Coveted (20 page)

Any minute now, he’d tell me which way to go. Especially since I didn’t know which parts of the park he’d already visited. But I suspected from the way he strolled behind me that he expected me to turn and ask for directions sooner or later.

My gaze went to the damp ground to look for tracks or a hint of a scent. My father always said, “Keep your eyes and nose on the land and your ears alert for danger.” Right now my only danger walked behind me.

Ten minutes later, I picked up the trail. It wasn’t too difficult, since the men had taken a narrow path right
off the muddy road. Their level of stealth included discarded cigarette butts and two beer cans.

Less than an hour later, darkness surrounded us as we left the trail and entered the forest. The moon disappeared under the cloud cover. At first, I cringed every time my tennis shoes stepped into squishy mud. This whole place squirmed with life. Everything was wet and the rain-soaked earth stank. Small animals scurried about. A family of beavers prepared their winter lodge to the north of us. The chill in the air had driven the insects away, but anything nocturnal like wolves would lurk in the shadows hunting for prey—like us.

By the time we spotted my father’s camp, the sky had opened to pouring rain. With no moonlight, the shadows around us deepened. The trees provided minimal protection. I’d packed an umbrella, but who the hell used an umbrella in the forest? Thorn paid the rain no mind while I threw on a poncho. The weather slowed our progress. The damn wind, bitter and cold, stung my face as the lights from their lanterns grew brighter.

Before I could make out their forms, Thorn grabbed my poncho. “Don’t!”

His low hiss pierced me as he pushed me behind a tree. A fresh scent came from downwind. My hands clenched into fists while my body threatened to initiate the change. Our enemies’ scent, very faint, brushed against my nose. The Long Island werewolves had anticipated our attack and infiltrated the camp.
Oh, shit
.

For once I was proud of my uncles—they’d picked a position that we could approach from downwind. I tossed the backpack to the side. Time to play.

Thorn sank against the thick oak tree, his hazel eyes darkening. He slinked along the ground with his back arched and I followed suit. The rain muffled the sounds of our approach. After ten more feet, I could make out the Stravinsky men.

Their captors had tied them up and set them in a single-file line. My younger cousins sat hunched over as the rain pelted them, but my father and uncles stared down the Long Island werewolves. They’d been caught by surprise. From the way they’d tied my father with painful silver-threaded ropes, they meant business.

The sight of my brother was my undoing. He lay bound like an animal not far from the rest of my family. They’d tied him in the manner used by warlocks. A small number of those black magic–wielding nuts collect werewolves as protectors and in the worst cases use us for spells. As I looked from the oversized muzzle covering his mouth to the enchanted ropes that bound his wrists to his ankles, I could hear my mother cursing the men who’d constructed the bindings. They were all magical tools to harness and constrain the raw power of my kind, to the point that even if Alex transformed, he wouldn’t be able to escape.

My canines filled my mouth as the cold rain hit my poncho. How dare they do this to my family? My gaze swept over the Long Island werewolves. Our two against their six didn’t look good. I paused. A sliver of fear clamped down on my legs. The forest around me spun in circles as my chest tightened. Not now. Not now. A part of me screamed that I didn’t belong out here. What the hell was I doing out in the forest, in the rain, crawling through the dirt? I wasn’t ready for this. My fists clenched like tightly coiled rubber bands and threatened to snap as I prayed for release. I’d pushed myself too hard, too soon.

Suddenly, the pain retreated. The wolf took over, preventing the human inside from cringing away from the mud and brush I crawled through. My claws sank deeply into the grass as the lust for revenge seeped in. My slow pace increased. I moved closer and closer to the light. From between the trees, I spotted Thorn ahead. Shirtless.
In less than a minute, he’d discarded his shirt and shoes.

One man in particular stood taller than the others and his stance exuded power. Slick black hair flowed down his back. His eyes glowed light green in the darkness. That had to be Luther, the Long Island pack leader. Why would he come all this way? Something about his face tugged at my memories. I always remembered faces. I’d seen that chin before. That sneer. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on past acquaintances.

Luther gestured to his men. Their stench filled my nose. From the shadows under a set of bushes, I could make out the fine details in Luther’s clothes.

