Never Cry Wolf (13 page)
Authors: Cynthia Eden
But he’d known she wouldn’t sense him.
The floor creaked as he came closer. “Watching you run was fun, but the chase is coming to an end now.”
“Not yet,” she whispered, then she screamed, “
Jordan, help me!”
Jordan, help me!”
The bastard slammed her head into the door.
Bodies littered the floor. Coyote shifters who’d been slaughtered. The wolves sniffed the air, moving carefully now.
Someone had beaten them to the kill.
When he’d landed on the floor, he’d landed in the middle of the bodies.
Dead.
Jess lay with his head twisted, his eyes open, and his throat gone.
Looked like the coyote leader wasn’t going to be a threat to him anymore. Not to him, not to anyone.
Dane.
His only concern then. The wolves broke up into groups and began searching. The scent of coyote was all over the place. Coyote . . . and wolf. Blood and death.
His only concern then. The wolves broke up into groups and began searching. The scent of coyote was all over the place. Coyote . . . and wolf. Blood and death.
More bodies littered the floor as they tracked through the house.
No survivors.
No survivors.
The killers had been fast and brutal. The dead were still fresh. They must have missed the slaughter by minutes.
They searched all the houses, every room. He caught the wolf’s scent, but
Dane was gone.
Dane was gone.
Not dead, maybe, but gone.
Piers snarled as he crouched over a pair of handcuffs.
Silver.
Silver.
The coyotes had been prepared for Dane, but not for whoever had ripped through them.
Lucas’s gaze swept the house once more, the fury building in the wolf as the scent of blood filled his nose.
I don’t like this.
From Caleb.
From Caleb.
He didn’t like it a damn bit, either. Whoever had attacked the coyotes—someone strong. Damn strong.
Coyote and wolf scents were all over the fucking place.
The coyotes had been caught unprepared because they’d thought they were letting in an ally. An ally who’d sliced them apart.
Shit. He whirled away and ran back for the darkness. Someone else was hunting out there. Someone strong—a lot of fucking someones. He’d find them.
The world dimmed when her head rammed into the wood, but Sarah didn’t pass out. No, that would have been too easy.
The bastard grabbed her and picked her up, forcing her to face him as he smiled down at her.
“It’s been too long, Sarah.”
She blinked and stared up into his squinty brown eyes. She knew those eyes, they were very distinct with that faint yellow that circled his pupil. Oh, yeah, she knew him. Knew that thick blond hair, that deceptively handsome face. Those too-sharp teeth.
Hayden.
The coyote who’d started this hell with Rafe. “Hayden, how did you—”
Hayden.
The coyote who’d started this hell with Rafe. “Hayden, how did you—”
“Sarah!” Jordan’s fists pounded into the door and the whole room seemed to shake.
Hayden smiled. “Do you think he’s strong enough to get in . . .” That smile widened as his claws rose to her throat. “Before I slit your pretty, lying throat?”
No.
The room shook again.
Hayden’s lips came close, feathering over her ear. “Don’t worry, Sarah, I’m not going to kill you . . . yet,” he whispered. “Someone wants to see you first.”
Her heart seemed to stop.
Rafe.
Rafe.
“But I did kill all the bastards in my way.” He caught her chin and forced her head toward him. “Guess who’s the king coyote now?”
“Not you, asshole.”
Those claws pressed into her throat. Sarah gasped, ready to—
The door exploded behind them, the wood shattering and hitting Sarah and Hayden. She stumbled and grabbed tight to the coyote—and took him down with her.
They rolled, twisting and jerking, and Jordan attacked. He grabbed Hayden, slicing with his claws, and Sarah scrambled back.
The shift started then. A fierce, hard explosion of bones and flesh. The men fought as they shifted, and it was the most savage thing she’d ever seen. Claws buried into flesh, fur exploded. Spines snapped.
She backed away, crawling fast. Her gaze darted toward the door. Now was her chance. She could run through that door and get away.
Sarah started to inch forward.
Kill the bastard. Kill the assholes waiting . . .
Jordan’s thoughts, slipping so easily into her mind. Hold on—whoa—the assholes waiting? There were more?
She stopped inching anywhere. Her gaze darted to the window. Open—had Hayden climbed up to get to her? That would have been easy enough for a shifter.
Dammit, Lucas—come back.
Sarah’s heartbeat shook her chest. Two choices—run and face who the hell knew what below . . .
Or help Jordan and face ’em together.
Not really a choice.
She grabbed the lamp, and when the two beasts broke apart, she threw it at the coyote’s head. It shattered, but didn’t seem to hurt Hayden at all. Then those brown eyes locked on her. Fury and hate blazed in his gaze.
Hayden lunged for her.
Sarah jumped away, narrowly missing a swipe of those claws.
Jordan leapt onto the back of the coyote. The two spun, slamming around the room, crashing into furniture, breaking the bed, knocking over the bookshelf. Howls and snarls filled the room. And as they fought, the scent of blood grew thicker.
Hayden tossed Jordan off him. The coyote stood in front of the windows, his lips stained red with blood. The fur on his back was up, his eyes glinting as he prepared for another charge.
Jordan, take that bastard out!
The wolf leapt forward, colliding hard with the coyote, but the wolf was stronger—and he pushed the coyote back, back—
And glass exploded as they both tumbled through the window.
Oh, shit. She jumped to her feet and ran forward. “
Jordan!”
If that wolf had been killed defending her . . . Lucas would go crazy.
Jordan!”
If that wolf had been killed defending her . . . Lucas would go crazy.
