Saved by Wolves (Shifters Meet Their Mate Book 1) (16 page)

Jackson’s lips flattened, and Marcus’s hand clenched around hers so tightly her fingers went numb.

“It worked. Lokston—he was the guy in charge of the military side of things—agreed to transfer Mom with us. They locked us in the back of a van with two guards. We were chained to bolts in the floor of the van, and they’d lined the cargo area with rubber. I couldn’t draw energy from outside—couldn’t even stop the battery of the van.

“We’d been driving for maybe half an hour when one of the guards pulled a gun on the other one and told him to unlock us. He’d become friends with Mom over the years, and she’d convinced him to help us escape. We chained up the other guard and gagged him with a strip of cloth off his shirt. There wasn’t much of a plan—when we opened the back door, we saw we were on a stretch of highway with fields on one side and woods on the other. Our only hope was to run for the cover of the trees. I pulled energy from the van’s battery and stalled it. As soon as we slowed, we jumped and ran.

“The driver and the other guard up front chased us. I don’t think they were shooting at Francesca and me—we were too valuable—but they hit the guard who was helping us escape. Hit him in the back of the head. He was a bloody mess, and we had to leave him where he fell in the dirt. Francesca is telekinetic—she can move things with her mind—and she used her power to rip the guns from the guards’ hands and club them with their own weapons until they fell unconscious. We knew they’d probably alerted the lab when we escaped, so we kept running. Hours passed, we reached the outskirts of a medium-sized city, and we thought maybe we were home free. Then Mom collapsed. She’d been shot. I don’t know how she ran as far as she did. Adrenaline, maybe. Anyway, she’d lost a lot of blood. Too much. She gave us a handful of money she must have gotten from the guard, made us promise to look out for each other, and died.”

It sounded like a mechanical, unfeeling recitation of events to her own ears. Kirra couldn’t tell the story any other way, though. If she tried to convey the terror, fear, sadness, and shame that the memory brought with it, she’d dissolve into a weeping, useless puddle.

The alpha studied her with narrowed eyes. “Nothing that will help us get into the lab, then.”

“No, I guess not,” she said. “But—”

The door at the top of the stairs banged open, and a huge man loomed in the doorframe. An older, bulkier version of Lash. The Cat alpha.

“So this is where you’re hiding, Jasper. I hear your men trespassed on my lands and took something that doesn’t belong to them. I want it back.”

K
irra pressed her ear against the door of the “guest room” she’d been waiting in for hours. She didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean much. The last two times she’d cracked the door open an inch and peered out, the burly guard posted outside had waved her back in with an impatient scowl. Kirra wanted to tell him that she didn’t want a babysitter any more than he wanted to be stuck guarding her. Especially when the others were off making decisions that would affect her. She didn’t bother, though. It was clear that she was more prisoner than guest, even if her room had a comfortable bed and the door wasn’t locked.

Giving up on the door, she crossed to the open window on the other side of the room and leaned out it, standing on her tiptoes and peering to the right. At that angle, the front door of the meeting hall was visible. Shifters, including Ash, stood at attention on either side of it, but she didn’t see Jackson, Marcus, Lash, or Monroe, so she guessed they were inside with the alphas. If she didn’t hear something soon, she’d go crazy.

“You’re going to fall if you keep doing that,” Daisy called up from where she was posted below her window.

“I’m fine. But I’d be better if you’d let me leave here. I need to know what’s happening.”

“We’ll find out soon enough, and you’re safer where you are.” She nodded toward two Cats sunning themselves on the roof of a nearby building.

“Would they really hurt me with so many people around?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I know Jackson will hurt me if I let anything happen to you, so you’re staying put.”

“He wouldn’t even notice,” Kirra muttered under her breath. Jackson hadn’t seemed too concerned when the Cat alpha, malice in his eyes, had barged into the cellar and demanded they hand her over. The Wolf alpha, who moments earlier, she’d fully expected would toss her out on her ear, was the one who’d said no and had her escorted to the room she was in. In fact, Jackson had held Marcus back from following her. Those weren’t the actions of someone who cared.