The Long Island pack leader approached my father. “It’s been a long time, Fyodor. Far too long.”

Luther gave a sinister grin before he stepped on Alex with a steel-toed boot. My brother groaned in pain and my body jerked with the urge to run to him. Not yet. I had to wait for Thorn.

I didn’t need to be close to smell the wave of rage from my father. His wide shoulders resembled a tightly strung bow waiting to be released.

“You should’ve stayed in Atlantic City,” Luther said. “I would’ve found work for a cold-blooded killer like you.” Through the rain, I could barely make out his whispered words. “Especially one with a mate as beautiful as Anna.” He added weight to his foot and I strained to move. I could question my father later about his past transgressions. The time to act was now. What the hell was Thorn waiting for? My mouth watered with the possibilities. Claws extended, I could take Luther out and end the conflict tonight. From the far right, I saw golden eyes blink in the shadows. Thorn was ready.

“If I didn’t want to kill that sweet little daughter of yours, she would’ve made a fine pet.” Luther laughed.
“Perhaps I should seek her out all by myself for an up-close-and-personal introduction?”

My father lurched forward, but caught himself in time as the silver-threaded ropes bit deeply into his skin.

Luther approached my father. Close enough to taunt him into jumping again. “I could just as easily kill your son instead of your daughter, but that won’t give me what I want from her. Will it?”

“Take me instead of them. My life has more value than theirs.”

Luther laughed again as his cell phone rang. Before he picked it up, he said, “You have nothing to bargain with, Stravinsky. I’ve heard plenty about you. Enough to know that once I control this area, both you and your boy will belong to me.”

The Long Island pack leader turned his back to them to talk on his phone.

C’mon, Thorn. Stop pissing around!

As he snapped his phone shut, Luther barked at his men. “Stay alert, boys! I have more urgent business.” Then he smirked at my father before disappearing into the brush. Disappointment turned into rage. I’d waited too long and now Luther had escaped. Six were now five. Thorn wouldn’t wait too long. And when he struck I had to be ready. Ready for the chance I’d been seeking to make them pay for their attack at my home. Their attack on me and Aggie.

The wind whipped through the trees to my right. Everything in the forest came alive. The time had come.

The trees parted. Thorn burst out, leaping through the air. I sprang a half second later toward the two men holding my father. They’d sensed our arrival. Thorn lashed out at the two men he’d crashed on, tossing one into the trees behind him and breaking the other’s neck.

But the carnage wasn’t over yet. The two werewolves I confronted were far larger than me. They both scrambled
from underneath me and tried to pounce. Their blows were both fast and brutal—no mercy for a female. My head snapped back as one punched my face. Hot blood ran down my cheek. Since I was still in human form, the pain was amplified. But I didn’t falter. I didn’t pause. I lived in the moment—I lived for freeing my family. The only option was to win—to kill.

Meanwhile, Thorn had released two of my cousins from their bindings. With two more Stravinskys at our side, I continued to fight the two Long Island werewolves while my cousins sprang into action. One raced toward my father, while another ran to free Uncle Boris.

Another werewolf confronted Thorn. Derek. That bastard had stood back and let the lesser wolves attack while he waited with the prisoners. Hisses and barks filled the air as they clawed at each other.

The wolves I fought wrestled me to the forest floor and stomped on my back. I had a lifetime of drive and spirit, but two against one were too many. And my rain-slick poncho didn’t provide any protection. Their claws ripped right through the thin material. One grabbed the back of my neck and slammed me into the damp ground. The other tried to subdue my kicking legs. As I tried to free myself, I could make out the sounds of struggle. Fists flying. Wolves growling and whining. Could Thorn defeat Derek?

In a flash, the wolf on my back vanished. A second later the other yelped as hands grasped and shook him violently. I looked up to see my father standing over me, the limp bodies of the two werewolves in his fists. He tossed them to the ground and offered his hand. When I couldn’t get a firm grip, he pulled me up by my shoulders.

“Well done, daughter.” He touched his forehead to mine.

The fight was over.