She didn’t touch the jagged glass as she bent forward and peered below. The wolf had landed on top of the coyote. Neither were moving, and she could see the dark circles of blood blooming beneath their bodies.
“Jordan,” whispered now.
More growls sounded then. Big gray and tan coyotes crept from the edge of the house and circled the fallen shifters. As Sarah watched, the fur began to melt from Jordan’s body. If he was still alive, he’d be helpless in human form. Easy prey for the coyotes.
She couldn’t let that happen.
My fault.
“Up here!” She screamed and the three coyotes turned their bright eyes on her. “I’m the one you want!”
So come and get me, assholes.
My fault.
“Up here!” She screamed and the three coyotes turned their bright eyes on her. “I’m the one you want!”
So come and get me, assholes.
Then they spun around and raced back to the house. Back to her.
Sarah grabbed a chunk of broken glass and went to meet them.
Lucas knew something was wrong even before he smelled the blood drifting in the air. The shifters were quiet in the SUV. No one speaking, all too aware of what the heavy smell meant.
Death.
“Drive fucking faster,” he snarled as his hands clamped around the console. His claws burst out and ripped through the leather.
A trick.
They’d gone after the coyotes, found nothing but a slaughter, and someone had gone to his house while it was undefended.
A trick.
They’d gone after the coyotes, found nothing but a slaughter, and someone had gone to his house while it was undefended.
My fault. Should have left more men.
But he’d thought he was eliminating the threat against Sarah.
Should have fucking known better.
The fury had just been riding him too hard.
Clawmarks on pale white skin.
Sarah.
The SUV’s motor growled with him, a long, horrible snarl as it raced forward. If Sarah had been hurt . . .
He saw the broken window first, because his eyes went instantly to her room. Saw the broken window, the jagged glass—then his eyes fell below as he sprang from the vehicle.
Nothing.
A stain of blood. No bodies.
“Coyote,” Piers muttered, sniffing. “Fucking everywhere.”
He knew that, he also knew . . .
“Jordan.”
He’d never forget the scent of his brother’s blood. For months, he’d only had that scent to track as he fought to rescue Jordan from the vamp bastards who’d taken him, the bastards who’d planned to use his brother as food for a Born Master, a damn all-powerful vampire asshole.
“Jordan.”
He’d never forget the scent of his brother’s blood. For months, he’d only had that scent to track as he fought to rescue Jordan from the vamp bastards who’d taken him, the bastards who’d planned to use his brother as food for a Born Master, a damn all-powerful vampire asshole.
But even all-powerful vamps can burn.
So where the hell was his brother? And where was Sarah?
The windows on the first floor had also been shattered, the glass knocked inward, not outward, and the alarm blared constantly, a shrill buzz that drove him insane as he raced toward the house.
“Get the hell back!”
Sarah’s scream. Fear and fury burned in her voice.
Sarah’s scream. Fear and fury burned in her voice.
He ran faster, shoving open the door and hurrying into the den—
Three bleeding coyotes circled Sarah. She had a bloody chunk of glass in her hand and she had that weapon up, ready to strike again, but then all three coyotes lunged at her, attacking at once.
Hell, no.
Lucas roared and jumped forward. His claws buried into the side of one coyote as he ripped the bastard back. Sarah swiped out at another, cutting deep and hard near his eye. The third bastard drove into her, slamming her back against the wall.
Lucas grabbed him, held tight when the coyote snapped back his head and bit him.
Bastard.
He’d shift and take the asshole out, he’d—
Bastard.
He’d shift and take the asshole out, he’d—
A gunshot thundered.
One. Two. Three.
The coyotes fell to the floor. The fur began to melt from their bodies.
Sarah’s gaze widened as she looked first at the fallen men, then at—
Lucas spun around, putting his body in front of hers.
Jordan.
His brother stood in the doorway, naked, blood covering his body, his hand still aiming the gun he held. Piers and Caleb crowded in behind him, their faces tense.
“Couldn’t . . . shift . . . went to help her . . .” Jordan’s eyes narrowed on the coyote shifters. “Took . . . longer than I—”
Caleb grabbed him under the arms when Jordan started to slip. Piers snatched the gun away.
His brother was a damn fine shot, but then, Lucas had taught him to be. Lucas’s gaze dropped to the shifters. One head shot, one heart shot . . . and one lucky-ass survivor who was groaning and twitching as the blood pumped out of his chest.
“Piers, get this bastard contained!” He grabbed Sarah’s hand and pulled her forward.
So much blood.
“Jordan?”
So much blood.
“Jordan?”
His brother’s eyes lifted. “Need to . . . shift . . .”
Because shifting sped up their healing process.
“He went through the window,” Sarah whispered. “He took out Hayden—they both crashed through and hit the ground.”
Hayden.
That coyote bastard had been there?
That coyote bastard had been there?
“Hell, boy, you’re playin’ hard these days,” Caleb muttered. “Just like your brother.”
Piers brushed by them, going for the surviving coyote.
“I thought—I thought Jordan was dead,” Sarah said softly.
Lucas reached for his brother. Jordan’s body was jerking, twisting, but the shift wasn’t coming.
Too weak.
“He may be,” he growled and the fury ate his heart.
“Fucking shift, Jordan.
”
Too weak.
“He may be,” he growled and the fury ate his heart.
“Fucking shift, Jordan.
”
But Jordan’s eyes didn’t glow. His face stayed human. “C-can’t . . .”
He grabbed his brother’s hand. Held tight. The past flashed before him. Another blood-soaked day. Another shifter who couldn’t change.
His father had died the same way. Was he just supposed to sit and watch Jordan slip away, too?
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