“Oh, I think he would,” Daisy said in a dry tone, and Kirra blushed. She needed to watch what she said around shifters. Their hearing was unbelievable. “If I’ve learned anything about men, it’s that they can be possessive and protective of those they consider theirs—often overprotective.”

“Overprotective? Are you and...?” Kirra tilted her head to the right, in the direction of the meeting hall.

“Me and who, what?” Daisy’s face was perfectly blank.

“Are you and your partner... more than partners?”

“Ash? Me and Ash?” Daisy laughed so hard she had to brace herself against the wall of the building for balance. “I’m sorry,” she gasped as she wiped away tears. “I just haven’t heard anything that funny in ages. I can’t imagine... I’m not sure... I’ve never seen Ash court anyone.”

Court. What an old-fashioned word. It conjured up images of strolling along hand in hand and having picnics in lush gardens. Sweet things. Kirra tried imagining Jackson in such a scenario, but couldn’t quite picture it. He didn’t strike her as the strolling type. Marcus, on the other hand...

Daisy was still speaking, so Kirra tuned back in.

“...going to have to tell my mates about this. They’ll get a huge kick out of—”

“Mates?” Kirra interrupted.

“Mates—well, husbands, I guess you humans would call them.”

“I know what mate—” Kirra brushed that off with an impatient wave of her hand. “You have more than one?”

It was Daisy’s turn to look confused. “Well, yeah. It’s common these days, what with so few females. We’re encouraged to take more than one mate. Survival of the species, and all that.” She laid a hand on her flat stomach. “Not that it seems to be helping. The birth rate has been dropping like a rock for years. At this rate, we’ll be extinct within a few generations.”

“Gran—Marcus’s gran—said that people have gone to Europe to encourage other shifters to move here.”

“Marcus’s parents and a couple others. Yeah, they left a while ago. Even if they bring back new blood, though, I don’t see how that will help for long. And from what I’ve heard, the packs in Europe have the same problem. What we need is a cure.”

“Is anyone working on it?”

Daisy’s shrug was carefully casual. “I think a few people are trying to find out what the problem is. Can’t find a cure until you know what’s wrong, right? I barely scraped by in chemistry and biology, though, so it’s all over my head.”

She took chemistry and biology? Shifters went to school? As soon as the ignorant thought entered her mind, Kirra winced and was thankful reading minds wasn’t on the list of things shifters could do. None of the shifters she’d met had come across as stupid or uneducated—well, with the exception of Monroe, maybe—but for some reason she hadn’t pictured them as formally schooled. Not that it mattered. She’d met plenty of highly educated people who were cruel and dumb as rocks about practical things and plenty of people who only had street smarts to fall back on who were generous and sharp as razor wire. Heck, she didn’t even have her GED. She’d technically been homeschooled at the lab, but her education had been biased toward what they wanted her to learn. After they’d gotten out, she and Francesca had taught themselves everything they’d wanted or needed to know.

Low voices out in the hall drew her attention. Leaving Daisy, who was scowling off into space, she tiptoed over to the door, hoping to overhear something that would give her a clue what to expect.

“You’re not allowed in,” her guard was saying.

“I brought some dinner for Kirra.” It was Marcus’s voice.

“Is that stew?”

Dishes clinked. “Deer stew and fresh bread. If you’re hungry, there was a still a bit left in the pot a few minutes ago.”

“Nice try. I’m watching your girl until the alpha says otherwise.” 

“Dustin and Destiny are cooking tonight.”

“The Bear twins?” There was a long pause. “She’s not to leave this room. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Take your time,” Marcus said. “We’ll be here waiting for you.”

“You’d better be.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a very suspicious person?” Marcus said. “What do you think I’m going to do—run off with her? I brought her here in the first place.”

“Knowing you, maybe.” Wariness coated the words, and Kirra wondered if the guard was going to change his mind about leaving.

“I’m just here to deliver food and to relieve you,” Marcus said.

Footsteps passed the door, headed in the direction of the stairs.

“And take Daisy with you,” Marcus called out. “I’m sure she’s starving.”

Kirra yanked the door open. “What happened? Did they make a decision?”