Uncle Boris and my cousins tried to free Alex from the
enchanted ropes, while a short distance away, Thorn checked on the fallen Long Island werewolves. Best to make sure we didn’t have any stragglers to throw a surprise our way. Five bodies lay silent on the wet forest floor. There should’ve been six, but I’d take five for now.

The rain had trickled to nothing, but drops of water continued to fall from the trees. My entire body ached. Every movement, every step, resulted in sharp pain. I touched my bruised lips and tried not to think about what had happened. Whose blood I had on my hands.

I limped to my brother’s side. From the way the men were struggling, it would be a while before Alex was free.

“Looks like we got a tight spell on these. Damn warlocks.” Uncle Boris spat on the ground. “My shitter’s got more purpose in life than those bastards.”

Finally, they yanked off the muzzle. I peered at Alex’s swollen face. Purple bruises marred his eyes and cheeks. What the hell had they done to him?

With gentle hands, I knelt next to him and touched the delicate skin on his ear. One of his eyes twitched. I traced my fingers lightly along a bruise on one cheek. He didn’t wince or draw back. He knew my touch was meant to soothe.

“I’d ask why they did this to you, but that’s a dumb question.”

“Yeah.”

“So what’s the damage?”

A set of ropes dropped away. Alex hissed in pain. “Well, one of my ribs is broken. They broke it to slow me down. I think my ankle’s sprained too.”

I managed a painful grin and tried to think of a less painful topic. “I heard you made an honest woman out of Karey.”

“Yeah. It was time.” His face turned serious as the others worked around him. “I had a talk with Grandma about it.”

“Grandma? Why not Dad?”

“Dad’s pretty easy to figure out. I wanted a woman’s perspective.”

I feigned a hurt face. Not too difficult since I had blood running down it. “So why didn’t you ask me?”

“I think you need a consistent dating record before I come your way with life-changing questions.” I flicked his forehead with my finger. He chuckled with clenched teeth.

I couldn’t resist looking for Thorn. He sat propped against a tree nursing a wound to his shoulder. He gazed out into the forest, with thoughts I wished I could see. After everything that had happened tonight, the only things I knew for sure were that my brother was safe—and that the Long Island werewolves were still coming for me.

A
ggie
grumbled, “I want to choke this DJ. Who in their right mind would think it’s a good idea to play ‘Singing in the Rain’ over and over again?”

The rain continued to fall for the next two days and made everyone miserable. Thank goodness I had the weekend off to recover from the kidnapping. Of course that didn’t stop me from checking in at work. Aggie had tagged along for the drive.

“It’s the best radio station in the area,” I replied.

“You mean it’s the only station you want to listen to.”

“That too, but their commentator has years of experience.”

“Years, my ass. He’s as boring as a hot date between two tax lawyers.” She pulled one of those miniboxes of cereal out of her pocket. I found it rather disturbing to watch her munch on it like it was potato chips. “Did you see the note from Nick?”

We’d forgotten about poor Nick after Alex’s kidnapping. He’d left a note to say thanks for the ride on my back.

I gingerly touched a sore spot on my back where one of the Long Island werewolves had kicked me repeatedly. “Yeah, I hope it’s the last time a man thanks me for a lift.” I gestured back in the direction of The Bends. “I
can’t believe Bill told me that the neighborhood kids don’t look as beat up as I do right now.”

She patted my knee. “You don’t look beat up.” She snorted. “You look like you got your ass handed to you.”

Should anything that came out of Aggie’s mouth surprise me anymore?

“You don’t look as bad as this one drunk chick I used to know at NYU. Picked fights all the time with other drunk folks. She looked horrible. And she still never took an ass kicking as bad as yours.”

Even PETA had more tact.

“I just wanted to go in to check on things. After all this time I thought he wouldn’t mind if I looked a bit under the weather,” I said.

Even though I was driving, I could sense Aggie rolling her eyes. “Why do you care? It’s only a few days.”

A few days for me meant pure torture in terms of “what-ifs.” What if some idiot had messed up our stock? What if one of the clerks—a chain-smoking fire witch—had finally managed to burn down the joint?

We pulled up to Aunt Olga’s place. Once in a while Grandma spent the day here instead of at my parents’ house.