her broken body was

firmly trapped. The radio was gone, the cell phone in her

pocket crushed . . . and nobody knew Daria’s exact

location. In the Shoshone, it could take days for her to be

found. Months.

Or her bones might still rest here decades from now.

She thought of her father, and his devastation when he

learned his only child was dead. Lost to the very forest

they had both loved so much. It would kill him.

Though it was too soon to attempt another projection

without draining the last of her strength, she had no choice.

She thought of reaching out to her father, but he was too far

away to make a successful connection. But there was

someone who was much closer. Ignoring the horrendous

pain of her injuries, she closed her eyes. Found her center.

It took much longer than usual.

Eventually, she felt the familiar tingle. The buzzing

sensation that meant she was leaving her earthly form and

traveling over time and distance. Determined, she once

again followed the thread to the one she knew in her gut

would understand her message. There was no time to lose.

She flew over the trees, soaring. Eventually, she

reached the place she’d found him before, the big building

in the forest. A curious place that appeared to be some

sort of compound with another big building next to it—a

hangar, going by the jet parked next to it—and yet a third

building under construction, not far from the main one.

In moments she found herself in the hallway. This time,

a woman with long, curly brunette hair emerged, carrying

a clipboard. She wore a lab coat, and Daria realized she

was a doctor. The woman was taking care of the sexy

stranger. The doctor passed by, not having seen Daria at

all.

Daria drifted into the room, her attention immediately

focused on the tall figure in the bed. Knowing time was

short, she moved forward, to his side.

Tentatively, she reached out and gently touched the face

of the handsome blond man. Watched as he opened his

gorgeous, crystal blue eyes—eyes that widened as he saw

her astral form hovering by his bed. He might not hear her,

or understand. But she had to try.

“Please, help me.”

Two

Holy shit, his entire body hurt like hell.

Caught between exhaustion and the inability to sleep,

Ryon tried hard not to squirm in his hospital bed. Nothing

was more miserable than being injured, overtired, and

insomniac, and every small movement he made caused

waves of pain to throb in every muscle and limb.

Beside his bed, Dr. Mackenzie Grant, or “Mac” as most

of the guys called her, was checking his chart and making

thoughtful humming noises to herself. Whether her opinion

on his progress was good or bad, he couldn’t tell.

Uncomfortable, he tried to move up on the pillows a bit

and was rewarded with a sharp stab of agony in his side.

“Here, let me help you,” Mac said, moving quickly.

Cutting the doc his most pleading look, he cleared his

sore throat as best he could. “Pain meds,” he rasped. That

fucking vamp had really done a number on his windpipe.

“Can’t sleep.”

She gazed at him in sympathy, touching his arm. “I

know, sweetie. But you’ve got another hour before your

next dose, so hang in there, okay?” He nodded. “Do you

think you can shift yet? That would help speed the healing

process.”

Concentrating, he called to his wolf. But the creature

whined and curled into a firm ball inside him, hurting and

still more than a little freaked out by the vampire attack.

Carefully, he shook his head. “The silver, from the

knife . . .”

“It was inside you too long,” she finished with a sigh.

“Getting you well will take some time, but thankfully

you’ve got plenty of that. Try to rest and I’ll send Noah in

an hour to give you more medicine for the pain. Try to

rest, okay?”

“Sure.” As if that would happen.

Disappointed, he watched her leave the room and

resigned himself to a long day of excruciating boredom,

not to mention aches and pains. He couldn’t concentrate to

read and didn’t feel like watching TV. How he was going

to keep from losing his damned mind, he didn’t have a

clue.

He’d just closed his eyes when a sense of someone—or

rather something—approaching flooded his awareness. A

spirit? Or a flesh-and-blood person? He only knew he felt

a tug that was familiar somehow, and it took him a moment

to think why.

This was the same tug he’d experienced last night, in the

aftermath of the attack. Lying there in the dirty alley,

bleeding out, he’d seen the most beautiful ghost hovering

over him. As such, he shouldn’t have been able to tell the

color of her eyes, but they were a warm brown that

soothed him. Promised him refuge. Her hair was long and

shiny, the deepest black, her cheekbones high and almost

sharp, her nose thin. Full, sensual lips just made for

kissing.

Through his agony he’d noted her features in an instant,

and now he mulled over the fact that he’d never had a

spirit appear to him quite so intact, so detailed. Almost as

though she were real, not a ghost. Impossible. Right?

Opening his eyes, he sucked in a sharp breath. It seemed

he’d get another chance to find out, because the woman in

question was standing beside his bed looking down at him

anxiously. Her form was translucent, flickering as though

her energy was waning.

“Please, help me.”

“Jesus!” Reacting, he jerked upright and then hissed in

pain. “What the hell?”

Ghosts shouldn’t be able to speak and make themselves

understood so clearly. But this one wasn’t having any

problem in that area.

“Help me,” she entreated again. “I’m hurt and there isn’t

much time.”

He blinked at her. “How do you think I can help you?

You’re dead, sweetheart,” he said, his tone firm but

gentle. Most of the spirits couldn’t accept their demise.

“No, I’m alive! I was working a few miles from here

and I was pushed into a ravine.” She began to appear more

desperate. “If you don’t find me, I’ll die out here. You

have to believe me.”

A chill snaked down his spine. Maybe she was telling

the truth. “Okay, honey. Tell me where you are and I’ll

come to you.” He hoped.

“North. Past the second ridge.” She began to fade.

“Wait! That’s a lot of miles to cover. Can you be more

specific?”

Her reply was broken, the sound going mute at

intervals. “The rangers . . . checkpoint . . . camp.”

“You were camping? What was that about the rangers?”

“Hurts,” she whispered. “Hurry.”

And then she was gone.

“Fuck!”

Ryon stared for a few seconds at the spot where she’d

been, wondering if she’d reappear. But the very real

urgency in her plea got him moving. Despite the pain it

caused, he scooted to the side of the bed, removing the

sticky heart-monitor pads and ripping out his IV line. The

back of his hand bled, and he licked the wound, sealing it,

then pushed to his feet.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he braced a hand on the

bedside table and held his injured side with the other. Ten

minutes ago he wouldn’t have been able to get out of bed.

But that was before an intriguing spirit had appeared at his