Shaking his head, Marcus nudged her back inside, shut the door, and locked it. “Not yet. Vincent is swearing he doesn’t know anything about Blackstone, a lab, or experiments. He’s trying to convince the others you’re making it all up in a desperate attempt to avoid being turned over to the humans—says they were warned by human officials that a fugitive entered their lands, and his enforcers were actively looking for you. He wants to turn you over to the military.”

“But they won’t, right? Your alpha knows the truth. He wouldn’t let them.”

Marcus glanced around the room, not meeting her eyes. “You must be hungry. This is really pretty good.” He set the dish of stew on the small table in the corner of the room, lifted the lid, and pulled out a hard-backed chair for her.

Rich, smoky scents filled the air, making her mouth water. No wonder her guard had abandoned his post. She wanted to demand that Marcus answer her question—reassure her—but if he had anything good to say, he would have told her already. Her stomach rumbled, giving its opinion, and she settled into the chair with a sigh.

“How am I supposed to—” She broke off when Marcus handed her a spoon he’d produced from a jacket pocket. “Ah, thanks.”

The stew was the best thing she’d eaten in days, and she wished she was in the mood to appreciate it. Instead, her mind whirled. If the shifters voted against helping her, she’d have to rescue Francesca on her own. Worse than that, the Cats might warn Lokston and the lab. Security would be tightened. Involving the shifters had been a mistake. One that her sister might pay the price for. Something lodged in her throat, and Kirra set down her spoon, staring sightlessly at the table.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus asked, using a gentle finger under her chin to raise her head. “You went to another world there for a second.”

If she hadn’t come to Shifter Territory, she never would have met Marcus... or Jackson. It was hard to believe she’d known them for less than a week. It seemed so much longer.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, picking up the spoon and jabbing it at the stew. “Just thinking.”

“It’s going to all work out,” he said, crossing to her side, sinking to his knees beside her, and clasping her free hand in his. Kirra twisted in her chair to face him, and suddenly they were face-to-face, his lips mere inches from hers.

“Is it?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, his warm breath caressing her face. “I promise.”

It was hard to breathe, to think. Tiny electrical shocks ran through her body, from her lips to her toes, and everywhere in between, which made no sense. She was in an electrical dead zone, yet she tingled with power. Her nipples tightened, and she leaned forward, wanting nothing so much as to rub them against Marcus’s powerful chest.

Their lips connected. Something—maybe the spoon?—clattered on the floor, but Kirra was too busy to check what. Marcus’s tongue darted in and out of her mouth, staking a claim with firm insistence. Thrusting her chest forward, she rubbed her breasts against him. It wasn’t enough. There were too many layers of clothing between them.

Hands fumbling, she pushed and pulled at his jacket, wrestling with it.

Marcus released her lips and then nipped the lower one. “I got it,” he said, and the jacket fell to the floor at his knees, quickly followed by his shirt. Kirra slipped off the chair and knelt in front of him, trailing her fingers over his taut abs. Marcus sucked in a breath and pulled her close, hands on the small of her back.

“Your turn,” he rasped, and tugged at the hem of her shirt. Kirra raised her arms and let him tug it off, leaving her in her understated black bra. She’d stopped wearing the bandage over her hip two days earlier, so the healing gash was stark against her pale skin. Before she had time to feel self-conscious, he dropped a gentle kiss on her hip, then shoved the bra down and claimed first one peak, then the other with his lips. Her head tilted back and hit the edge of the table.

“Oh, crap.” She rubbed her head and closed her eyes. Pain overrode pleasure for a moment, and she wondered if she were crazy. She was making love—correction, having sex—with the partner of a man she’d rolled around in the grass with a few days earlier. That wasn’t her. Not by a long shot.

Marcus pulled her hand away from her head, and gentle pressure replaced it. Kirra cracked one eye open and realized he was kissing it better. Tears welled, but not because of pain.

“The bed,” she choked out, scrambling to her feet and pushing him in that direction.

“You’re sure?” he asked. “Your head, and...”

“Now,” she said.

He shut up and nodded, then swept her into his arms, took two long strides, and lightly tossed her on the bed. While she was still bouncing on the soft mattress, Marcus made quick work of removing her boots and pants. Every touch of his fingers sent pure desire soaring straight to her belly. Kirra unclasped her bra and threw it to the side.